The Paris Apartment by Kelly Bowen

Author:Kelly Bowen [Bowen, Kelly]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781538718155
Google: YF31DwAAQBAJ
Amazon: 1538718154
Publisher: Forever
Published: 2021-04-19T23:00:00+00:00

Sophie lay on the cold metal floor of the Hudson bomber, feeling the vibrations from the engines right through her bones. At the front of the plane, the pilot and the navigator were absorbed in their duties. How these men could know where they were in the dead of night with only math and the moon and the occasional blackout-defying soul to guide them amazed Sophie. As did the gunners at the front and rear who scanned the ground and air with unwavering intensity. They had been told to expect flak from antiaircraft guns, explosions that could toss the plane even if they were too far out of range to cause real damage, but thus far, the flight had been blissfully uneventful.

Around her were over a dozen cylindrical containers as tall as she was, each attached to its own parachute. Their luggage and a suitcase full of silver powder compacts, tubes of bright lipstick, and an assortment of mascara and eye shadow pots were in one. The contents of the others were a mystery to her, though it didn’t take much to guess that they contained weapons and supplies for the Resistance forces that would meet them.

Across from Sophie, Gerard also rested on the floor of the plane. The unrelenting din from the bomber’s engines prevented any sort of casual conversation, not that her partner seemed any more interested in speaking to her than he had earlier. In fact, he hadn’t said a word since they’d both stuffed themselves into their coveralls and helmets and securely strapped on their parachutes.

Sophie tried not to worry about his recalcitrance. She had to believe that, once they were on the ground, he would come to the realization that they were truly in this together. She didn’t need him to like her, but she needed him to trust her.

She turned her head and watched as a squadron crew member moved through the plane, expertly double-checking the parachute harnesses attached to each cylinder, the beam of his small torch bobbing up and down. He stopped by Sophie and crouched down.

“First jump?” He shouted to be heard above the engines.

The glow from the little torch illuminated an airman who couldn’t have been more than eighteen, with bright blue eyes that instantly reminded her of Piotr.

“Yes,” Sophie replied. “But not your first time at this, I take it.”

“This is my thirty-eighth visit to France. Over France, at least. You lot keep us busy.” He rapped on the fuselage fondly. “Never been to Paris though. Always wanted to go. Me mum went once and thought it was the most beautiful city she ever saw. She said Sacré-Coeur was like standing on the top of the world.”

“She was right,” Sophie told him.

“Not so beautiful now, I imagine, with all those feckin’ Nazi flags hanging everywhere.”

“Working on it,” Sophie said, smiling. It was impossible not to like him.

“Pilot reckons we’re about five minutes out.” He gestured to the cylinders. “Just remember, once the pilot verifies the ground signal and gives

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