French Kiss Part 5

"Everything will go a whole lot smoother," Barry said, holding the elevator door open. "You can go back to your small-town persona once we're out of here." They'd had this argument before. Many times.

"So I should listen to the professionals," Johnny muttered.

"That's what you pay me for, boss." He smiled. "When are you gonna get with the program?"

"Never. How about that?"

"In the meantime ... " Grinning, Barry waved Johnny into the elevator.

Barry knew a h.e.l.luva lot more than Johnny did about Lisa's companions. He'd filled Johnny in on some of the sordid details over and above the dossier information. Fortunately, Yuri and Raf were essentially rich losers, their fathers' illegal activities run by men more clever than they. Yuri and Raf only played at being tough.

"Okay, I'm listening," Johnny muttered, acceding to his bodyguard. He ushered Nicky into the elevator, and they were joined by Cole and Barry, who waved off a man trying to get on. "Just a word of warning," Johnny said to Nicky as the elevator began to rise. "Ignore Lisa. She's into drama-not a surprise considering her line of work, but you know what I mean. She can have a mouth on her. Don't take it personally."

"Got it," Nicky said, although she'd take it real personally if she got caught up in a gunfight. A shame there was no way to say that tactfully.

When the elevator doors opened with a soft whoosh, the four pa.s.sengers exited and moved down a sumptuous corridor papered in gold silk damask, carpeted with museum-quality carpets, lit by gilt and crystal sconces.

Even the luxurious surroundings couldn't mitigate Nicky's fear.

Her Cowardly Lion psyche was unimpressed by damask and gold.

And it didn't help that two very large bodyguards, sitting on chairs on either side of a door she was guessing was the Chanel suite, came to their feet and glowered at them as they approached.

Johnny seemed not to notice their menacing posture. Maybe I've seen too many kungfu films, Nicky thought. Men like those at the door scared the s.h.i.t out of her.

Johnny, however, only smiled as he reached them. "Would you let Miss Jordan know Uncle Yogi's present has arrived," he said, smooth as silk. "I believe she's waiting for it."

Nothing.

"Try French," he said to Nicky.

Half of nothing. One man replied in extremely rough French, "Name-give me."

Nicky spoke very slowly, giving Johnny's full name, pointing to Johnny, then saying Miss Jordan wanted to see him and pointing at the suite door.

The man who knew the rudimentary French spoke rapidly to his companion in his native language. Nicky guessed it was one of the guttural -stan dialects although she'd never heard them-or was it Chechen? Twenty-four-hour global news definitely made the outbacks of the world a lit tl e more recognizable.

The man turned back and growled, "Attendre-Wait."

As he disappeared inside, the other guard stood before the door in one of those you'll-have-to-go-through-me poses.

Nicky shot a nervous glance at Johnny.

He smiled. "Everything's copacetic. Relax."

This wasn't the time to explain to him that she wasn't about to relax no matter how he much he smiled. The man in front of the door was carrying, and the bulge under his arm was a real deterrent to relaxing.

As they waited, the silence in the corridor was humming with tension, Nicky thought, although no one else appeared to be disturbed.

Her heart was pounding in her chest. Her palms were sweaty. She could hear Cole breathing beside her. Any moment she expected someone to pull out a gun and start shooting.

When the door suddenly opened, Nicky choked back a shriek. Just barely.

Although the glamorous woman in the doorway was no doubt used to shrieking fans. Maybe Nicky could have pa.s.sed herself off as a fan.

"Well, well, if it isn't my favorite messenger of good cheer," Lisa Jordan murmured in a low, throaty contralto, pushing the kung fu/Chechen/Kazakstan guard aside with a brush of her finger, her gaze focused exclusively on Johnny. "You brought something for me all the way from your old stomping grounds." She smiled her movie-star smile-the one with all the perfect white teeth. "How sweet."

"That's me, babe," Johnny said, smiling. "Sweet as h.e.l.l."

"And who do we have here?" Lisa pointed at Nicky, her perfect brows arched high, velvety malice in every syllable.

"My translator. Nicky Lesdaux, my ex, Lisa Jordan."

"So you're his translator." Lisa's smile was snide. "Is that what you call them now?" she said, turning back to Johnny.

"Don't start," Johnny warned, "or your candy man might go home." His ex had always viewed every woman he knew as a rival. There was no point in dragging Nicky into that conversation.

"You can't fault a girl for being curious," Lisa purred, offering Johnny her s.e.xy kitten look, all violet eyes and pouting mouth.

Johnny's gaze narrowed. "Play that game with someone else, sweetheart. I'm immune. Now," he said, "are you going to invite us in, or what?"

"Uh-uh, darling-there's no us. But since you come bearing gifts, you're more than welcome."

Turning to his small entourage, Johnny said, "I'll catch you later. Say in the lobby?"

"You sure?" Cole said.

"Might not be a good idea," Barry agreed.

"Give me an hour," Johnny murmured so low the sound barely left his mouth.

Nicky knew what that meant. Come and get me if I don't return. The lobby was sounding better by the second.

"I won't be long," Johnny said in a normal tone of voice, nodding to his bodyguards.

"What a shame," Lisa murmured in a s.e.xy undertone. "When you used to take such a nice long time..."

"Sounds as though you have company," Johnny said, acknowledging audible conversation from inside the suite. "And you know me. I never perform well in front of a crowd."

"Liar."

He wasn't going there no matter what. "Do you want this present from Yogi, or don't you?" he said, patting his jeans pocket.

Lisa made a small moue. "You're being troublesome, darling," she pouted, tossing back her platinum hair with a practiced gesture. "But of course I want it. I wouldn't have invited you up if I didn't."

Turning, she entered th e suite, and Johnny followed without a backward glance.

The door shut behind them.

The two kung fu look-alikes took up their respective positions.

Barry looked at Cole, Cole looked at Barry.

"I'm going downstair s," Nicky said, feeling as though she'd just escaped some nameless danger.

By the time she reached the elevators, Barry was there to push the b.u.t.ton.

As they entered the elevator, Nicky said, "Johnny was married to her for quite a while, wasn't he?" Was she fishing, or simply making an observation? Or wondering out loud how anyone could have been married to Lisa Jordan for more than a day.

"Longer than he wanted," Barry muttered.

"He stayed for Jordi," Cole said.

"Have you been with Johnny long?"

"Yeah," they grunted in unison.

Definitely not the chatty types Nicky decided, as the silence lengthened.

But certainly polite. They escorted her to a chair in the lobby, asked her if she wanted anything. When she shook her head, Barry said, "We're going back up. You'll be safe here."

She didn't argue.

She was happy as a clam to wait downstairs.

Eleven.

Two men and a woman were lounging in oversize chairs as Johnny and his ex walked into a sitting room resplendent in Louis Quatorze decor. The darkhaired woman smiled and waved. "Hi, Johnny. Haven't seen you for a while."

"Long time, Chantel. You're lookin' good."

The two men didn't greet him, but he recognized them from the dossier report. The Russian and the Colombian. Dressed in Armani. They looked half in the bag-no surprise there. Chantel was floating, too, but what else did he expect in this den of iniquity from which he hoped to extract his daughter.

"If you'll excuse us," Lisa said. "Johnny and I have some business to discuss." She smiled at Johnny. "We have to decide on Jordi's private school."

"Long way to come for that," the Russian muttered, but he was too out of it to move.

"I was in the neighborhood," Johnny said, blandly. And he didn't believe in private schools, but no reason to bring that up. "After you," he murm ured, waving his ex before him.

She brought him into a small faux library, although the books looked real enough. Just unread.

Shutting the door behind him, he leaned back against it.

"So, let's have it, darling," Lisa ordered, dropping into a languid pose on a tapestry covered sofa. "Don't stand there. You know how I love Yogi's special botany experiments."

"He sends you his best," Johnny offered, pulling a small bag from his pocket.

"He's a sweetie. We used to have such fun with him, didn't we?"

"A couple lifetimes ago."

She wrinkled her flawless nose. "You've gotten dull."

"You're edgy enough for both of us," Johnny replied. "Someone has to mind the store."

"Let's not have that old argument," she murmured.

"Whatever you want, babe." He wasn't here to argue; he was here to get his daughter.

"What- e ver ?"

Her smile was meant to be tantalizing, and it might have been to someone else. But s.e.x with his ex was definitely not on the schedule. " L et's keep it simple. Especially with your friends out there for company," he said, pushing away from the door.

She shrugged. "They wouldn't even notice."

"Vernie could show up," he said, moving toward a desk near the window overlooking the Place Vendome-a familiar desk.

He'd rolled a few here in the past, and he set about doing it again.

"It sounds to me like you're making excuses." She did her little pouty number again. "Don't you like me anymore?"

Johnny glanced up from his task and smiled. "I like you just fine, but this place is practically Grand Central, so let's just cool it." He was going to politely dance backward from any action with his ex until doomsday. After a quick lick, he ran his finger down the length of the paper to seal it and walked toward the sofa. "Let me know what you think of Yogi's newest hybrid," he said, taking a seat beside her and offering her the spliff. "He said it's his best since that hot summer you were filming up there." Lisa Jordan was the kind of woman who never had enough of anything-drugs, clothes, adulation, money-and Yogi's special blend was right up there in the category of things she couldn't get enough of. Fortunately, Johnny had what she wanted. Which was the entire point of this tete-a-tete.

Her eyes were half-lidded when she handed the spliff back to Johnny, and lolling against the sofa cushions, she softly sighed. "Darling Yogi has put his chemistry degree to excellent use," she whispered. "Give him my compliments when you see him."

"Will do." Johnny pretended to inhale and handed it back to her. Not that his ex was in any shape to notice pretense. She hadn't been exactly straight when he'd walked in, as evidenced by those three outside, who were communing big time with their inner selves.

"Does Yogi ever come down to L.A.?" she murmured, turning her head and blearily meeting Johnny's gaze.

"Not often. When the surf's up-sometimes."

"Does he still have his dreadlocks?"

"Oh, yeah."

"Blond dreadlocks." She giggled. "I suppose it goes with the territory."

"Not necessarily. There's the business types up there now, too. The biggest cash crop in California has a certain appeal to the financial wizards. But Yogi's still the old school, back-to-the-earth farmer." He smiled. "Organic."

"Perfect," she breathed, as though it mattered if her drugs were organic or not.

He talked old times, while she zoned out, making sure he only mentioned the good times, not the rest.