Dead Reckoning (30 page)

He stared through the windshield. “A few.”

So, he didn’t want to talk about it. Or was it that he didn’t want to talk about it with her? Shiloh swallowed the sour thought and pushed her gaze to the skyline. Buildings loomed like giants on either side. As Reece braked at a red light, a shadow fell across her shoulder. She looked up and drowned under the shadow of the Eiffel Tower.

Reece aimed the car down the road, granting a better view of the magnificent structure. She craned her head against the window and peered around the bustling city. The car slowed and pulled to the curb, where a dozen wrought-iron tables littered the sidewalk.

To her right, a river rushed past. “What are we doing?”

“Going to foot.”

Shiloh jerked toward Reece, startled to see him stuffing a weapon into a holster at his ankle. Although her heart skipped a beat, she knew not to ask where he’d hidden that—or how! Instead, she climbed out and silenced the questions hammering her skull.

Across the street, café canopies swayed in the cool, gentle breeze. Couples sat talking and eating, while passersby seemed oblivious to the magnificence of the city. How could they not be awestruck by it? Yet with the monumental task looming before them, even she couldn’t find a deep appreciation for the wonders that were innately Paris.
She turned back to the river, her attention snagged by a woman who sauntered past, eating what looked like a chocolate waffle. Shiloh's stomach rumbled.

“This way,” Reece said, his hand on her back guiding her toward a bridge spanning the Seine. “We’re a happy couple, remember?”

“Blissfully happy.” The sarcasm felt as tumultuous as the river gurgling beneath them.

As they stepped onto the street that led to the Palais de Justice, Reece held her hand. She had to quicken her step to keep up with his long strides. If she weren’t so stressed about what they were doing in the heart of Paris instead of meeting with Moreaux, she might entertain the jellies swarming her stomach as she walked with Reece … in Paris, holding hands. She shoved the romantic notions from her mind as they approached a Gothic cathedral.

Sainte-Chapelle. Her breath caught as they stepped through the arched doors. Glistening golds and warm amber hues beckoned to her. Peace pervaded the building despite the throngs of tourists combing its stone floors.

Reece slowed, pointing as if any other tourist, but he whispered in her ear, “Buy the postcard with the spire from the gift shop. Meet me back here.”

Heat darted across her shoulders.
We’re separating?

He met her gaze. Smiled. Then kissed her cheek. “I’ll be right back, babe.”

Babe?
Oh. Right. Happy couple. She spun toward the small in-house shop and forced herself to move away from him, pushing aside the jolt of pleasure at hearing Reece call her by that endearment.

She pressed through a group of nuns to the rack by the sales counter. A nun stepped into her path, colliding with Shiloh. “I’m sorry,” she apologized to the woman in the black habit before moving to the spinning rack.

A brightly lit mirrored shelf behind the counter gave her a perfect view of the cathedral. Through the craziness of the visitors, she spotted Reece sitting on a lone bench, his head bowed. What was he doing?

Turning the rack, she let her gaze hopscotch between the cards and Reece. Another man sat at the far end of the bench. Her pulse galloped. Was he a contact? Is that what the visit to this cathedral was about?

Hand on the card, she lifted it, and shifted to the cashier. As she held it out, her gaze hit on the postcard.
Wrong one!
“Wait, please.” Shiloh reached across the counter and grabbed the spire card. “Here.” She gave a weak smile and paid for the card.

As she pushed back into the openness of the beautiful Sainte-Chapelle, shivers danced down her spine. Where was Reece? He wasn’t on the bench. The other man seemed to have disappeared too. The crowds strangled her. Or maybe it was the haunting structure. Gothic. She’d never liked the style. Even in a church with stunning glasswork and warm lighting, she couldn’t shake the ominous feeling soaking into her conscience.

“You okay?” Reece's words skated along her neck.

She pulled straight and sucked in a breath as his arm slid around her waist. Where had he come from? Why was she so off -balance?

He moved in front of her, brows knit. “What's wrong?”

“I …” Her gaze traced the arched ceilings, then the crowds. “I guess I just don’t like this style. It gives me the creeps.”

Once again, he took her hand and led her from the church. Back out in the brilliance of the afternoon sun, the chill faded. The steady rhythm of their feet on the sidewalk helped to distance her from the sense of doom that had nearly suffocated her. She let out a heavy breath.

“Always trust that instinct, Shi.” Reece kept walking, his large stride a welcome pace now. “Something was wrong in there. I felt it too.”

“What do you mean?” Even the strength of his fingers entwined with hers gave her courage as they strolled at a quick but casual pace so as not to draw attention.

Reece stopped at a vendor and bought something, his French fluent and … nice. She shook her head, chiding herself for slipping into the wrong state of mind. Back on the sidewalk, he handed her a chocolate waffle and a bottle of water. She smiled, surprised. Had he seen her drooling over the treat before they went into Sainte-Chapelle? Munching, she noticed they were walking much slower.

“Where to now?”

“The Louvre.” He guzzled his water almost in one gulp, then capped the bottle, and tossed it in a bin.

“Seriously?” She eyed him, finishing off her waffle. “What's with all the tourist traps?”

Hands shoved in his pockets, Reece grinned. “What? I can’t take my best girl to see the sights?”

Believing he meant that would put her heart in danger. She’d already tried that, and it didn’t work out too well. Something was going on. She wasn’t sure what, but she’d learned not to question Reece. He wouldn’t answer anyway.

As they finally approached the bizarre glass enclosure, Shiloh discarded her empty water bottle and waffle napkin.

He paid their admission and handed her a brochure. Over the next hour, they circled a fraction of the massive museum in near silence, her mind buzzing. She had to admit that it stole her breath to see the artwork, to stand before a da Vinci, knowing the master himself had once stood before the canvas. To see Michelangelo's inspired works and wonder what stirred his soul most when he painted.

But her mind wouldn’t quiet. All these paintings, the trek along the Seine, the visit to Sainte-Chapelle, the Palais de Justice, Paris … And Reece. It had all the earmarks of a perfect, romantic trip.

So why did she feel so empty?

As they lingered before a sculpture of Alexander the Great, Shiloh stole a peek at Reece. His eyes seemed to probe the piece. Her mind spun with recollections of kissing him, being in his arms. And then her thoughts seemed to spin backwards at the incongruity of the man. Tenderness oozed from his touch that night on the beach, yet those same hands had killed to protect her.

His fingers wrapped around hers again. He pointed at the brochure. “The Egyptian theme trail looks intriguing.”

Huh? She glanced at the glossy tri-fold. One image was circled—a proud, standing Anubis, freakish and mythic. Her mind reeled. He didn’t have the chance to mark it. Where had this come from then? Had he already made a contact? Again, her mind flashed—through the places they’d been, the people who’d bumped her—the man at the cathedral! The nun! So trapped in the frustration of being here without
being here
, she’d not paid attention.

She swallowed, mad that Reece had been testing her. “I’ve always liked Egyptian history.”

His eyebrow hitched as they backtracked to the first stop on the Egyptian trail.

Anticipation built with each exhibit they admired, knowing that at the Anubis statue, something should happen. What?

Forty-three excruciating minutes later, the jackal-headed guardian loomed over them.

“This guardian walked the shadows of death,” Shiloh mumbled, reading the sign next to his foot. “He determined which of the deceased would rise from the earth to become stars.”

How appropriate. Sickeningly appropriate. If the contact came here, they would decide whether they saw Moreaux. Shiloh finally understood—she’d just had a major learning curve in the tactics of covert operatives. Her stomach clenched.

And soared! She’d figured it out.

“It is said,” a man spoke, his voice a soft timbre that forced them to listen closely, “that he also weighed the heart of the dead and only allowed the pure to enter.”

Shiloh's pulse sped. Reece's grip on her hand tightened.

The man smiled, his intense brown eyes grazing Shiloh and Reece. “I think he would look favorably upon you, mademoiselle.” With that, he was gone.

Reece continued walking the Egyptian exhibit, seemingly enamored with the relics of history. At the gift shop, he purchased a small Anubis keychain and handed it to Shiloh. A memento, he called it. A sign that they would stand in the shadows of death, yet live.

Her mind whirled in a million directions. Had they failed? Was the Anubis man the contact? Or had they missed the real contact? Why hadn’t Reece said anything or given some indication that they’d accomplished something? She fingered the small but heavy ornament on the chain. Was this her sign that she’d done well?

Or maybe it wasn’t a test at all. Was he really just taking her out to show her the sights?

And was it her imagination or was Reece more relaxed than usual? He almost seemed lighthearted. At the car, he opened the door for her and ushered her into the safety of the compact vehicle. As they raced through the city, he still didn’t speak.

“You’re driving me nuts,” she finally snipped.

A grin tweaked his lips apart.

“As much as I’d like to think you were trying to give me a romantic day in Paris, that was all business, wasn’t it?”

“You’d like to think that, eh?” He winked at her, then returned his attention to the road. “We accomplished what we set out to accomplish.”

“Very diplomatic, Mr. Jaxon.”

He smiled.

“So. Where to now? Arc de Triomphe?”

He cast a rueful eyebrow toward her. “Didn’t you hear? Moreaux approves of you.”

She spun toward him, the seatbelt tugging against her. “That was it! I was right. Anubis man was the contact.”

A chuckle rumbled through his chest. “One of them. Why do you think I bought the trinket? Your first mission, so to speak, and you sailed through it.”

“One?” Shiloh paused, her exhilaration tempered. “How many contacts were there?”

“Does it matter?”

“Absolutely!”

“Three.”

Mumbai, India

“They are in Paris.” Ali Abdul mopped his brow.

“Then that is where you should be.”

He pounded a fist on his desk. “No! I must be here. There is a large meeting with the UN tomorrow. I already have men in place to take care of these two.”

“Good. Or your wife and children will pay for your mistakes.”

“There is no need for that.”

“You gave them the female agent before we got what we needed.”

“She did not have any information.”

“But you let them march in there and steal her right out from under your nose! You have let me down for the last time, Ali.”

“Be patient.” His breath hissed out. “The committee has already begun investigating the president, once he is … distracted, I can gain full access to the codes.”

“That should’ve happened last week!”

“I will not fail!”

“Then kill these two or you will be next!”

Paris, France

She glanced at the five-story building, grey and darkened by age and the elements, and wondered how things would go inside, where she would take the lead. Captain Miller had explained the way things worked—that only she could ask the questions if they wanted answers. She supposed that's why Reece let her talk to the primary contact in the Louvre.

She studied the French Ministry complex, the dark alley on the right, the police car parked on the opposite corner and then the building again. Why did it look like something straight out of a late-night horror flick? She licked her lips. “What do I say?”