cobblestone street. And it was full of treasures.
This was not the type of pawnshop she was familiar with from the United States—a seedy place with bars on the windows where a greasy man wearing an undershirt picked his teeth behind an enclosed counter. This was a delightful boutique with beautiful items carefully displayed, everything from lamps and pots to clothing and jewelry.
“This is so...Paris,” she said quietly to herself as she gazed about the tiny space.
There were so many exquisite pieces in the shop to choose from: necklaces, bracelets, earrings. There were also hand-embroidered silk scarves, funky original hats and handbags. There were antiques and what had to be one-of-a-kind items, like the silver oil lamp that reminded her of the stories Auntie Bibi used to whisper at bedtime when she slept over at her cousins as a young girl. Adventures and genies from Arabian Nights. She picked up the lamp, considering. Maybe this lamp was a sign that she should have her own adventure, just like Ash encouraged.
Though, a sex-venture?
Jazz smiled to herself. Crazy.
“Est-ce que je peux vous aider?” the man behind the counter asked.
“I’m sorry,” Jasmine said, making her way toward him, the lamp, a silk scarf and a necklace clutched in her hands. Not that she needed any of the items but the prices were so good and Jazz was a sucker for a good deal. “I don’t speak French. Do you speak English?” She leaned on the display case, her gaze drawn to the gorgeous jewelry inside.
“Yes, a little.”
“Those are so pretty,” she said, pointing to a pair of emerald-drop earrings.
“Would you like to take a look?”
Oh, yes please, she nearly gushed before she remembered her reason for being there. She absently rubbed the polished silver of the lamp and said, “I have a ring I’d like to sell.”
“To sell? May I see?”
She set the lamp down on the counter and reached into her purse. Room key. Wallet. Cell phone. Passport. Hmm...where had she put that ring?
“It’s in here somewhere.” She dug around. Seriously, where the hell was the ring and what would she do if she’d lost it? She was sure Parker had paid about twenty grand for it. Not that she’d looked it up online or anything.
Okay. Maybe she had.
She located the ring at the bottom of her bag and placed it on the counter for the man to inspect, straightening her shoulders as he picked it up and scrutinized it through the lens of a loupe.
“C’est belle,” the man murmured as he checked the ring from all angles.
The bells over the door tinkled but she didn’t bother to look because something inside of her had shifted. An unknown weight lifted from Jasmine’s shoulders, making her feel like a brand-new person. Could she really put her broken engagement behind her and be the woman Ash had described—carefree and adventurous? A woman who lived in the moment and was on the lookout for a sex-venture...
“Mettez-vous par terre!” a deep male voice shouted.
She turned toward the voice but nothing about the man behind her made sense. It was like she’d stumbled upon the set of a movie and her already muddled brain was having a hard time computing why a man would be wearing a ski mask in spring and brandishing a crowbar.
To her bewilderment, he strode forward and smashed the display case she’d been leaning on with one massive blow.
What the...?
“Écoutez-moi!” He shouted right in her face.
So weird. Was she dreaming? Because this whole thing had an otherworldly quality to it and it just got worse when the dude reached into his beat-up jacket, pulled out a gun and pointed it at her.
“Par terre!”
Before Jasmine had time to consider what the man was shouting, he grasped the back of her neck and shoved her to the floor.
Oomph!
That hurt.
But now that she was on the ground, the thief ignored her and she lifted her head to find him swiping handfuls of jewelry and dumping the items into a leather satchel. Her ring was among the things he took.
Something inside of her gut, something hot and heavy and furious, was not about to lie benignly on the floor while some petty criminal robbed this delightful shop.
And her.
After all she’d been through? She deserved that fucking ring. Or, rather, she deserved the money from that fucking ring so she could move on from the disaster that was her life.
With energy she had no idea she possessed, Jasmine sprang to her feet, grabbed the outstretched arm of the thug and clung to it like her life depended on it.
“You fucker!” Jasmine growled, twisting his arm in a move she’d learned in a self-defense class, forcing the man to drop the gun. She grabbed the strap of the satchel, pulling it off his shoulder.
“Salope!” The man swung the crowbar catching the side of her head.
The pain in her temple was so sharp and stinging, that warrior-Jasmine drained out of her system as she curled on the ground, gripping the satchel like a beloved teddy bear, feeling like she might vomit from the pain. What happened next would have confused her at the best of times, but her head was still spinning from being clocked and her body was still pumping with adrenaline, lack of sleep and jet leg...
There was a crash.
Followed by a wet thunk and a man cried out in pain.
A body crumpled heavily half on, half off her.
A hand appeared in front of her face, gesturing for her to take it in order to help her to her feet. “Ça va?”
And then Jasmine was standing on noodle-y legs, gazing into the face of a stranger. The man wore a black leather jacket and a black helmet with the visor raised, revealing a face with a scruffy beard, dark brows and...the clearest, bluest, most amazing eyes she’d ever seen.
And then there were four eyes, then six...
“Mademoiselle?” He snapped his fingers in front of her face.
She shook her head, and then wished she hadn’t as stars appeared, dancing in front of her open eyes. She would have fallen if not for the strong hands gripping her arms, holding her up.
However, there were equally strong hands tugging on the strap of the satchel she was still clutching. The thug on the floor grappled for the bag and two things happened simultaneously. The bag slipped from her hands, spilling the contents on the tile floor just as a black leather boot swished past her line of vision, kicking the thief in the face and knocking him out. The rest happened in slow motion. Rings, earrings and necklaces scattered, jumping and skittering across the polished tile floor like live things freed from captivity. Jasmine caught sight of her ring bouncing along
