The Paris Secret by Angela Henry Read Free Book Online Page B

he doing here? I struggled to my feet and felt a wave of nausea wash over me.
    “Easy.” He reached out to steady me. I pushed his hand away and took long, deep breaths to keep from throwing up.
    “We need to get out of here before he comes to.” He gestured toward my unconscious attacker lying inside the latticed walkway who had started to groan.
    “Come on! Let’s go!” he commanded impatiently, grabbing my hand. I pulled away.
    “No! We need to call the police! What’s the number?” I fumbled around on the ground for my cell as I tossed as much of my stuff as I could back into my bag.
    Tattoo Man groaned again, louder this time.
    “Are you crazy? He’s coming to! We’ve got to get out of here!”
    “It’ll only take a minute!” I tried to turn my cell phone on. But my hands were shaking so badly I could barely push the buttons.
    “We don’t have time. Come on!” He grabbed my hand again.
    He took off running, pulling me behind him. I tried my best to keep up but the pain in my side slowed me down. A bullet whizzed past my head and another hit the fencepost near me. Tattoo Man was firing a gun as he staggered behind us.
    “He’s got a gun!” I screamed at my rescuer.
    “No shit! Shut up and keep running!”
    We emerged from the maze to see an old, beat-up maintenance truck parked about ten feet away. A workman stood on a scaffold cleaning a nearby statue.
    “Get in!” Green Eyes shouted, shoving me into the truck on the driver’s side. I scooted over and he jumped behind the wheel. There was no key in the ignition and he slapped the steering wheel in frustration. “ Merde! ”
    The man on the scaffold, yelling at us in French, began to climb down. Tattoo Man lumbered out of the maze and ran smack into the scaffold, sending it and the statue cleaner crashing down. While the two cursing men tried to extricate themselves from each other and the wreck of the scaffold, Green Eyes frantically looked for the keys in the glove box and under the floor mat.
    “Don’t just sit there! Help me!” he yelled, jolting me into action. I checked the ashtray and under the seat, then reached over and pulled down the driver’s sun visor. A set of keys fell into his lap. He started the truck just as the back window exploded. I screamed. Tattoo Man was back on his feet and about to fire again.
    “Get down!” Green Eyes shouted, pushing my head down as another bullet whizzed through the truck and shattered the front windshield.
    He threw the truck into reverse. Thud! I sat up and turned to Tattoo Man on the ground. His gun had been knocked out of his hand. We sped off at top speed and minutes later were on the highway.
    “You okay?” he asked, squeezing my shoulder. I wasn’t but I nodded yes anyway.
    “You were on the bridge with Dr. Rice yesterday, weren’t you?”
    He looked at me and gave me a disarming half smile, but didn’t answer. I had the feeling he used that smile to his advantage quite often. And I bet it worked most of the time.
    “Aren’t you even going to tell me who you are and what the hell is going on?”
    “Aren’t you even going to thank me for saving your life?” He smiled at me in an infuriatingly smug way.
    “You first.” I glared at him. He laughed.
    “All in due time, Maya. But first things first.” How the hell did he know my name?
    “What do you mean? Where are we going?” I demanded while carefully picking shattered glass out of my hair and shaking it out of my clothing.
    “Back to Paris. You’re not the only one needing answers,” he replied cryptically.

QUATRE
    After we ditched the truck on the campus of Paris X University in Nanterre, we took the RER train into Paris. Then the metro took us to the Blanche station. As we climbed the stairs out of the station, the sight of a red windmill greeted me. The Moulin Rouge—we were in the red light district. By this time much of the pain in my side had subsided to a dull roar as I trailed along after Mr. Green Eyes. But I