He shook his head. “That one’s mine.”
Chapter Ten
The stolen car ran out of gas a mile outside the city center, so they had to walk. Leah’s feet were killing her. She maintained a taciturn expression, but she couldn’t take much more. “I could pickpocket money or a phone,” she said tiredly. “But look at us.”
Jasper took her in again from head to toe, and every bit of her warmed.
“Good point.” He glanced around. “I have an idea.” He swiftly swept her up into his arms.
She yelped but couldn’t stop herself from snuggling against him. “What are you doing?”
“Hold still and just look wounded.”
“I am wounded,” she muttered.
He jogged across a busy roadway, and she paused, seeing an exclusive hotel across the way.
“Wait a minute,” she said, too tired to struggle. “We can’t go in there.”
“Trust me.” Jasper strode through the front door of one of the most prestigious hotels in all of Paris and headed directly to the front desk where a fully uniformed man, complete with sparkling gold buttons, straightened.
“Sir, I can’t have you in here,” he said firmly.
Jasper shook his head. “My wife and I were robbed. The woman has lost most of her sequins. My name is Jasper Maxwell and I’ve stayed here before.”
The guy behind the desk stood to about five feet eight inches tall with blondish-gray hair and a sour countenance. He quickly typed on a keyboard and then read the computer screen, muttering the whole time. Then he stiffened. “Jasper Maxwell? May I have your address, please?”
Jasper gave him an address from Montana in the States.
“And your phone number?” The front desk clerk straightened his already perfectly pressed jacket.
Jasper easily held Leah in his arms and recited a phone number she knew well. “My phone was stolen along with my wallet, but you should have it on record, along with my address and a credit card.”
The man behind the desk paused in reading and then widened his eyes. “Oh, my goodness. My apologies to you both, Mr. and Mrs. Maxwell. Shall I call the police?”
“No,” Jasper said, a speck of dried blood dropping from his temple. “We’ve already dealt with the police tonight. For now, we just need a room, and I’ll call in and get my credit cards replaced. You can use the one on file until then.”
“Of course. Of course. Would you like the same room as last time?”
Curiosity filtered through Leah, but she remained quiet, her entire body aching, and her mind spinning with what had to be elation. They’d saved those kids, and she was one name closer to ending this quest.
“Yes. Thank you.” Jasper accepted an old-fashioned key. “I remember the way.”
He turned and, still carrying Leah, walked down a long, beautiful hallway of antique furniture and stunning oil paintings to reach a round elevator. He walked inside and pressed the button for the highest floor.
“You’ve stayed here before?” Leah asked.
“A few times,” Jasper said. “We’ve been here on business, trying to expand the family holdings, and, of course, one of us is usually injured after hunting werewolves. This is a nice place to stay.”
She’d lived a long time but had never bunked anywhere quite as nice as the grand hotel. “I suppose so.”
They reached the top level, and Jasper strode out, unlocking one of two doors to move into a spacious suite with a phenomenal view of the Eiffel Tower. An ornate baroque sofa and chair set fronted a wide-screen television stretched across lovely wallpaper.
Jasper gently placed Leah on her feet.
Pain ticked up her legs, and she bit back a wince, favoring her left foot. Her right one felt like it had gone through a meat grinder.
Jasper reached for the remote and clicked on the television, scrolling to a local channel. Everything in Leah settled as she watched Inspector Dupont with several members of the Brigade de recherche et d’intervention cuffing the three now conscious men as aid workers tended to the children near an ambulance.
