Midnight Action Read Free

expensive taste in cognac. That was for sure.
    The lawyer’s west end private residence was located in the 16th District, one of the most prestigious areas in the city. That told her he had the required cash to procure the services of someone like her, or, at the very least, represented clients who could afford her. But she didn’t trust the man. Granted, she didn’t trust anyone, but Girard’s out-of-the-blue request was definitely fishier than most.
    He’d contacted her via several middlemen, though that alone wasn’t unusual, considering her number wasn’t exactly listed in any phone books. No, what made her uneasy was the urgency she’d detected in his voice.
The job must be done as soon as possible. There’s no room for delay.
The harried plea had rung with desperation, and in Noelle’s experience, desperate men spelled nothing but trouble.
    Which was why she now lay on the dark roof opposite Girard’s, flat on her stomach with a rifle at her side and binoculars zoomed in on her prey. Watching, waiting.
    Girard lived alone. No wife or kids, no household staff. He was in his late fifties, and his choice of attire told her he was an old-school, aristocratic kind of guy. Anyone who wore perfectly pressed slacks, a cashmere Burberry sweater, and a Gucci scarf around his neck, in the privacy of his own home, was someone who valued luxurious items.
    Noelle adjusted the zoom on the binoculars and studied Girard’s handsome features and groomed salt-and-pepper hair. There was something very...jaunty about him. And honorable—he seemed like a man with a moral code.
    So why was he trying to hire a contract killer?
    Frowning, she snuffed out her cigarette on the pavement and extracted her cell phone from the pocket of her tight-fitting leather coat. A moment later, her field glasses revealed Girard reaching for his own phone.
    “Bonjour?” came his baritone voice in her ear.
    “It’s me,” she answered in French. “It’s time to continue our little discussion.”
    She clearly saw the man’s face stiffen through her zoom lens. “You ended our last call very abruptly,” he said in annoyance. “It was quite rude.”
    “I told you, I had to check out a few details.”
    “You had to dig into my background, you mean.”
    “Yes.”
    “And are you satisfied with what you found?”
    “For the most part.” She lazily ran her free hand over the barrel of her rifle. “Who is your client?”
    “I already told you, I can’t reveal that. But I can assure you, my client has no shortage of funds. He is more than capable of paying your fee.”
    “Good to know,” she said lightly. “But I don’t like working for shadows, Mr. Girard.”
    “Then I’m afraid we’ve got nothing more to discuss. The identity of my client will not be disclosed, mademoiselle. This is nonnegotiable.”
    Irritation flared inside her. Christ, sometimes she wished she’d gone into a different line of work. Secretive men were so goddamn infuriating. And yet she didn’t disconnect the call—her curiosity had been piqued the moment Gilles Girard had contacted her, and she wasn’t the kind of woman who walked away from a puzzle. Or a challenge.
    “All right,” she conceded. “I can live with that.”
    “Good. Shall we discuss the details, then?”
    “Not over the phone.”
    “Fine. We will meet tomorrow?”
    “Tonight,” she said briskly. “We’ll meet tonight.”
    “I’m afraid I’ve already retired for the night.”
    “No, you haven’t.” Chuckling, she zoomed in closer and saw the flicker of alarm in his dark eyes.
    “What makes you say that?” he asked carefully.
    “Well, I’m looking at you as we speak, Gilles, and your fancy-pants clothes don’t look like pajamas to me.”
    Noelle got great satisfaction from seeing his gaze dart around wildly, as if he expected her to pop out of a closet and ambush him.
    She laughed again. “Don’t worry,
monsieur
. I’m not inside your house. Yet.”
    She tossed the