Disclaimer: The characters belonging to Janet Evanovich are used strictly for entertainment purposes.
…
From Chapter 2:
His expression was unreadable while he thought. "You do not know when someone wants to harm you?"
"I usually do know beforehand, actually. There's usually an attempt to scare me, maybe a few, before they finally get to the kidnapping part."
He shook his head in disbelief, but said, "So, this was different."
"Yes, and very effective," I murmured and looked at him, "I really have to get home."
A determined look entered his eyes. "We will see what can be done."
...
Chapter 3
Every road Jean Philippe led us down had a café or food vendor of sorts. My traitorous stomach roared angrily and I averted my face in utter embarrassment. The truth was that passing out from hunger seemed entirely likely.
"Ah, your stomach has good taste." He gestured to our left and said, "This café has a fine breakfast menu. You will join me?"
When he put it that way, how could I refuse? "Thanks, I've never had French food before." Unless you counted French fries and French toast.
He chuckled while he pulled out a chair from a table a few feet away. "Then you will live to regret it, I am afraid." My face must have betrayed my confusion because he laughed fully and said, "There is no better cuisine, you will miss it when you leave. Of course, I am biased."
"We'll see. My mother's pineapple upside down cake is hard to beat."
A waiter appeared then and Jean Philippe ordered food for me in French, speaking in a clear, decisive tone to the waiter. The food came out lightning quick and I stared at Jean Philippe with wide eyes. His ability to get fast service rivaled Ranger's.
Jean Philippe smiled. "I told him my beautiful companion needed food immediately."
Embarrassed, I looked down at the platter trying to decide where to start. There were hard rolls and croissants with jam and real butter, fruit, yogurt, a carafe of coffee with a little silver pot of milk and matching dish full of sugar packets. I grabbed a roll and slathered it with some butter, adding jam on top, and then tore into it, sighing with relief as soon as I swallowed. Now that my brain could function a little better, I cocked my head to the side and said, "Your English is very good. Does everyone here speak English?" I'd been under the impression that it would have been difficult to get past the language barrier.
He smiled. "I used to teach English. I left my profession a few years ago and bought my shop. I don't speak it often anymore and it is true what they say: what is not used is lost, yes?"
I grinned. "Use it or lose it?"
"That is it! And no, not everyone here speaks English, but there are those who do and will pretend they do not. Paris can be tricky for the tourist."
So maybe I'd been right after all. We were silent for a while as I literally stuffed my face and he sipped the strong coffee he'd ordered for himself. The smell tantalized my nostrils. It had a warm, rich aroma and, even though I was slightly overheated, I poured myself a cup and doctored it up with plenty of cream and sugar.
While I buttered my next roll, he said, "It is okay to be afraid, Stephanie."
I looked away from him and watched the hustle and bustle of the late morning crowd while I took my first sip of coffee, relishing the dark, slightly smoky flavor. When I turned back to him, I saw patience and understanding in his eyes. "I know. It's just better for me to make a plan, stick to it, and not give in to my emotions. Right now that plan is to get to the Embassy and see if I can get a passport." I swallowed another sip, adding, "And call my boyfriend."
"Are you … afraid of him?"
I almost laughed. Oh, I was afraid of Ranger, but not for the reasons Jean Philippe asked. "No. He would never hurt me. He reserves his anger for those who try to harm me. I'm just worried about how he's handling my sudden absence." The concern cleared from his eyes and he gave a single nod.
In truth, I dreaded telling Ranger where I was. He liked to be in control, to keep tabs on me. I also knew he'd get that steely tone to his voice, detached with an underlying anger, that would frustrate me since all I wanted was to hear the familiar amusement in his voice. Happiness was in short supply right now. Not to mention the fact that I severely lacked information that would be helpful, other than my location. I didn't like how easy it had been for someone to smuggle me out of my own country and drop me off in another without so much as a ripple in my memory. It was incredibly disturbing, to say the least.
My attention came back to the present and I noticed Jean Philippe studying me with a sad expression on his face. I didn't know what he was thinking, but it seemed like he really 'got' how I felt. "Stephanie, I do not know how nor why this happened to you, to be certain, but I do know that we must do all we can to return you to your family and your lover. There is nothing worse than being left with a mystery when you are desperate for answers." Too quickly, a bright smile replaced the sadness as if he'd flipped a switch. He'd spoken like someone with experience and I filed the information away in my head for later exploration. "Since you are alone, I must insist that you stay at my home for as long as you need."
His sweet offer was just the human kindness I needed after my rude awakening this morning. "You're very kind," I said, setting down my coffee cup and picking up a croissant. "Are you sure?"
"Of course!"
I thought about it while I ripped off a piece of the buttery roll and ate it. Staying with Jean Philippe and the Mrs. meant companionship. If Ranger made arrangements for me, I could expect lockdown. I may have woken up alone — okay, and scared — in a foreign country, but it didn't mean I had to give up my independent spirit.
He leaned forward with an earnest expression. "Stephanie, it is not good for a woman to be alone in a strange city. If you do not stay, I will worry. This way I can see for myself that you are safe."
Did I have a sign on my forehead only men could see that said I need protecting? The man could give Ranger a run for his money in overprotectiveness. Still, his generosity had to be considered and the last thing I wanted to do was offend him. I grabbed the dish of fruit and set it in front of me, picking up my fork. With a smile I said, "I'd hate to worry you, so I guess it's settled."
"Wonderful! I will tell my wife, Elise, to expect a guest this evening. I warn you, she will fuss over you. We have a niece, Cecille, who lives in the south. Elise spoils her so, but we do not see her often enough." He smiled broadly, patted my hand, and left his on top of mine for a moment. "Thank you for letting us help." It was exactly the right thing to say to me to seal the deal.
He watched as I forked a piece of melon into my mouth, his face reflective. I moved on to the yogurt, finished the croissant, and then back to the fruit, eating until I was stuffed. I finished my meal with another cup of the strong coffee, cooled and sweetened from the addition of milk and sugar.
After the empty cup was back on the table, he asked with a wide smile, "How does the food compare to your mother's — what was it — pineapple cake?"
I smiled. "Pineapple upside down cake. The breakfast was good, but that cake is my favorite." And right now, I'd give just about anything to be at my mother's, eating a slice. I'd even suffer through the Morelli lecture again.
He smiled and shrugged, in a 'to each his own' manner and then stood. "You are finished eating?"
"Yes, thanks." I couldn't help but smile. His congenial spirit was contagious. Listening to him order the food and communicate with the waiter had been an attention grabber for me. The way the words flowed off his tongue, like silk, made me understand why French was called the language of love. I tried to imagine Ranger speaking French and trembled at the thought. I wasn't sure any woman would be ready for that. Spanish was just as dangerous, though he rarely spoke it around me.
Jean Philippe dropped several bills onto the table as we stood, then he led me a few more blocks, crossing several terrifying intersections along the way. When we came to a quieter area, he gestured and pointed out the Embassy directly in front of us on the other side of the street. I was surprised that we'd already arrived, though it had been a lot more walking than I normally did. I was more of an elevator riding, car driving, Jersey girl. Still, I wasn't tired and I'd enjoyed the walk as well as the company. As much as a kidnapped woman could enjoy those things.
The building was nestled behind a wrought iron fence and a row of heavily budded trees. He led me across the street and up to the front entrance. We stopped there and I reached out to shake his hand, but received a tight hug and a kiss on both cheeks. I averted my face trying not to look awkward and stepped back with a quick smile.
"You will be all right?" I nodded. "Good. I will give you my telephone numbers. If you call, I will meet you here to take you to my home. We will be ready for you." He hesitated slightly. "Unless you would like company while you wait?"
"No, thank you. You've done so much already. And I don't know how long I'll be here." My conscience couldn't take the guilt of keeping him away from his business any longer than necessary.
He leaned forward with a serious look and said, "Stephanie, I want to give you some money in case you need it. For food and necessities. You will be on your own today and I want to know you can at least eat and take care of your needs."
My cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but I couldn't deny he had a point. "I want to say I don't need it, but I do. I want you to let me pay you back, though."
"Absolutely not." He pulled out several bills and handed them to me. "Fifty Euros. Now you do not have to worry or go hungry today while you take care of business."
My brow furrowed and I felt that familiar guilt creep in. The same feeling I'd always gotten in the past when Ranger had helped me, even after we'd started dating, because I didn't have anything to offer in return. I hated the obligatory indebtedness I felt toward others who showed me kindness. I also didn't want to have to accept his help, but recognized how stupid it would be to turn him down.
"I — thank you. I wish I didn't have to put you out like this, but I'm grateful for your help."
He shook his head quickly and made a 'nonsense' motion with his hand. "Please do not feel you are 'putting me out' as you say. I offer this money and my home to you for purely selfish reasons."
"Thank you. You've been very kind even though you don't know me," I said and looked at the tall building in front of me. A reminder that life was not so simple anymore. Some part of me thought maybe I couldn't handle doing this on my own, but I squashed it down. It was a ridiculous thought. "I keep telling myself that I'm not over my head, Jean Philippe."
"I understand, but you have me now. And Elise, too. Are you sure you do not want me to stay?" The concern was back in his eyes.
I shook my head. "No, please don't. You should get back. This really could take a while." A long while.
He looked like he wanted to say something else, but changed his mind and dug in his pocket, pulling out an ink pen and a small white business card with thin black script on one side. He scribbled something on the blank side of the card and handed it to me. "Call me when you finish. Please. These are my telephone numbers; my shop on the top and my home on the bottom. If it is after 2 o'clock, call my home." He patted my cheek in a fatherly gesture and turned to leave.
I watched him cross the road the way we had come and then turned and hurried up to the guarded door of the austere building. It was time to get myself back home and get some retribution — once I figured out whose ass I needed to kick.
…
Two aggravating hours later, I was being taken to the office of Madge Barker, the manager I'd demanded to see. I tried to keep a positive attitude. At least I wasn't arguing with a desk clerk any longer. Getting this far had been difficult because they didn't seem to believe that I was who I claimed to be. The petite little blonde at the desk had given me the runaround, making me fill out paperwork, then more paperwork. I finally got so frustrated I'd demanded her superior.
Within minutes, I was ushered through a door hidden in the paneling behind the counter. When I entered, I saw Madge seated at a large natural wood desk. She motioned to the seat opposite her.
I studied her appearance as I sat. She was petite, with medium length blonde hair, had a trim figure — no doubt honed by years of walking to work in heels — clad in a navy blue suit, beady dark brown eyes, and coral lipstick on her full lips. By the laugh lines around her eyes, I guessed her to be in her mid-forties.
"Stephanie Plum, did you say?" she asked when I sat down. "How can I help you?"
I began to explain from the beginning and grew annoyed the more doubtful she looked. "So, you see, I need help. I want to go home. I wish I could provide the documents everyone is asking for, but…" I shrugged with my hands palm up to emphasize that I didn't have them.
"That's a convenient story, Ms. Plum, but you understand I can hardly take your word for it." She sat back with something like a smirk on her face. I couldn't help but think how the name 'Barker' suited her personality. The woman was a pit bull despite her initial friendly appearance.
My temper flew out of control and my mouth took off before I completely rose from my seat, arms flailing expressively in agitation. "What more can I say? My name is Stephanie Michelle Plum. What do I have to do to get that through your thick head, for God's sake?"
Madge gave me a stern look. "I can't just hand you a passport without proof of identity," she explained.
"I know, but I don't know how to get what you need without going home. And you say I can't do that without my passport. Do you see how fucked up this whole thing is?" My voice raised several decibels as I spoke.
Madge stood and crossed her arms. "Please sit down, Miss Plum." I grudgingly complied and she continued, "Yes, this is a real problem. What you need is a legal representative who can bring documents of proof here to help you clear up this mess." She almost looked sorry for me, but I could tell she wasn't going to budge. I supposed I should have been happy that it wasn't so easy for anyone to just waltz in here and get a passport without proof of identity, but I was too pissed to think of it that way just then.
Since I wanted to call him anyway, Ranger was the obvious person to contact. Not to mention the fact that he was the only person I knew with all of the connections it seemed I would need to get home. I took a deep breath, trying to think of how to explain all of this to him. Then it dawned on me that he most likely knew more than I did at this point because he was most likely calling everyone he knew to track me down. "Can I use your phone to call the person who can vouch for me?" I asked.
"Of course." She indicated to her phone, handed me the receiver as she hit an outgoing line, explaining how to dial a US telephone number. I dialed his number and waited, taking slow breaths to calm my nerves, knowing it was still quite early in Trenton.
As the phone rang, I reminded myself to keep my cool when he answered because he'd most likely be worried and stressed out, though I knew he'd never admit to either. He also might say something to piss me off. Stressed Ranger had a habit of doing that.
"Talk," a sleepy voice came across the line.
"Tank?" I asked, utterly confused.
Silence.
"Tank, is that you?" I asked again.
"Who is this?"
"It's Stephanie. What other woman would call this number so early in the morning?" I asked. "Why do you have Ranger's cell phone?"
I was met by silence again.
"Tank? Are you there?"
The line stayed silent and then I heard a dial tone. What the fuck? I sat down, my legs no longer able to hold me. He had hung up on me. I might have cried if I hadn't suddenly gotten pissed off.
I looked at Madge. "Sorry, I think we got disconnected. I was calling a cell phone."
"Of course," Madge said and motioned to the phone again. She looked wary, but curious.
I dialed the number again and waited while it rang.
"This is a sick, twisted joke," Tank said when he answered the phone this time.
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me. I don't know who you are, but if you call here claiming to be that person again, I'll hunt you down!" Never had he talked to me that way before. I knew he was going to hang up again and I had to think fast.
"Pierre!"
Silence greeted me again. I had just about lost hope when he said, "How do you know that name?"
"Because, it's your name. Remember? I learned it the day you broke your leg, or that is, when my skip broke your leg." I blew a breath out and smiled slightly.
He was silent again, but I was hopeful that I had his attention. For some reason he didn't believe I was me. It hurt. How could he not recognize my voice? And more importantly, why wasn't he relieved to hear from me? Wouldn't they all be searching heaven and hell to find me? The lack of frantic yelling for Ranger suddenly had the hair on the back of my neck standing on end while a sense of dread spread rapidly through my gut.
Finally, he spoke again. "If this is Stephanie, you won't mind if I ask you a few questions," he said.
"I'll answer them, but why—"
"What song did Lester serenade our table with on the night of September third, two thousand ten?" he asked.
"You mean the one you almost kicked his ass over last night?" I grinned, despite myself, remembering. "It was a song by Queen. Um … Friends Will Be Friends. Now, what's going on?"
He was silent again.
"Tank?"
"What did I say to you in the car on the way to Morelli's the night we pulled you out of the cupboard at Stiva's place?" he asked.
"What?" I asked in exasperation. "You expect me to remember a conversation from that long ago?" I waited a beat, but he didn't answer so I said, "Wait, just give me a second. I've had several naps since then, you know. You said, um, it was … Oh! You told me you were worried about me and that you liked me." I smiled. "That was the start of a great friendship, don't you think?"
More silence. I was about to blow my top.
"Hey, keep up!"
"What is my most prized possession?" he asked.
I rolled my eyes. He was getting ridiculous. Still, the strange questions had my mind working double time. "That's a trick question. You prize your friendships the most, because they bring you more happiness than any thing ever could," I said between clenched teeth. "Are you done?"
He blew out a breath and made a strange noise. "Shit, it really is you. I don't understand."
"You don't understand? You'd better tell me what the hell is going on," I said as a painful jolt of fear spiked through my central nervous system. "Where is Ranger? Did something happen to him?"
"He's in D.C. Yes, you could say something happened to him." He was acting strange, very unlike himself. His voice was all wrong, strained and uneven.
"What? What happened? Can I call him? He didn't have plans to leave yesterday and now he's gone? I don't get it." Tank had Ranger's cell phone. I knew without a doubt Ranger would make sure I could contact him or one of his men at all times, so it wasn't farfetched. Had he been called away on a job suddenly? If that was the case, Tank would have said so. Washington D.C.? What was he doing there?
It was time to face facts. Something big had changed. It felt wrong. Very, very wrong.
"Where are you?" he asked.
"France. Paris, actually," I said. "I'm in a shitload of trouble here and I need help."
I heard him mumble something unintelligible. "You can't speak to him right now, but I'll make a few calls and get him to call you," he said. "Give me a number where you can be reached."
I asked Madge for her office number, repeating it for Tank, and then she informed me they closed at 2:00 this afternoon. "They close in two hours," I said with a glance at the wall clock. "If he doesn't get me by then, have him try me at this number." I recited off Jean Philippe's home number for him.
"Okay." His voice cracked and he sighed. "So, you say we were at Shorty's last night?"
"Yes, I think so. I mean, it's confusing as hell, but that's pretty much the last thing I remember. Then I woke up here, with a splitting headache, in bed with some guy."
"Did he hurt you? Do you know who he is or have his name? Where is he now?" This was the type of response I'd expected at the beginning of the phone call.
"He's not important. He's a kid. I don't even think he knew I was there. I snuck out this morning before anyone woke up. To be honest, I thought we were all prisoners, at first, but it turned out to be a hostel."
"You weren't being held?" He sounded doubtful. Considering the nature of his business, I could understand skepticism, but I didn't like the feeling that he was skeptical of me.
"Not by those people, but I'm guessing someone has it out for me. Do you have any leads there in Trenton? Whoever did this put a serious kink in my life. Ranger and I were supposed to be moving my things into his place today, but instead I woke up in Paris. Now, he doesn't have his phone anymore and you're not acting like yourself. I want someone's ass, Tank." My voice wavered from a mixture of anger and fear and I felt like kicking something.
"I'll call Ranger. He'll explain," he said. "Call me if you don't hear from him. Do you have somewhere to go? Are you okay?"
My eyes filled with tears and I mentally cursed. It was easier to keep them at bay when I'd had anger to sustain my resolve. "Yes, I have a place to stay. I met someone who is helping me and offered to let me crash at his place. His is the second number I gave you. I'm not okay emotionally. Physically, I've been fed and I'm unhurt. I'll be better when Ranger calls."
"Who is this man? What's his name and where does he live?"
"Jean Philippe Beaumont. I don't know where he lives, but I promise he's harmless."
"Guess I have no choice but to trust you on that." He was silent again before he quietly said, "It's great to hear your voice, Sweetness." Then he was gone, so I hung up the receiver. I closed my eyes and took several slow, steady breaths to fight off another wave of emotion.
"What in the world is going on?" I finally asked in a daze.
"Was your friend surprised to hear from you?" Madge asked. For once, she actually looked sympathetic. Go figure. The pit bull could do compassion.
"He shouldn't have been! I just saw him and the guys last night. Now all of a sudden he's acting like I called him from the afterlife!" I said, frustrated.
"Last night?" She looked confused.
"Yes, last night. How could he not believe it was me?" I stood and started pacing, then stopped to toss an accusing glance her way. "That seems to be the theme of the day."
She stood up and came around her desk to lean her backside on the front edge, smoothing her skirt over her thighs nonchalantly as she said, "Oh, I imagine he was quite shocked to hear from you." She raised an eyebrow and cocked her head to the side. "If you really are Stephanie Plum."
"I am Stephanie Plum. I proved it to him or the conversation would have ended a lot sooner. Sorry I can't do the same for you right now." I stared at her hard for a beat to emphasize my statement. The first part of what she said came back to me. "Why would he be shocked?" I locked my knees to keep from collapsing when the feeling that I wouldn't like what she was going to say hit me full force between the shoulder blades and fanned out to encompass my whole body.
She leaned forward a little and laced her fingers together in front of her against her thighs. "Your records state you were declared missing on September 4, 2010. A death certificate was issued on October 18th that same year."
I wanted to laugh hysterically because what she said was just too insane to be true. "That's impossible. I'm right here." I scrubbed my hands over my face in an attempt to rub away the fog that had begun to close in around me. Then the dates clicked. "Wait! October? Shit, how long have I been gone? What's today's date?" I hadn't had a reason to check before now, but it was suddenly the most important detail of my life.
She looked apologetic as she said, "July 23, 2011."
...
A/N: I've been to Paris, but I've never been to the US Embassy. I've seen vague pictures of it, so I had to use my imagination on how to get into it and what it looked like on the inside.