Royal Line (Tattered Royals #1) - Carrie Ann Ryan Page 0,12

She wasn’t my most senior team member, but she was the one who would have the ultimate focus during any mission. She worried about getting the solution first, no emotions. Or at least she kept them tucked neatly away. I respected that.

Like you’re an expert at tucking away your emotions.

I was. I could be. Just every now and again, they reared their ugly heads.

“All right, good job today. Check in when you get her on the plane.”

“Will do.” She wagged her finger at me. “Oh, don’t forget to collect the check. That’s my favorite part.”

I grinned. “I’ll admit, it does give me a boost too.”

I stood back as Sparrow climbed into the follow car while Olly stayed at Lilith’s side as he led her to the limousine. Marcus and Aiden were with Sparrow. Max and Nicolai joined Olly in the Limo. Little Miss Coke-Habit was going nowhere tonight, and her loser boyfriend/dealer certainly wasn’t following. Olly and Sparrow would stay in Paris for a few more days to make sure any evidence of Lilith doing anything wild were wiped from all memories and potential mobile phones as well as CCTVs.

“Okay, time for you to get some rest,” Sparrow said from the window as she shot me a look that said she was the one in charge of me…which she wasn’t. At least, most days.

She had a point, but my system was still charged with adrenaline. Didn’t mean I had to like it. I glanced around, sure there must be something else that needed my attention. That was the thing about having a good team. You delegated a lot. And even after a night like tonight when I had to be in attendance because of committed partnerships, it was like my body got geared up for the fight, but then there was no fight. So every time I turned around, I expected something to jump out, something to not be right, something to go dreadfully wrong. But still…nothing.

I headed to the east parking lot, passing women in their fashion-forward glitterati outfits. Some with barely-there swathes of fabric covering nipples and snatches. Others wore flowing evening gowns but with daring-enough slits to make a man look twice. And still others had that fashion-forward vibe but were more covered up. That was the life of fashion shows. Everyone dripped in diamonds, smelled of the most expensive perfumes, and had more skin than clothing showing.

Most of the women had on so much makeup that I had no idea what they actually looked like under all the war paint. Were they that tanned? Or was that healthy glow thanks to a good contourist? Was that even what they were called? Who the fuck knew?

I found my black BMW i8 Roadster right where I’d left it, and I couldn’t help but do a sweep around the car. Checked the undercarriage, searched for explosives, double-checked that everything was, in fact, as I’d left it.

Old habits died hard. Besides, those old habits kept people alive.

Not always.

I swallowed the bite of guilt and regret, used my fingerprint to open my door, and climbed in. There was a sense of familiarity in the car. It was ridiculous to have it flown over for just two weeks, but I’d been hoping for the opportunity to take a few days off and have a drive. It was always best with your own wheels. Getting it shipped back home would take a lot longer, so I’d have to use one of the company cars until then. But it was well worth the luxury of having it in Paris.

At the security exit, I pulled out my ticket, showed them my ID badge, and then was waved through. I drove out onto the teeming streets of Paris. The city was bustling. The venue was a stately affair. Lit up elegantly. The Carrousel du Louvre was the historic primary location of Paris Fashion Week. Every night, the streets of Paris filled with people. Many stopped to take photos in front of the Louvre. Models teetering on their heels like the leggy giraffes they were.

I knew for a fact that Fashion Week wasn’t over. There were more parties, more places to see and be seen. Luckily, I didn’t have to do any of that. I headed out of the central part of the city and away from all the people.

After all, it was Paris, so there were people everywhere all the time. I took my car toward the 16th arrondissement. I was familiar enough with the city