Acacia buried her face in Claude’s fur.
Fatigue began to overtake her as the adrenaline in her system waned. She could call Luc, but he’d involve the BRB. At this point, she couldn’t trust them. They’d left her unprotected precisely at the moment she’d been attacked.
An ugly memory flashed through her mind. Acacia remembered a previous attack that had almost been successful. She’d escaped and fled Rio for Recife.
Paris was supposed to be safe.
If she wanted to continue living and working in France, she had to avoid both her attackers and the police. Remaining at Hotel Victoire and involving Luc would jeopardize that. And there was the small matter that she still had Marcel’s journal. She could be charged with obstruction and possibly sent back to Brazil.
The enemy of my enemy is my ally, she thought. At least for now.
“All right.” She shut her eyes in resignation.
The sound of Nicholas’s pacing ceased. “Rick will arrive at your apartment shortly. I’ll meet you in Geneva. Call me if there’s trouble.”
“Fine.” Acacia was angry. She didn’t like feeling powerless.
“And Acacia,” Nicholas’s tone was grave, “remove everything you value from your apartment. If they decide to look for you there, they won’t be gentle.”
She whispered her acquiescence and ended the call.
Claude meowed at her again. She hugged him tightly.
What have I done?
Chapter Seventeen
A SHORT TIME LATER, Acacia knocked on Kate’s door, with Rick at her side. He looked slightly the worse for wear, with cuts and abrasions on his hands and face. He wore dark sunglasses and an earpiece and had appeared at Acacia’s door holding her motorcycle helmet.
With the exception of Claude and his things, Acacia had packed everything she valued into a rolling suitcase and a briefcase, including Marcel’s journal. Claude meowed in protest from behind the walls of his carrier, scratching at the sides.
Kate opened the door to her flat wearing only a bathrobe. She rubbed her eyes. “What time is it?”
“Early. I need a favor.” Acacia addressed Kate in French, partially because she’d only heard Rick speak English and hoped his French was poor.
“Whoa.” Kate started and took a step back as she caught sight of Rick. “What’s that?”
Acacia addressed the large man in English. “I need a minute.”
He grunted. “You aren’t out of my sight.”
“Fine. I’m not talking in the hallway.” Acacia pushed past him and entered Kate’s apartment. He followed and closed the door.
Kate gave Rick a dirty look. “Who’s the giant?” she whispered in French.
Acacia turned her back to Rick. “He’s a security guard. There was an incident at the hotel. I’m leaving the city for a few days.”
Kate looked horrified. “What happened?”
“Someone jumped me.” Acacia gestured over her shoulder toward Rick. “He’s a private security guard for one of the guests, and he came to help me. Security at the hotel ignored the incident, so I’m not going back to work. Can you look after Claude for me?”
Kate examined Acacia more closely. “Someone jumped you? Are you okay?”
“Just a few bruises.” Acacia placed the cat carrier on the floor. “I’m sorry, Kate. I don’t have a lot of time. Can you take care of Claude while I’m gone?”
Kate looked down at the cat carrier. “Of course.” She blinked in confusion. “Why would hotel security ignore you? Did you call the police?”
“Something is going on at the hotel.” Acacia handed Kate a shopping bag that contained cat food and toys. “I’m going away until I figure out what to do next.”
Kate put the bag aside and faced her friend. “This is ridiculous. You need to call Luc.”
Acacia shook her head. She glanced over at Rick, who scowled. “I have to go. We’re on our way to the airport.”
Kate took Acacia’s hand. “Give me Luc’s number. I’ll call him.”
“I’ll contact Luc after I leave the city.” Acacia’s tone was firm. “I’ll text you.”
“Just blink if you’re doing this against your will,” Kate whispered.
Acacia stared back at her.
“Okay.” Kate narrowed her eyes at Rick. “I’d better hear from you every day, or I’m tracking Luc down.”
“If you don’t hear from me, tell Luc to speak to Madame Bishop at KLH. It’s the firm I interviewed with the other day.” Acacia glanced over her shoulder, toward the door that led into the hall. “The men who came after me may come here. Be careful going in and out of the building. Please keep Claude with you.”
“I will.” Kate’s gaze moved to Rick again. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“We have to go,” Rick announced. He walked toward the door.
Acacia hugged her friend and took a moment to say goodbye to Claude before she exited the apartment with her luggage.
Chapter Eighteen
ACACIA WASN’T FOOLISH; she knew she was taking a risk.
On the way to the airport, she texted Nicholas’s name and alias to Kate, along with a short explanation about KLH and Madame Bishop. Acacia also forwarded Luc’s number, asking Kate to alert him if for some reason she didn’t maintain contact.
Kate responded immediately:
Okay. Be careful.
No sooner had Acacia read Kate’s text when another text arrived, from Luc:
Where are you?
Acacia sat back in her seat. Obviously, whoever was supposed to be protecting her that morning at the hotel had checked in with Luc, saying he’d lost her. Although she was confident Luc wouldn’t hurt her, she didn’t trust his colleagues.
She ignored the text.
A few minutes later, when Luc called, she let the call go to voicemail.
Acacia wasn’t entirely confident she was making the right decision. But Rick had come to her aid, as had Nicholas. If they meant her harm, they’d gone to an extraordinary amount of trouble to do so. On her analysis, they were the lesser of two evils—the greater evil being the risk of returning to the hotel.
Rick escorted her inside Charles de Gaulle Airport where he introduced her to Kurt, one of his associates.
When she queried Rick as to why he was staying in Paris, he muttered something about working. Acacia hoped that meant he was on the heels of the men who’d attacked her.
Acacia and Kurt flew business class on Air France to Geneva—a very short flight—and were then met at the gate by another security guard and an airport agent. They were whisked through customs and accompanied outside the Geneva airport to a waiting limousine.
Kurt held the door open for Acacia. She climbed in.
“Good morning.” Monsieur Cassirer’s smooth voice greeted her.
She startled.
Kurt slipped around her and sat opposite his employer, leaving Acacia to sit near Nicholas.
Monsieur Cassirer was dressed in one of his ubiquitous black suits. His purple tie hung loose around his neck, just a shade darker than the purple of his dress shirt. His hair was carefully combed and he was clean-shaven, his scar miraculously invisible.
Acacia lowered her gaze to her seatbelt. She pondered his disappearing scar and wondered why he’d worn it as Pierre Breckman but covered it every other time she’d encountered him.
“I trust your flight was comfortable.”
“Yes. Thank you.”
Nicholas handed her a bottle of sparkling water. “You look tired.”
Acacia took the bottle gratefully. “I am.”
She was too exhausted to reflect on her denim jacket and white pants, or the state of her hair. She’d worked the night shift at the hotel before the terrifying events of that morning. On the short flight from Paris to Geneva, she’d only been able to
sleep for a few minutes.
She opened the bottle and sipped, her gaze drawn to the landscape outside the car. “Where are you taking me?”
“Just a moment.” Nicholas lifted his hand as the driver pulled out of the airport and onto a small side road.
The driver pulled the car to the shoulder and parked behind a small, black van. The door to the van opened, and an Asian man exited the vehicle.
“What’s going on?” Acacia asked.
“It’s all right.” Nicholas spoke in a soothing tone. “He’s part of my security detail. He’s going to sweep you for surveillance devices.”
Acacia’s mouth dropped open. “Is that necessary?”
Nicholas wore a grave expression. “It’s for your safety, as well as mine.”
Acacia thought back to the events at the Victoire earlier that morning. She certainly didn’t want to see her assailants again.
“All right.” She squared her shoulders and followed Kurt and Nicholas out of the limousine.
The Asian man appeared to be in his late twenties. He was slender, with dark hair and dark eyes. In his hands, he held a silver briefcase and what looked like a portable metal detector.
He smiled at Acacia. “Hi there,” he greeted her in English. “This will just take a minute.”
Acacia stood still as the young man meticulously scanned her with the wand. Then he repeated the procedure on Kurt and Nicholas.
Acacia stared at the man, wide-eyed.
When he was finished, he nodded at Nicholas and hopped back into the van.
Nicholas piloted Acacia into the limousine. “That was Wen. He’s part of my security team. He’s already scanned in here, so we can talk now.”
“I don’t recall you scanning me for bugs before I met you at Madame Bishop’s office.”
Nicholas smiled patiently. “Don’t you recall going through security when you entered the building?”
Acacia blinked. “What about at the Victoire? No one scanned me there.”
“My advance team scanned the suite before I arrived, and they continued doing so as people came and went.” Nicholas gazed over at her thoughtfully. “You weren’t bugged.”
Acacia straightened. “I didn’t know you had an advance team when you stayed at the Victoire.”
“Hotel security was aware of it, and so was your manager.” Nicholas’s lip curled at his mention of Acacia’s former supervisor. “I didn’t have you scanned individually because I was concerned you’d spread information about my anti-surveillance practices.”
Acacia frowned. “Did your team ever find anything?”
“Always. On my last visit, there were six devices in the penthouse suite.”
Acacia took a drink from her water bottle. “Why would someone want to listen in on your conversations?”
“It wasn’t limited to audio. Some of the devices recorded video as well. Interested parties might be looking for blackmail material, as well as information about my business dealings.”
“Who would do that?”
He shrugged. “We all have our enemies.”
Acacia muttered a low curse. “Now that we’ve been de-bugged, where are you taking me?”
“My parents’ house. My team is investigating the men who attacked you. I hope to discover who they’re working for soon.”
“Your parents?” Acacia swung her head to face him.
Nicholas broke eye contact and looked straight ahead. “They aren’t at home. They spend most of their time abroad.”
“Do they live near the airport?”
“They have a house in Cologny, which has a full staff and excellent security.”
She exhaled. “You don’t even know me.”
“I take responsibility for my actions, mademoiselle. You’re in danger because of me.” Nicholas set his jaw. “I may not enjoy the view, but at least I can look at myself in the mirror.”
Acacia examined his profile. “How did it happen?”
He ignored her question.
She couldn’t fault him. Whatever had caused his scar had surely been traumatic.
She decided to change the subject. “How long will it take to find out who attacked me?”
“Not long. I have my suspicions; I just need confirmation.”
“And what are your suspicions?”
“Organized crime. They’re probably running things through the hotel, using Marcel and Monsieur Roy. It’s possible the attack behind the hotel was designed simply to frighten you. But given what happened to Marcel…” Nicholas’s voice trailed off.
“They’re expending a great deal of effort to get rid of me. Seems a disproportionate response.”
“Are you familiar with the iceberg principle?”
She shook her head.
“When you see an iceberg, you’re only seeing one-tenth of it. The rest of the iceberg lurks below the surface. We’re only seeing ten percent of what’s going on at the hotel.”
Acacia shivered. “I have to tell Monsieur Roy I’m not coming to work tonight.”
“There’s wireless at the house. What will you say?”
“I don’t know. I’m not in a hurry to quit, but for the sake of my reputation I’d rather not be fired.” She smoothed a crease from the front of her white jeans. “I suppose I could claim to be ill.”
“Seems like a good idea.” Nicholas gazed at her thoughtfully. “Apart from me, did you have any peculiar exchanges with other guests?”
Acacia shook her head. “No, nothing unusual.”
“None of the other employees approached you with anything suspicious?”
“No. That’s why this is so strange.”
Nicholas looked beyond Acacia and out her window. “We’re almost there.”
A few minutes later, they pulled up to a set of iron gates. The driver spoke briefly with a security guard, and the gate opened.
They drove down a long, winding road and approached an elegant three-story stone mansion with gabled windows and a tiled roof. Next to it stood a two-story carriage house with large, circular windows on both levels.
From the car, Acacia could see the grounds were impeccably landscaped, with grass, manicured hedges, and carefully tended rose bushes and potted flowers.
The driver parked the limousine at the front entrance and opened Acacia’s door. He retrieved her luggage from the trunk and followed as Nicholas escorted her toward the front door.
A mature woman dressed in a green suit waited just inside the entryway. She had lively blue eyes and gray hair, which fell in straight locks to her chin.
“Good morning, Juliet,” Nicholas greeted her in French. He kissed her on both cheeks. “It’s been a long time.”
“Too long.” The woman pressed his hand between hers.
Nicholas stepped back. “This is Mademoiselle Santos. She’ll be staying for a few days. Acacia, this is Juliet. She’s been the housekeeper since I was a child.”
“Welcome, mademoiselle.” Juliet bobbed her head.
“Thank you, Juliet.” Acacia returned her smile and tried not to gawk.
The entranceway opened into an expansive hall with hardwood floors covered by Persian rugs. The wood-paneled walls were hung with oil paintings set in heavy, ornate frames. A large and elaborate crystal chandelier was suspended from the center of the high ceiling.
Juliet gestured toward a wooden staircase in the center of the hall. “Allow me to show you to your room. Breakfast will be served in the dining room.”
Acacia made eye contact with Nicholas before shaking her head. “I’m sorry; I was awake all night. What I’d like most is to sleep.”
“Of course. I’ll ask the chef to send up a tray.” Juliet turned to a young woman who stood in a doorway nearby. Nodding, she disappeared.
“That’s Gretle. She will assist you with w
hatever you need,” Juliet explained as she led Acacia toward the staircase.
Nicholas cleared his throat. “I have some business to attend to. Shall we meet for dinner? At seven?”
Acacia was uncomfortable. She wanted to participate in the investigation, but she was too exhausted. “Yes, see you at seven,” she managed to say. “Before you go, I want to know more about the security on this property.”
“Armed guards with dogs patrol the grounds. Cameras cover every inch of the perimeter, along with motion sensors. At night, the house is locked and additional alarms and motion sensors are activated at all windows and entrances. There are tunnels beneath the property that allow for evacuation in the event of an emergency.” He paused, noting her continued discomfort, and came a step closer. “You’re safe here.”
“What about the tunnels? Could someone access them to get in?”
Nicholas’s eyes glittered. “They could try. But they’d have to use a large amount of explosives to blow open the doors. Any intruder would give himself away before gaining access to the tunnels.”
“Thank you.” Acacia ducked her head so he wouldn’t see the emotion in her eyes. She followed Juliet up the stairs.
Chapter Nineteen
ACACIA’S ROOM WAS ON THE SECOND FLOOR and had a balcony that overlooked the swimming pool and the tennis courts. Through the windows, she had an exceptional view of the Alps.
Juliet drew back the curtains and opened the balcony door, allowing a refreshing summer breeze inside.
She unfolded a luggage rack and gestured for Gretle to place Acacia’s suitcase atop it. “Thank you, Gretle.”
She bobbed her head and withdrew.
Juliet switched on a lamp that sat on a side table adjacent to the large bed. “Gretle will bring your breakfast tray and unpack for you.”
“That isn’t necessary. I didn’t bring much.” Acacia smiled at Juliet and placed her briefcase on a desk that stood near the floor-to-ceiling windows. The view of Mont Blanc was breathtaking.
“Very good.” Juliet opened a door to the left of the bed. “This is the closet. If you need anything pressed or cleaned, please speak to Gretle.”