Act of justice, p.22
Act of Justice, page 22
He flashed a smile and cleared his throat. “What I’m saying is after almost a year together, you know what you’re going to get with me, right?”
Slightly frowning, she straightened his black tie, “Okay,” and nodded, “I do.”
Hardy replayed her last two words in his mind and his heart skipped a beat. “Well,” his chest heaved, “I’m not one who’s going to have a plane fly overhead, or plant jewelry in a glass of champagne…”
Cruz’s pulse quickened.
“…or…” he wavered, “or some other over-the-top act like that.”
She swallowed to dislodge the lump forming in her throat.
“What I’m trying to tell you—say to you—ask you,” he licked his lips, glimpsed hers and drew in a short breath.
Her gaze darting back and forth from his eyes to his lips, Cruz slid her hands up his white shirt and cupped both sides of his neck.
“Cruz,” he shook his head, “Raychel Elisa…”
She felt him fumbling in one of the jacket’s pockets.
“…DelaCruz,” he flipped open a black velvet box with his thumb, showing her a wide-band gold ring; on either side of a large princess diamond, three smaller diamonds gradually increased in size as they got closer to the centerpiece, “will you marry me?”
Cruz’s hands shot to her face, covering her nose and mouth. Holding her breath, she stared at the jewelry for ten seconds before regarding him.
For several long moments, Hardy peered into her eyes; he spotted a lone drop escape one of them. I think that’s a good sign. He bent at the knees to get eye level with her. “So…” he listed to one side, “yes?” and then the other, “no? You’re kind of leaving me hanging here, Cruz.”
She nodded, took his face in her hands, “Yes,” lurched forward and kissed him, long and slow. She pulled away, “Yes,” before kissing him again, “I’ll marry you.” She ran a thumb over his chin and pressed her nose to his. “Of course I’ll marry you.” A beat. “I love you, Aaron.”
“I love you, Raychel.” After glimpsing the ring, he lifted the soft box a little higher. “Don’t you want to try it on?”
She regarded his eyes, his nose, “In a second,” his cheeks, his lips. “Right now…there’s something else I want more.” Cupping the back of his head with one hand and wrapping her free arm around his lower back, she drew his body closer and French kissed him.
… … … … …
9:31 p.m.
Jules Verne Restaurant
Eiffel Tower (2nd floor)
Hardy and Cruz—each with an arm around the other—followed their maître D toward their table. Cruz looked up at him. “How did you ever get us a reservation at the last minute? Isn’t this place hard to get into?”
“Not when you know someone who has connections that seem to go higher than the President.”
Cruz smiled. “Dahlia?”
He nodded. “Dahlia.”
“Monsieur, Madame…” stepping to the side, the maître D swung an arm, “your table.”
Hardy lifted his gaze and grinned. “We were just talking about you.”
Cruz pulled up short, her jaw dropping and her eyes growing wide. “Oh my…what are you…”
Dahlia and Charity stood and made their way around the table. The former stretched out her arms toward Cruz, “I hope,” while glimpsing Hardy, “congratulations are in order.”
He nodded.
The newly engaged woman received hugs from her female teammates. “But how did you…” her gaze went from the women to Hardy before settling on Dahlia and Charity again. “You two knew all along, didn’t you?”
They beamed.
She faced Hardy. “And you set this whole thing up.”
After hugging him, and kissing him on the cheek, Dahlia and Charity congratulated their team leader.
He gave Cruz a one-arm hug, while spying the other women. “I thought you’d want to celebrate the occasion with our friends.”
Cruz wagged a finger at Dahlia, while pinching her dress and glimpsing her legwear. “Back at my place…that’s why you were so insistent I pack these for the trip.” Dahlia had dropped by with a few articles of clothing from her wardrobe that she thought Cruz would look good wearing, while in Paris.
Her eyebrows dancing, Dahlia shot a look at Hardy and, “Well it’s clear as day,” came back to Cruz, “how much he likes seeing his girlfr—,” she hesitated, “excuse me…his fiancé in boots.”
Hearing that term for the first time, the couple smiled at each other.
“So I thought I’d help set the tone a little. Besides,” Dahlia gave Cruz’s outfit an admiring glance, “you need to come out of your shell, girl. You look hot in that.”
Cruz’s cheeks darkened, as she folded her arms under her breasts and brought her feet together.
“Pardon me.”
All eyes focused on a well-dressed waiter.
“May I take your orders, or do you require more time?”
Hardy lifted a finger. “I’m sorry. We’ve been catching up. Can you give us a few minutes?”
“Of course, sir.”
The team claimed places around the table; Hardy on Cruz’s left, Dahlia across from him.
Cruz slid her left hand over the tablecloth. “So…”
Smiling at her, Charity leaned forward. “It’s beautiful, Cruz.”
“I just love it, especially the wide band.” She eyed Dahlia. “What do you think?”
Crossing her legs under the table and adjusting her short black skirt, Dahlia peeked at Hardy before nodding at the ring. “It’s still gorgeous. He chose well.”
Cruz frowned. “It’s still gorgeous? What do you mean? Have you seen it already?”
“You could say that.”
Cruz barely shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
“We,” Charity covered the ring with her hand, “helped Hardy pick it out yesterday…after the meeting with the President. We—”
“No,” Hardy interjected, “you two were there, but,” he tapped his chest, “I picked out the ring.” The two women had given their opinions on several rings; however, Hardy had spotted a different one, the one that was on Cruz’s finger. Dahlia and Charity had given him high marks on his choice.
“If you ask me, it seems you should have sought our advice from the start.” Dahlia took a drink of water and set her glass on the table before shaking her head at him. She scoffed. “Christopher’s.”
He smirked at the woman across from him. “It’s killing you, isn’t it?”
Dahlia put her hands flat on the table and inclined toward him. “Can I tell her? Please? I’m not going to enjoy my meal if I don’t get this off my chest.”
He snorted. “I’m surprised it took you this long.”
Cruz went back and forth between the two of them. “What’s going on?”
Eyeing Dahlia, Hardy turned a palm upward and swung the hand toward his woman.
Beaming, Dahlia sat upright. “So Hardy comes into Cherry’s office—right after my birthday party in the O.R. He takes a knee in front of us and,” the storyteller mimed her next words, “he pulls out this jewelry box from his pocket and shows Cherry and me…”
Five days ago…April 1st; 9:57 a.m.
Washington, D.C. (Charity’s office)
Both women sat on the couch and crossed their legs. “Okay,” Dahlia rested her overlapped hands on her top thigh, “you’re acting weird, Hardy. What’s this all about?”
He half smiled, pulled his hand from his pants pocket, went to one knee in front of them and opened a jewelry box. “I’m asking Cruz to marry me and I want your opinion on the ring.”
Planting their feet on the floor, the women sat forward.
Dahlia put a hand on his shoulder. “Well first of all, I’m happy for you.”
Charity smiled at him. “Me too. You guys are a great couple.”
He nodded at them. “Thank you. That means a lot coming from you. You’re two of the best friends I’ve ever had. That’s why…” he held the box higher and hiked his eyebrows at them. “Well…you like it?”
Dahlia smiled. “It’s nice.”
“Yeah,” Charity leaned as far forward as she could without falling off the cushion, and squinted at the diamond, “it’s really,” she hesitated, “really…nice.”
Hardy scowled at his teammates. Nice wasn’t exactly what I was going for.
Dahlia sat back. “Where’d you get it from?”
“Christophers.”
The women gave each other a look before Dahlia observed him. “Where’s Christopher’s? I’ve never heard of that store.”
“J.B. Christopher? It’s over there off of—”
“Wait a minute.” Dahlia shot forward again. “You went to J.B. Christopher…the department store?”
He nodded.
“To buy Cruz a ring.”
He flicked his eyes from one woman to the other. “Yeah?”
“Her,” Dahlia paused, “engagement ring.”
“Yes. What’s wrong with that? They have a nice jewelry section back by the—”
“By the what?”
Hardy glanced down before facing Dahlia again. “By,” his voice dropped almost to a whisper, “Automotive.”
Dahlia tilted her head to one side. “So did you get her a socket set, while you were there too?” She snapped her fingers, “I know,” and pointed at him. “You’re saving that for the wedding gift, right?”
Hardy stood. Hearing her words in his mind, Engagement ring, he gawked at the gold symbol of his love for Cruz. “I get stuff from Christopher’s all the time.”
Dahlia got up from the couch and clutched his upper arms. “You get pants, shirts, socks and underwear from there, Hardy.” She shook her head. “You don’t buy the woman you love, the woman you want to be your wife, an engagement ring from there. You need to go to a jewelry store.”
Biting his lower lip, he stared at the ring. “I’m not good at this stuff.” He made a finger gun. “Put a nine-mil in my hand and I can ring steel all day long. But this,” he let his words hang in the air.
“If you want, Cherry and I,” she rotated her head toward Charity, “can go with you…”
Charity stood. “You bet.”
“…and,” Dahlia came back to him, “we can point out a few rings; rings that a woman like Cruz would love to have on her finger.”
He shut the lid and shoved the box into a pants pocket. “Thanks. I just might take you up on that offer. But first,” he jerked his head toward the door, “we have a mission to get ready for.”
Present time…
“Christopher’s.” Going back and forth from Cruz to Charity, Dahlia held out her hands, palms up, and pumped them. “Can you believe it?”
“Hey it’s not every day a guy buys a ring.” Hardy held a shrug. “How was I supposed to know?”
“Don’t lose hope though, Cruz.” Dahlia wagged a finger at the other woman. “I still think you’re getting that socket set on your wedding night.”
Hardy wrapped an arm around a giggling Cruz’s shoulders. “And you…I told you what kind of man I was before I popped the question…” he chopped the air with a flat hand, “straightforward, no nonsense, no glitz, no glamour. I’m a basic model.”
With a backdrop of Dahlia and Charity still snickering at the story, Cruz leaned into him, a wide smile on her face. “You’re anything but basic, Mr. Hardy. But whatever you are,” touching his cheek, “you’re all mine now,” she kissed her husband-to-be. “I love you.”
Hardy pressed his lips to her ear, “I love you, too, Cruz,” before he pecked her cheek.
∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞
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NOTE: It is recommended you read at least one Aaron Hardy book (preferably The Unsanctioned Patriot – Book #1) to understand the backstory before starting The London Operation (Book #2.5).
… … … … …
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The
London
Operation
(Preview)
Patriotic
Action & Adventure
Alex Ander
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Chapter 1: Self-Preservation
July 30th; 3:55 p.m.
London, England
Three weeks after Hardy accepts the President’s job offer
CROSSING KING’S ARMS Yard, Aaron Hardy walked south on Moorgate. There was nearly five hours of daylight left, but the tall buildings surrounding him blocked the sun and cast a faint shadow over the cityscape. The temperature was in the mid-sixties. The absence of direct sunlight, coupled with a gentle breeze, made Hardy glad he had grabbed his black leather jacket.
Foot traffic on the streets was increasing. Having been trapped in office buildings for the workweek’s last eight hours, people were emerging and scurrying for a destination—home, the bar, a store, anywhere but where their employer had held them captive for five days.
Hardy passed Basildon House and tilted his head to see around a well-dressed man, a few paces ahead. The man Hardy was most concerned with crossed Moorgate and continued south. The overcoat-clad banker jogged through the intersection at Lothbury, holding out his hand and impeding a car’s forward progress. His arrogance was rewarded with a blaring horn.
Hardy stayed the course. Moorgate turned into Princess St. and the Bank of China passed him on the right. He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and stared at the sidewalk, keeping one eye on Mahmoud Taziz, who strolled along the opposite side of Princess St., fifty yards further up the street.
The intelligence on Taziz pointed to regular Monday, Wednesday and Friday afternoon visits (four o’clock to be precise) to a five-star hotel for a rendezvous with his mistress. Impressive for a man of his advanced years, Hardy had thought, while reading the man’s dossier.
Hardy eclipsed two more banks on the right, Isbank and Kookmin before approaching the Bank of London. As expected, on the other side of the street, Taziz turned left at Threadneedle St. Hardy shot a look over his shoulder, waited for a car to drive by and fell in step behind his mark.
... … … … …
Her long, straight and dark hair flowing behind her, the tall woman—easily six-foot in her chunky two-inch high heels—rounded the corner at Princess St. and trailed the man in the black leather jacket and blue jeans. Their worlds had collided a few years ago. He seemed different now; his appearance for sure, but his persona was what grabbed her attention. He had been deadly back when they first met. Now, a stronger vibe resonated from him. Searching for the right word, her mind settled on pure lethality. To anyone else, he would have looked like a tourist, sightseeing in London. She knew better. He had a reason, a purpose for being here. In the past, violence had accompanied that objective. Whatever the motivation for his presence, she would find the answer.
Reaching inside her knee-length overcoat, she wrapped a hand around the weapon dangling under her left armpit. Her strides lengthened and she drew nearer to the danger in front of her. The only way to fight violence is with more violence. Her thumb flicked a snap and she drew the pistol, but kept it concealed under the coat.
Farther ahead, Taziz ducked into a hotel. The woman rotated the gun toward the man in black, her long legs making short work of the sidewalk between them.
... … … … …
Hardy picked up his pace and closed to within twenty-five yards of his prey. Following someone from directly behind was more difficult. If Taziz made a detour, Hardy needed to know. Surprises were unwelcome in his line of work. They usually preceded something bad.
Hardy passed by the beautiful columns of yet another bank, the Bank of England. Bartholomew Lane came and went and slowly London took on a more modern look, tall buildings with lots of glass. The stoic and cold appearance of stone and concrete reappeared once past Old Broad St. Up ahead, Taziz darted across the street and disappeared into one of the monolith structures. Hardy started to step off the sidewalk, but stopped when something hard jabbed him in the ribs and a female voice came from behind.
“Don’t turn around.”
Hardy raised his hands.
“Put your hands down,” she commanded, “but keep them visible.”
He complied.
“Keep walking. And stay close…like two lovers going for a stroll.”
Hardy and the woman ambled down Threadneedle St. He glanced left at a shop’s windows, hoping to get a glimpse of her. The muzzle pressed harder into his back.
“Look straight ahead and keep your mouth shut.” She spoke to Hardy through the thin smile with which she acknowledged a passerby. “Try something and I’ll drop you where you stand.” Thirty steps later, she grabbed his arm and guided him left. “In here.”
Hardy read the neon sign—‘Burger and Lobster.’ “I’m kind of in the middle of something. I really don’t have time for a bite.”
She pushed him into the restaurant. “Two words, Hardy. Shut. Up. What’s so hard to understand?” She stole a quick look around the establishment before holstering her weapon. “You’re losing your touch, letting me get the jump on you like that.”
Hardy turned. “I saw you parked outside the bank, Hamilton,” —she arched her eyebrows— “Black four-door Nissan. Nice rims by the way…Are those custom?”
She steered him toward a table in the corner.
“By the way,” he pointed at the window, “what’s with the gun to my back out there? You know me.”
“That’s right. I do know you. And, you’re not the kind of person I want to sneak up on from behind without some way to defend myself. Call it self-preservation.”
Hardy snickered. “Fair enough.”
She sat, but Hardy remained standing. “Care to tell me why you’re in my country, specifically, why you’re shadowing one of my citizens?”
