Chapter 17 #2
He regarded her in silence while he sipped his champagne.
She sat on the edge of her seat in eager-young-heiress anticipation with an excited gleam in her eye that wasn’t entirely faked.
She may have him reeled in. She only needed him to call Ned to seal the deal.
Then she’d turn him over to her pals back at the ranch.
What could be easier? Her heart thrummed with that intoxicating mix of anxiety and excitement.
The juices in her stomach churned in overdrive.
She’d be lucky to come away from this mission without an ulcer.
* * *
As she walked to her front door with Jean Luc firmly holding her elbow, Shana’s gut swirled with anxiety.
She could tell there was no one there. She turned the key in the lock and pushed the door forward to find no one.
No Captain Nice, no Chauncey and no Dane.
When she paused for an extra beat for no reason, Jean Luc tightened his grip and said, “Is something amiss? Do you want me to check before—”
“No. It’s fine. It’s—I’m not in the habit of bringing men home.” She felt lame and had no idea if he’d believe her line. Although she realized it was true.
She stepped forward into the entryway and then onto the carpet of the living area. She turned and said, “Come in and sit down.”
He smiled and pulled her with him to the couch and sat, tugging her down next to him.
She wasn’t sure what to do. This hadn’t been the plan.
She knew she needed to stall. Looking into Jean Luc’s sharp cold blue eyes, she couldn’t stop the shiver.
Everything Dane had said about the man ran through her head.
He’d been right. Jean Luc was not a good guy.
Not one to be trifled with. Steeling herself, she decided she was not one to be trifled with either.
“Tell me what’s troubling you, Shana.” He reached out a hand and took her chin in a firm grip, too firm to be affectionate or friendly. His teeth glittered in his ever-present smile.
She pushed his hand away and stood to her full height above him, snatching up her purse and pulling her gun out. No way would she play hanky-panky with this guy just to stall for time.
“I’m fine. You just stay put.” She held the gun out in front of herself but not too close to him, with her finger poised on the trigger.
His smile never faltered. Then he laughed. “Are you going to shoot me? What is this about, ma cherie? Did Dane put misguided notions in your head about me? He is the one—”
“Shut up.”
Jean Luc shook his head. He stopped smiling and she took satisfaction in that. Then he stood. She backed up a step to keep the gun from his reach.
“I think I should leave.” He turned and walked in a few short unhurried steps to the door and pulled it open. A beat behind him, she rushed forward with her gun still pointing and said, “Stop right there.” He did.
When she looked over his shoulder, she saw Dane on the other side of the threshold. Dane pushed Jean Luc backwards until they were both inside again, and kicked the door closed behind him.
“You’re late.” Shana hated that her voice sounded tight, like a guitar string about to snap.
“There was a glitch,” Dane said without taking his eyes from Jean Luc, who stood inert and silent like he’d turned into a mannequin.
“What?”
“Ned. I’ll explain later.”
“What’s this about?” Jean Luc finally spoke, still without taking his attention from Dane and that annoyed her since she was the one holding the gun.
“Have a seat,” Dane said. He flicked a plastic tie from his back pocket, spun Jean Luc around and wrapped his wrists. Then he shoved the man forward and onto the couch. Jean Luc turned and gave her an accusing look.
She didn’t react. Relief broke her tension because she truly did not care what Jean Luc thought.
“None of us likes Ned. Neither do you,” Dane said, towering over him where Jean Luc sat again on the low-slung couch.
“I know you won’t believe me,” Jean Luc said, still sounding comfortable, “but I gave it sixty-five percent odds that you were law enforcement. I didn’t mention my suspicion to Ned.
Not that he would have given any credence to anything I said.
The man is a boor, a very cruel stupid boor and deserves whatever he gets. ”
“But?” Dane said.
“But my brother—and his girl Tamara, such as she is—do not deserve what would happen to them if things don’t work out as Ned expects. Ned and his people, I should say. But I have a feeling Ned is a loose cannon and his people like him that way. Or at least they put up with him.”
“So what you’re telling me is that you’re not going to turn on Ned?”
Jean Luc said nothing, but matched Dane’s stare.
“Jean Luc, we need your help,” Shana said and sat beside him.
“No use trying your pretty pout with me, ma belle. I am the most jaded man you’ve ever met, I’m afraid.”
“No, you’re not,” she said and looked at Dane.
Then she added, “Besides, I didn’t get where I am without knowing something about jaded men.
We need your help and so we’ll use what we have to make sure we get it.
I’m afraid your little brother and his ridiculous girlfriend will be in more trouble if you do not cooperate. ”
Jean Luc arched a brow, but didn’t look as if he believed her.
She shook her head and stood. “Tell him.” She addressed Dane, as if she were the one in charge.
This had the effect of confusing Jean Luc, at least momentarily.
She’d thrown the infamous Jean Luc Ruse off-guard.
She slid a quick glance in Dane’s direction to see what he thought. No sign.
“We’ll have the police pick up your brother and his girl for questioning and make sure Ned knows about it,” Dane said.
“We’ll keep them for the full twenty-four hours and with the competition starting, Ned will be worried.
He’ll be worried he lost his ringer and he’ll be worried his ringer turned on him. ” He smiled.
“Then we’ll send him back out to play sitting duck in the competition and Ned will never believe he said nothing.
No matter what he tells Ned. Now with Ned’s disposition and the fact that he needs your brother for the competition, your brother may be safe.
Ned may take out his frustration on Tamara instead. Or he may keep her as insurance.”
Jean Luc’s nostrils flared and he turned a shade lighter.
“You know of this man’s reputation with women and yet you let him walk around and you would put another innocent woman in his path?” Jean Luc snarled the words.
“Hell, I’m even willing to put Shana in his path if it comes to it.” Dane bared his teeth not even pretending to smile this time. Shana tensed.
“What do you need me for? If you have everything figured out, go and arrest the man,” Jean Luc hissed. “I won’t be heartbroken, even if it means I will be arrested as well.”
“Arrested for what, Jean Luc? You haven’t done anything.” Shana spoke and sat back down next to him. “Have you?”
He shook his head and smiled. “You have nothing but guesses.”
“And you. Don’t forget we have you,” Dane said.
* * *
Jean Luc’s poker face faltered enough to show a twitch run along one cheek.
Dane scared him just enough to be unsure.
As planned. Dane congratulated himself for being a scary man until he looked at Shana staring at him.
She wasn’t sure of him either. Was she scared of him?
More importantly, why should he care if she was?
Wasn’t that what he’d wanted all along—what he’d gone out of his way to cultivate—her fear?
The notion tasted sour. Any pleasure he took in his progress at turning Jean Luc left him. But he went for the kill anyway because that was his job and he was very good at his job. That was his contribution to this world.
“And you have Susan Whittier.”
“More guesses.”
“You’d be a most unlucky man if I were guessing wrong.”
“I’m no kidnapper.”
He was cracking. The sign was so unmistakable.
Dane, who was never surprised, was surprised when Shana stood up alongside him, arms folded and a too smug look on her face. She needed to practice more indifference. The thought stabbed at the spot where his heart used to be. What was he grooming her for? To be the number two cynic next to him?
He doubled down on his stare of indifference toward Jean Luc and flipped a knife from his pocket.
The move was swift and that alone should have caused a person to flinch.
But there were no flinchers in this room.
At least Jean Luc lost some of his practiced nonchalance when Dane extended the knife toward him.
“Relax. I’m cutting your plastic ties. You’re free to go. I’ll be making that call to a state police friend of mine about picking up your brother—”
“Don’t.” Jean Luc flexed his hands, moved his arms and rolled his shoulders with the release of his bonds. Still sitting, he looked up at Dane, avoiding Shana’s stare. “No need. I will cooperate.”
“I’m glad,” Shana said. She relaxed her stance, apparently believing him.
Dane wasn’t so sure. Not that he had much choice.
If it were his own butt on the line, ironically, he wouldn’t care as much.
But it wasn’t. It was hers. The girl would be the death of him.
Or at the very least, she’d give him an ulcer.
Funny he’d never worried about ulcers before.
Never had that sting in his gut. Elena’s betrayal had set this stage.
“What would you like me to do?”
“You’ll need to stay here tonight and pretend you’re with Shana since that’s what Ned expects, n’est ce pas?”
Jean Luc nodded but showed no amusement at Dane’s use of his limited French.
He took a breath and would have continued with his instructions to Jean Luc, but the commotion at the front door stopped him. He turned in time to see the door bang open. Captain Lynch stumbled in under the weight of a semiconscious Chauncey Miller.