Honeymoon With A Stranger. Frances Housden

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СКАЧАТЬ we can go.” Zukah poked Mac in the back with his Mauser. “Remember, I’m right behind you.”

      Beside him, Roxie practically jumped out of her knee-high boots as Zukah barked. Until now, Mac had never come in contact with a female agent whose footwear were impossible to run in, but there was a first time for everything.

      He was curious to know what kind of cover story demanded heels higher than the Eiffel Tower. A couple of inches off them might have given her more of a chance.

      Though it sounded clichéd, in Mac’s line of work he knew to expect the unexpected. That’s why he was prepared to tie a knot in his original plans and turn any new contingency into a plus. He hoped the same could be said for his new lady friend.

      The woman posed a huge problem. Hell, she had more unknown quantity in her little finger than the other three put together.

      Sure, she was putting on a good show of being scared. And she’d done right to keep up the act. The hot, resentful sparks she’d shot at Zukah had been her only sign of emotion in a while.

      Talk about sex rearing its ugly head.

      Yves had enjoyed running his hands over her a little too much.

      Carrying out the role he’d assigned himself to the full meant he should have protested. Should have—would have—if her pleading glance hadn’t reminded him of Lucia approximately five minutes before she stuck a six-inch blade in his back.

      That said, he wouldn’t be turning his back on Roxie anytime soon, not until he was certain she wasn’t carrying a knife.

      His trust was on the meager side when it came to beautiful female agents.

      Mac had felt disappointment coming off Roxie in waves, but there was no point in giving too much away to look better in her eyes.

      He’d been there, done that, and learned one helluva huge lesson. One he wouldn’t forget in a hurry. Being a woman didn’t make her any less lethal to his health.

      Happiness came in all guises, and this opportunity to go with Zukah suited him just fine. Damn fine.

      Mac heard the car draw up outside as they splashed across the cold rain-soaked courtyard to the exit.

      Juggling bodies, they ended up dancing the do-si-do, squeezing through the half-open double doors leading to the sidewalk.

      In the watery glow from the street lamp, Mac caught her glance while their bodies brushed close, as if her puzzled eyes wondered what made him tick. Her conclusions would be wrong.

      Hell, tonight he’d done something so off the wall it could take him years to figure it out.

      He was an undercover agent, not anyone’s idea of a knight in shining armor, certainly not Jason Hart’s. When all this was over Mac would have to do some explaining to the chief of IBIS.

      Maybe by then he’d have come up with an answer.

      A blue minivan—the type with three rows of seats that soccer moms used—sat waiting at the edge of the sidewalk.

      It didn’t take a huge leap of imagination to know who’d be sitting in the middle row. “Get in,” Zukah growled, playing the big man, nudging them toward the vehicle with the dangerous end of his pistol.

      The guy was dumber than Mac had given him credit for. A wise man would be wondering if his plans had gone a little too well.

      They’d hardly gone more than a couple of feet when someone staggered out of the shadows and grabbed Zukah’s gun arm.

      Roxie squawked as the gun swung her way, while Zukah cursed roundly through the cloud of cheap-wine fumes as pandemonium ruled.

      In the poor light the drunk could easily be taken for one of the many homeless found sleeping in doorways around Le Sentier and Les Halles.

      But Mac wasn’t deceived.

      He pushed Roxie behind him while the drunk grappled with the Algerian. Zukah rained blows down on the guy’s head and they were all treated to a stream of slurred French invectives.

      Seeking to escape, the guy ducked under Zukah’s arm to clutch the front of Mac’s jacket as if begging for help.

      But that close the drunk couldn’t hide the bright intelligence in his eyes, or the question in them he directed at Mac.

      The smell of garlic breath was a good touch. Trust Thierry to think of it. Mac narrowed his gaze in warning at his fellow agent and slightly shook his head.

      Message received.

      “Get off him!” shouted the Algerian, but before Jean-Luc could pull Thierry away, Mac felt something slide into his pocket.

      Seconds later, Thierry staggered away into the night, leaving Mac curious as to which of their many gadgets his second in command had slipped him.

      Curiosity that would have to remain unsatisfied until they reached their destination.

      “You first.” Zukah gave him a push in the back.

      Mac looked at the smaller seat opposite the door. He couldn’t trust Roxie not to try escaping. “No,” he said, “she can sit by the window. I need more room for my legs.”

      No one argued with him.

      It was Yves who pulled Roxie out of her cat’s-got-her-tongue mode once again. “Cochon!” she yelled, slapping the Frenchman. “Keep your hands off me. I can manage.”

      As the car pulled into the road Mac decided there was going to be a reckoning between those two. He just hoped Roxie held off long enough for him to accomplish his mission.

      “Lean your head on my shoulder,” he said companionably as the minivan squeezed through the crush in rue Montorgueil. “You might as well try to sleep. God knows how far we’re going.”

      Through the golden haze of a better-lit street it was impossible to miss that her long-suffering look was essentially female. It shouted “I wouldn’t be caught dead.”

      Damn, he thought as he gave a rueful shake of his head. Didn’t the woman realize that if it hadn’t been for him tonight, “dead” had definitely been her short-term destiny?

      Chapter 3

      Roxie woke with a start, her head clunking back against Mac’s shoulder. The car had stopped, but the only illumination came from the headlights. “Where are we?”

      “No idea, but it looks like more than a comfort stop. I’d say we’ve arrived.” Mac sounded more alert than she felt.

      She pushed away from him, annoyed that in sleep she’d taken advantage of the shoulder she’d refused earlier.

      Keeping her voice level to a murmur, she spoke English, hoping Jean-Luc sitting behind wouldn’t understand as she touched the warm spot where her cheek had rested. “That wasn’t intentional, so don’t get the wrong idea.”

      Turning СКАЧАТЬ