Page 10 of Caleb
For the past two days, I prepared myself for leaving with the help of my mother, who was kind enough to help me pack and convince the property owner to let me end the lease early without penalty. He happened to be married to one of my mother’s friends’ daughters, so it was hard for him to deny our request once he learned about the connection.
I just boarded my plane to Paris. Aaron sent me a first-class ticket, and I already hate him because how does one go back to economy after this? These seats are perfect for a man of my size. He also mentioned a driver from the embassy would be waiting for me at the arrivals gate at Charles de Gaulle. This is all too fancy, and I’m not used to it at all, but I guess I should get used to it from now on.
Aaron told me last night while we talked on the phone that I am required to do a one-month-long crash course with the DSS to learn about the protocols surrounding the job.
All I hope for as the plane takes off is that this “Miss Murphy” girl we’ll be chasing after isn’t a brat. I’m not sure if my short-fused temper qualifies me to deal with something like that. Aaron says she’s no trouble, but I guess I’ll just wait and see for myself.
It’s surreal to be in France. Finally, I arrived at the Ambassador’s Residence, the impressive Hôtel de Pontalba, just a few blocks from Place de la Concorde. This city is beyond amazing—breathtaking, really. The architecture is unlike anything I’ve ever seen before.
I’m just getting out of the black armored SUV in which I was driven here by one of the embassy chauffeurs, just as Aaron told me. Two more DSS agents, all dressed in black suits and ties, came along for the ride. Scott and Charlie. American, of course. They were friendly and chatty. It helped me relax because, as much as I hate to admit it, I’m nervous. It’s a mixture of excitement and anxiety bundled up inside my chest.
Clearing my throat, I unload my suitcases from the trunk with Scott’s help.
“Could you wait here for a few minutes,” Scott says. “I’ll go get Miss Le Roux. She’ll show you to your room.”
I reply with a sharp nod.
The main gate opens again just a few seconds after the SUV I arrived in left. A black Mercedes-Benz S-Class sedan cruises in. Seeing Aaron behind the wheel makes me smile and wave two fingers his way. He waves back with a tight-lipped smile. An agent pops out of the shotgun seat and opens the back passenger door. Aaron kills the engine and walks my way while a red-headed girl in a school uniform steps out of the car. She looks over her shoulder, and for a second, she meets my gaze but quickly turns around and rushes toward the steps that lead to the main door.
Miss Murphy looks like a porcelain doll—unblemished, unscathed. Completely innocent. Thank God she goes to an all-girls school because I’m sure boys would’ve been a problem I don’t want to have.
I follow the girl’s path up the stairs with my gaze. She keeps adjusting the seemingly uncomfortable strap of her leather backpack on her shoulder. It looks heavy, and the urge to run over to her and carry the bag for her weighs even heavier on me.
“Welcome, brother,” Aaron says, slapping me back to reality with a heavy pat on the back. I turn around and embrace him.
Daring another glance toward the main door, I find the girl is gone.
“That’s Miss Murphy,” Aaron whispers.
“Yeah, I figured,” I reply with a frown, brushing my forehead with the back of my hand.
“I’m so glad you decided to come,” he says with a smile. “Something tells me you’ll fit right in.”
Seeing Aaron again doesn’t feel like it’s been forever since we last saw each other. We’ve been talking on the phone these past few days, making the encounter feel even more natural. He’s still the good-looking, tall, dark, blue-eyed motherfucker he’s always been. If anything, these past few years suited him. His rugged features make him look like amannow. But he’s still scary if you don’t know him like I do.
A woman in a white silk blouse and navy skirt suit walks down the stairs from the main entrance carrying a few manila folders in her hands and is headed our way. That must be Miss Le Roux.
“Bonjour, Agent Cohen,” she says with a thick French accent.
“Bonjour,” I chew back, shaking her hand and feeling stupid for even attempting to speak a word of French. The woman chuckles. And I don’t blame her; I sounded ridiculous. She greets Aaron next and shakes his hand.
“My name is Annette Le Roux.” She tosses her braid behind her shoulder. “But you can call me Annette.”
“Nice to meet you, Annette.”
“I’ll be showing you to your sleeping quarters. After that, I’ll ask you to head over to the embassy around the block to report to HR. You’ll also need to sign these papers and hand them to Miss Taylor.”
“Of course.” I grab the folder she’s offering me.
“You will have the rest of the day off to get settled,” she says, tucking a flying strand of her blonde hair behind her ear. “Tomorrow, an agent will pick you up at seven hundred hours to take you to the training facility.”
“Sounds good.”
Annette nods and gestures a “follow me” with a wave of her hand. She shows me to my room in the front part of the Residence where the gate and security posts are. She explains how only Ambassador Murphy’s closest personal security and staff (herself included), Aaron, and now me live in these quarters.
After dropping my things in my room, Annette gives me a tour around the premises and excuses herself once we’re done.
My room is comfortable and of a decent size. Larger than the one at Ein Gev. I have a French-style white-framed window with thick grey drapes overlooking Saint-Honoré. But I still can’t wrap my mind around the fact that I’mhere. That this is my new home—my new job.
