Royal Line Read online

  “Take off those rose-colored glasses. They don’t look good on you.”

  “I hear you.” But I repaid favors. No matter what.

  I let out a sigh and put my mind back on work. I looked at Sparrow and Olly and said, “Get her back to the plane safely. Check in when you’re done. And since you’ve been on it tonight, have Max do the report.”

  She grinned at me then, and it occurred to me that Sparrow was actually beautiful. Sure, yes, she was attractive. Dark hair, green eyes. Medium-deep skin. Fit. Amazing cheekbones. But beyond the regular physical characteristics, when she smiled, her whole face lit up. And she could warm up a room with that smile alone, but she didn’t show it much. Sparrow was my focused one. If shit went down, she was the one I would likely call first. She wasn’t my most senior team member, but she was the one who would have the ultimate focus during any mission. She worried about getting the solution first, no emotions. Or at least she kept them tucked neatly away. I respected that.

  Like you’re an expert at tucking away your emotions.

  I was. I could be. Just every now and again, they reared their ugly heads.

  “All right, good job today. Check in when you get her on the plane.”

  “Will do.” She wagged her finger at me. “Oh, don’t forget to collect the check. That’s my favorite part.”

  I grinned. “I’ll admit, it does give me a boost too.”

  I stood back as Sparrow climbed into the follow car while Olly stayed at Lilith’s side as he led her to the limousine. Marcus and Aiden were with Sparrow. Max and Nicolai joined Olly in the Limo. Little Miss Coke-Habit was going nowhere tonight, and her loser boyfriend/dealer certainly wasn’t following. Olly and Sparrow would stay in Paris for a few more days to make sure any evidence of Lilith doing anything wild were wiped from all memories and potential mobile phones as well as CCTVs.

  “Okay, time for you to get some rest,” Sparrow said from the window as she shot me a look that said she was the one in charge of me…which she wasn’t. At least, most days.

  She had a point, but my system was still charged with adrenaline. Didn’t mean I had to like it. I glanced around, sure there must be something else that needed my attention. That was the thing about having a good team. You delegated a lot. And even after a night like tonight when I had to be in attendance because of committed partnerships, it was like my body got geared up for the fight, but then there was no fight. So every time I turned around, I expected something to jump out, something to not be right, something to go dreadfully wrong. But still…nothing.

  I headed to the east parking lot, passing women in their fashion-forward glitterati outfits. Some with barely-there swathes of fabric covering nipples and snatches. Others wore flowing evening gowns but with daring-enough slits to make a man look twice. And still others had that fashion-forward vibe but were more covered up. That was the life of fashion shows. Everyone dripped in diamonds, smelled of the most expensive perfumes, and had more skin than clothing showing.

  Most of the women had on so much makeup that I had no idea what they actually looked like under all the war paint. Were they that tanned? Or was that healthy glow thanks to a good contourist? Was that even what they were called? Who the fuck knew?

  I found my black BMW i8 Roadster right where I’d left it, and I couldn’t help but do a sweep around the car. Checked the undercarriage, searched for explosives, double-checked that everything was, in fact, as I’d left it.

  Old habits died hard. Besides, those old habits kept people alive.

  Not always.

  I swallowed the bite of guilt and regret, used my fingerprint to open my door, and climbed in. There was a sense of familiarity in the car. It was ridiculous to have it flown over for just two weeks, but I’d been hoping for the opportunity to take a few days off and have a drive. It was always best with your own wheels. Getting it shipped back home would take a lot longer, so I’d have to use one of the company cars until then. But it was well worth the luxury of having it in Paris.

  At the security exit, I pulled out my ticket, showed them my ID badge, and then was waved through. I drove out onto the teeming streets of Paris. The city was bustling. The venue was a stately affair. Lit up elegantly. The Carrousel du Louvre was the historic primary location of Paris Fashion Week. Every night, the streets of Paris filled with people. Many stopped to take photos in front of the Louvre. Models teetering on their heels like the leggy giraffes they were.

  I knew for a fact that Fashion Week wasn’t over. There were more parties, more places to see and be seen. Luckily, I didn’t have to do any of that. I headed out of the central part of the city and away from all the people.

  After all, it was Paris, so there were people everywhere all the time. I took my car toward the 16th arrondissement. I was familiar enough with the city to know where I was going without needing GPS. I took the back streets, staying off the main roads. I made a turn at Avenue Foch and took in the sights of the city, trying to figure out how to bring my adrenaline down. It always took too long, and I certainly didn’t like taking sleeping pills. They made me too groggy. And then there were the nightmares that I couldn’t wake up from.

  After I made the turn on Avenue Foch, I took a sharp left down one of the quieter streets and headed out of the city. Maybe if I could just get a drive in, open the car up a little, I’d feel more like myself.

  I took the next right and drove without much thought to where I was going. It was early fall, so there was a nip in the air. I rolled down the window, letting the chill cool my body. I made a left and a right, getting onto the expressway, and then took an exit I wasn’t familiar with.

  It led to a suburb, which surprised me. I knew I would definitely need my GPS heading back to the hotel. I frowned as I came along a deserted tree-covered road between two neighborhoods. The quiet solitude should have calmed me, but instead, my adrenaline spiked. A dewy mist rolled along the edges of the trees, giving them an eerie quality, making my hair stand on end.

  Jesus Christ, Kannon, get it together. Nothing was urgent. I didn’t need to focus on anything. There were no bad guys tonight, and I could deal with that.

  The road curved to the left, and that’s when I saw headlights up ahead. They illuminated the road, but they weren’t coming from the road. I approached slowly and then parked about fifty feet from where I saw the headlights.

  The car had slid into a ditch. Fucking hell. I parked and then ran around to the back of my car to grab a rope and my rappelling equipment.

  Not knowing how far down the driver was, the equipment might come in handy.

  I ran to the edge of the road. “Hello? Anyone down there?”

  There was a soft voice. “Yes, over here.”

  A woman. God. My heart hammered in my chest, and I clenched my teeth. Calm down. It isn’t Phoebe. What the fuck was the woman doing out here? Was she drunk? How did she fall in here?

  You can ask questions when you get her out.

  At the broken guard rail, I attached the grappling hook before knotting the rope around my waist. Then I eased down into the ditch. It was steep. Climbable if you had the right shoes, but mine were slippery, so the rope would help us climb back up if needed. And if I had to secure her, it would definitely come in handy.

  “I’m coming down.”

  “It’s rocky. Be careful.”

  When I reached the car, it was on the one flat spot of the steep embankment. There were some grassy patches, but the incline wasn’t easy.

  A woman was leaning out of the passenger side of the car. “You didn’t have to come down here. You could have just called the police.”

  “You want me to go back up? I can leave you if you want,” I muttered sardonically. Who declined help when they were in a ditch?

  I couldn’t see her that well, but I could sense the frown in her tone. “Oh, an American, fantastic. Aren’t you hilarious?”

  She had an accent. I wasn’t sure what. It sounded vaguely British, but I couldn’t be sure
. “What’s your name?”

  “I’m London.”

  “What? Like the city?”

  “Oh my God, you have all the original lines.”

  This was going fucking fantastic. “Well, I guess I’m lucky you didn’t meet me in a bar then. I’d be bombing.”

  “Yes. Yes, you would,” she said with a chuckle.

  “I don’t know about that,” I said as I edged over to her, testing the strength of the rope so we wouldn’t slide farther down the ravine. “You haven’t really seen what I look like yet. My face is hard to turn away from.” I didn’t know why I was saying these things, but hell, if it helped her not panic, I’d keep going.

  “Oh, lucky me, you’re modest too.”

  “Well, you are lucky. I am here to save you.”

  She licked her lips. “And if I don’t need saving?”

  I chuckled. “Of course, you don’t need saving. You’re just down in a ravine, with the possibility of sliding down even farther. Plus, it’s rocky and practically impossible to climb without a rope. But you’re fine.”

  “I’ll have you know I am fine. If I hadn’t twisted my stupid ankle, I would be out of this ravine already.”

  I frowned then. “You’re hurt?”

  “Mostly bumps and bruises. I don’t think anything is broken, but my ankle hurts a little. I don’t think it’s a proper sprain. It’s just twisted.”

  When I reached her side, I could see her better in the moonlight. She did have some cuts and bruises. I knelt in front of her. “I’m Kannon. Kannon Adams.”

  “Oh, names again? You know mine.”

  “Well, at least I’m not going to offer to buy you a drink—yet. But from the looks of it, you could probably use one.”

  “You’d be right. Of course this would happen on a night like tonight.”

  I assessed her foot. Slim. Delicate. Well arched. A dancer’s foot. Except, they were too smooth for her to be a dancer. I lifted her ankle and found it was mildly swollen.

  She winced. “Careful.”

  “Easy does it.” When I looked up, her gaze on me was intent. Her blue eyes bore into mine, and that kicked my heart rate up even higher.

  What the fuck?

  Her hair was in a tangled mess around her face, spilling onto her shoulders. I had to focus to ask her the necessary questions. “Okay, London, how did you get down here?”

  She swallowed hard. “I think some idiot ran me off the road.”

  My brows snapped down, senses going on alert. “What do you mean, ran you off the road?”

  “I was driving on my way to a friend’s house, and out of nowhere, a car came up and banged into the back of my car. I started to pull over to exchange details, but instead, it came around the side of me, sped up, and hit me again. I lost control. And here I am. Then you came along.”

  Jesus Christ. “I’m sorry.”

  “Me too. I do hate to be late.”

  “Hot date?”

  “I mean, not as hot as my current situation, but sure.”

  I grinned at that. She still had a sense of humor. That was good. And I liked her accent. Her voice rolled over me like a nice shot of scotch, warm and smoky. It made me think of doing dirty things to her, making her light up like fire.

  Stop it. She clearly needs help. Fantasizing about her was definitely not the best idea at the moment. “I’m going to take your hand. Put as little pressure on your ankle as possible. I’m going to tie you to me, and then I’m going to climb us out of here, okay?”

  “How are you going to do that?”

  “We’re going to climb up. Mostly me. You’re going to climb up onto my back and stay there. But you’ll still be attached to me, even if you fall off.”

  “What if I fall? Will you fall too?”

  I shook my head. “The grappling hook will hold our weight. You’re just a little thing. And it held my weight coming down, so we’ll be fine climbing back up.”

  “Dare I ask why you have a grappling hook?”

  “For situations like this.”

  “Oh my God, you’re a serial killer, right? But I’m an easy target. It’ll be much better for you if you hunt your prey. And, as I can’t run on this ankle, I make a terrible serial killer target.”

  My lips twitched. “Sweetheart, if I wanted to hurt you, you’d be dead already.”

  She blinked at me before deadpanning, “That’s not as comforting as you think it is.”

  I shook my head. “Come on. Do you have everything you need?”

  She had a sturdy cross-body bag strapped on. It was bulky though. Like a camera bag.

  “I couldn’t get out of the driver’s side, so I shimmied over here. I just need this bag. I’ve got my phone in here. I have a few things in the back, but they’re not urgent. I didn’t want to attempt climbing in there and have the car fall farther down.”

  “Smart girl. You’re sure that bag is urgent?”

  Her nod was insistent. “I’d probably give my life to secure it.”

  I lifted a brow but didn’t question her. I’d find out soon enough what was in there. “Come on, let’s get you out of here.”

  “Kannon, that’s an interesting name. I don’t think I’ve ever met a Kannon.”

  “Well, not everyone can be as handsome and unique as I am.”

  “Are you flirting? That sounded like flirting. Bad flirting.”

  I ignored that, not sure what I would say in reply. Instead, I focused on the task at hand. It was easy enough for me to do simple knots and loops around us. The scent of her perfume, the light floral base with spicy accents was a distraction I couldn’t afford though.

  Then she climbed onto my back. She was light. But that wasn’t what I noticed the most. It was her scent again. Something flowery and light with a hint of vanilla? Jasmine? It clouded my brain for just a moment.

  Her voice was soft in my ear. “Like this?”

  I cleared my throat. “Like that. Hold on tight.”

  “Are you sure you can hold me?”

  I angled my head so our gazes met for a moment. “You don’t think I’m strong enough?”

  Her lids lowered for a moment, and then she met my gaze. In the moonlight, her skin looked incandescent despite the cuts and bruises. “You’re clearly solid enough. I just… I don’t want to be too much.”

  “Miss London, I don’t think you are ever too much.”

  She laughed then. “In that case, I don’t think you’ve met my brothers. They would disagree.”

  “Well, maybe we’ll get you home and I can meet them.”

  She said nothing in response. I credited that to nerves or the fact that I didn’t make much sense. And then I began our climb up. Without gloves, it was murder on my hands, but I was careful. Choosing which rocks to trust and which ones to avoid. When I lost my footing once, London held on tight, spider monkey style, and squeaked. She had a strong grip.

  She didn’t panic or scream, which was beyond helpful. When we reached the top, we lay there panting for several moments.

  “Oh my God, I honestly thought I was going to die down there. I’d been screaming, but no one heard me. I guess it was all in my head.”

  “Well, you have so much more life to live. Don’t die on my account.”

  She reached her arms around me and squeezed me tightly. “This doesn’t mean I’m a fan of your pickup lines. I’m just really grateful.”

  Her warm, soft body was pressed up against me, and I didn’t know what to do with my hands. Gently, I used one to pat her back until she released me. I eased us apart as much as the rope allowed. “Let’s get this rigging off you.”

  When I had the rope off of the two of us and the grappling hook disconnected, I grabbed my supplies and helped her stand. “Okay, put your arm around my shoulders, and I’ll walk you to the car. We’ll get you to a hospital so you can get checked out.”

  “Oh, I don’t need a hospital. I just want to get to my friend’s place.”

  I glanced down at her, caught off gu
ard by her tone. “Are you in some kind of trouble?”

  She frowned. “No, I just want to get to my friend’s. I’m fine.”

  “These cuts need to be cleaned up, and you are going to bruise come the morning. You’re going to look like Barney’s cousin.”

  She lifted a brow. “Who’s Barney?”

  I sighed. “Giant eggplant-colored dinosaur.”

  Her lips quirked. “I’m going to look like a dick?”

  The laugh tore out of my throat before I realized what I was doing. “Jesus.”

  She snorted a laugh. “Yes, I know who Barney is.”

  “You’re fucking with me?”

  “A little.”

  I sighed. “God, save me from sarcastic women.”

  She gave a prim shake of her head. “I can do this all day.”

  She probably could. I wasn’t going to let her do that though. “Let’s get you in the passenger seat, Captain America. We can argue about where I’m taking you once we’re settled in.”

  “Nice movie reference. I like how you slid that right in. As far as where we’re going, you’re taking me to my friend’s house.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Uh-huh. Feet in. Careful of the ankle.”

  She winced a little, but then she sat back and practically moaned as she sank into the leather. “Oh my God, this leather is divine.”

  “I know, right? Seats might be the sole reason I bought this car.”

  I closed the door, deposited my tools and her bag in the trunk, and then climbed into the driver’s seat. “Okay, I still say we need to take you to a hospital. At the very least, we should call the police.”

  “And I will call them. I swear. I mostly just really want a hot soak.”

  “You could have internal injuries.”

  She met my gaze stubbornly. “I’ll call a doctor to come to the house.”

  My brows lifted then. “A doctor to come to the house?”

  “You know, like a concierge service. This is Paris; I know they have them. And I guarantee you, Rian will have the name of one.”

  Well, she was rich then. Filthy, stinking rich. My favorite kind of client.

  Except she’s not a client. And she smells like sin and temptation.