Episode 90
Episode 90
Blissful Ignorance
MADAM ALANA
The morning after our kidnapping had been brutal. Watching Emily give her statement to Inspector Moreau ripped my heart into a million tiny pieces. No child should have to go through what she did yesterday, nor should she have to experience the pain of sharing that trauma with the authorities. I will admit that Detective Moreau was kind, fair, and gentle with his interview. Emily did cry, however, which made Rhodes stiffen, but he didn’t stop the interview.
What none of us were prepared for was how angry Maia became at seeing Emily’s discomfort. At one point she flat out looked at Emily and said, “If this is hurting you, we can stop. I don’t care who this information helps. You want out? Your dad and I will make that happen. Right Rhodes?” Maia had looked at Rhodes with such determination and grit, it was almost as if she dared him right then and there to override her claim.
He did no such thing. He actually nodded and squeezed his daughter’s shoulders and said, “Maia’s right. You’ve been through a lot, honey, and if this is too much, we stop now. I’ll contact our lawyers to do the talking for us.”
Emily’s bottom lip had trembled but instead of taking the easy way out, she shook her head and told them she’d like to tell the inspector everything she could. She said she hoped it would help Moreau and his team catch the bad man before he hurt anyone else. Pride filled the room as Emily proved just how brave she could be.
After the interview, Rhodes, Maia, and Emily packed up their things and were gone within the hour. I was relieved when they left. Rhodes claimed he had a team of people to protect them and felt strongly that he needed to get his daughter back home to California. I couldn’t have agreed more. This wasn’t about Emily and Rhodes. Even though Maia’s place had been trashed, I still didn’t believe it was about her either. It was about me, Christophe, Celine, and Angus.
When we were kidnapped, they made it clear they were only taking Emily because they wanted my cooperation. Angus didn’t make a single mention of Maia when we spoke yesterday. That makes me believe that Maia was insurance. My guess: I was being watched back in Las Vegas, and those people informed Angus how fond I’d become of Maia.
But why did a woman make the request to threaten Maia?
Where is that woman now?
The only person who knows the answer to that particular question is my morally dubious contact in the Latin mafia…Diego.
“Mrs. Toussaint, before I leave, I must insist that you and your husband come with me and allow the French authorities to put you in a safe house until Angus Sokolov is caught.” Inspector Moreau’s gaze and tone were pleading. He seemed genuinely worried that Angus was going to come after me at any moment. I had the same concerns.
“I agree, Alana,” Christophe added.
I narrowed my gaze at my husband. “Mr. Moreau, can you give us some privacy please?” I asked.
“ Oui , of course. I’m going to speak with the security team. Please think about the safe house. It really is the best option for everyone involved.” With that parting comment, the inspector left the room.
“Darling, we need to do as the inspector says. It’s the safest plan,” Christophe pushed.
“You know,” I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned against the kitchen counter. “We wouldn’t be in this predicament if you’d just left well enough alone all those years ago.”
Christophe winced as his shoulders slumped, and he closed his eyes. “That isn’t fair Alana, and you know it.”
Seeing his pain made my own heart physically ache. Christophe and I didn’t carelessly harm one another. Since the beginning of our relationship, we had always been one hundred percent honest with one another in all things…except this, it seemed. Which, truthfully, was more upsetting than anything else. I wasn’t angry at him for doing what he did, I was hurt by the fact that he didn’t share it with me. For years I’d lived in blissful ignorance.
“But is it true?” My voice shook as I admitted the ugly feelings bubbling in my soul and soiling the trust I’d always had in him.
“I will admit that I should have told you what I’d done. Now, I regret that decision, but would I have made the same one again?” His gaze shot to mine, and I could see straight through to the open, honest, beautiful soul beneath. “I’d do it again. For Celine…but mostly, I’d do it again for you . He harmed the one person I vowed to love, honor, and protect until my last breath. I wouldn’t be the man you love today if I’d sat back and let him get away with carving scars into your heart the way he did. Celine has always been a part of you. I know that. You wouldn’t be the woman I’m devoted to without carrying around a piece of her. And he helped take a piece of you away. Lost forever. I could not in good conscience allow that to go unpunished. And if that means I’m going to spend the rest of my life making up for it, then that’s what I’m prepared to do. Because you, Alana, own my entire heart. You are my everything.”
Tears fell down my cheeks as a broken sob tore through my body. My knees became weak, and my legs felt like jelly as I lost my footing and crumbled toward the ground. The pain of it all had become too much. My knees never touched the floor because Christophe was there, lifting me up, holding me in his warm embrace. Proving time and time again that he’d always be there for me. Even when he was the source of my anger, he was still there, protecting me from harm.
“I love you so much, Christo. I can’t stay mad at you. I can’t live with this hideous feeling of betrayal between us.”
“You can,” he murmured into my ear. “Be mad at me for as long as you need. Punish me in whatever way will help you trust me again. I will still be here, ready to catch you if you fall. Ready to take whatever hits are necessary to make amends.”
“Hearing the rationale behind why you chose that path…” I choked on a sob. “I understand. If I’d had the opportunity to double-cross Angus after his part in Celine’s death, I might have made the very same decision. No. I would have made the same choice. She was my family. My chosen sister. The only person in the world who loved me before I met you. I can see that, when given the opportunity, you had no choice but to do right by her. I only wish I’d been a part of it.”
He cupped my cheeks and wiped away the tears that kept falling. “Celine didn’t deserve what happened to her. You didn’t deserve what happened to her. I made a choice to act on behalf of both of you. I don’t regret that. But I can promise you right here, right now, on my life and yours, that I will never keep a single thing from you again. Can you ever forgive me?”
I lifted one hand and put my palm over his heart. The other I placed at the back of his neck and looked deeply into his eyes. “I forgive you.”
Tears shimmered in his eyes as he dipped his head and took my mouth in a deep kiss. It lasted a long time and said everything we’d left unsaid.
I missed you.
I trust you.
I love you.
It was reaffirming and exactly what I needed to get myself back on track. Until a loud blast and the sound of shattering glass ripped through the room, bringing us back to the real world. Christophe slammed my body to the floor, covering me completely with his bulk.
Inspector Moreau bolted into the kitchen, gun drawn, right as another few gunshots exploded through the balcony glass door. He slid to the ground and crawled over to us.
“Are either of you hurt?”
We both shook our heads.
Moreau grabbed a radio from his belt and yelled commands into it. “Back garden. Shots fired through the balcony window. Look for a sharpshooter in the trees. Hurry!”
Another couple bullets whizzed through air, piercing the upper cabinets across from where we were huddled behind the island.
We could hear answering shots fired outside by those I assumed to be the authorities.
“One man down. Sniper rifle in hand. We got him, but he won’t be sharing any intel,” came a rushed voice through the radio.
“Let’s go. Now!” Moreau demanded. “We cannot keep you here. It isn’t safe.”
“And you know a place that would be safer?” I asked as I crawled across the kitchen floor toward the back staircase that led to the second floor. “These men snatched us in a public place after killing our security team. They have the balls to attack us in our home while the authorities are present. You are not a deterrent for them,” I snapped. “I’m sorry, inspector. I don’t believe for a moment you can keep us safe.” With that, I climbed the rest of the stairs, Christophe in tow. We both crouched down and headed toward our room where Aurelie had already packed our bags.
I sat on the floor next to the bed, out of the view of the windows, just in case, and pulled out my phone.
“Who are you calling?” Christophe asked.
“The one man we know who can probably help us out of this mess.”
Christophe’s eyebrows rose but he kept his mouth shut.
Moreau entered the doorway and crouched low. “My team hasn’t found another shooter. We should be okay for now.”
I ignored the inspector and dialed the number I should have called the second we were freed yesterday.
“ Hola se?ora .” Diego answered on the first ring. “I am surprised you are among the living. Sokolov doesn’t tend to leave loose ends.”
“I’m starting to see that. I’m calling in my marker.”
“How can I help?”
“We need a new safe house,” I started.
“Done. And?”
“We need a way to get to that safe house. We were just shot at in our home by a sniper in a tree.”
“Sounds about right. There will be more than one sniper. Angus doesn’t do anything by halves,” Diego shared.
I directed my next words to Moreau. “My friend says that there will be more than one shooter. Have your men look again.”
“Who’s your friend?” Moreau asked.
I looked at Christophe and listened to Diego breathe through the receiver, not saying a word. Now was the time to choose sides. Who did I trust to keep me and Christo alive? Someone who followed every rule in the book, or someone who threw the book out and wrote their own.
“None of your business. Please have your men do another check of the premises.”
Moreau scowled and his nostrils flared. “You know, I can’t keep you safe if you don’t tell me the whole truth,” he growled and then left the room, barking more orders into his radio.
“Wise decision, amiga . Six blacked-out identical SUVs will arrive within an hour. Each one will pull into your garage for a total of three minutes a piece. Get into the fourth vehicle. Do not take a minute more or less before exiting. We’re going to play the shell game with Sokolov’s men. Two of the SUVs will go in a different direction at the same time. You and your husband will be driven to a parking garage where both SUVs will go in and come right out. The two of you, however, will get out in that garage and enter the trunk of another vehicle. That car will leave thirty minutes after the SUVs depart and head to another garage where you will do the same thing. Are you listening?”
“I’ve heard every word. Do you really think this will work?” Fear pressed against my temples making my head throb.
“There’s only one way to find out. Vaya con Dios , se?ora .” He said and hung up.
Quickly I explained all that Diego planned to Christophe.
“Well, what do you think?” I asked my husband.
“I don’t think we have any other option than to trust the mafia boss. He helped our friends.”
“Yeah, and a lot of people died,” I reminded him about the situation with Joel and Faith and the warehouse full of men that lost their lives when they were trying to save Faith.
“Our only other choice is going along with the authorities,” Christophe explained, and he was right. Either we go with the advice of Inspector Moreau or the mafia boss with a positive track record for handling terrifying criminals.
“I’d rather take my chances with Diego,” I whispered.
“Me too,” Christophe said and then pecked me on the lips as though sealing the deal.
As outlined by Diego, an hour later, six SUVs showed up. The authorities still hadn’t found anyone else on the property, but I believed Diego. He had no reason to lie to me. I explained the plan to Inspector Moreau. He didn’t like it, but I gave him no alternative. He couldn’t make me go with the authorities, but he could help make sure we got away, which is what he agreed to do.
When the first black SUV pulled into the garage, we waited the three minutes as instructed and watched it leave while the second SUV rolled in. Before the first SUV even reached the gate to exit, we could hear bullets flying.
It took everything I had not to get into that second SUV. Still, we stayed strong, hidden in the corner of the garage no one could see from any direction as the second left and the third, and finally the fourth SUV rolled in. The moment the garage door came down, we bolted over to the back of the vehicle and Christophe and I climbed inside with our small suitcases.
“There’s a blanket back there. Cover yourselves,” the driver demanded in heavily accented English. “The car is bulletproof. The tires are not. Cross your fingers we make it out the gate,” he said and then waited for an alarm to go off before we heard the garage door go back up.
The gunshots slamming into the vehicle were like golf-ball-sized hail hitting the SUV as the driver backed out of the garage at top speed just like the others had before him. He swung a U-turn as though the car was driving on rails and then punched the gas, jolting forward at top speed. I was too afraid to be seen so I kept my eyes closed, my head covered by the blanket and held my husband’s hand. Christophe whispered words of comfort against my cheek. His breath was hot and his cheek sweaty, but I clung to those words with my entire spirit.
Soon we were racing down the country roads.
“We’ve made it out. That’s step one,” the driver announced. “Stay hidden.”
We did everything we were told. Even got into the terrifyingly small trunk of a Peugeot and waited in the pitch-dark trunk for thirty minutes before we felt the car start and head out onto the road again.
As promised, we were driven to another carpark where we were let out of the Peugeot and instructed to get into the trunk of a new blacked-out SUV. This time, we didn’t have to wait. It was getting dark, and I knew by the time we arrived wherever the safehouse was, it would be well into the evening. My stomach rumbled and Christophe squeezed my hand.
“I’m sure we’ll be there soon,” he murmured.
A full hour later, after what felt like endless twists and turns, the SUV finally came to a stop. We were let out into a huge warehouse sized garage with at least a dozen extremely expensive European cars all lined up, shining under the bright fluorescent lights above.
“Come,” the driver instructed.
Christophe grabbed our two small suitcases and we followed our rescuers into what turned out to be a luxury home. We entered a massive kitchen where a petite full-figured older woman of Latin descent was actively cooking a feast. The scent of spiced meat and Spanish rice filtered through the air and made my mouth water.
“?Hola amigos !” a man said in a deep voice from somewhere behind us. We both turned around and were shocked to see Diego Salazar in the flesh. “Welcome to my European home.” He pointed to the woman cooking. “That’s Mamá .”
She turned around, spatula in hand and said, “ Espero que tengan hambre ,” and pointed the cooking utensil at us both before going back to her task.
“ Mamá says she hopes you are hungry. She likes to feed people.”
“Diego? What are you doing here?” Christophe asked, for which I was grateful because I was honest to God speechless.
He was absolutely the last person I’d expected to see.
“What?” He held out his hands and grinned like a maniac. “And let you have all the fun?”