Lisa Harris - Taken

“How about I run across the street and get some coffee and sandwiches for the three of us?” Pierre offered. “I don’t know about you, but I missed breakfast.”

Marcus nodded. “Thanks. That would be nice.”

He sat down on the edge of a plaid, padded armchair in the living room, feeling awkward as Pierre left them alone. But it was time to get to work. He had a number of questions to ask, and he needed answers. Not that this was an interrogation, not officially at least, but there were things he wanted to know before they could go any further and he was convinced she knew things that could help him find Chad.

“Why don’t you sit down. If it hasn’t already, jet lag will be hitting you soon.”

She nodded, then sat down on the couch across from him.

He reached into his briefcase, pulled out Rachel’s journal and photo albums, and set them on the wooden coffee table between them.

Kate’s gaze narrowed as she recognized them. “You read her journal?”

“It’s evidence.”

“Evidence?” Kate stood up and started pacing in front of him. “Do you know how upset my sister would be knowing the government is reading her private thoughts?”

Marcus tapped the floor with his foot at the fumble he’d clearly just made. This wasn’t the way to get her to help him. “I’m sorry, but she doesn’t have too much to worry about. So far, I haven’t been able to decipher much of it.”

“My sister has her own kind of shorthand.”

“So I’ve discovered. I was hoping you would be able to help me interpret it. Do you think you can read it?”

She stopped pacing and caught his gaze. “It’s my sister’s journal.”

“I know, but you want to find your niece.” He opened the book to a marked page, then handed it to her. “For example, who’s Ace? She mentions him around the time she was in Paris.”

“I don’t know. Rachel...she always makes up nicknames for people.”

“Like?”

“Growing up she called me Kit Kat. Sophie’s always been Pumpkin.”

“And Chad?”

“She called him Beau.”

“So this name...Ace...could be anyone.”

“Yes. I’m sorry. I really don’t know. Why do you want to find him?”

“I’m the one asking the questions for the moment.”

She plopped back onto the couch. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not the enemy here. I will do anything I can to help my sister and find my niece—including working with you—but I don’t know why that needs to include an interrogation.”

“I’m sorry.” Marcus pinched the bridge of his noise. He needed to quit saying he was sorry, as much as he needed her to understand he was trying to help. “This isn’t an interrogation. Listen. I’ll make you a deal. Let me ask you what I need to know, then I’ll answer anything you want.”

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

His phone rang, and he grabbed it out of his front pocket. She was right. She didn’t deserve to be put in a position where she felt like the enemy.

A moment later he hung up the phone and slipped it back into his pocket. “Our conversation will have to wait. They need me down at the station in regards to that stolen car that chased us.”

She scooted forward on the couch. “I’ll come with you—”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea right now, but I’ll be back in an hour or so.” He tried to ignore the disappointment in her eyes. “Pierre is on his way with lunch, along with one of the female French agents, who will stay here with you until I get back.”

“I don’t need a babysitter,” she shot back.

“If I remember correctly, you were needing a bit of help when I showed up.”

Her frown deepened, making him feel guilty again for provoking her.

“Kate, please. I’m not trying to argue with you.” He paused while trying to categorize his thoughts. “This isn’t personal. I just want to keep you safe.”

Except it was becoming personal. No matter how he tried to keep things strictly business, his heart wasn’t complying. She stared up at him with those wide eyes, making him want to draw her into his arms and promise her that he’d fix everything. Which irritated him all the more. He’d never had problems keeping his professional life separate from his personal life. Kate Elliot was just another case. A source he might be able to use to his advantage.

Nothing more. Nothing less.

But if that was true, then why did his heart wish he could stay?

* * *

Kate’s phone rang, jolting her awake. She opened her eyes and stared at the sunlight filtering through flowery drapes, trying to figure out where she was. Her mind clicked through the events of the past forty-eight hours in rapid succession. Rachel’d been shot. Sophie was missing. She was in Paris. And Marcus... She still wasn’t sure what to think about the too-good-looking agent.

She grabbed the phone off the bedside table of the room she’d been given. Marcus had left the apartment after a call, leaving her with Jocelyn and Pierre, who’d thankfully left her alone for the most part without hounding her with too many more questions. After lunch, Jocelyn, the forty-something-year-old agent with ebony skin and dark brown eyes, had suggested Kate take a short nap until Marcus returned in order to fight off the jet lag, and Kate had agreed.

She checked the caller ID.

Chad?

Kate’s stomach lurched as she quickly sat up and answered the phone. “Chad? Where are you?”

“You shouldn’t have gotten involved,” he said.

She glanced at the closed door of her bedroom and lowered her voice. “I shouldn’t have gotten involved? Rachel was shot, and you’re telling me that I shouldn’t have gotten involved?”

“I’m sorry.” There was a long pause on the line. “All of this is my fault.”

“Why?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Then at least tell me where you are. We need to talk.”

“We can’t meet.”

“I’m not here to play games, Chad. You owe me an explanation.”

“Who’s the man you were with this morning?”

He knew about Marcus?

“What man?” she asked.

“You got into a car with him.”

“He’s just a friend. Someone I met back in the States recently.” She might not be sure what to think about the good-looking agent, but that didn’t mean Chad needed to know she was helping the FBI. Not yet, anyway. “How do you know?”

“That doesn’t matter, but don’t lie to me, Kate. He’s with the authorities.”

She hesitated briefly. “They want to make sure I’m safe. Your friends...or whoever they were...tried to grab me off the street.”

“I’m sorry about that, but I can’t have the police involved.”

“You keep saying you’re sorry.” Kate heard her voice rise a notch. “But sorry doesn’t exactly cut it. Just tell me where Sophie is, and I’ll be happy to leave. With her.”

“I don’t know. You have to believe me. I never meant for any of this to happen. They...” His voice trailed off.

“They what, Chad?”

“I can’t tell you. I’m in far too deep.”

Kate frowned, but she wasn’t about to give up. She needed a different approach. “I have a feeling we can help each other. Please.”

Another long pause followed. Kate’s heart pounded. She had to make this work.

“Chad?”

“I’ll talk to you, if you come alone. You’ll have to make sure you aren’t followed.”

“I’ll do anything you say, if it helps find Sophie.”

“Can you get to Notre Dame by two o’clock?”

Kate glanced at the clock on the bedside table. That would give her an hour. The safe house was in the Latin Quarter, and while she wasn’t sure how far it was, walking should be an option. “I’ll be there.”