Paris Love Match - By Nigel Blackwell Page 0,3
the taxi door and sank into a seat that had long since given up any effort to support its occupants. “Hotel Lafayette, si vous—”
The opposite rear door whipped open. Piers’ mouth froze half-open with his tongue poking out. His forehead wrinkled and his eyebrows inched closer together. The face of an angel stared at him and he glimpsed the mesmerizing curve of a tight-fitting skirt and long legs as she bounded into the taxi. The angel leaned back in the seat and undid the top button of a business suit. His thoughts danced uncomfortably between modesty and wanting to look at her cleavage.
She ran a hand through her long, jet-black hair, flipped one side over her ear, and turned to look at him with deep mocha eyes. She smiled, big and broad, intense and confident, a full thousand watts. Her high cheekbones and soft lips underlined her angelic presence. Tiny dimples rippled as she opened her mouth to speak.
Piers held his breath as the sight of her paralyzed his voice.
“Get out,” she said.
Piers blinked in shock. “What?”
“Get the fuck out.”
“What?” The wattage had gone from her smile, but Piers still feared his heart might stop as he looked at her. “But I—”
She leaned across him and yanked at the door handle on his side. “Go on, get out.”
The sounds of Paris wafted in through the open door, a hundred languages, all spoken at once.
“I beg your pardon, but I was here first.”
“And?”
“Well, doesn’t that mean it’s my taxi?”
The voices outside turned to shouts.
She shook her head.
Piers sighed. “I hate to be rude, but I was seated before you arrived, and I was giving the driver the address when you got in.”
She huffed. “You are being rude. In Paris there is a certain etiquette regarding taxis.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Etiquette?”
She gave a patronizing smile. “I started for the taxi before you. That means it’s my taxi.”
The driver leaned back over his seat. “Will one of you tell me where we’re going?”
Her eyes remained locked on Piers. “I saw it first. And you’re just some tourist. Get out. I live here. I need a taxi.”
“Please. One of you tell me where we’re going,” the driver said, agitated.
Piers glanced at the driver. “Hotel La—”
She waved her hand in front of his face. “Non, non. Rue de—”
There was more shouting outside the cab then a large, wet man dived headlong through the open door and across the rear seat. The man rolled around, his elbows and knees digging into Piers. The girl lurched away from them.
Piers opened his mouth, but his throat closed up at the sight of a gun in the man’s hand. His heart thumped hard against his ribs. His arms locked solid and his legs felt like lead. He tried to swallow, but his mouth was dry.
The man waved the gun at the driver. “Vite, vite! Drive! Go!”
The driver turned around slowly, his eyes wide and magnetically attracted to the gun.
Piers glimpsed the girl moving her hand toward the door handle. She hadn’t reached it before he heard strange popping sounds behind them and the car’s rear window exploded in a storm of tiny daggers.
“Shit!” She yelled as she rolled forward into the footwell.
The man fired two shots through the hole where the rear window had been. “Fucking go!”
Piers slapped his hands over his ears. He’d never heard a real gun fired. His head rang and his ears hurt. He thought the girl was screaming, but he couldn’t be sure. It seemed like every tin drum in the world was making a noise in his ear at once.
The car fishtailed away from the curb and the man lurched to one side, dropping his phone. The driver huddled down, only the top of his head visible above the dashboard.
The man struggled over Piers and grabbed for his phone as it slid around on the floor. He missed it, turned, and fired another shot through the rear window.
The driver took a right-hand corner fast. Piers slid across the seat, crushing up against the man and the girl. The man shouted something. Piers pulled himself back onto his side of the car while the man fired more shots. The girl remained in the footwell, her hands clamped over her ears and the man’s phone wedged under her knee.
Piers caught a glimpse of a car behind them struggling to take the same corner. It bounced on the curb, smashed into a wall, and disappeared in a cloud of steam. Behind it, he could see a