Private Monaco

Chapter 61

Justine called Monaco police as she hurried across the casino floor. Jack’s pursuit of the gang member had caused a stir, and people were busy craning their necks to see if they could catch any more of the action. There was muttered conversation, sounds of shock and disapproval all around, but no one had paired her with Jack so she moved on undisturbed.

She didn’t bother trying to talk to Chevalier but instead spoke to the emergency operator, who eagerly took down details of the violent brawl at the Chalmont Casino. Justine figured they’d get a swifter response from an emergency call than from a harried detective who might well be off-site or not even on duty.

With assurances the police were on their way, Justine slipped her phone into her bag and went through the red double doors on the far side of the giant room.

She immediately noticed broken glass from a smashed picture frame about halfway along a corridor. She hurried on, and as she neared the end of it, heard movement to her left. Shuffling footsteps and voices.

She peeked round the corner to see five sets of shoes coming down a flight of stairs. She recognized Jack’s in between two unfamiliar pairs. There were another two behind them.

Justine withdrew before any faces came into view.

“Take him out the back way.” She recognized Roman Verde’s voice. “We’ll deal with him at the safehouse.”

Justine’s mind was racing. What was Roman Verde doing in one of the most prestigious establishments in Monaco? How had they captured Jack? And how could she get him back?

Direct confrontation was not an option but Justine had a flash of inspiration and ran back the way she’d come.

She burst through the double doors, praying she’d be quick enough, and raced across the casino floor. The entrance corridor and lobby went by in a blur, and she ignored protests from the security guards. As the first rays of sunlight touched her skin and she felt the sea breeze on her face, she heard the familiar sound of approaching sirens.

She ran over to the huddle of paparazzi, who gave her a cursory once-over as she approached.

“You’ll never guess who’s been playing in one of the private rooms,” she exclaimed breathlessly. “Timothée Chalamet.”

The paparazzi were suddenly alert, like wolves catching the scent of prey on the wind.

“They brought him in through the back and they’re trying to sneak him out the same way right now,” Justine revealed. The nine freelance photojournalists moved with a sense of unity and purpose she’d rarely seen outside law enforcement or the military.

She followed the pack as it raced around the side of the building, along an alleyway to a service road at the rear.

They arrived just as a van was pulling up and Jack was manhandled out of the building.

“Timothée! Tim!” the paparazzi yelled, not really registering who was in the huddle ahead of them.

Roman Verde and his associates were startled and shielded their faces, which only added to the photographers’ curiosity.

Justine didn’t waste a moment. She stepped forward and grabbed Jack’s hand.

“Come on, honey,” she said, pulling him away from the men who’d abducted her, men who were now shying away from the cameras in an attempt to protect their identities.

It was beginning to dawn on the photographers that there was no celebrity, certainly not Timothée Chalamet. As Roman and his men retreated inside the building, the paparazzi started grumbling at Justine, but she didn’t hang around to listen to their complaints. Instead she led Jack toward the approaching police cars.