Forever and a Day Read Free Page B

and then a snort of laughter crept past his carefully constructed cop persona. “Maybe so.” He shook his head. “Get going, monsieur. Those private cars are expensive, and you’re on their meter from the moment they roll up to our door.”
    Lars didn’t wait for a second invitation. He loped down the long hall to the stairwell closest to the front door. He’d just started down the risers when he heard footsteps and spun to see who’d followed him. Muscles so tense they felt like rocks, he yanked his gun out and stared upward.
    Only the older guard. Lars dropped the gun into his pants pocket, but its outline was unmistakable against the linen fabric.
    “Monsieur, we thought it prudent to accompany you.” The guard looked meaningfully at Lars’ right front pants pocket. “It appears you’re more than you revealed.”
    “Hmph.” Lars engaged the gun’s safety and moved the revolver back to its ankle holster. He met the guard’s green eyes head-on in a silent challenge to make something of it.
    “If you were planning to stay, I’d make you leave that in the hotel safe. As it is…”
    “Thanks.” Lars trotted down the remaining stairs, with the guard flanking him. He started toward the front desk to settle his bill, but the guard hooked an arm through his and drew him off to one side.
    “No need. We’ll see the paperwork is closed out.” He leaned close. “Can you think of a reason anyone would want you dead?”
    Lars drew back as if he’d been whipped, congratulating himself for a stellar performance. “Dead?” He shuddered. “Absolutely not. Appreciate you taking on the front desk for me. My French is not quite up to par.” Without waiting for the guard to come up with another hard-to-answer question, Lars sprinted for the front door where a uniformed chauffeur scanned the crowd. “I believe you are hunting for me,” he told the man. “Where is our car?”
    “Right this way, monsieur.” The chauffeur held his hands out for Lars’ bags, but Lars shook his head.
    “I am fine. They are not heavy.”
    “If you’re certain, monsieur.” The chauffeur hurried ahead and tugged open the limo’s rear door.
    Lars tossed his things inside and followed them. Though it was foolhardy, he deluded himself that the satisfying thunk of the door closing meant he was safe. He leaned against the plush upholstery of the limousine’s rear seat and took a deep breath. The rich scents of leather and liquor filled his nostrils; there must be a bar behind one of the rosewood panels.
    The chauffeur met his gaze in the rearview mirror. “I would offer you a drink, monsieur. You can help yourself.”
    Lars shook his head. “Sounds wonderful, but no thanks. I am flying.”
    The man glanced over a shoulder and winked broadly. “Rules are only rules if they catch you breaking them.” Lars felt a chuckle bubble up. He let it go, pleased it lessened the tension in his gut. The chauffeur merged the big car into heavy traffic. “What’s so funny?”
    Lars shrugged. “I am not certain I can tell you. What you said was just so…French.”
    The chauffeur laughed too. “ Oui, you Germans have a bit of a different world view. Rules, rules, rules.” He tossed both hands in the air. The car swerved and he made a grab for the steering wheel.
    Lars shut his eyes for a moment, choreographing his next move. Should he fly back to Germany, or rent a business class jet, file an international flight plan, and head for New York? Perhaps the most prudent course would be to return to Germany and take one of his own jets, but that would take additional time. He’d just decided to call Garen and discuss his options when a loud boom rocked him. The limousine’s rear window shattered, coating him with shards of glass.
    Lars ducked below the level of the rear seat. “Drive,” he shouted to the chauffeur. “I do not care how you do it, but get me to Nice and the airport.”
    “In a pig’s eye. If you wish transport to a funeral,