It’s only a drink,Maggie told herself.You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. Streetlights flashed as the car rolled along, braking again and again to avoid the bumper-to-bumper traffic. Maggie’s nerves returned as they neared the hotel, making her more and more uncertain.
And something else was bothering her. Something Jake had said to her just as she and Ben were leaving. They’d all been clustered in the doorway, Ben holding her hand while they waited for the car to arrive. When he left for a moment, Jake walked up beside her.
“Maggie, I know I’ve caused you nothing but grief. You’ll never know how sorry I am.” His eyes held hers, their old familiar power stirring unwanted emotions. “Sometimes things aren’t what they seem.” He glanced at Ben, who stood chatting with the doorman. “Be sure of your feelings, Maggie.”
As Ben returned, Jake stepped back inside the doorway out of sight.
What had his words meant? Was he just apologizing for the hurt he’d caused, or was he trying to tell her something?Sometimes things aren’t what they seem. Was Jake in some kind of trouble? She couldn’t believe it, yet the plea in his voice sounded real.
Her woman’s intuition said she couldn’t have been that wrong about the man she loved.
Her common sense said Jake was just covering his bets.
The car pulled up in front of the gray stone exterior of the exclusive Crillon, once a seventeenth century palace. Maggie let Ben help her out. She smoothed her yellow chiffon dress, and headed for the revolving door, a warm breeze ruffled her hair as she walked next to Ben. Though the hour was late, by Parisian standards the evening was still early.
She would make her decision when the time came. Until then, she intended to enjoy herself. Jake Sullivan could just go to hell.
Jake instructed the cab to let him out on the Champs-Elysees. He needed to walk, breathe in some fresh night air, settle his emotions.
He shouldn’t have spoken to Maggie. He had given up that privilege when he’d ended their affair eight months ago. Even then, he’d wanted to tell her, explain, ask her to wait. He hadn’t for only one reason—
He might be forced to do what Nikolai Popov demanded.
He hadn’t mentioned that possibility to Daniel, and he wouldn’t. But Jake would do whatever was necessary to protect his mother and sister. The consequences would be his alone. He wouldn’t allow Maggie and Sarah to get involved. He loved them both too much.
Jake walked along the crowded sidewalk, passing couples strolling arm-in-arm, tourists, and old men walking their dogs. The impressive Arc de Triomphe rose ahead, its usually glowing lights shrouded by canvas and a honey-comb maze of scaffolding where workers cleaned and repaired the structure.
As he skirted the Place de la Concorde with its beautiful lighted fountain, he thought of the hours he would spend in his room tonight, trying in vain to sleep. Instead of going back to the hotel, he headed down a side street. It was one o’clock in Paris, but only eight a.m. in Washington. Maybe Daniel would have news of Popov.
Checking behind him, he noticed his usual watchdog following some distance away. Three quick turns, a darting move through traffic, an exit through the side door of a café, and Jake lost him to the teeming Paris throng.
He ducked into a small, crowded bistro and headed toward a pay phone in the rear. Pulling the heavy glass door closed to shut out the raucous laughter and conversation, he dialed Daniel’s home number.
“About time you checked in,” Daniel said after the first ring.
“Have you come up with anything yet?”
“So far the news is not encouraging. Our people in Moscow have confirmed at least one of Popov’s superiors is aware of his moves. We believe it may go all the way to the top.”
Jake felt sick to his stomach. If the government was backing Popov, he’d had to do whatever they asked. “How soon will you know for sure?”
“This whole mess is tricky. We don’t want to give our people away, so we have to move slowly. We’re trying to do what’s best for you and your family, but there are other considerations, as well.”
Like the safety and welfare of the team,Jake thought. After the incident on the plane, he worried he’d already put them in danger.
“Anything further on your end?” Daniel asked.
Jake took a moment to answer, weighing how much he should say. “Not so far. Popov hasn’t made contact again.”
“He’s bound to, sooner or later. I’m surprised he hasn’t made some offensive gesture to prove his point.”
“Nothing yet,” Jake lied, making a sudden decision not to report the incident on the plane.
He should have notified the Paris police and those in New York, but he’d suspected it had something to do with the Russian. Hearing Daniel’s words, he felt more certain than ever. He had to play for time, get all the facts before he decided what to do.
“Stay in touch,” Daniel said. “That means I expect a call every day or two. If anything unusual happens, let me know.”
“I will.”
