Page 21

A strident beeping jolted Marit awake, and she shot up in bed, her heart racing. “Isabelle!”

A door clicked. Someone coming in or going out?

Isabelle’s pale shadow flitted across the bedroom, headed toward the living room. “It’s one of the motion detectors,” she whispered. “I’m on it. Don’t move.”

Don’t move? While Isabelle went out there alone? Marit might be shaken, but she wasn’t going to simply sit in bed and wait for her friend to be attacked.

Sliding out from under the sheets, she reached for her phone on the bedside table: 3:55 a.m. If Cole had followed through on his plan to visit Peter Wade’s office, he probably wasn’t even in bed, let alone asleep. He also wasn’t going to answer her phone call. She pulled up Lars’s number and pushed Call. It rang once before Lars picked up.

“Marit? What’s wrong?”

“Someone tripped the motion sensor,” she whispered, the ongoing clamorous noise filling every corner of the flat. And probably beyond.

“Where are you?”

“In the bedroom.” She swallowed. “Isabelle’s gone out there.”

“Text Cole,” he said. Over the phone, she heard a door slam and the pounding of running feet. “I was waiting up for him, but he’s not back yet. I’m on my way over.”

The phone went dead. A thud sounded from the living room. Marit darted across the room, pressing herself against the wall beside the open bedroom door. The whisper of fabric moving. Was it Isabelle or someone else? Marit strained her ears, trying to determine which way the person was going.

“Marit?”

At the sound of Isabelle’s voice, Marit’s knees weakened. “I’m by the door.”

Isabelle entered the bedroom, the moonlight peeking through the chinks in the blinds and reflecting off the gun in her hand. “He’s gone.”

“Did you see him?”

“Yeah.” Frustration filled her voice. “Black clothes, black mask. By the time I reached the front door, he was halfway down the hall. He took the stairs, and I knew I wouldn’t catch him even if the elevator was waiting on our floor.”

Female voices reached them from outside the flat. With a groan, Isabelle hurried over to the chest of drawers and picked up her phone. Two seconds later, the alarm shut off, and an eerie silence descended on the flat.

“I should have done that first thing,” Isabelle said. “Then maybe it would have only woken us up instead of everyone on our floor.”

As if to prove the point, someone banged on their door. “Marit! What’s going on? Are you okay?”

“What do I tell them?” Marit asked.

“The truth.” Isabelle slipped her gun beneath her pillow. “That someone tried to break into this flat. Again. We’ll reassure them that the alarms scared off the perpetrator and apologize for waking them. That’s all they need to know at this time of night.”

Releasing a tense breath, Marit started for the door. “I don’t know what happened to the security guard downstairs, but whether Esmee likes it or not, something significant is going to have to change if we’re staying here another night.”

***

Lars tore out of the hotel. At this early hour of the morning, the traffic was light, and he barely paused to look both ways before sprinting across the road. Taking the steps that led to the entrance to Marit’s building two at a time, he reached for the door.

“Lars!”

He swung around. Running footsteps approached from his left, and seconds later, Cole materialized out of the shadows.

“Did Marit text you?” Lars asked, pushing open the door as he spoke.

“I haven’t checked.” Cole was out of breath. “I was just leaving the other place when my phone registered that the motion sensors were triggered. I’ve been running ever since. Have you talked to her?”

“Yeah. But that was at least two minutes ago.”

Neither of them needed to be told how quickly a situation like this could change. Especially if weapons were involved.

Cole withdrew his gun and entered the empty lobby beside Lars. “The front door should have been locked. And where’s the security guard?”

“I don’t know, and I’m not waiting to find out.” Lars made for the door bearing a sign showing stairs. “I’m not waiting for the lift either.”

“Good call.” Cole was right behind him. “It’s so tiny, we probably couldn’t fit both of us and my backpack in it anyway.”

With a grunt of agreement, Lars started up the stairs. “Which floor are they on again?”

“Fourth,” Cole said, glancing up the stairwell. “It looks clear, but keep your ear out for anyone coming down.”

Lars took the stairs faster than he’d ever climbed stairs before. And he was reminded of how much he hated them. “This is it,” he panted when they reached the fourth floor.

“Yeah.” With his free hand, Cole reached for the door. “Let me go first.”

Cole opened the door a fraction and peered out through the narrow opening.

“What do you see?” Lars asked.

“Three women talking in the hallway,” he said.

“Is any of them Marit or Isabelle?”

“Nope,” Cole said. “Try calling Marit.”

Lars dialed Marit’s phone.

She answered immediately. “We’re both okay,” she said. “The intruder bolted when the alarm went off.”

Lars released a ragged breath. “Thank goodness. Where are you now?”

“In our flat. Where are you?”

“Almost in your flat,” he said. “What number is it?”

“412. But—”

“We’ll be right there,” Lars said.

“They’re okay?” Cole asked as Lars disconnected.

“Yeah. Number 412. Let’s go.”

Cole opened the stairwell door wide enough that he could glance up and down the hall. He held up his hand to have Lars wait. Lars tensed. What now? A door closed, and Cole’s hand dropped.

“We’re clear,” he said. “The women who were out there just went into their flats.”

Moving rapidly, the two men entered the hall. Lars glanced at the numbers on the nearest doors: 408, 409.

“Turn right,” Lars said. “The numbers are going up that way.”

410. 411. Another door clicked, and suddenly, Isabelle was standing in front of them. Her eyes widened, but without a word, she stepped back into the flat, leaving the door open for them to follow.

Vaguely aware of Isabelle locking the door behind them, Lars crossed the small living room in six long strides and wrapped his arms around Marit.

“You’re really okay?” he asked.

She nodded, clinging to him as he pressed a kiss to her lips.

“It was a good thing we put in the motion sensors,” Isabelle said. “The alarm spooked the intruder enough to send him running before he got any farther than the front door.”

“Did you see him?” Cole asked.

“Yes, but not well enough to ID him.”

Cole must have recognized her frustration. He brushed a kiss across her cheek. “It’s okay. How long ago did he disappear?”

Isabelle glanced at the clock hanging on the wall. “About five minutes ago.”

Cole nodded. “He’s probably long gone—especially if he was working with someone else—but I’m going to do a quick sweep outside the building just in case.” He met Lars’s eyes. “Stay with the girls. I don’t care who tells you that you’re not allowed in here. Don’t leave.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Lars said, tightening his hold on Marit.

Cole nodded. “Lock the door behind me. I’ll be back soon.”

Isabelle opened the door again. The sound of the lift grinding its way upward filled the hall. Cole glanced that way and then took off toward the staircase in the opposite direction.

Locking the door behind him, Isabelle released an exasperated sigh. “Do we call the police, or do we assume someone else already has?”

“Is that really necessary?” Marit asked. “Other than our alarm waking everyone in the building, nothing happened.”

Lars understood her reluctance. He’d lost track of how many times she’d spoken with a police officer since she’d arrived in Paris.

“It’s the waking-everyone-in-the-building part that I’m worried about,” Isabelle said. “It’ll be a miracle if no one called in a complaint.”

A knock sounded at the door.

“If Cole’s back already, that’s probably not a good thing,” Lars murmured. “If it’s the police or an irate neighbor, that isn’t much better.”

“Marit!” A woman’s voice called through the door. “Isabelle! Are you in there?”

“It’s Esmee,” Marit whispered.

Esmee pounded again.

“I don’t think she’s going to go away.” Isabelle reached for the doorknob and gave Lars a pointed look. “You’d better brace yourself for a dressing down.”

“Let her in,” Lars said grimly. “I have a few things she probably needs to hear too.”

Isabelle opened the door. “Hi, Esmee.”

Marit’s agent entered, a pink silk dressing gown covering her matching pajamas. “What’s going on up here?” she demanded. “Alarms. Models running around the halls in the middle of the night.” She turned to look at Marit, and catching sight of Lars for the first time, she placed her hands on her hips. “And now a man in the building?”

Lars met her glare without flinching. “You forgot to mention the thug who got past the supposedly vigilant security guard and just broke into Marit and Isabelle’s flat. Again.”

Esmee turned shocked eyes on Isabelle. “Is this true?”

“Yes,” Isabelle said. “After the first break-in, Cole insisted that we put a motion sensor at the door, and it’s a good thing we did. The alarm went off when someone entered our flat. Thankfully, that was enough to scare him away.”

“I called Lars, and he came right over,” Marit said.

“You should have called the police,” Esmee said even as the faint wail of a siren entered the flat.

“It sounds like someone else did that,” Lars said.

Esmee clutched the lapels of her nightgown. “This is terrible.”

“Yeah, it is,” Lars said. “And so, from tonight on, either you find Marit and Isabelle somewhere else to stay, where Cole and I can keep them safe, or you break your no-men-allowed rule, and let us camp out in this living room.”

“It would be impossible to find alternative accommodations in this part of the city with Fashion Week’s opening in two days,” Esmee said.

“Then we go with the other option,” Lars said. “Cole and I are well used to sleeping on sofas.”

“I cannot allow—”

“You don’t understand,” Lars interrupted her. “We already tried your solution, and it failed. Who knows where the security guard was just now. And whatever new locks the locksmith put on didn’t do the job either. If that guy tries to get to Marit and Isabelle again, he’s going to have to go through me and Cole.”

For the first time, Esmee’s expression showed a hint of indecision. “But the other models. What do I tell them?”

“That they’re safer with Cole and Lars staying in the building than they would be if the men weren’t here,” Marit said.

“And if they request that their boyfriends come too?”

“Tell them you are making an exception only because Cole and Lars have experience with security matters,” Isabelle said.

Under those conditions, Cole certainly qualified. It might be stretching the truth a bit in Lars’s case, but if practice watching security feed counted, few people could match him.

“I won’t lie to them,” Esmee said.

“It wouldn’t be a lie,” Isabelle said.

Esmee was vacillating. Lars could sense it. Maybe a reminder of what she stood to lose would be helpful. “There is a third alternative,” he said. “If you don’t think Cole and I can keep them safe, Marit and Isabelle could leave Paris. I’m sure you agree it’s not worth risking their lives to stay here unprotected.”

Esmee’s eyes flashed with something that looked remarkably like panic. “I’ll speak to the building supervisor,” she said. “You can stay until the police have taken care of the threat. But only until then.”

A phone rang in her dressing gown pocket. Esmee pulled it out, frowned, and answered it. “This is Esmee.” She paused, listening intently to whoever was on the other end. “Yes. I understand. Thank you for telling me.” She hung up. “Well, it looks like I won’t have to speak to the supervisor until later this morning,” she said. “That was the security guard downstairs. It seems that he returned to the lobby from the men’s room to discover the police sealing the building. No one is to go in or out until they’ve determined what happened.” She offered Marit a regretful look. “They’re on their way up.”

“I’ll go into the hall with Esmee to meet them,” Isabelle said. “Will you let Cole know what’s happening?”

The moment Isabelle and Esmee walked out, Lars pulled out his phone and called Cole. The phone rang four times before his cousin answered it.

“What’s going on?” Cole asked.

“The police are here and have sealed the building,” Lars said.

“Yeah, I guessed that might happen when I heard the sirens. Have they reached the girls’ flat yet?”

“They’re on their way up.”

“Okay,” Cole said. “I should be there in just a minute.”

“The police won’t let you—”

“Hey, would you have Marit go stand at her bedroom window?” Cole said as though he hadn’t even heard Lars. “I want to make sure I have the right one.”

Lars lowered his phone. “Cole wants you to go stand at your bedroom window.”

Marit gave him a puzzled look but hurried into the room behind her. Moments later, there was a slight thud. Lars arrived at the open bedroom door in time to see Cole appear outside the glass. Marit yanked the window open, and Cole slid inside. As soon as his feet were firmly on the floor, he released the harness he was wearing.

“Thanks for opening the window,” Cole said. “That made things a lot easier.”

Lars stared at him. “You rappelled in here from the roof?”

Cole shrugged. “I already had all the equipment with me, and I knew where the fire escape was.” He looked at Lars’s face and chuckled. “I told you I’d only be a minute.”

Lars rolled his eyes. “You get to explain to Esmee how you got in here.”

“Esmee’s here?”

“She and Isabelle went into the hall to meet the police,” Marit said.

Cole stuffed his harness into his backpack and tossed his jacket onto a nearby chair. “I’ll go join them. If Esmee asks where I was earlier, we’ll tell her I was in the bathroom.”

“Okay,” Lars said. “But for the record, the security guard downstairs already used that excuse.”