he’s never been married. Not sure I’d do him in my free time, but he’s not bad.
Someone has already been watching him for a while. There are several surveillance photos of him at work and near his home. There is also a detailed schedule of what he does each day. My first move is to initiate contact with him on his way back from the café. He goes to the same one every evening and has a regular route home.
I berate myself again for stopping to play with Lincoln instead of going straight up to my room. According to my computer it’s nine p.m.; I just might make it if I hurry.
I’m about to log out of my email and pack up my things when a new email pops into my inbox. I click on it and another encryption key box pops up. I grab the card from the lily again, and type in the code.
Invalid key.
I try the code again.
Invalid key.
I run through the rules in my head involving encrypted emails. We are not to talk of them. We are not to respond to them. We are not to talk to our handlers about them. But we never covered what to do if we couldn’t open one. Crap .
I try the code on the back of the card a few more times, checking my caps lock. I even try restarting my computer. But nothing works. What could be in the email? Was it a correction on the details from the last email? Did they make a mistake and send this to the wrong agent?
I don’t want to leave it, but I have to go. I’ve received my assignment. Geoffrey is about to leave his coffee shop and head home. It’s time to move. I close the laptop, grab my purse, and head out the door.
Chapter Three
I forgot how romantic it is to walk down the River Seine at night. The streetlights are rose tinted, making the entire city of Paris look like it’s floating in colored water. The night air is warm, and brings the smell of French coffee from one of the many cafés. The aroma itself is strong enough to give me an extra kick of energy.
I’m wearing the perfect outfit for initial contact. The dress has already gotten me two flowers from two different men tonight, and with the wine still working to relax me, I’m ready. I’m also running really late.
Geoffrey lives in an apartment just down and across the river from my hotel. I make my way to Pont Neuf, by far my favorite bridge in Paris. Cars pass by me as I rush along the sidewalk, wishing I had time to stop and sit in one of the round benches built into the beautiful bridge. The Eiffel Tower announces itself, lit up in the distance. It really is a gorgeous night, but I have no time for sightseeing.
I continue on, jogging to within a block of Geoffrey’s apartment and stop, searching the environs for my target.
A man crosses the street, heading for the door of his building. I’m ninety percent sure it’s him. I’m used to running in heels, but the stone slab sidewalks of Europe are less forgiving than the flat sidewalks in the U.S. I’m almost to the door when my heel catches on a stone and I tumble to the ground.
I’m close enough now to see the man. Sure enough, it’s Geoffrey. He sees me tumble and makes his way over to help.
Fast thinking is how a good agent gets her job done.
I haven’t hurt myself, other than a skinned knee, but he doesn’t know that.
“ Mademoiselle, est-ce que je peux vous aider? ” he asks, reaching a hand out to me.
I take it, wincing as he pulls me effortlessly to my feet. “Shit,” I say. I’m fluent in French, having lived here for a while as a child, but tonight I will be playing the part of a distressed American tourist.
“Are you okay?” he asks in flawless English, holding me steady.
“I think I’ve sprained my ankle.” I move in closer to him, brushing my breasts against his arm.
“I can call you a taxi.”
Great, he’s not into women, and no one thought to check . Then I catch him ogling my chest.
Win.
“I think I just need somewhere to sit for a minute.” I accidentally brush my hand over the front of his pants as I say this. Yeah,
Someone has already been watching him for a while. There are several surveillance photos of him at work and near his home. There is also a detailed schedule of what he does each day. My first move is to initiate contact with him on his way back from the café. He goes to the same one every evening and has a regular route home.
I berate myself again for stopping to play with Lincoln instead of going straight up to my room. According to my computer it’s nine p.m.; I just might make it if I hurry.
I’m about to log out of my email and pack up my things when a new email pops into my inbox. I click on it and another encryption key box pops up. I grab the card from the lily again, and type in the code.
Invalid key.
I try the code again.
Invalid key.
I run through the rules in my head involving encrypted emails. We are not to talk of them. We are not to respond to them. We are not to talk to our handlers about them. But we never covered what to do if we couldn’t open one. Crap .
I try the code on the back of the card a few more times, checking my caps lock. I even try restarting my computer. But nothing works. What could be in the email? Was it a correction on the details from the last email? Did they make a mistake and send this to the wrong agent?
I don’t want to leave it, but I have to go. I’ve received my assignment. Geoffrey is about to leave his coffee shop and head home. It’s time to move. I close the laptop, grab my purse, and head out the door.
Chapter Three
I forgot how romantic it is to walk down the River Seine at night. The streetlights are rose tinted, making the entire city of Paris look like it’s floating in colored water. The night air is warm, and brings the smell of French coffee from one of the many cafés. The aroma itself is strong enough to give me an extra kick of energy.
I’m wearing the perfect outfit for initial contact. The dress has already gotten me two flowers from two different men tonight, and with the wine still working to relax me, I’m ready. I’m also running really late.
Geoffrey lives in an apartment just down and across the river from my hotel. I make my way to Pont Neuf, by far my favorite bridge in Paris. Cars pass by me as I rush along the sidewalk, wishing I had time to stop and sit in one of the round benches built into the beautiful bridge. The Eiffel Tower announces itself, lit up in the distance. It really is a gorgeous night, but I have no time for sightseeing.
I continue on, jogging to within a block of Geoffrey’s apartment and stop, searching the environs for my target.
A man crosses the street, heading for the door of his building. I’m ninety percent sure it’s him. I’m used to running in heels, but the stone slab sidewalks of Europe are less forgiving than the flat sidewalks in the U.S. I’m almost to the door when my heel catches on a stone and I tumble to the ground.
I’m close enough now to see the man. Sure enough, it’s Geoffrey. He sees me tumble and makes his way over to help.
Fast thinking is how a good agent gets her job done.
I haven’t hurt myself, other than a skinned knee, but he doesn’t know that.
“ Mademoiselle, est-ce que je peux vous aider? ” he asks, reaching a hand out to me.
I take it, wincing as he pulls me effortlessly to my feet. “Shit,” I say. I’m fluent in French, having lived here for a while as a child, but tonight I will be playing the part of a distressed American tourist.
“Are you okay?” he asks in flawless English, holding me steady.
“I think I’ve sprained my ankle.” I move in closer to him, brushing my breasts against his arm.
“I can call you a taxi.”
Great, he’s not into women, and no one thought to check . Then I catch him ogling my chest.
Win.
“I think I just need somewhere to sit for a minute.” I accidentally brush my hand over the front of his pants as I say this. Yeah,
Similar Books
Last Breath
Brandilyn Collins, Amberly Collins
Bought: Destitute Yet Defiant
Sarah Morgan
Off the Grid
Karyn Good
Were Slave (2010)
Lia Slater
Perfect Revenge
K. L. Denman
Ride the Tiger
Lindsay McKenna
Stolen Fate
Linsey Hall
The Shelters of Stone
Jean M. Auel
The Dragon's Lover
Samantha Sabian
All Night Long
Madelynne Ellis