Knockout! A Passionate Police Romance (13 page)

“What do you think boxing is mon amour? You know the guy is hurt because he dances away and tells you it didn’t hurt. Truth is seldom reflected in a mirror. More often it is glimpsed through a prism or a keyhole. We are all detectives - watching for clues of one another.”

Her heart pounded. Just what the hell did he know? She felt trapped in the beauty of the touch of their eyes. Finally she just said what was in her mind.

“I love you so much Freddie. I know it’s not possible to feel this way but I do. I’m afraid I’ll lose you somehow.”

“I feel the same Anna - I’m not looking for Miss Perfect with shallow thoughts and glitzy fake smiles.”

Something had happened the day they met and they had sailed off towards an unknown horizon. One day they would both know everything of each other and just maybe scramble off the ship with their love intact as it sank.

They took a light lunch in the magnificent gallery restaurant. She noted that he had made no calls and seemed unconcerned. Since she was undercover she decided to fire a torpedo. She was here on a job and colleagues expected feedback.

“I read on the net that the referee from your last fight ended up dead.” She said nonchalantly.

Freddie smiled. “You English - you love your conspiracy theories. I suppose you read that the Mafia tried to fix the result and that the ref was supposed to give the win to the other guy when I got cut. I’ve read all that stuff - but no one had told me the script. I was beating him. I could tell he was up to something by trying to butt me at every chance. He was slow and I didn’t let him get close. Then, he had taken a few punches as he tried to get inside and was exhausted. He just stopped - glanced over at his corner and launched his head into my face. It was crazy. The guy must have been nuts! It was like a football guy hiding the ball up his shirt and running the length of the field to score.”

Anna laughed at the image. He continued, laughing gently himself - “I thought the Mafia were those guys in gangster movies - You’re the dirty brother who killed my rat stuff . I don’t know any Italians who talk like Al Capone or make offers you can’t refuse.”

Anna’s mind raced to the expected arrival of Scappaticci, the mafia lawyer in Nice. He could be joking his way out of a corner.

She reached across the table and took his hand, searching his eyes and feeling the horror of the cut over his brow.

“You won’t get hurt like that again will you?” She said softly.

He shook his head in a tight lipped determination.

“No chance mon amour - just no way.” He assured her.

She used a trip to the ladies room to send a quick text to Judy in London, “Leave Paris tomorrow - Freddie is innocent OK.” She smiled to herself. He was her man and would always be.

When she returned to the table he was signing autographs for staff. When other customers realized he was so approachable, something of a queue formed. Strangers patted his back, a lady of about eighty kissed his lips, an American posed in a cowboy hat with both he and Freddie holding up fists. Anna imagined the photo being shown down an invisible path of unborn great grandchildren.

“Do you get tired of all the clamor?” She asked when everyone had gone.

“Yeah - like I get tired of the villa in Antigua, the champagne, my Nereus 74 motor boat when the saleswoman gets on with her job,” he laughed. “It’s all part of the business honey - and to be honest, I know how lucky I am.”

“But you have had to fight!”

“Yes - so what? Life is a fight for some poor schmuck with no papers who breaks his back in the fields for a pittance - I’ve seen all that when I was a boy... ”

His voice tailed off and he turned his attention to the traffic running past on the Quai D’Orsay.

She knew to stay quiet. She remembered how on a summer’s day as a child the world suddenly grew still as a menacing hawk hovered over the English downland. She felt the same shadow now as he looked away with a tear visible in his eye. She too looked away at the other diners, giving him the space to recover. What was it that he could not express? What melancholy was it that reached out from his heart into hers? Was this the factor X that somehow they both knew and found in each other?

Within a few seconds he had moved on and took her hand, smiling.

“Let’s take the river boat up to the Eiffel Tower and back to Notre Dame - I want to kiss you at every monument and under every bridge.” He declared.

And he did. In the warm afternoon sun they stamped their own pattern of lovers onto the fabric of Paris.

Back at his penthouse he opened a bottle of Veuve La Salle and poured two glasses. She watched his assurance and self confidence. He got things right. It was warm enough to stand on the balcony as the evening started to deepen the clear sky. Here and there a light snapped on like an exclamation mark.

“Here’s to us.” He said seriously.

“And just what is ‘us’.” She echoed, slipping her arm around his waist and laying her head on his shoulder.

“I am asking myself this question every moment.” He replied in his quirky French way of speaking English. “My life - maybe I can say - our lives are come to a crossroads - The poet Robert Frost, he has put it so well -we must take a path and leave another path not taken. Anna - you have trusted me - or maybe not trusted - rather you have thrown yourself from a plane hoping that your parachute will open.”

“None of this would have been me Freddie - not my old self. I had a career, a plan - I knew where I was going... ”

She pulled up, realizing that she had strayed and was about to start opening up the sealed envelope of her real life.

“You will take over Leyton Marine...” he asked quizzically, clearly surprised.

“Errr - modern management is more about marketing.” She stumbled.

“And there is no one in your life - there must be boyfriends.”

“There is no one - there hasn’t really been anyone.” She answered. The last thing she wanted was to bring Beaumont Locke into the picture.“And anyway you must have a hundred girls.”

He swallowed the compliment with a slight nod.

“Where there is celebrity and money, there are always girls.”

“And gorgeous hunks who write books about artists and quote poetry.” She added, giving his waist a squeeze.

“That peculiar guy is just for you Anna.” He chuckled.

She thought seriously for a moment. She had been reckless in her affair with him.

“I have done what I have done out of love - just blind love Freddie - I know I should be playing hard to get - but if this time is all there is for us then I will have lived and I will regret nothing.”

He swept her into his arms. She felt the softness of his lips on hers. She let herself sink into the deep brown of his eyes. She wanted to explain…

“I have not asked things that a girl should ask - I know that. I have not wanted to break the spell - there are considerations... you know, medical things if I can say it that way.”

“I know, you trusted me and could have risked your life.” He murmured.

“And so could you. We both have - out of love and passion - it has to be the only way to love like this.”

“There has been no one - I am a clean machine,” he smiled warmly at her, “there is the matter of babies - I suppose I just feel it is right with the right woman.”

For a second she just floated on his words then brought herself down to reality.

“I know my body and its seasons. We are okay so far…” she said with a gentle knowing kiss on his cheek.

“More than physical risk - I felt I was risking my heart. You have it Anna and I have never let it go before. I believe you will never let me down or betray me.”

“Of course not,” she gasped. “I couldn’t do that.” Her heart churned. She felt sick to the core at her duplicity. She loved him. She loved him.

He drew a deep breath and held her waist as he looked into her deep gray blue eyes.

“There are things in my life - in my past - in my future that you do not know yet. I want you to understand everything but I know that you will not understand. You will just worry over nothing. Once this fight business is over we will have our whole lives.” He explained, pleading for understanding in her eyes.

Now she had to think. If he was about to tell all - did she want to know? This gorgeous man was her lover and she had given herself up to him on instinct. Her career could go to hell! She felt a release as her decision freed her from all her conflicts as if a bowling ball had blasted away all the pins.

“Freddie - I love you and I trust you. Tell me everything, something or nothing and I will feel the same.”

He smiled deeply at her.

“My father says that you always think that you are headed somewhere, that there is some bus stop ahead where you will know to get off and say - “Yes, this is the place” But there is no stop - the view from the window and the other folk on that bus are your life and it is always now. Each minute is your stop and is your place.”

“He is a philosopher.” She replied.

“Yes - and he is poor with holes in his clothes and an old bike - and he is French -so don’t try this at home kids.” He joked.

The evening had closed in over Paris. Across the vista of the city, lights were fizzing against the dark like bubbles in a glass of champagne. He drew her inside.

“Time for a long soak in the bath - shall we save water and the planet?”

She had already seen the enormous roll top claw foot bath and the idea thrilled her.

“I’ll do your back” She giggled.

When he went to run the water she chanced to check her mobile. A message had come in from London.

“Gino Scapaticci accompanied by known hit man Mauro Tondelli, arriving Nice on same flight. French police not advised since we are letting it run. Watch out - could get interesting! Call in when you can. Judy”

Back to the office she sighed inwardly.

He called her into the bathroom. He was already naked in the bath. She stripped and slithered in to face him, watching him soap his powerful pecs and shoulders.

“You are a god!” She murmured.

“I’ll be Adonis - you can be Venus.” He replied reaching out to cup her breast.

They dined at the Meurice on the Rue de Rivoli. She had chosen her simple black knee length dress and high heels. Her raven hair shone and her lips deep red in an achingly beautiful contrast. She felt good about herself and thrilled to be in Paris on his arm. He had dressed in a dark gray casual suit with a crisp brilliant open necked white shirt that accentuated his bronzed complexion.

“Tomorrow we can drive down to Troyes. I need to check out some business at the vineyard” he said, matter of fact.

“
Your Veuve La Salle is fantastic.”
She said, studying the strength of his jaw and his perfect white teeth as he spoke.

“It is not bad - maybe not the very best in France - but my sons will take it on and up. They will learn to know the soil.”

“Sons?” She gasped. Was there something she didn’t know?

“You look like the bearer of fine sons,” he chuckled with a wicked appraising glance,“ but I would like a little girl - one to break hearts like you.”

Her own heart was pounding. She tried to speak but looked down in confusion. Her eyes swept back up to find his already fixed on her.

“Oh yes - there will be no one else but you. If not you then no one - if you wanted that.” He said calmly, softening his eyes to match her own melting emotions.

“I think I have frightened you ma cherie.”

The splendor and bustle of the restaurant faded away to nothing. The embroidered linen of the tablecloths, the exquisite foie gras, the rich deep Bordeaux wine in crystal glasses that caught the light from the Louis XVI chandeliers were all invisible. She saw nothing but him, his face and the love she felt reaching out to her from his eyes and holding her in a mesmerized trance.

“Freddie... you don’t know me... you have to fight... everything could change after that.”

“It will change and we will begin our lives together.”

She was scrambling on loose rocks as a great landslip had started in her soul. She loved him but in front of that love stood her profession and his, guarding the treasure of love with merciless weapons.

“You could lose this fight and end up...” she began, unwilling to say what she thought - that he could be a blind dribbling patient for the rest of his life... or maybe worse or better...dead!

“Darling, let me be the judge of that... I am your man. Not your little boy.”

“So what? Is a dead lover worth fewer tears than a dead son?” She asked with a harsh clarity.

He looked steadily into her face. She could tell that he now knew that she was a match for him and she wouldn’t be bulldozed.

“You are a woman - these things are for men. It is not too modern I guess. I’ll help with the dishes, I’ll cradle the babies and I’ll live as a man.” He declared.

Anna watched his lips, wanting more than anything to kiss them. She knew the notion of pride, risk and honor just as much as he did. But she couldn’t tell him! If only she could tell him the truth.