Chapter 01
Bella closed her laptop with a wide smile on her face before taking a sip of her glass as she looked over the vineyard that her uncle kept as a business. While his winery made an excellent wine, subtle and complex, she didn’t drink during the day, and if she could go around it, she didn’t drink at all. She wanted to keep her mind sharp, not dull it with alcohol.
The South of France was beautiful, she loved the lavender fields of their neighbors, the color and scent of it was extremely calming to her and she loved painting it. The Provence had its own quirky charm, and even after 500 years of belonging to France, the dialect was different and the people were different too. It was a great area to disappear to.
It was also a great area to make someone disappear when needed, and that was a thought her siblings liked to have. Bella, not so much. Her siblings were like wrecking balls, get what they wanted by all means necessary and Bella was a lot more elegant with that, and she had her uncle to thank for that.
Her uncle didn’t appreciate his brother’s way of handling things. Messy. Hard handed. Skilled, sure, but they didn’t mind collateral damage. Uncle Garrett taught Bella to appreciate her own skills, the finer things in life, and how to get them with grace and charm. And not to get caught.
If there was one person in the world she trusted, it was Uncle Garrett. His vineyard had been her escape for years during the summers, and she had made it her home a year ago after something had happened at home. Bella had never felt appreciated and loved by her family as much as her siblings. She was the youngest, and it felt like she was a burden to them.
Bella was free now and loving it. But the vineyard and the immediate surroundings didn’t do it for her anymore. So instead she had been focussing on honing her skills on the computer. Learning new techniques to infiltrate websites and systems, and practicing them on dodgy hedge funds, funneling money to charities she liked without leaving a digital trace. Or use it on their local supermarket’s store to lower the prices and get groceries for cheap. Stuff like that.
She wanted to see art. She wanted to experience something other than Marseilles or Cannes or Nice. Paris. She wanted to go to Paris.
“What’s today’s lucky charity?” Uncle Garrett greeted her as he walked onto the deck and took a seat next to her. He was wearing his usual overalls and having worn them too much it had faded them, stained them with grapes and there were patches on the areas where it had torn. He looked like a typical gardener with that strawhat on his head, and the image always made Bella smile. Uncle Garrett was a great businessman, and this bumbling gardener persona was a good distraction.
“The French Federation of Guide Dog Association received a generous donation from a douchebag in India,” she replied as she took a sip of her drink. “Je m’ennuie.”
Garrett laughed and shook his head. “If you’re bored, why not do a hygiene inspection?”
“Because they’re boring!”
“Or check the software?”
“Already did that yesterday,” Bella pouted. “I’d love to go to Paris, climb the steps of the Sacre Coeur basilica, take photos of the panoramic view of the city and paint it. Or go to Versailles. Disney Land. The Moulin Rouge. Musée d’Orsay. The Louvre. Oh! The Centre Pompidou!”
Garrett looked at his cousin and sighed. He knew she’d gotten bored with the area. While it was beautiful, he didn’t allow her to stray further than Marseilles and they found her there on a weekly basis. Her mind needed to be engaged, and she’d been talking about Paris for years. She was old enough now, and skilled enough, to look after herself and he hated to admit it he wished she wasn’t. “For how long?”
“I don’t know. Until I get bored? Or until I have had enough? It’s Paris, Uncle Garrett.”
“Very well. Allow me to make a few calls to arrange an apartment for you.”
Bella’s eyes grew wide in surprise. “Really?”
“You’re not a prisoner, Bella, you can go wherever you please. I can’t say, however, that I won’t miss your company.”
“I promise I’ll stay in touch.”
“You’d better,” he said as he took out his phone. “Don’t get into any trouble, either. I’d hate to have to bail you out.”
Bella laughed and hugged her uncle. “I won’t get in trouble. I’m too good to get caught,” she replied as she let go of him. “I will pack a bag and can I drive up to Paris?”
“You can.” Garrett nodded. “Take the Aston Martin if you want.”
She scrunched up her nose then. “That car won’t survive Paris. I’m taking my truck.” Oh, she’d noticed his wince. Uncle Garrett wasn’t a fan of her truck. He called it a driving disaster, ready to fall apart. She liked it. It was simple and inconspicuous. Just because she could drive a fast and flashy car didn’t mean that she should. Just like how easily she could drive to Marseille and take the plane to Paris. No, she wanted to drive.
Blast the cobwebs out of her mind and focus. And enjoying herself and the finer things in life away from the vineyard.
Grinning, she got up from her chair, kissed her uncle on the cheek and skipped off to her room to pack.
~o.O.o~
She liked to drive. And the fun part about driving to Paris was that it took her through all the small and scenic villages on the way. She could have taken the faster way, but there was something romantic about driving through the countryside. Churches were usually the center of the village, surrounded by a bar and some shops, narrow but clean streets and colorful houses. Great places to lie low, too. Which was the whole reason Uncle Garrett had a vineyard in Provence.
The only downside of France was that it was so close to Italy where her family had a home, filled with some people who did clean up jobs for the family when they fucked up or wanted someone out of the way. The vineyard was protected though, and in a city like Paris, Bella was sure she could look out for herself.
She stayed the night in Précy-sous-Thil, a small village in the Bourgogne and stayed at a bed-and-breakfast. There was a castle on a hill nearby and she wanted to check it out and check the view but the owners of the bed-and-breakfast treated her to some very decent wine and Bella rested up so she could drive to Paris without – hopefully, a wine hangover the next morning.
Her uncle sent her the address to the apartment he had arranged for her and when she looked it up on Google Maps, she had fallen in love. And likely overkill for just one person but the area looked great and convenient, and while it was near the Eiffel tower, from what she could see was that nobody could look into the windows. The location made her excited.
The wine allowed her to sleep well, and after breakfast and paying for her stay, she was on the road again.
The first thing she noticed about Paris when she officially drove into the city was that the Parisians absolutely loved their tunnels. It wasn’t until she was almost at the apartment Uncle Garret had arranged for her she saw some green, and after her navigation directed her to her apartment complex, she was even happier. Trees surrounded the building and that meant there wouldn’t be any nosy neighbors!
One of her uncle’s closest friends and the occasional partner in crime, Liam, greeted her at the door. Liam was Irish and damn proud of it, never allowing you to forget that, either. He could best be described as the muscle. He was built like a tank and freakishly tall, but he had a soft spot for Bella and his jokes were horrendously hilarious. “Liam!”
“Bella, long time no see,” Liam greeted her with a warm hug. “I was thinking your uncle was joking when he said you wanted to be in Paris for a while.”
“I felt I needed to engage my brain, what’s wrong with wanting to be in Paris?”
“Nothing, Paris is an amazing city, especially for your interests,” he replied as he led them inside and used the keys to get through the first set of doors. “Art wise, of course. And I wouldn’t care about your other skills. I know a good lawyer.”
Bella barked out a laugh and shook her head. “Thanks.” The interior of the building was rich, everything was made of hardwood floors and wooden walls, giving it a classy look, and a red carpet was on the floor to prevent scarring. Using a key to one doors, there were yet another set of stairs leading to her apartment, the door secured with keys and a keypad. “What is this? Fort Knox?”
“You’re in the 16th arrondissement, Bella. People who live here own a lot of money. It’s the third richest area of Paris, and the other two are next to this one. People are fond of their security and this is one reason Garrett choose for you to use this apartment, so he knew you were safe.”
Liam opened the door and it led to a large entry hall with a set of stairs leading to the second layer of the apartment. There were still wooden floors, well polished, with a rug here and there, and art on the walls. “Holy shit,” Bella remarked as she realized the scale of her new digs.
“Holy shit indeed,” Liam agreed. “Six bedrooms, Three bathrooms, a dining room, a reception area and you’re going to love the kitchen.”
Bella’s jaw almost fell onto the floor as he led her further into the area. “This is not a flat.”
“It is in this area,” Liam laughed. “Come on, Garrett wanted you to be well taken care of, live in the luxury you’re used to. There’s a parking space for you in front of the building, and you even have a cellar with your name on it.”
As they explored the apartment together, Bella started to realize more and more that everything she liked, was inside this building. There was an easel strategically placed in one of the rooms with a window where you could peek to the trees and see the Eiffel Tower. A large kitchen where she could cook, a brand new laptop and computer in the library. “He doesn’t want me to leave this apartment, does he? Well, tough. This is Paris. I will enjoy Paris and this apartment.”
“I told him you’d say that,” Liam replied as he grabbed the binder off the kitchen counter and handed it to her. “Everything you need to know about this place. Your access code, there’s even a lift if you don’t want to take the stairs to your apartment. If you have questions, don’t hesitate to call, but I have to go, I have places to be.”
“Thanks, Liam,” Bella smiled at him and hugged him. “I promise, I won’t get into trouble.”
“You can get into trouble, just don’t get caught.” he winked at her before leaving the apartment.
Bella waited an hour, to make sure Liam had truly left and took stock of what was in the kitchen. Much to her surprise, it was fully stocked with the usual she usually bought from the supermarket. “Fuck him,” she muttered as she gathered her keys and her purse and explored the surrounding neighborhood.
One of her rules was not to steal where she lived; it would be noticeable and it could complicate things in the long run. However, she wanted to get to know her neighborhood and get a feel of the city, the people, and find places to hide out, or to disappear.
She took her time getting to know Paris, sometimes on foot, sometimes by public transport. Researching on her laptop, hacking into charities to see if there were dirty people around, she was itching to do something in person. Robbing a museum was still too risky.
She hadn’t grifted for a while now, she’d only done things on her computer and she was rusty. No, she needed to get back in the game before she would do something stupid as trying to get herself an original Picasso a week back in the game. Not to mention, she wanted to swap it out with a forgery, and that would take some time to get right.
Bella went on a shopping spree for clothes, she had taken no fancy clothes with her, and she was tired of wearing jeans. Dresses. Body hugging dresses. Shoes. Makeup.
There were a lot of galleries in the area where the museum was. She had secured herself a job at one that had a perfect view of the street and the museum and it even had a little studio attached where artists could practise their art if they didn’t have space to do so at home. Bella graciously took advantage out of that, practicing brush strokes and lines. Nothing too specific, never something too specific but it gave her something to do when it was quiet in the gallery.
She was posing as a restoration artist between jobs, specializing in expressionism. All she needed to do was wait for an in at the museum. She knew that there were several restaurateurs at work at the moment on a lovely piece of Picasso from his expressionism period, and all they needed was to win a prize, or get into an accident. Preferably several of the team.
She had time, though. There was no need to rush things. It wasn’t her top priority. Aside from her cover job at the gallery, she enjoyed all the luxuries Paris offered. Money. Good food. Oblivious tourists. Bella made sure she made the obligatory tourist shots for Uncle Garrett, but other than that, she was thoroughly enjoying herself.
After a few weeks, she still didn’t find herself bored, but figured it was time to explore the Picasso museum on the internet and see if she could get into their servers. Bella wasn’t an art thief, a thief, sure, but her uncle always wanted a Picasso, and she would give it to him. Her forgery was coming along nicely after finding the right materials to paint with.
And now it was time to familiarize herself with the organization. Their mail server was so easy to get into. It didn’t have the right certificates and security, and they all kept their mail on the server itself.
Reading the mail was as if she was reading a very dramatic book. One of the guys running the show had impregnated an employee and demanded she’d get rid of it. Another had gambling debts and yet another had spent time in jail for domestic violence and he hadn’t stopped his behavior. It had only gotten worse and he was the bully of the Picasso museum, and filthy rich which now allowed him to get away with everything.
Getting the painting was now a secondary objective. She would make sure the guy would get what he deserved and maybe take out one of the other members.
Marcel Girard was now on her personal shitlist, and she would find everything she could on him. Find out who he was, where he lived, maybe even look inside his house. Perhaps even…
Oh. Yes!
“I’m a fucking genius,” she grinned to herself.
~o.O.o~
Marcel Girard was a 53-year-old male with anger issues. Fortunately, he was single. Bella found out that his history of domestic violence was longer than she’d originally read in the emails. Before becoming part of the group of museum owners of the Picasso museum, he worked as a bouncer for nightclubs and as a police officer. The Police discharged him after too many arrests involved him beating the crap out of suspects and the police getting sued or the criminals got away from Girard using excessive force.
He was only an owner because he put a lot of money into the museum, and from the news clippings she read online it was almost as if he appeared to be sitting on his personal nest egg while none of the paintings in the building were owned by him but by the foundation and donors.
Every morning on his way to work, Girard stopped by Starbucks for an Americano and at the same pâtisserie for breakfast. Sometimes he bought macaroons, sometimes a pain au chocolat. Or even a simple croissant.
On the outside, he was clean, on the inside… Bella didn’t want to touch him with a ten foot pole. Girard was filth, and it would be so damn pleasing to take him down, and let him know that a woman was the one taking him down, too.
During the weekend, Girard received a text message about some party in one of the best nightclubs in Paris, and Bella decided to go too, she needed to let off some steam. She hadn’t had fun like that in ages, and if she played it well, she wouldn’t even need to relieve some of the restoration crew.
Then again, her Uncle Garrett would kill her, and there were no guarantees. It was best to focus on the task at hand and gift a few of the crew some long vacations.
The Museum had just been renovated, but there were still works of Picasso that needed to be cleaned and restored, and Mia Robbins had been working on one for weeks now with her coworkers. Mia Robbins was Bella’s art expert alias, or at least one of them, but definitely the most secure.
There was Patricia, a 26-year-old vegan who had gone to a fancy art school in Paris. She had dreads in her hair and her general dressing attire was something Bella didn’t want to be found dead in.
Claudette was one of the older people, mid-forties, her short, curly hair already graying in some areas but one of the nicest people on the team. Warm. Dedicated to her job and dressed accordingly.
Pierre really liked what he was doing. He liked his baguettes and always visited the nearest boulangerie during lunchtime to get his jambon beurre. Bella didn’t like them, because it held more butter than actual ham on the baguette. Sickening.
George was an American expat like Bella, and he seemed to know what he was doing. Always sharply dressed in jeans that were on the tight side and simple shirts. The bit of scruff on his face made it all a perfect picture with his brown hair all neat and always a sparkle in his beautiful blue eyes. His accent had hints of a long-gone Southern accent, likely Missouri. George walked with a slight swagger, and he was overly confident of himself. Always smiling. Always seemingly up to something.
Bella didn’t trust George. He was too… perfect.
She was unable to find anything about George Barrigan online aside from an apartment in his name in Montmartre. Picasso had a studio in Montmartre when he lived in Paris, and even to this day the area was filled with struggling artists, hopeful to be the new Picasso. It was a quaint little village inside the city though. Cobblestones on the roads, a lot of bistros, trees and other green, even a vineyard. Bella had already visited it and the Sacré-Cœur that was the area.
When Bella decided that the day had come to pull off her plan, she grew increasingly fed up with George, as he remained behind too. She had no other choice but to continue her restoration job with him. George seemed to get growingly annoyed by her presence, too.
“We should get something to eat,” George eventually said as he leaned against one of the empty tables, looking at her.
Bella shrugged. “If you’re hungry.”
“I am.”
“It’s okay, you know, we’re working late. I won’t tell if you want to get something to eat. I’m fine. I merely want to finish this area so I can go over it again after the weekend.” Bella smiled at him. “I’m not hungry.”
“Mia, you have to eat something.” George smiled back at her. God, he was gorgeous.
She narrowed her eyes on him. “It’s just you and me in the building at the moment and I feel you want me out of here,” she remarked. “What are you planning on doing? Do I need to call the cops on you?”
George huffed. “What do you take me for? I’m working late, just like you.”
“And while I’m dedicated of finishing today’s work, you’re eager to do something else, aren’t you?”
George moved over to her and removed the soft brush from her hands, brushing her hand with his as he kept his eyes on her. “I’m just saying, we should eat something before we pass out.”
“We could just as well go home,” she stated. She’d return a few hours later, swap out the paintings and be done with it. “After I finish, but you don’t have to wait for me.”
George let out a breath and shook his head. “Workaholic, huh?”
She picked up her brush again and resumed her stance as she turned away from him. “We’ve been working together for the last month and a half, you hadn’t noticed?” Bella retorted playfully. “We’re almost done with this painting. I just want to spend more time with it so we can finish it next week, what’s the harm in that?”
“Well, it’s a Friday night.”
“I have nothing better to do, do you?” She turned around to face him again. “Like… robbing the museum when I’m gone?”
George looked surprised. “What! No! What a stupid idea is that! Honestly, Mia, I’m offended. I love working here, why would I do anything to endanger my job here at the museum?”
Bella shrugged. “Maybe because you don’t look like someone who should work behind the scenes of a museum? Compared with the rest of us, you are far too well dressed. I imagine you’re spending your days off in suits or something.”
“And that’s your only basis?” George laughed, shaking his head. “I just like to dress sharp.”
“And you’re super careful not to get any solutions on your clothes, either,” Bella replied, as she checked him from head to toe with her eyes. “Not a single drop.”
“I’m just not as clumsy as you.”
“Right,” she replied with a sigh. “You’re insufferable,” Bella added as she turned around and started to clean up. “Forget working ahead, you and I are leaving.”
“We?” George scoffed. “No, you go, I’ll finish this,” he reached for one of the pots with brushes in her hands.
“I thought you were hungry.”
His jaw fell open and quickly closed it again as he nodded in agreement. “I said that.”
“That’s where this whole discussion started,” Bella replied as she continued to put away their tools. “Be a dear and put the painting in the vault?” She would definitely come back later. Earlier in the day when Patricia had left, she had swiped Patricia’s access card to the locked doors of the main exhibition area where the painting hung that Bella had recreated.
Girard was visiting family for the weekend thanks to some carefully crafted emails from Bella, and Bella was ready to go to town with her idea. Everything was in place, except for George. George was an obstacle.
Bella made sure that they both left the museum and killed some time by walking around the area for a few hours. Eating something before returning to the museum. She used her tablet to disable the cameras in the building – the fun side of modern day security was that it was so easily hacked if you knew what you were doing – and she disabled the alarms attached to the paintings, before using the back entrance to gain access to the museum.
Much to her surprise, most of the usually locked doors were wide open, and she could have sworn that she and George had locked them all.
Bella took her forgery out of one of the empty lockers, she retrieved her foldable baton out of her bag and made sure she had a pair of scissors in her back pocket. The museum was dark, only the emergency lighting was on, but she could easily find her way as she’d practiced her way over the weeks that she had been at the museum.
Using Patricia’s card to get into the main exhibition area, she froze. George Barrigan was cutting a Picasso from the frame. Her Picasso. “What the actual fuck!” she eventually exclaimed.
George quickly turned around with his flashlight and his eyes widened in surprise upon seeing her. “Mia… it’s not what it looks like…”
Bella nodded as she let out a deep breath. “It’s exactly what it looks like. I’m not fucking surprised. Pick a different painting, I have plans for that one,” she commanded as she walked over to him with the forgery in her hands. “And don’t try anything, I’m armed.”
George smirked as he happily stepped aside, his eyes wide in curiosity. “I didn’t think peg you for an art thief.”
“Because I’m not,” she replied as she cut the wires of the alarm and swapped the portraits out.
“Nor for a forger…” George moved so he could watch her handiwork. “Which you’re not. Your technique is sloppy, do you want to get caught?”
She said nothing as she started to walk back towards the doors. “You’d better follow me out, I will put the alarm back on once I’m gone, and with those wires snipped, people will know,” Bella hinted as she opened the doors and went out the same way she came from.
She heard George letting out a groan, then something ripping and footsteps of him following her. “I don’t want to get caught, but I can explain.”
“No need. We were never here. I will not ask you what you’re going to do with your Picasso, and you’re not going to ask what I’m up to.”
“We’re just two strangers in the night,” George agreed. “You got me curious though.”
Bella let him out the back and made sure she locked the door. “See you around,” she headed towards the car she’d stolen and parked a few streets away. Making sure Barrigan didn’t follow her, she got into the car and drove off to Girard’s residence.
Once parked, she quickly found her way into Girard’s home and hid the painting in the attic. She wiped down the car before abandoning it in front of his house. She completed her mission. As she walked through Paris, she stopped by several bars for a drink to have herself a good alibi and eventually reset the alarms and cameras of the museum.
By 6 am, she stumbled back into the door, reeking of alcohol and the doorman helped her to her apartment, laughing at her and making fun of her in French. Once she was in the safety of her very secure apartment, she hid her tools in a convenient hiding place under the floorboards, took a shower and put her clothes in the washing machine.
She was too pumped to go to sleep. There was no doubt in her mind that the art theft was now known – likely because of the painting George had stolen – and all she had to do was wait a bit before sending an anonymous and untraceable tip to the police that there was another painting stolen but replaced by a forgery and that they could find the painting in Marcel Girard’s home.
The asshole was going down. At least for the next two years. No more hitting women, and he’d likely be too tainted to remain one of the big bosses in charge of the Picasso museum, after all, he stole one of the paintings!
But, until then, she still had a job to go to on Monday as not to raise suspicions.
~o.O.o~
Marcel Girard got taken away by the police after an anonymous tip came in about him swapping one of the Picassos for a forgery and hiding the original in his home and George Barrigan never returned back for work.
How stupid was he?
The investigation that followed had the police search every home of everybody who worked there, and Bella had made sure that before she started to work there that she had an apartment in Mia’s name in Bondy, made sure she visited that often and, Mia was cleared of all wrongdoing.
Uncle Garrett was proud of her, the news of a painting being stolen and one of the museum’s owner stealing another reached the rest of the world, which was maybe a stupid idea, but she’d used an alias that nobody in her family would recognize. Bella was proud of her work; another asshole off the streets.
She liked that feeling so much, that she was going to do that more often. But she had to be more careful.
Bella quit her job after two more months of working for the museum and she was now enjoying the sun in a beautiful 17th century Botanical Garden with a nice cup of coffee and a good book, resetting her brain, relax in a great environment.
“Great weather, isn’t it?”
Bella let out a groan as she looked up to the direction of the voice. “Aren’t you supposed to be elsewhere right now? Enjoying the lovely view on your wall?”
George scoffed as he sat down in the grass next to her. “As if I’m stupid enough to keep it around.”
She closed her book and took a sip of her coffee. “You didn’t show up for work, the police are still looking for you.”
“And if they find me, I’ll have a perfectly good explanation, don’t worry about me, I’ve been doing this for a while,” he laughed, shaking his head.
“Oh yeah? How long?”
“A while,” George replied playfully. “I was saddened to hear that you didn’t keep the item I originally went for, why’s that?”
“Because the boss beat women, and now he’s off the streets for two years,” she replied casually, taking another sip of her coffee.
“But the item! I can’t believe you did that!”
“There’s more to this world than pretty things, and I already have everything I need,” Bella replied with a shrug. “I enjoy the finer things in life, make sure I have the funds to do so, but I do it for the fun, for the rush. This? Was one hell of a rush and I want to do it again someday.”
George hummed. “Perhaps we could do something together?”
Bella barked out a laugh. “Dream on.”
“You have no idea who I am, do you?”
Bella sighed as she put her book in her bag and got to her feet. George was a self-obsessed egomaniac who thought he was the shit. Such a turnoff. “I know that you love yourself a little bit too much,” she winked at him. “Have a good day, George.”
George rose to his feet and smiled brightly at her as he clasped his hands behind him. “Can I invite you for a drink?”
She narrowed her eyes on him. His self-assurance was almost pouring out of his pores, it was sickening. “Some other time, when you’re not pretending to be someone you’re not.”
“Mia, that’s what I do, who I am. What you are. We are always people we’re not.”
“You, maybe. Not me,” she replied, slightly annoyed. “This conversation is over,” she added before heading towards the exit of the Botanical Gardens. She could feel that George was following her out, much like a puppy. “What do you want, George?” she asked tiredly. “I’m not in the mood to play games. I want to enjoy my freedom and have fun.” Bella threw her empty cup in the trash can that they passed. “Alone.”
“I’m bored.”
“Not my problem.”
“Do you know how hard it is to find like minded people? Who don’t speak French? Come on, where are you from?”
“If I tell you, will you then leave?”
“Maybe,” George grinned as he playfully ran his hand through his hair. “I’ll start. I’m from Missouri.”
“Ha! Called it!” Bella punched the air with her fist. “I knew it. You still have a slight accent.”
“I don’t!”
“Yeah…. You do,” she nodded. “I’m from Las Vegas.”
“Nice!”
She shrugged as she stopped walking and turned to him. “Will you leave me alone now?” They were so close to the exit of the gardens, Bella couldn’t wait to disappear into the crowd and to go home. Her balcony was peaceful enough and, despite the 2,1 million Parisians and give or take a million of tourists in Paris, the risk of running into George again would be zero.
“Have one drink with me? One. That’s all I ask.”
“You’re like a child! Oh my god! No!” Bella laughed. “Go make yourself be un-bored.”
“That’s not a word.”
“It is now,” Bella said as she walked through the gates and into the street, silently cursing herself for leaving the garden at the wrong end, this was one of the exits on the Seine, even further away from her own apartment. She’d have to cross the bridge to go to the metro station. Not that it was a crime, because the Seine was beautiful and all, but she wanted to get rid of George quickly, and this was not the way to get rid of him.
Unless she jumped into the water.
But let’s not.
She decided to ignore him as she continued to walk onto the busy bridge. With the sun out, there were a lot of pedestrians on the bridge, and the amount of cars made it congested for them. It was a good thing the bridge wasn’t a fragile looking thing, that was for sure.
They were about half way on the bridge when George pulled her away and started pushing through the crowd while he dragged her along. She could feel a burning sensation in her arm, and was wondering what the hell George was doing. “What are you doing?”
“You’ve been shot, we need to get off the street,” he quickly said, causing her to stumble, stop and look at her arm in shock. “Don’t look, keep running, come on,” George coaxed her. “I’ll get you somewhere safe.”
She wasn’t sure how, or when, but Bella realized they were in a car now, and George was driving them to somewhere. “I was shot?”
“You’ve never been shot before?”
She looked down at her arm and it wasn’t hurting, instead blood was coming out of it and there was a tie around her arm. “No.”
“Don’t remove that tie. If you do, I have to take you to the hospital, but I doubt you’d want that.”
“No, no hospital,” she replied before realizing that she really didn’t like blood. “I need to throw up,” she said as she stopped looking at her arm. She hadn’t felt pain at first, but now it was hurting like a motherfucker. George didn’t stop the car, and she didn’t fancy rolling out of it, so instead, she threw up on the seat next to her. “Maybe it’s a good idea to mention I don’t like blood?”
“We’re almost there, I promise. Any idea who wants you dead?”
“Me dead? What makes you say this bullet wasn’t for you?!” Bella shot at him as she wiped her mouth with her sleeve. She recognized the area of being Montmartre, where George lived, and he was taking her further away from her own home, and that wasn’t the plan.
“Because I’m dead already,” George replied grim. “Only two people know I’m still alive and I trust them with my life.”
Bella felt the color drain from her face. “Stop the car.” She had the feeling she needed to create as much distance between herself and George as possible. If someone faked their own death, it meant that they were trouble. “Stop the car, George!”
“We’re almost there. My friend will patch you up.”
“Stop the car!” Bella reached into her bag, grabbed her baton and smashed the side window. “If you don’t stop the car, it will be your head next.”
George sighed as he stopped the car in front of a traffic light, reached back and grabbed her baton before he started driving again. “Nice baton, I used to know someone who used it a lot, she was an insurance investigator,” he noted with a fond smile on his face, almost as if was remembering something. “So, who wants you dead?”
“No one!” She shot at him, hissing as a wave of heat shot through her arm. “I’m no one and I didn’t piss anyone off enough to kill me.”
“Because you see, I’m thinking that was a warning shot,” George replied as he looked in the rearview mirror to check on Mia who was looking awfully pale. “It was obviously done with a silencer as we didn’t hear a gunshot, and maybe the next time you’re dead.”
“And who’s to say it wasn’t you who shot me?”
“I would never. I hate guns. And in Europe it’s not allowed to carry a weapon like it is in the States,” he replied calmly as he parked the car in a bay at the sidewalk and got out of the car. George then helped her out and pulled her along to his friend Luc. “My friend used to be a doctor, he still is, but for our kind of people. You can trust him.”
“I don’t even trust you!”
“You don’t have to trust me, just trust that I’m trying to help you get your arm fixed up and have you stay out of a hospital. You’re safe here,” George opened a door and pulled her through. “Luc! Mon ami a été blessé par balle!”
“Je ne sais pas votre ami!” Bella hissed. Fuck that. She wasn’t his friend, but yes, she was shot.
“Neal Flanigan, always bringing trouble to my doorstep,” a man looking like a doctor appeared out of one of the rooms. He spoke with a French accent, but his English was brilliant.
“That’s your name? Neal Flanigan?”
George, Neal, sighed. “One of them. You know me by George, he knows me by Neal.”
“You look like a Neal, not much of a George,” Bella winced as Luc gently grabbed her arm. “Careful!”
Luc hummed as he guided her into a fully kitted medical room. “Have a seat, I’ll fix you right up. What’s your name?” He asked as he grabbed a syringe and jabbed Bella’s arm.
“Motherfucker!”
“I doubt that,” Luc laughed. “But I do love your sense of humor, I’m going to jab you some more,” he said as he pushed the syringe in her arm again. “How about some pain relief?”
“Please.”
“What’s your name?”
Bella winced as he jabbed her arm again. She needed to focus. “Mia.”
“Nice to meet you, Mia, my name is Luc and you’re going to be alright.”
~o.O.o~
With a few stitches in her arm and it all bandaged up, she and Neal or George or whatever his name was were standing outside Luc’s office. First time was free of charge. She was still a bit woozy from the pain medication Luc had given her, but she just wanted to go home.
“Drive you home?”
“Not in that car,” Bella said as she pointed at the car she had vomited in. “And what’s your name, truly?”
George sighed and hung his head in defeat. “Neal. It’s Neal. George is an alias of mine.”
“Nice to meet you, Neal. I’m Bella,” Bella smiled at him. “And if you could accompany me to Trocadéro, that would be lovely. I’ll have a friend pick me up.”
“The 16th? Wow, I thought you lived in Bondy!”
“Mia did.”
“I could just take you home?”
Sighing, Bella leaned against the wall and looked at him. “Neal, if you can get us a car that doesn’t smell like vomit, you can take me home. I just want to go home and figure out what the hell is going on, and if it’s not me, it’s definitely you.” Her house was secure enough for Neal not to be able to break in and she was sure to change the codes, just in case.
“I can help you figure it out.”
“You’ve done enough,” she smiled at him. “You helped me get patched up! Go get us a car.”
“I’m not leaving you, you’re still a bit woozy and your life might be in danger.”
“Oh for fuck’s sake! Fine, I’ll call my friend, then YOU can deal with him,” she said as she fished her phone out of her bag and dialled Liam’s number.
“Hey Bella.”
“Hey Liam,” she replied. “Can you come and pick me up in Montmartre? Rue Gabrielle.”
It was quiet for a moment before the questions started. “What are you doing there? Is everything alright? Why can’t you travel home on your own?”
“I wouldn’t call if it weren’t necessary.”
“For fuck’s sake, lass! I’m on my way.”
Bella put her phone away and looked at Neal. “What?”
“You have a friend called Liam?”
She shrugged. “He’s cool. He’s my contact while I’m in Paris if I need him.”
“Alright,” Neal said as he took place leaning against the wall next to Bella, while keeping his eyes on her. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine.”
“That’s the adrenaline talking, it’s not easy getting shot at and potentially having someone wanting to kill you.”
“Have you been shot before?”
“Yeah,” he smiled at her. “It’s no fun, but I also know that you shouldn’t be alone, at least not until tomorrow.”
“That’s fine, I have Liam.”
“Is he your boyfriend?”
“Ew, no,” she scrunched up her nose in disgust. “Could you please stop trying to take advantage of the fact that my walls are slightly dented and interrogate me?”
Neal shrugged. “It’s fun.”
“No, it’s not. I’m asking you nicely.”
“It’s not like you want to go back in that car and retrieve your baton, is it?” He laughed. “And don’t worry, Luc knows people who can get rid of the car without a trace of any one of us ever having been in it. Especially after what just happened.”
Bella remained quiet and closed her eyes for just a second before she could hear a car speed into the street and slam on the breaks upon seeing them.
“Fuck me sideways,” Liam said as he got out of the car. “Looking good for a dead guy, Neal.”
Neal let out a groan. “Of course. Out of all the Liams in the world, it had to be you.”
“You two know each other?” Bella said confused as Liam lifted her up. “I got shot.”
“What!”
“She got shot,” Neal nodded. “Don’t worry, Luc stitched her up and she has some antibiotics in her purse.”
Liam helped Bella into the car and looked at Neal. “How did you two meet?”
“We both were working a con at the museum,” Neal chuckled. “And she has no clue who I am, which is weirdly refreshing.”
Liam grumbled. “Of course you’d be the idiot to steal a Picasso for himself… Who was the bullet meant for?”
“Not me, at least not that I know of.”
“And not for me!” Bella called from the car, making herself comfortable on the backseat. “I’m the invisible girl, nobody of importance knows about me!”
“Yeah, she’s high,” Liam sighed. “Look, it’s best if you come back with us, Neal, at least until we figure out she’s safe… and you. Seeing as you’re here and all.”
“Oh, I’m safe,” Neal put up his hands. “I don’t have any enemies, haven’t made new ones…”
“Until we’re sure about that, you’re coming with me. Bella’s home is big enough for the two of you and it’s as secure as a vault,” Liam pointed at the car. “Get in, Caffrey. Once you’re safe, you can leave. And don’t try to fight me, I’ve had to forcefully take you with me before.”
Neal pouted as he was being stared down by Liam and reluctantly got into the passenger seat. “Well, some things never change…”
“I don’t want him in my house,” Bella muttered, using her bag as a pillow. “I don’t trust him.”
“Right now, you don’t have anything to say about this, Bella. I do,” Liam replied as he started the car and drove off. “I’ll explain later.”
“Okay,” she sighed.
~o.O.o~
There was food in her dream. She couldn’t quite figure out what kind of food, but the smell was delicious. She followed the scent of the food as it lured her through her house, until she turned a corner and a sharp pain appeared in her arm. Looking at it, it was bleeding and it kept on bleeding. There was no way to stop it and eventually, her arm fell off.
“Bella, wake up,” Liam gently shook her. “It’s alright, lass, you’re safe, just wake up.”
“My arm,” she whined.
“I know, just wake up, you’re having a bad dream.”
Bella’s eyes shot open and she sat up with a jolt, her head slightly more clear than what it had been previously and she was so hungry, she could eat a horse. She rubbed her eyes and looked at Liam for a moment, before cocking her head in confusion. “You don’t cook, so who’s cooking?”
“Neal.”
“You brought him into my home?!” she exclaimed loudly. “I don’t know him and you invited him over? Have you lost your mind?!”
“Bella, breathe,” Liam sat down on the coffee table in front of her and placed his hands on her shoulders. “I know the rules Garrett gave you. I wouldn’t invite anyone in here if that person wasn’t safe. I know Neal. I’ve worked with him before, kept him safe during one of his cons, and he’s a good guy,” he said calmly. “I promise you, he’s not here to hurt you, nor will he steal anything from this house, because if he does, he knows I will come after him and he doesn’t want that to happen.”
“There is a complete stranger in my house. Cooking.”
“And he’s going to stay until we found out who’s trying to kill who. It’s not as if you don’t have the space, Bella.”
“He faked his own death.”
“For a fresh start, which he deserved. 2.1 million people in Paris and you happen to run into the famous Neal Caffrey, who goes by the name Neal Flanigan now. He’s not even Irish. I’m offended.”
Bella scratched her head as she tried to think. “I’ve never heard of him.”
“Really? He’s one of the greatest con artists of all time, I figured he was part of your teachings.”
Bella didn’t say anything as she got to her feet and walked to her office to get her laptop, her mind racing with everything that had happened that day, and also wondering if she put her stuff away now that she was going to entertain ‘one of the greatest con artists of all time’ for a while.
“What are you doing?” Liam asked as she walked back into the room and sat back down on the couch. “Going to google him?”
Bella huffed. “No, I’m going to see if I can get the CCTV of that bridge.”
Liam took her laptop and shook his head. “What you’re going to do is have some orange juice and food.”
“I don’t see why she can’t do both,” Neal appeared out of nowhere with a glass of orange juice and handed Bella her laptop back. “Food’s ready in twenty minutes, how are you feeling?”
“Thanks,” Bella replied as she drank her orange juice in one go as she kept looking at Neal.
“Don’t worry, Liam already warned me that he’ll break every bone in my body should I do something stupid,” Neal assured her, a smile on his face, his eyes sparkling. “Nice digs, though!”
She nodded as she opened her laptop and got to work. Bella was still working on getting access when Neal came to get her for food, but encouraged her to bring the laptop to the table. She was surprised by the plates on the table, all looking restaurant ready. “Wow, who are you trying to impress?” Bella said as she sat down and carefully maneuvered her laptop on the table, then remembering her nightmare as she had another whiff of the food. “Let’s hope my arm doesn’t fall off,” she muttered to herself.
“You didn’t have that many supplies, so I winged it. I sautéed the chicken in a port reduction and I sautéed onions and mushrooms with some garlic in butter for on the side. There’s pasta or french fries to choose from as your starch. As vegetables I grilled some asparagus.”
“It looks really fancy,” Bella nodded. “Thank you for the food.”
“Neal was pretending to be a chef when we first met,” Liam said as he grabbed a chair and sat down at the table. “Preparing food for a wealthy family who had something he wanted.”
“Allegedly,” Neal pointed out. “It was never proven that I was the one who stole their 17th century bronze statue of a woman kneeling.”
“It wasn’t even worth that much,” Liam laughed. “Their chandelier cost more than that!”
“Sometimes stealing something for fun is fun, I just liked the statue,” he sighed as he, too, sat down at the table.. “It’s all gone now,” he lamented. “Maybe I should steal back everything I lost…”
“You’re dead, maybe it’s a very bad idea,” Liam replied as he took a bite from his food. “Shouldn’t you be retired anyway?”
“Ah, but this is so much more fun,” Neal laughed. “Getting in trouble on occasion… meeting new people… enjoying life.”
“Don’t you miss your old life?” Bella asked as she quickly took a bite and was surprised that it tasted incredible, too. She didn’t take her eyes off of her laptop as she was very close to getting onto the CCTV system and once that happened, she’d drop even eating. She was going to prove that someone was after Neal, and not her.
“Sometimes, it’s just people that you miss,” Neal replied. “I’m actually thoroughly enjoying myself, keeping busy and such. Paris is such a wonderful city where everything is possible. If I get bored of this place, which I doubt, but I might go to Rome next.”
“Italy is overrated,” Bella replied as she took another bite of her food.
“You need to inform Garrett about what happened, Bella,” Liam took a sip of his wine. He knew Bella was likely going to crash later that evening, she still looked like she could do with a nap.
“Oh hell no. Not until we’re sure,” she shook her head. “If I call him and tell him what happened, he’ll be on the first plane here or demand I return immediately.” When she saw Neal’s questionable look on his face she continued. “My uncle.”
She finished her plate and with one last keystroke, she was into the CCTV system. It was easy to find the bridge she was shot at, rewound the time and hit record once she had found her and Neal on the bridge. “Hmm,” she hummed as she pushed her empty plate to the side and positioned her laptop better.
“What? You see anything?” Neal got up from his chair and positioned himself behind her, leaning in closely to look at the screen. Bella moved her head so she could look at him. “Have you ever heard of personal space?”
“Of course, but your laptop doesn’t have that big of a screen.”
“It’s a 17 inch screen! And with the quality of CCTV cameras these days, it’ll be crystal clear, so take a step back or sit down next to me,” she didn’t take her eyes off of him, forcing him to sit down before she disconnected to the CCTV and opened her recording in one of her special programs dedicated to make things a bit sharper, clearer. And, most importantly, she could zoom into a still of the video to hopefully see who took a shot at her.
And then prove it hadn’t been meant for her.
“There,” Neal said as he pointed at the screen.
Bella took a screenshot and zoomed in on the picture. “He didn’t even put a mask on or whatever,” she muttered. The man had come close, very close, on that bridge and he was in full view of the camera. “Recognize him, Neal?”
“Nope.”
“Liam?”
Liam moved over and looked over her shoulder. Scratching his head he let out a sigh. “Doesn’t look too familiar to me… Maybe Garrett knows.”
“Or, I could use facial recognition software.”
“You have that?” Neal’s eyes widened in surprise.
Bella shrugged. “I have access to more things you can imagine. The only downside is that I can only do it like ten minutes at a time so I’d have to narrow it down, or keep switching VPNs in case they catch me,” she added. “I may be good, but not blocking the FBI kinda good. Their intrusion specialists are a bitch. Not to mention following the rotating incoming IP through a VPN, but also once she was in the system, they would work hard to kick her out.
“The FBI?”
“Or CIA, Interpol… Local government and law enforcement is easy but…”
“It’s good to have limitations.”
“It’s not a limitation, it’s just a bitch to hack into them and stay connected, and unless you know someone who works for one of those agencies and owes you a favor, we’ll have to do this slowly and hope that his face pings.”
“You were shot at, and the shooter didn’t show hesitation to shoot you,” Neal said, looking at her. “He looks like a pro and professionals don’t miss. He’ll come after you again. You really must have pissed someone off.”
Bella closed her laptop and started to clear the table. “See, that’s where you’re wrong. I’m nobody and haven’t done anything to piss someone off. Stop saying that I have, this is getting annoying.” She was happy that the two men shut up and after she cleared the table, she grabbed her laptop and headed to her bedroom.
She wanted to be alone. She could feel how the gravity of the shooting was sinking in, and she was worried that the person who shot her was a cleaner from Italy who worked for the family. Even her uncle Garrett was afraid of them as there was no hiding from them.
Yes, Bella was nobody. She was the youngest of the Cullens and she sometimes fixed their shit, drawing the line at the dead bodies as she couldn’t stand the sight of blood. She was invisible. Even in the circuit, nobody knew that the Cullens had another child. She was invisible.
She was Bella Swan to her friends, and Bella Swan didn’t have enemies.
Bella locked the door of her bedroom and decided to take a shower first. She was still wearing her bloodied clothes and she felt icky. She was going to worry about other things later, she wanted to shake the bad feeling that she had about the shooting.
When Bella left to live with Uncle Garrett, being an adult and all, she was told by her siblings that nobody left the family and got away with it. Nobody. They didn’t appreciate her wanting a life outside the family, they never had.
She didn’t want her life and freedom to be fucked.
