The Thief by Michele Hauf

Author:Michele Hauf [Hauf, Michele]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

The Mustang pulled up to the curb at Charles de Gaulle airport. Xavier had never gotten queasy during fast rides, turbulent flights, or even rappelling down the side of a fifty-story glass-walled building. But Alliance McKenzie had a manner of driving that lifted his stomach to his throat. It wasn't that she was unsafe. The woman was a marvel behind the wheel and had dodged and woven through traffic like a snake on crack.

“The boss said to give you this.” She tossed him a small black leather attaché that resembled a passport wallet.

Xavier tucked it in an inner pocket of his suit coat. “Merci.”

She smirked, and a curl of lush hair spilled over her t-shirt, calling attention to her hard nipples. “You're looking a little blue around the gills, thief. What's wrong? I thought you liked it fast and furious with me.”

Yes, but with her behind the wheel? That would take some getting used to.

“It was good to see you, Al,” he said, opening the door. “Stay fast.”

“I will!” she called as he got out. “You keep that tight little ass safe!”

He shut the door, then took a moment to steady himself from the lingering effects of the harrowing ride. Xavier then stepped into the receiving area of the airport and made a beeline for the private jets.

* * * *

Josephine leaped to avoid a puddle and landed in a smaller one that splashed up her bare ankle. Never should have worn sandals on a rainy day. It was taking some getting used to, this city dwelling. It wasn’t the lush and wide-open French countryside, that was for sure. Yet she'd grown up in a big city, Des Moines, and had thrived after moving to Paris with her mother when she was eight. Just proved that some old habits should be left in the past.

As for old skills? She was struggling with that decision.

Streetlights glistened in streaks across the wet sidewalk. She took some joy in the fact she was out shopping for groceries, just a few blocks away from her interim place. The neighborhood sat at the edge of a boisterous nightclub district. Ahead, down the block, neon bar signs beckoned.

She wasn’t much for drinking and partying. Wasn’t even sure how it worked. She’d led a disciplined life since being forced to adapt after her mother had dropped her at the foster home when she was fourteen. Yeah, that had been a crusher. No one adopts fourteen-year-olds. Especially American fourteen-year-olds in France. And what teenager wanted to be absorbed into a new family, even if her mother had been a drug addict who had given her up because her boyfriend had told her to?

Despite that blow, Josephine had never turned to drugs or alcohol. Who had the patience for the idiocy of drinking when there were so many better ways to spend one’s time? Such as cracking a lock or practicing scaling a concrete security wall. As for the dating scene, she had never been an expert on that, either.

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