Undercover Bachelor

What was the saying? These kinds of situations generally happened to people you knew well?

The fiend was still running around loose with his students. No telling how many other willing teenage girls he’d talked into bed.

As Whitney sat there eyeing Christine and her precious baby, her attorney’s mind conceived the idea to nail that lothario for seducing her young, vulnerable sister. He’d left her pregnant, alone, and would never have to pay a penny of child support.

A stolen moment of pleasure for the jerk had changed the entire course of Christine’s life! He didn’t care that she had a reputation to preserve. Greg, at least, deserved to be given his father’s name.

If nothing else, Whitney would find out who he was and make sure he got fired to prevent him from ever using his job to exploit other female victims again.

Already she had a plan in mind to expose him. She couldn’t wait to get back to the office and put things into motion.

“Tell you what, Christine. After I get home from work this evening, I’ll come over to the house. You can get out with your friends, maybe go to a movie. I’ll tend my cute little nephew. I love to bathe and feed him. What do you say?”

The suggestion seemed to brighten Christine’s spirits. “That would be wonderful. I’m so thankful I have you and the family. I’d never make it through otherwise.”

“You’re not only going to make it through, you and Greg are going to have a wonderful life. I swear it.”

“Comrade? Phil said you wanted to see me.”

“I’m glad you got the message, Comrade. Come on in and shut the door. Someone from Interpol has been anxious to reach you.”

Gerard Roche sat down in the chair opposite Roman’s desk. “So what’s new, boss? They hound me all the time to go back and work for them again. I always tell them I’m not interested. I like the skiing here just fine.”

Roman smiled. “Amen to that. Besides, I’ve gotten used to my best PI solving the toughest cases. I refuse to lose you. If Yuri thought you were going back to Europe to work for Interpol again, I’m afraid you would have to answer to him, as well.”

The mention of Roman’s elder brother Yuri brought a grin to Gerard’s face. Roman and Yuri Lufka, short for Lufkilovich, denoting their Russian ancestry, were two of Gerard’s best friends.

There was nothing Gerard loved more than getting out on the ski slopes with both brothers who were not only great sportsmen, but phenomenal linguists. Together they managed to slaughter Russian, German, French and a few Slavic dialects at once, much to the amusement of their friends and colleagues. Yuri and his family flew to Salt Lake from New York every month for business and pleasure.

Between all of them, plus the other PI’s and Gerard’s parents who resided in Alta, a mountain town thirty minutes from Salt Lake, Gerard’s life was full. If he moved out of the country, the opportunities to visit the people he loved would vanish.

No way would he ever live in Europe again The avalanche that had claimed his wife’s life in Switzerland years ago had brought an end to many dreams. He had no desire to go back.

“I’ve just finished tying up the loose ends on the Burrow’s case and am ready to take on a new one, Roman. How about a witness protection assignment in the mountains where I can trade off with one of the guys and still get in some serious rock climbing?”

“When that case arises, you’ll be the first one to hear about it.”

Gerard stretched his long legs out in front of him. “In other words, you’ve got something on the docket I’m not going to like.”

Roman’s gaze scrutinized him. “I’m not sure. You don’t have to take it.”

“Now you’re intriguing me.”

“Interpol has had its eye on a man suspected of being a plant for a foreign government, probably eastern Europe, but they’re not sure. The name he’s currently using is Donald Bowen. The man has a wife and child. They’re still checking on the status of his wife.

“For the last seven years he’s been posing as a French teacher at a high school here in Salt Lake. During that period, he’s been part of a group of teachers taking their students to France and Switzerland in the spring, summer.

“It’s believed that during these trips, he acts as a go-between for an agent selling classified American military secrets to a Middle Eastern government. Unfortunately he has eluded Interpol’s best efforts.

“Though you’re a civilian now, they’d like your cooperation and are willing to pay for your time to help catch him in the act. They’ll supply all the backup you need. It would mean traveling to France and Switzerland in June.”

Roman eyed Gerard soberly. “If the memory of your wife, Simone, still hurts too much, then forget I said anything.”

“It’s all right, Roman. I let go of her a long time ago. Otherwise I wouldn’t have enjoyed female company since then, particularly Annabelle’s—when she would let me.”

At that remark, both of them chuckled. Gerard had liked Annabelle Forrester, another PI with the firm, more than any woman since Simone.

It had been the now-very-married Annabelle who, when she’d first come to work for Roman, had found out Gerard had been christened Eric-Gerard because of his German father and French-Swiss mother. At that point in time Annabelle had insisted that everyone stop calling him Eric and start referring to him as Gerard. She thought his French name sounded much more exciting and romantic.

Soon Diana, Roman’s private secretary, was calling him Gerard. What started out as a joke became the status quo as one PI after another followed suit. Roman finally made the decision that everyone call him Gerard so there would be no more confusion.

Not only did Gerard find Annabelle highly amusing, she was smart and adorable, but a little too elusive at times. Or maybe he used that as an excuse because he hadn’t been ready to make another commitment that could end in tragedy.

All the same, it was a bitter pill to swallow when Rand Dunbarton, Annabelle’s ex-fiancé and client, had moved to Salt Lake from Phoenix and had ended up marrying her. He was a lucky man and Gerard envied him.

“My problem is, I haven’t been to Switzerland since the accident.”

Roman folded his arms. “The trip will definitely stir up memories. For that reason I’m not pushing you on this one.”

Gerard was pensive. “Maybe it’s time to face my ghosts.”

“Only if you want to. Interpol will probably pay any fee you ask within reason to obtain your help. I’m told they’ve looked at other private detectives in the area, but naturally you’re their first choice because of your excellent work record with them, not to mention your fluency in French and German and your knowledge of Europe.”

“Spare me the litany,” Gerard interjected. “Even I have to admit I’m a natural for the assignment.”

“You are. No one else on this staff or any other would begin to qualify.”

“Tell me what my cover would be.”

“A divorced high school French teacher.”

“You must be joking. A sort of glorified Kindergarten Cop?”

That drew another chuckle out of Roman. “According to Brittany, and I quote, you bear ‘a superficial resemblence to Arnold Schwarzenegger, only you’re much better looking.’”

Gerard’s brows lifted. “Your beautiful wife said that about me?”

“She did.”

“Were you jealous?”

Again, the two men shared a quiet laugh.

“Interpol has decided that only a teacher on the same tour can monitor this guy’s movements day and night without suspicion. He uses a local company called STI, Student Teacher International.

“This agency flies a busload of Utah teachers and students to Paris where they connect with their European tour guide. Your job would be to help chaperone the students and get chummy with Bowen at the same time.”

Gerard sat forward. “I’ve gone undercover in hundreds of ways, but I don’t like the idea of using kids to get the job done.”