A/N: You know you're all awesome, right? Thank you so much for the fantastic response to the previous chapter. Let's just say I grinned a lot and was (and am) filled with gratitude.
Thanks to AgentInWaiting for his hard work on this and all of my humongous chapters. Funny story, actually. This chapter and the next started out as one big chapter. I decided to split it due to how lengthy it had become (you're shocked, I know) and story elements I felt still needed to be added. He was really supportive of that decision and I'm so thankful for that.
Thank you to those of you who have checked in on my family and me regarding the fires currently burning here in Colorado. Other than our smoky sky, we're fine. My thoughts and prayers go out for those fighting the fires, those who have been evacuated and especially those who have lost everything.
One last thing, more pictures of Monaco will be posted on my blog today. Hope you check them out.
Chapter 44 – Casual Conversations
There were times when Sarah Walker hated her job, like when she had to crawl through a dust-bunny filled air conditioning vent to free a captured colleague or a rat-infested sewer to escape the clutches of a double agent. Then there were times like this when it was the best job in the world. Today, she was in Monaco, wiling away the afternoon by the pool of a beachside resort, reclining on a chaise longue and soaking up the warmth of the sun. It was glorious.
Of course, she was there on the job and was actually working. She was hoping she and Carina would catch the attention of Benoit's men and gain more intel on their quarry's plans for his time in Monte Carlo. There hadn't been any contact yet, but they'd only just arrived in Monte Carlo the day before. It was Thursday and the high stakes gambling was to take place Saturday, so if they were to make contact with any of Benoit's men, it would happen in the next couple of days.
Reaching over to the small, low table that sat between her and Carina's chairs, she picked up her glass of iced tea and took several long sips through a straw. The drops of condensation that slid down the outside of the glass felt heavenly when they splashed on her sun-warmed skin. She swiped her hand across the drops, distributing the cool wetness across her belly. When it immediately evaporated, she knew she'd soon need to take a dip in the pool to cool off.
She set her drink back on the table, adjusted her sunglasses and watched Chuck and the kids playing in the pool. He, Fred, Lisa and Curtis tossed a colorful, soggy splash ball about the size of a tennis ball back and forth to each other. Lizzie hung out with Megan and Martie at the shallow end where Spy Barbie and GI Joe were in the midst of an underwater mission. Bridget read a fashion magazine while sunning herself on one of the lounge chairs. An ever-vigilant Casey watched over everyone from a chair situated under a large umbrella.
Sarah looked over at Carina—stretched out on the chaise longue next to her—when she heard the redhead make a purring noise. "What?" she asked.
Carina tipped her head toward Barstow swimming laps in the laned-off part of the pool. "He has a nice stroke."
Snorting, Sarah said, "You can compliment a guy on how nicely he swims and yet still manage to make it sound dirty."
She popped a shoulder up and down. "I'm a woman of many talents." After a minute, Carina turned her head a little and grumbled, "Uh-oh. Incoming."
Sarah blew out a breath and kept her gaze straight ahead. Even so, in her peripheral vision, she saw a man who really shouldn't have been wearing a Speedo approach. He stopped next to her and after spending a moment ogling Carina, stared down at her. She slowly turned her head and looked up at him over the top of her sunglasses. He was a walking cliché. The large gold pendant attached to the thick chain around his neck was nearly lost in the fur-like hair that covered his chest. The tips of his spiky hair were frosted and his wide grin showed off teeth that looked like Chiclets. In an oily voice, Mr. Cliché said in French, "Excuse me. Do you have any sunscreen? Because you are burning me up!"
It was all she could do to not burst out laughing. She considered pretending she only spoke Polish, but she'd already been talking to Carina in English, so that wouldn't work. Maybe he didn't speak English. It was worth a try. "I'm sorry?" she said.
Mr. Cliché whipped off his sunglasses and eyed her. "Ah, you are American." He tried his pick up line again, this time in English.
"I'm happy to let you borrow our sunscreen." Picking up the tube that sat on the table next to her iced tea, she held it toward him. "Protecting your skin from the sun's damaging rays is so important," she said, her voice earnest as she worked to maintain a serious demeanor.
Mr. Cliché's smile faltered when she responded so literally. However, she wasn't surprised when he remained undeterred. Shifting his weight to his other foot, he asked, "Can I buy you a drink?" He must have decided he needed to be a little more direct.
"No, thanks. I've got one." When he didn't take the sunscreen, she shrugged, reached around and returned it to its spot on the table. Just as she turned forward again, she heard a thwap and saw a small explosion of water. The soaked splash ball hit Mr. Cliché squarely on the back of the shoulder and after releasing its payload of pool water, dropped to the deck at his feet. Being within its blast radius, both Sarah and Carina were hit by the spray.
Sarah watched Chuck swim to the side of the pool and push himself out right in front of them. She eyed him appreciatively as water cascaded down his long, lanky body. A hum almost escaped from her throat at the way his wet blue board shorts clung to him and the waistband hung low on his hips.
Chuck walked toward them—water slinging off his feet and leaving giant, wet footprints with each step he took—his face filled with embarrassment and apology. His eyes, however, twinkled with mischief. To Mr. Cliché, he said, "I'm so sorry. I totally missed catching that throw. My bad."
Sarah glanced over at Fred, bobbing in the water. He waved his hand and shouted, "Sorry, dude!" She pressed her lips together when she saw on his face that he wasn't sorry at all. She'd have to compliment him later on how impressed she was at the power and accuracy of his throwing arm.
Mr. Cliché scowled at Chuck while Sarah said to her husband, "It's okay. It's hot and the water feels good." She turned her face toward Mr. Cliché and said in a voice that left no doubt he was being dismissed, "He was just leaving."
The scowl on Mr. Cliché's face remained, but he finally seemed to receive the message since he flicked his fingers through the front spikes in his hair, slid his sunglasses on and strode off.
Chuck picked up the ball, smiled at her and said, "Again, I'm sorry." As he turned, Sarah saw him sneak a peek at her legs. That brought a grin to her face while she watched him walk back to the pool, jump in and toss the ball to Lisa.
"Now we're tied, three each," Carina said. "The Wookie wins the prize as the cheesiest, though."
"Yeah, he was something, wasn't he? At least the rest of the guys who've come up to us have been normal. A couple of them were really cute, Caryn. You should have gone for it."
"I could say the same about the first two guys who tried to chat you up, Sarah. They were adorable."
Sarah pulled up on the gold hoops straps of her white bikini top. "Not my type."
A throaty chuckle erupted from Carina, as she looked around. There was no one near them but nevertheless she dropped her voice to a whisper and murmured in Swedish, "Chuckie needs to step up his game if he wants people to believe you two are strangers."
"What do you mean?" Sarah replied back in Swedish, indignation coloring her voice. "He played his part perfectly."
The redhead shook her head. "He didn't even look at me." She stretched and arched her back. "I mean, come on."
Sarah had to settle for rolling her eyes when a woman approached and settled down in the lounger next to them. Turning her attention back to what was in front of her she wondered what Chuck was up to when he suddenly walked across the bottom of the pool toward Fred, plowing his way through the ribcage deep water. When he reached the teen, the two huddled in conversation. Fred peered over his uncle's shoulder in Sarah's direction and grinned. Then he looked back at Chuck and nodded enthusiastically. Chuck returned to his position in the circle and the splash ball continued to travel back and forth across the pool.
Excitement and anticipation swirled in her middle as she watched the game continue. Chuck was clearly up to something and he seemed to be taking the "Sarah Irving and Charles Charles meet cute" thing very seriously. He'd managed to become even more sweet and adorable than he already was.
She didn't have to wait long for his next "move." Fred threw the ball at him again and when it went sailing over his head, Chuck's attempt to catch it was half-hearted at best. The ball flew out of the pool and landed on the deck next to Sarah.
Before she got a chance to pick it up and throw it back, Chuck shouted to his companions, "I got it!" and lifted himself out of the pool again. His feet slapped against the cement as he strode over to where the ball lay, making a puddle. It had to have been her imagination, but Sarah could have sworn he walked toward them in slow motion. Water dripped off his face when he bent to pick it up. Straightening, he gave her a smile that made her dizzy and said, "Sorry." Then he turned and immediately headed back into the pool. It was a good thing her eyes were hidden behind her sunglasses. Otherwise, everyone would have seen how she couldn't tear them away from his retreating form—the way his back tapered from his broad shoulders to his waist. Her bangs lifted a little at the puff of air she blew. Now she really needed to cool off in the pool.
The third time Fred's "errant" throw ended up near Sarah—causing Chuck to retrieve the ball yet again—he smiled at her and said, "His aim seems to be a little off today."
"Uh-huh," Sarah deadpanned. "It seems to me he's pretty good at throwing it in the exact same place every time."
Chuck's smile turned lopsided.
Arching an eyebrow, she asked, "Using your son to help you pick up women? Somehow, I don't think your wife would approve."
"Oh! No, he's not my son," he replied, his eyebrows shooting up. "He's my nephew. All those kids with me are my nieces and nephews. I'm not married." Lowering his head as if embarrassed, he added, "I noticed the parade of guys getting shot down when they came over to talk to you, so I thought I'd try a different approach."
Smiling, she said, "Okay, so you're using your nephew to help you meet women. You don't have any cheesy pick-up lines you could use instead?"
He shook his head. "I only have a couple and they're pretty cringe-worthy."
"I'm game. Try one on me."
A slow smile grew. "Okay, but don't judge me and remember you asked for it."
God, he's adorable. "I'll remember."
He cocked his head and asked, "Did it hurt?"
Her brows scrunched in confusion. "Did what hurt?"
"Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?"
Sarah laughed out loud while Carina groaned and shook her head. The middle-aged woman lying on the lounge chair on the other side of Sarah chuckled as well. "You're right," Sarah said, still laughing. "That's pretty bad." She moved her legs to the side, giving him permission to sit at the end of her chair.
When he sat down, the kids in the pool realized he was going to be there awhile since it was Lisa who called out, "Hey! Uncle Chuck! Throw the ball back!"
He squeezed water from the ball onto the deck and tossed it back into the pool.
Sarah's eyebrows rose. "Chuck? Really?" she teased with a smile. She instantly flashed back to when she first met him. They'd stood in the entryway of the house with Megan hanging off his neck. He'd asked her to call him Chuck. Had it really only been a year?
In his eyes, she saw that he remembered, too. Just had he had done in those first moments, he wiggled his eyebrows and said, "Yes, Chuck." Then he rolled his eyes. "Wait, it gets worse. My given name is Charles."
"Yeah, Chuck, Charles. It makes sense. So?"
"My last name is also Charles."
Sarah's head snapped back. "Your name is Charles Charles?"
"My parents have an evil sense of humor," he said ruefully.
She shrugged a shoulder. "It's memorable." Shaking her head as if she was suddenly reminded of her manners, she said, "I'm Sarah Irving, by the way and this is my friend, Caryn Mitchell."
Carina lowered her large sunglasses and winked at him. "Hi."
"Um, hi," he said cautiously. Sarah knew the vaguely hunted look on Chuck's face was very real.
The redhead bounced her eyebrows at him and then pushed the sunglasses back up.
Returning his attention to Sarah, he said, "Irving. That's a nice strong name."
She scrunched her nose. "You think? I always thought it was kind of nerdy."
His eyes grew to the size of saucers and she watched him struggle to keep from grinning. The look on his face told her she would pay for that later. She looked forward to it.
"So, ladies, what are you doing here in Monaco?"
"Caryn and I are here on holiday. How about you?"
"I'm here with my nieces and nephews, their nanny and two of my buddies."
"Their nanny?" Sarah asked, genuinely confused.
"Yeah." Chuck tipped his head toward where Casey sat. "He's a male nanny, so I call him the 'manny.'"
She giggled and wondered if they had discussed this before or if Chuck was making it up on the fly. Realizing the chance of Casey agreeing beforehand to being called a 'manny' was zero, she concluded Chuck was making stuff up.
"He's not exactly the most nurturing nanny ever, but he runs a tight ship and you can bounce a quarter off the kids' made beds."
Sarah, Carina and the woman next to her all laughed at that. The woman was obviously enjoying their conversation and Sarah had the feeling that any minute, the eavesdropper would ask Chuck out herself.
"You're a pretty cool uncle to take a bunch of kids to Monaco," Sarah said.
"I am a very cool uncle," he said, humor coloring his voice. Then his face clouded and grew serious. "My sister's in rehab and my brother-in-law is in jail." This was the part of Charles Charles' backstory Sarah knew he would hate having to recount, but it had to be different from what really happened to them. If Benoit heard about seven kids whose parents had been killed and now lived with their uncle, he could get suspicious. "We needed something to do for the summer to keep the kids occupied, so we've been traveling through Europe."
"That's really sweet of you. It must be pretty expensive traveling with so many people."
He lifted a shoulder. "I'm one of those people that started a software company and got bought out for a gazillion dollars. A rags to riches kind of thing." He talked about it as if it was no big deal. "I can afford it." After a pause, he asked, "What do you do?"
"I'm an independent international business consultant. I try to get venture capitalists to invest in my clients' companies."
"Wow. Impressive." The conversation lulled and she watched him rub his thumb nervously into his palm. It was like he really was Charles Charles and yet he was still her Chuck. All she wanted to do was slip her hand into his.
"Sarah, would you like to have dinner with me tonight? I mean," he began to babble nervously, "us. Have dinner with us."
"You mean you and all the kids?"
"I promised them we'd eat someplace other than the hotel restaurant for dinner tonight." When Sarah hesitated, he sat up straighter and said, "You know what? Never mind. It's crazy for me to ask you to go with a bunch of kids."
Of course she would say yes, but apparently her hesitation was believable because the woman next to her turned toward her and said, "You go with him. He takes care of his sister's kids. Not many men do that." Through her thick Italian accent, Sarah heard the passion in the woman's voice.
Chuck smiled his thanks at the woman. "See? A vote of confidence from an impartial judge."
Sarah couldn't help but grin. She knew firsthand how extraordinary Chuck was and it pleased her when others saw it as well. "Okay. I'll go out with you and all those kids. But Caryn gets to come too."
"I'm not some charity case, Sarah," Carina said with a huff. "I can get my own dates." After a beat, she added, "But I'll make an exception if he'll be there." She jutted her chin toward where Barstow—having finished his laps—and Vegas sat on the edge of the pool, their legs hanging in the water up to their knees. Sarah had felt Barstow staring toward them the entire time. Well, staring at Carina and her tiny black bikini, anyway. "The one in the Wayfarers," the redhead clarified.
Chuck turned around, glanced over at the two men and waved. "Who, Scott? Yeah, he'll be there. They both will. And Casey, too."
"Casey?" Sarah asked.
"The manny."
"Right."
With a hopeful smile, he asked, "Meet us in the lobby at seven?"
"Okay," she answered, her voice soft. "We'll be there."
His smile turned heart stopping. "Great. See you then."
He was obviously about to stand up and return to the pool when Sarah said, "Hey! You never told me your other pick up line."
The smile faded and his whole demeanor softened. Lowering his voice, he said, "You're so beautiful, you made me forget my pick up line." The intensity in his eyes made her cheeks burn hot. Then a mischievous smile bloomed on his face.
Coming out of her daze, she snickered and said, "I see what you did there."
He bounced his eyebrows a couple of times in response and then stood. "See you at seven," he said and returned to the pool, giving her another chance to admire him.
Before Sarah and Carina could say anything, the eavesdropping woman spoke up. "He is a good man. I can tell. You be serious about him."
"I believe you're right about him," Sarah said, turning to the woman and nodding. "And I think I will be."
~ O ~
Sarah was finding it difficult getting ready to go to dinner with the family since she was spending a good chunk of her time carrying on separate text conversations with three of the girls. Lizzie told her she couldn't believe how cute she and Chuck were pretending to just meet. She could almost hear Lizzie's groan from another part of the hotel when Sarah texted back and told her niece how she thought Chuck was always completely adorable. Bridget gushed about how she absolutely loved both Sarah's white bikini and Carina's black one and wanted to know where they bought them when the two women had gone shopping earlier that day. Lisa said she was excited that they were all going to be together for dinner, even if they had to pretend they didn't know her and Carina. Although she didn't hear from the boys or the two youngest, she asked Lizzie to be sure to compliment them on how well they all had performed when pretending not to know her.
She slipped on the leopard print sundress and slid her feet into the flat sandals she'd bought that morning. With the color her skin received being outdoors nearly the entire day, she decided to wear the barest amount of makeup, and only quickly brushed on mascara and swiped on some lipstick. Tilting her head to the side, she was putting on a large gold hoop earring when there was a knock on her door. She checked her watch and saw that it was a few minutes after seven.
"Fashionably late?" Sarah asked after opening the door to find Carina standing there.
"You know I always want to make an entrance," she replied with a smirk as she sauntered into the room and closed the door. "Besides, it's good to keep a man waiting."
"That might be," Sarah said, sliding the door to the balcony closed, "but it's not good to keep seven kids waiting. Kids waiting around get bored and squirrelly. Bored and squirrelly leads to poking, tickling, flicking and pinching, which can quickly escalate to shoving, smacking and occasionally, biting."
Carina grimaced and shuddered. "You make parenthood sounds so glamorous." An eyebrow rose. "I thought your kids were perfect."
"They're the best kids in the world," Sarah said, snatching her purse from the bed, "but they're still kids. Or don't you remember a certain water balloon once launched your way?"
"Oh, yeah. I remember," the other woman said with a chuckle. "That Lisa's a pistol. And Fred beaning that creep with the squishy ball at the pool today? Your kids are lethal when it comes to water-filled weapons of mass destruction."
Laughing, Sarah pulled the door open and said, "I'm sure they'd take that as a compliment."
"They should," Carina replied. They stepped into the hall and Sarah shut the door behind them. Now that they were in public, their conversation couldn't be as open as it had just been. Even so, Sarah knew whom Carina was talking about when she said, "I bet the littlest one could take anyone out at ten paces with a squirt gun."
Sarah felt a surge of pride. Her kids were pretty great and it was gratifying to know her friend knew it, too. "I have no doubt." When she saw Carina smirking at her, she decided to have a little fun. "You know, Ms. I-Can't-Help-It-If-Kids-Love-Me, you could have one, too."
"One what?"
"A kid."
"Me? No way," she said with barked laugh.
"Why not?"
"Because my kid would be perfect, just like me. All the other rugrats would be jealous." She tossed her hair and added, "Plus, the frumpy women in mom-jeans wouldn't like me because I'd be the fabulous mom they wish they were."
"So you're doing the world a favor," Sarah stated, her voice a mixture of sarcasm and humor.
"Yup. What can I say?" she asked with a shrug. "I'm a giver."
Sarah cut her a sly look and said, "Now that I've heard before."
The redhead's eyes flashed with delight as they stepped onto the elevator. "Saucy."
When the two women arrived in the lobby, all eyes turned toward them, including some who weren't even in their group. It was a beautiful summer evening and the doors and windows of the lobby—which was really more like an atrium—were open, allowing a warm breeze to waft through. As Sarah and Carina walked toward the waiting family, their hair was softly tousled in the gentle wind.
Sarah pretended to be nervous and waved tentatively at the kids. "Hi."
She received a chorus of greetings in return. The kids were dressed in nice yet casual clothes. Some still sported wet hair from showers and their skin had a healthy glow after being outside at the pool all afternoon. The faces smiling back at her were filled with excitement and anticipation. Even in their enthusiasm, they did an outstanding job of controlling themselves. Sarah found herself having to fight the urge to give them each a hug.
If the kids looked excited and happy, Chuck looked downright stunned. He stared at his wife, slack-jawed and unblinking. Sarah wondered if his brain had slowed so that when she'd walked toward him with the natural wind machine blowing, she'd gone into slow motion. Regardless, she never got tired of eliciting that reaction from him. Sweeping her gaze over him, she appreciated how very handsome he was in his light blue dress shirt and khaki slacks.
Standing next to Chuck, Lizzie cut her eyes up to her uncle's face. Heaving a sigh, she shook her head and dug her elbow into his side. "Uncle Chuck," she hissed through her smile. "Introduce us." She was playing her part perfectly.
Chuck snapped out of his reverie and said sheepishly, "Hey! Yeah. Sorry." He dropped a hand on Lizzie's shoulder on one side of him and Curtis' shoulder on the other. "Sarah Irving and Caryn Mitchell, these are my nieces and nephews: Lizzie, Fred, Lisa, Curtis, Bridget, Martie and Megan. Kids, I'd like you to meet Ms. Irving and Ms. Mitchell." Each kid gave a small wave as his or her name was called out. Pointing toward the major, he said, "This is John Casey, the kids' nanny."
Sarah barely controlled the laughter gripping her middle when she saw Casey's nostrils flare and the murderous burning in his eyes. After blowing out a breath, he tipped his head in acknowledgement. "Ladies."
"And these two guys are my buddies, Lars Vegas and Scott Barstow."
"Mind if we call you Lars and Scott?" Carina asked, her eyes pinned to Barstow.
"No, not at all," Vegas responded for both himself and his dumbstruck partner. The dark pink spaghetti-strapped number Carina wore had rendered Barstow mute.
"Okay, now that introductions have been made, shall we go? I made reservations for seven-thirty." Chuck asked. He turned and started herding the kids toward the front doors. "I hope you don't mind if we walk to the restaurant. We don't have access to a van to carry us all. We could take the bus, but it's really not that far." Although Graham had provided the other three agents with access to a car, it made sense that Chuck and the kids, as tourists, wouldn't have bothered renting a van since the principality was small enough to easily navigate anywhere they wanted to go on foot or public transportation.
"It's fine with me," Sarah answered. She held back a snort when the kids groaned.
"No more bellyaching or you go straight to bed," Casey said. It seemed like he was going to take his job as the nanny seriously and they immediately clammed up. There wouldn't be any unruly kids that evening.
The group walked on the wide, tree-lined brick sidewalk of Avenue Princesse Grâce. To their left, the lowering sun reflected on the water that met the cloudless blue sky in the distance. On the other side of the street, tall buildings and hotels looked out onto the Mediterranean.
They hadn't strolled very far before Megan was up on Chuck's shoulders while Martie rode on Casey's. Carina walked with Barstow and Vegas toward the back of the group while Chuck, Sarah and Casey were at the front.
"So, Frank was it?" Sarah asked, her eyes flashing with glee at her nephew.
"It's Fred, Ms. Irving," he replied. His voice was flat, but behind his neutral expression, his eyes twinkled like she'd rarely seen. The rest of the kids successfully kept grins from their faces. While it probably wasn't strictly necessary at that moment to continue the charade, they did so anyway. It was just another spy skill she could teach the kids; one might come in handy one day. She was really proud of how well they were doing so far.
"Right. Sorry, Fred," Sarah said, acting chagrined. "Anyway, I wanted to compliment you on your impressive throwing arm. You put that ball in the same spot every time. You're an excellent wingman for your uncle. Do you do that for him very often?"
"Nah," Fred answered with a sly grin. "Hardly ever. He's usually oblivious to women. You might not have noticed since you just met him, but he's kind of a giant nerd."
Chuck let out a short laugh and said, "Hey, dude! I'm right here. Not a very cool thing for my wingman to say."
"But you are a nerd, Uncle Chuck," Megan piped up, her voice coming from above his head.
"Fine," Chuck said with a sigh. "Yes, Ms. Irving, I confess. I am a nerd and according to my nieces and nephews, one of gargantuan proportions. If this is an issue for you, I suggest you bail out now before it's too late."
"No, it's okay. I'm willing to give it a try. I've never had dinner with a nerd before. It could be educational. Do you talk about science and stuff?"
"Mostly Star Wars, comic books and video games," Curtis answered for him.
"Still making me sound lame, bro," Chuck said.
Sarah laughed at their teasing. She was having so much fun and wanted badly to slip her arm around her husband's waist and walk with him. She pushed the thought to the side, though, knowing their aliases were important. She was thankful to be able to interact with her family at all, even if it was as strangers. Changing the subject, she asked the group, "Other than swimming at the pool today, have you done anything else fun here?"
"Yeah, we went to the aquarium earlier today," Lisa replied.
"That sounds like fun. Did you see anything interesting?" Sarah knew they had gone there while she and Carina were shopping, but hadn't heard any details.
"There were a bunch of really big fish tanks," Martie said from her perch on Casey's shoulders.
"Of course there were fish tanks, Martie. It's an aquarium," Curtis said.
Apparently, "Manny" Casey didn't appreciate Curtis' mildly snarky tone. "Be nice to your sister," the big man said, giving the boy a glare that could melt steel.
Sarah half-expected a sharp, "Yes, Drill Sergeant!" from Curtis. Instead he offered an embarrassed, "Sorry, Martie." He received a shove on the back of his head from his oldest sister for good measure. Of all the kids, Martie was the one who usually wasn't part of the constant teasing that went on between the siblings. She was always so sweet to everyone, that when a barb was sent her way, the rest turned protective of her.
"Thanks," came the quiet response from high above.
Knowing it was best to quickly move on, Sarah asked Martie, "What did you see you liked the best?"
"I liked the clownfish hiding in the anemone like Nemo," the little girl answered.
"I like Nemo, too. 'Just keep swimming, swimming, swimming,'" Sarah sang. "Although, it was Dory who sang that and she wasn't a clownfish."
Grinning, Chuck said, "You know about Finding Nemo?"
"Of course! I don't live under a rock, you know," she said with a smirk. She was finding it was so much easier to make a good "first impression" on the kids now that she'd actually been living with them for a year.
"The shark tank at the aquarium was really cool," Bridget said. "We watched a diver wipe the inside of it with a cloth."
"He didn't get bit or lose an arm or anything, though," Fred said. He sounded a little disappointed by that.
"You're a troll," Bridget said to her brother, shaking her head in amusement. He only laughed in response.
"We also went to the palace and watched the changing of the guard," Lisa informed her. "They had a brass band that marched around. It was pretty cool."
"Buckingham Palace was better, though," Bridget said. "It was bigger and we got to see the queen's arm."
"Just her arm?" Sarah asked. "Where was the rest of her?"
Megan giggled and with wide, blue eyes, looked down at Sarah from her high perch and said, "You're silly."
She considered being called "silly" by a six year-old a great accomplishment. "Thank you, Megan."
Soon they reached the restaurant. It wasn't part of the more touristy section of town, and from the outside, it was small and unassuming. The inside was nice without being too fancy. It was perfect for a large group with seven kids.
As with anywhere they went, they garnered curious stares from those around them. And as was usually the case in any restaurant they patronized, several tables had to be pushed together to accommodate their large party.
Sarah stood by with Carina and watched Chuck and Casey make sure the kids sat next to someone that would allow for the least amount of poking, prodding or teasing. She usually was involved with that, but Sarah Irving was a guest. Of course, if there was to be no poking or teasing, she shouldn't have been seated next to Carina. Any time more wine was poured into anyone's glass, Carina kicked her under the table and smirked. Sarah just rolled her eyes at her friend and sipped her iced tea.
As she interacted with Chuck who sat on the other side of her, she concentrated on being Sarah Irving, a woman who had just met Charles Charles earlier in the day and not Sarah Bartowski, out for a fun evening with her husband and family. But since the two were on a "date", even if it was with eleven other people, she allowed herself to flirt with him a little and lightly touch his arm when she laughed at his jokes.
She noticed Carina was taking full advantage of having Barstow next to her on the other side. Sarah knew Carina was on her best behavior around the kids, but that didn't keep the redhead from flirting with Scott and having a hand somewhere on him most of the time.
The kids didn't seem bothered by Carina's interactions with Barstow at all. At one point in the evening when the older ones glanced at each other with amusement, Sarah leaned forward and looked past Carina at Scott. The look on his face was priceless. He was clearly both enthralled by and terrified of Carina at the same time. Sarah was pretty sure the kids were just relieved that Carina was expending her energy on Barstow and leaving Chuck alone. One glance Casey's way told her he was glad he wasn't in Carina's sights either.
The evening was filled with food, drink, fun and laughter and other than a piece of croissant being thrown at Fred's head, the kids behaved beautifully. Before they knew it, it was nearly ten o'clock. Sarah noticed that all the kids were getting tired, especially Martie and Megan who were nearly asleep in their chairs. Heads together, she and Chuck had a short conversation where she advised him it would be best to call taxis to take them back to the hotel since the night buses could take a while.
The bill was paid and everyone filed out onto the sidewalk to wait. Within a few minutes, the taxis arrived and they all began to load into the cars. Carina and Barstow stood talking next to the one he would be riding in while Chuck held the door open for Sarah to get into his. "Thank you, Chuck, but Caryn and I aren't going back to the hotel quite yet. We're going to head off to some clubs."
It broke her heart to see the conflicted and disappointed look that flashed on his face. She knew he wanted to go with her, but the kids needed him and she and Carina needed to continue to be out in public. Even if they couldn't flat out ask about Benoit, others might be talking about him and they had to pick up any intel they could. And as much as she wanted him to be with her, they had already spent most of the evening together and their public relationship needed to remain casual.
She and Chuck stood on the sidewalk next to the taxi as people streamed past them toward the Irish pub next door to the restaurant. "Thank you for a lovely evening," she said. "Your nieces and nephews are very sweet and I had a nice time getting to know them." Gazing into his eyes, it was becoming harder and harder to leave.
He must have seen what she was feeling. She watched his face change from disappointment to determination. "We'll be here for a few more days and I'd really like to see you again. Would that be okay?"
He was so earnest and sweet and it suddenly hit her that the whole scene was kind of surreal. They were married to each other and yet, in a way, it felt like a real first date. They'd never really had one. The circumstances in which they'd met and fell in love were so extraordinary, they didn't have any semblance of a traditional courtship. They'd lived together in the same house since the day she met him. There was never "Can I call you sometime?" or a good night kiss at her door. They never went out on a real date until after they were already engaged.
"I'd like that." She took a Sarah Irving business card from her purse and handed it to him. "This has my cell. Call me."
"I will," he replied, wearing a pleased smile.
"Good night," she said. Rising on her tiptoes, she kissed him on the cheek and breathed a nearly silent, "I love you." She stepped back before he could reply, but that was okay. She didn't need to hear the same words from him in return. She could see it in his eyes. She always did.
"Good night," he said. He ducked into the back seat of the cab and closed the door. Sarah turned just in time to see Barstow jump into the front seat of the taxi that would carry the boys, Vegas and him back to the hotel.
Carina sauntered over to where Sarah stood as they watched the cars drive off and said, "Scottie wanted to come along with us. He said we needed a third."
Sarah knew he meant he wanted to go as backup, but it really wasn't necessary. They weren't going on a mission. This was primarily recon. If they made contact with someone from Benoit's team that evening, all the better. "We're just going clubbing," she answered. They climbed into the last cab waiting and Sarah instructed the driver to take them to Port Hercule.
"That's what I told him. He's just being paranoid."
"After what happened in Prague, I can't really blame him." Underscoring that point, both she and Carina wore Casey's trackers just in case.
Earlier in the day, they had planned out their strategy for their attempt to make contact with Benoit or his men. They weren't sure when Benoit would come to Monte Carlo and if he didn't arrive until right before the gambling was to begin, their plan was dead in the water. Neither Sarah nor Carina really believed he would show up without some kind of advance recon work done by one or more of his men so they decided to move forward.
Knowing there were a lot of bars and clubs in Monaco, they had to be strategic about how they wanted to proceed. Since Carina pointed out that Henri was "no spring chicken and neither were his closest lieutenants," they decided not to bother with the super trendy places. They also weren't going to be dressed appropriately for the more sophisticated places in and around the casino after dinner with the kids, so they decided hit those locations the next night if they didn't make contact this evening.
There were several bars that seemed like the kinds of places men like Benoit might frequent right along the Port Hercule. It also made sense to be near the port since they believed he was on a yacht. The chances of it actually entering the harbor proper was next to nil—it would be much safer for Benoit to stay a bit off the coast—but they would still have to take a boat in from the yacht. These establishments would be the first places they would visit.
The cab dropped them off outside a brewery/restaurant called Brasserie de Monaco. As it turned out, it wasn't quite as sedate as they expected it to be. Out front, a DJ played music while young people danced to the pulsating beat. Others sat at tables and drank under large square awnings. Sarah and Carina cruised through the outside party, but when it became clear they wouldn't find who they were looking for there, they went inside.
They shouldered their way through the crowd, their eyes scanning faces to find anyone they recognized. Heads turned their way to check them out as they moved through the different rooms, but there was never any recognition. After a trip to the bar where Carina bought one of the beers on tap and Sarah got a sparkling water, they found a couple of open seats near the large metallic cylinders where the beer was being brewed and sat.
"You're not obvious or anything," Carina said, dipping her head towards Sarah's glass.
"What? I can't be the only person here not drinking beer."
Carina gave her a dubious look and then looked around the room. "No, I think you are the only one. What do you expect? It's a brewery."
"Maybe I just don't like beer." Frowning, Sarah asked, "Are you going to make a comment every time I drink something non-alcoholic?"
Carina's features became serious. "Sarah, I'm not going to lie to you. Yes. Yes, I am." Then she tapped her glass against Sarah's and took a swallow of her beer.
Sarah could only chuckle and shake her head. At least she knew what was in store for her the rest of the night.
They spent the next hour chatting and listening in on conversations, moving from bar to table to booth. The people around them talked about what they'd done that day, their plans for the next, the hideous clothes other people wore, who seemed to be looking to hook up or loudly declaring how drunk they were. When the sixth guy wanting to chat them up approached, Sarah swore to herself she wouldn't do this again without Chuck being with her. She'd be sure to keep up the pretense of a casual relationship with him, but having him there with her would make it easier on so many levels. Besides, not being with him reminded her of how much she relied on him and missed him when he wasn't there.
When they felt like they'd given the brewery a chance, but in the end struck out, they left it and walked to another club next door. Billed as a soul and Motown restaurant and club, Black Legend had live bands that played covers of classic and contemporary rhythm and blues. The décor was that of a 1970's New York disco, complete with a dance floor made up of large, colorful flashing tiles. Posters of Diana Ross, Aretha Franklin, the Jackson Five and other Motown artists graced the walls. Carina had been in it once before for dinner and thought it might be a place Benoit's men could go. By the time the two women arrived, however, the live band was just finishing up their set with a faithful version of Prince's Kiss. It was only a few minutes later that the restaurant was transformed into a club.
As they had done at the previous establishment, Sarah and Carina strolled through the place to see and be seen. Reaching the bar, Sarah ordered a virgin mojito. When Carina raised an eyebrow at her, Sarah defended herself. "What? I'm tired of straight mineral water."
"No, it's not that," Carina said in a voice loud enough to be heard over the recording of Marvin Gaye crooning, Let's Get it On. "Think of the reason why you're ordering a virgin drink." A wicked grin overtook her face. "Ironic, right?" She turned to the bartender and said, "This non-virgin will have a non-virgin mojito." When the bartender smiled and nodded, she winked at him and purred, "You know what, handsome? Take the rum you didn't put in her drink and add it to mine."
"Oui, mademoiselle," he replied. His smile widened, obviously enjoying Carina as a customer.
"I regret telling you the truth," Sarah informed her friend. "I should have lied and told you I'm a recovering alcoholic."
"I wouldn't have believed you. We did tequila shooters at the Rusty Spittoon three months ago."
"Maybe it was sitting in the Eagle County jail that sent me into a tailspin and I hit rock bottom."
Carina laughed. "Yeah. Your life sucks really hard."
"Touché," Sarah said with a smirk. She paid for the two drinks when the bartender, giving Carina another smile, placed them on the bar. They carried their glasses through the lounge, always scanning faces as they moved along and eventually sat in a couple of large leather chairs.
They both were enjoying the music—it was Motown night after all—and soon were out on the Saturday Night Fever-like dance floor. Sarah had fun dancing since it was so packed that people weren't necessarily dancing with anyone in particular. As usual, several men tried to talk to her, but out on the dance floor, she could simply shrug and feign that she couldn't hear them over the music.
When they got hot and thirsty, or when the song turned slow, they returned to their seats and polished off their drinks. They stayed for another hour and a half and after several more rounds of dancing and drinks and still not hearing or seeing anyone connected with Benoit, decided it was time to move on to check out the last club.
It had started to feel hot and close inside, so once they exited, the night air was refreshing. Glancing at her watch, she couldn't believe it was one-thirty and they still had one more place to go. With all the late nights she'd been having, she was going to need a vacation after her vacation.
As they neared a restaurant and bar at the hairpin turn on the circuit of the famous Monaco Grand Prix, La Rascasse, they heard the familiar thumping of loud club music coming from inside the building.
"I'm think we're just wasting our time," Sarah said. She was getting tired and really just wanted to go to bed.
"When did you turn into a sixty year-old hausfrau who's in bed by nine?" Carina snarked. "Besides, how can clubbing ever be a waste of time?"
"You know what I mean. Unless we get really lucky at this place, we know we'll probably have to go out again tomorrow night. Let's just check it out quickly and if it's a bust, we call a cab."
Carina shrugged. "Okay. It's your show."
Once inside, it was the same thing they had found at the previous two clubs: loud music, a dance floor packed with people and the ever-present flashing lights. Scanning the room, Sarah also saw that the people they were running across were becoming more and more drunk. They didn't even bother buying drinks and were about to call a cab when Sarah noticed Carina tense.
"What?" Sarah asked in a low voice and followed Carina's gaze across the crowded room. It fell on a handsome and stylish man who looked to about thirty years old standing at the bar. His full attention was on the pretty brunette he was talking to. He smiled at the young lady, leaned forward and put his mouth to her ear. Both were laughing when he pulled his head back and stared into the woman's face. She slapped him on the arm with a flirty hand and then let it rest on his chest. There was some major flirting going on.
"The guy trying to get into the pretty brunette's pants is Henri's computer nerd," Carina said. "Jean, Jacques, Gilles. Something like that." She waved a dismissive hand. "I never paid much attention to him."
"Do you think he would have gone with Henri when he cleared out of Paris?"
Carina shrugged. "Maybe. He also might be here because the boss-man asked to come meet up with him since he'll be in Monte Carlo. It might be a coincidence and he doesn't even know Henri will be in town."
"Well, whichever it is, I want to talk to him." They had just started to push their way through the crowd when Sarah saw their target lean forward again and say something to the young woman. She nodded in response. He took her by the hand, turned and led her toward the far end of the bar. "Crap," Sarah grumbled. In a louder voice, she said, "He sealed the deal with the brunette and now they're on the move."
The two agents began to shove their way through the crowd more forcefully. Sarah looked in Carina's direction when she heard a commotion. Carina had used her forearm against the back of a young woman as she tried to make a path. The nudge sent the already unsteady girl lurching forward. The bodies packed like sardines on the dance floor helped to keep her from falling. Tipsy Girl whirled on the redhead, her face twisted with drunken rage. She screamed in French, "Don't touch me, bitch!" and flew at the DEA agent like she was going to scratch her eyes out.
Carina made a quarter turn, raised her forearm to protect herself and caught Tipsy Girl—who even in her heels was at least four inches shorter than Carina—in the chest. The girl bounced off her arm and fell back. Sensing trouble, people had moved away to give the two women a wide berth. So this time when Tipsy Girl fell, there was no one to catch her. She landed rather ungracefully on her butt.
Towering over her foe, Carina growled, "You want a piece of me, bitch? Get off your sorry ass and try again."
Knowing a trip to jail was once again a real possibility, as well as needing Carina along to talk to Jean-Jacques-Gilles, Sarah sprang into action. She stepped in front of her friend and said to Tipsy Girl still sprawled on the floor, "Sorry." Then she grabbed Carina by the wrist and hauled her off in the direction their guy had gone. Between the intensity burning on Sarah's face—she did not want to lose a chance to talk to one of Benoit's men—and the way everyone had seen Carina lay the girl out without a hair going out of place, people parted like the Red Sea to make way for the two striking and intimidating women.
Sarah surveyed the room as she and Carina walked the open path across the dance floor toward where they believed Jean-Jacques-Gilles and the brunette were headed. Her jaw clenched when she couldn't locate either of them.
Head swiveling back and forth, she snapped at Carina, "I don't see them. Do you?"
"No." Carina's eyes never stopped moving as her gaze swept the room. Jerking her head toward a hallway, she said, "Maybe they ducked into a room behind one of these doors for a groping session."
Sarah nodded and said, "Good thought. You take the doors on the left side and I'll take the right." That would give her the men's room and two other doors while Carina needed to check the ladies' room and one other. There was also one final door directly opposite them at the end of the hall. Before she went into the men's room, she flipped her hair to one side, tousled it and let her eyelids droop. After a deep breath, she pushed the door open and staggered in. Acting like she didn't even realize her mistake, she headed for one of the stalls and pushed on the door. Empty of an occupant, it swung open. There were several guys standing at urinals, and since they were apparently mid-stream, unable to do anything other than turn their heads to glance over their shoulders at her. While one of the men said, "Hey, you aren't supposed to be in here," the rest seemed unfazed by her sudden arrival. Another grinned at her lasciviously and called out, "Hey, gorgeous. Come here and check me out."
The very thought nearly made her gag. Instead, she slowly dropped her chin to her chest and peered at them sluggishly from under heavy lids. "What're y'all doing in the ladies' room?" she slurred in English. All the men laughed except for the first one who spoke to her. "You're in the men's toilet," he said in English, clearly exasperated.
"I am?" She swung her head back and forth, pretending to barely be able to keep her eyes open. There was no sign of Jean-Jacques-Gilles or the brunette. Swaying slightly, she ran a hand through her hair and scratched her head. "All the signs are in French." With a giggle, she added, "I flunked French." She heaved a sigh, turned and stumbled out the door, the sound of the men's laughter trailing out behind her.
Once out of the men's room, she hurried to the next door and opened it. Peering inside, it was full of cleaning supplies, mops and brooms, but devoid of people. She closed the door quickly and headed toward the third door as Carina exited the ladies' room.
"Anything?" Sarah asked as she took the doorknob in her hand.
"Nope." Carina opened the other door on her side of the hall and poked her head in. Closing it again, she said, "Empty. No supply closet sex." She sounded disappointed.
Sarah tried to open the last door, but found it locked. Pressing her ear against the door, she listened for any sounds coming from the other side of it.
"I didn't know you were such a voyeur, Sarah. I approve."
Sarah pushed away from the door and shook her head. "There's nobody in there."
Together, they went to the door at the end of the hall. "Outside?" Carina asked.
"Probably." Sarah swung the door open and saw that they were right. It led to the outside darkness. A streetlight illuminated a nearby parking lot. "Crap," she grumbled in frustration, not for the first time that night. "I bet they left." Closing the door she said, "I don't want to give up yet. Let's check through the place once more. Maybe we missed him and he's still out there."
Carina shrugged. "Okay by me. I never say no to hanging longer at a club." They strode down the hall and, ignoring the smirk of the man exiting the men's toilet, rejoined the mob in the main room. For the next ten minutes they wandered through the place, searching for Benoit's computer man but coming up empty. They only garnered a few fearful glances from those who had witnessed the earlier skirmish.
When it became clear they weren't going to find the man they were looking for, Sarah said, "He's gone. Let's get out of here." She took her phone from her purse and called a cab to take them back to the hotel.
Waiting outside for their taxi, Sarah mused, "Well, it didn't turn out to be a complete waste of time after all. Although we didn't get a chance to talk to Jean-Jacques-Gilles, at least we know one guy connected with Benoit is in town. Of course, we don't know if he came with Benoit or not, but it's better than nothing."
"He might have given us something, but I still think who we really need to talk to are the men we're pretty sure have been with Henri all along."
Sarah nodded thoughtfully. "When we go out tomorrow night, or tonight I guess since it's now Friday, we'll go earlier in the evening. I think that's a more likely time when Henri or his guys will be out, don't you?"
"Yeah." Carina smiled, "Other than losing that one guy, we did have fun tonight."
The car pulled up and Sarah opened the door to let Carina climb in the back seat first. "We did," Sarah said with a smile. She slipped in the back seat after her and closed the door as Carina told the driver where to take them. "There truly is no one better to go clubbing with than you."
As the taxi sped off, Carina asked, "Better than with the nerd?"
Sarah raised a shoulder and let it drop. "Yeah. He doesn't thrive on it like you do." She cut her eyes at her friend and smirked. "Besides, there are other things I'd rather do with my nerd than go to clubs."
"And there it is," Carina said, her voice dry like a desert. "Am I gonna have to stand guard outside your door tonight to make sure you stay where you're supposed to?"
"No, I can control myself. Besides, who's to say I shouldn't be standing outside your door to make sure you don't sneak out to see Scott?"
Carina squinted at her and then shrugged. "Good point. What's the plan for tomorrow?"
"We still don't know if our boy is in town yet or not," Sarah said vaguely as she eyed the driver. "But he's got to show up pretty soon. We're nearly positive he won't moor his boat in the marina, so he'll be out off the coast. How about you and I go out on the water and do a little fishing?"
"I'm all for that," Carina said, the smile evident in her voice. "But please promise it will only be after we sleep in. You know how grumpy I can be in the mornings."
Sarah dug her teeth into her lip to keep from laughing when she saw the cab driver's widened eyes in the rear view mirror. "Yes, I know," she said.
They were quiet for the remainder of the short drive to the hotel. Sarah was tired and all she wanted to do was crawl into bed and sleep. No, that wasn't quite right. What she really wanted to do was crawl in bed with her husband and sleep, but sadly, that was not to be. If this helped keep the kids safe and eventually led to Benoit's capture, it would be worth it. It didn't mean she had to like it, though.
The lobby was still brightly lit when they entered after paying the cab driver. They cruised past the front desk, took the elevator to their floor and walked down the hall to their rooms. After a quiet "Good night" to Carina, Sarah slipped into her room. Silvery light filtering into the room through the sliding glass door helped her navigate until she found a lamp to switch on.
She gasped when she looked up and saw two dozen long-stemmed red roses perfectly arranged in a tall crystal vase. Her heart thumped wildly as she slowly, almost reverently, approached the small table upon which the flowers sat. She moved her face closer to the red buds, closed her eyes and inhaled the sweet aroma of roses. Opening them again, she found a small envelope leaning against the base of the vase with "Sarah Irving" and her room number written on the front.
Picking up the envelope, she opened the flap and slid out a small card. She smiled when she saw Chuck's handwriting. "Dinner tomorrow night?" it read. "No kids this time. ILY2, C. P.S. They were out of gardenias."
"That's okay, Chuck," she said in the quiet. "Red roses are pretty great, too." She really was married to the sweetest man in the world. She set the card on the table, took her phone and sent him a text, thanking him for the flowers and accepting his invitation. She knew he was asleep, but she didn't want to wait until morning.
How he managed to get the flowers and card delivered to her room at that time of night, she had no idea, but knew he was a very resourceful guy. He had managed to arrange their dinner and opera date in Berlin in only a few hours, so she wasn't really surprised by this.
Staring at the roses, she had to call on every ounce of self-control to keep from marching to his room, pounding on his door, dragging him back to hers and doing things to him that would make the fireworks he saw the other morning in Moscow seem like backyard sparklers.
She blew out a frustrated breath and corralled her wayward thoughts. It was impossible for many reasons, which ranged from him not being able to leave the girls alone in the room they all shared to the security cameras in the hotel hallways that would record their clandestine meeting.
Instead, she put on her Stanford t-shirt and not even bothering to take off her makeup, flopped facedown on the mattress and immediately fell asleep. In her slumber, her corralled thoughts broke free. Her dreams were filled with her and Chuck together and infused with the sweet aroma of roses.
