Page 104 of Forgotten Promise

He also hoped to go to Monte Carlo Casino tonight, since he wasn’t sure how much time he’d have once he started working the case tomorrow.

He was ridiculously excited to see the actual casino where GoldenEye was filmed. And while he hadn’t packed a tux—mainly because he didn’t own one—he had brought a suit and tie, since he assumed Interpol agents were like feds and a suit was part of the uniform. The casino had a dress code, so even if he hadn’t wanted the suit to look presentable and professional for work, he would have brought it so he could visit the casino.

He’d spent half an hour on his phone learning how to play baccarat so he could give it a try. He was determined to go all-in on this James Bond adventure, and while the idea of doing it alone rather than sharing it with Kailani and Benjamin, bothered him, he was trying to ignore that emotion.

As he cleared the last doorway in customs, emerging into the bustling airport, he was surprised to see his name on a card held by an honest-to-God chauffeur. The guy was even wearing a hat. John had expected his contact to be someone from the cab company, or maybe an airline employee who would just point him in the right direction.

This looked…fancy.

He approached the driver. “Um, bonjour.” Okay, that was all the French he was comfortable with. “I’m John Wilson,” he said hesitantly, introducing himself. “But I’m not sure you’re here for—”

“Mr. Wilson, yes. I’m here for you. Please, allow me.” The chauffeur spoke in elegantly accented English and took his bags before John could protest. “If you’ll please follow me?”

“Oh. Okay, great.” John didn’t even bother to hide his surprise, and he was suddenly thinking perhaps he should consider a career change. Because the LAPD certainly didn’t fly cops first class or send fancy drivers to pick them up at the airport.

In fact…it didn’t feel like the kind of thing Interpol would do either.

No publicly funded law enforcement agency threw around money like this.

As John fell into step behind the man, his Spidey senses were tingling.

Shit. He’d hopped on that damn plane last night without asking enough, or asking the right questions. Initially, he hadn’t been excited about the trip, but then the opportunity to get away had been so appealing, he let himself just follow orders.

His brain hadn’t engaged enough to tell him…that this was wrong.

Interpol might be fancier than the police, but he’d worked with feds before, the closest equivalent, and they didn’t travel like this.

He should have questioned a bunch of shit before now, but he’d been too grateful for the opportunity to escape his lonely, furniture-filled house. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that Interpol would request his help, but that they’d fly him first class to his bucket list/dream city…

John was already slowing, eyeing the driver’s back, and he pulled up short when the man walked over to a limousine—fuck him, a goddamn limousine—and popped the trunk to put his suitcase inside.

“Hey,” John said, trying to stop the man. “Who hired you?”

The driver paused, clearly confused.

“Who hired you?” he asked again.

He had a damn good idea who was behind this, and that suspicion was confirmed when the back door of the limo opened…and Benjamin emerged.

Chapter Twenty-Four

“John, welcome to France.” Benjamin could almost see John trying to decide if he should grab his bag and the first flight back to the States, so he prayed John’s desire to see Monte Carlo would win out. That and the fact it would suck to hop back on another thirteen-hour flight after just getting off one, which he was ready to point out if needed.

“Benjamin…” John looked around the busy airport.

The sounds and smells were just as disgusting as Benjamin remembered from commercial air travel.

“Get in the car, John,” he said, stepping toward John on the curb, ready to chase him down if he needed to. John was clearly a flight risk at the moment, evidenced by the way he looked over his shoulder at the airport, then back at his suitcase in the trunk.

“Please,” Benjamin said softly.

John shook his head, the reaction less no, more disbelief. “Fell for it all, didn’t I?” he said, more to himself than to Benjamin.

Benjamin grinned. “I was hoping you wouldn’t put two and two together until you were on the plane. There were a lot of points during the plan where I was worried your detective brain would kick in. That’s the main reason I made sure there was a sense of urgency. Less time for you to think.”

“Who did I talk to on the phone?”

“Someone at one of my travel agencies.”

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