Chapter Seven #2
“You mean, will it be ready for Lily’s wedding?” he challenged.
I touched the perfectly polished hood of the car. “No, I mean, will you get to enjoy it sometime soon? You deserve it.”
The corners of his mouth curled up. “Depends on you hunting down those parts.”
I grinned. “That’s the first thing on my agenda.” Then I groaned. “Make that, the second thing. I have to call Jacques to ask if he can tow the car to the shop with his tractor.” When I thought that through, I groaned again.
“What?” Roux tilted his head.
“That means I have to walk out to meet him there.” I hesitated, then came out with it. “You wouldn’t want to walk with me, would you?”
“I thought you hated me following you.”
“That was before the nagas.”
He looked outside. “Bene and Henrik chased them off.”
I snorted. “So did you.”
He scratched his chest, leaving another smudge of grease on his shirt. My eyes stuck there for a moment, and my imagination went into overdrive.
“Maybe you scared them off,” he joked.
“Very funny.” I thumped his arm, then cringed when he grimaced. “Oh! I’m so sorry! I wasn’t thinking.”
“Obviously,” he muttered, rubbing it gingerly.
I hung my head. “I’m really sorry.”
“It’s fine,” he said.
Ha. I was pretty sure a ten on my pain scale was only about a two on his.
“I should leave you in peace. Sorry again.”
Good, why was I so flustered all of a sudden?
“Wait. You don’t have to.”
“I do,” I said, moving toward the door. No wonder I had such a bad track record with men. I gravitated toward jerks, and I was a jerk to the good ones.
Roux reached out, whispering, “Don’t go, Geneviève.”
I halted. God, I loved the way my name rolled off his tongue.
And, oh. Maybe he didn’t hate me.
“You could stay and…uh…” He looked around, suddenly shy.
“Note down any other parts you need?”
A tiny smile formed on his lips, starting from the right side, then stretching all the way over to the left.
“Yes. In addition to the wiggly carburetor.”
I chuckled, then checked my watch. “I’ll see what I can do, but unfortunately, work on the ballroom comes first.”
He gestured. “Wearing that?”
I looked down at myself, then sighed. “I’ll squeeze in a wardrobe change first.”
Which meant I had to tear myself away from the stables. A new sensation, because I’d never felt particularly drawn to the place before. But now, that classic car had jumped to the top of my list. That, and its mechanic.
I cleared my throat and hurried back to my room. Ten minutes later, I was hurrying down the stairs in my work overalls, doing my hair as I went. Opening the front door, I spotted Roux on his way in from the stables.
Bene came up behind me with a sigh. “What page are we on on Mina’s job list? Thirteen?”
I laughed. “Thereabouts. I’m sure Roux knows.”
The man loved lists. It was a wonder my sister had hooked up with Marius instead of Roux.
Every beast in the Noah’s Ark of my shifter ancestry growled jealously.
Roux made his way toward us, wiping his hands on a rag. Then he slowed, stopped, and turned back toward the stables.
My first thought was, Did he forget something?
My second thought was, Great ass. Maybe even better than Clement’s.
“What’s that?” Bene pointed into the distance.
I adjusted my focus, spotting the flash of red and blue lights over by the caretaker’s cottage.
“Uh-oh,” Bene murmured.
Roux jogged a few steps toward them, then broke into an all-out sprint.
Bene and I followed. Several long minutes later, we reached the caretaker’s house where Henrik lived.
Decades ago, that building had been carved out of the grounds and sold to raise funds to maintain the rest of the estate, a decision my grandmother had quickly regretted.
Now it was owned by a stranger — the absentee landlord who rented the neglected place to Henrik.
I caught a whiff of Clement’s scent and assumed he was inside. But why?
“What’s going on?” I blurted to the police officer standing guard by the door. Not Clem’s usual partner, Monsieur Blanchet.
This guy was slimmer. Bigger. Tougher. A bear shifter, judging by the scent.
“Keep back, please.” He motioned briskly.
I stepped back and repeated myself. “What’s going on?”
My breath swirled in the frigid morning air.
“Police investigation, ma’am. Keep back. You too,” the guy growled at Bene.
Roux pulled him back, and Bene whispered in alarm. “Looks like they called out the big guns.”
They, who? And what big guns?
The two vehicles parked outside were both sleeker and sportier than Clement’s boxy patrol car. Both were marked with the logo of the DGSI — the French equivalent of the FBI, though the color scheme appeared reversed.
“Supernatural unit,” Roux whispered.
Bene retreated another step.
“I told you Clement isn’t regular law enforcement,” Roux hissed.
My heart nearly stopped. If so, this was bad. Very bad. For all of us, not just Henrik.
Voices carried down the stairs, one angry, one steady.
“This is ridiculous,” Henrik protested.
“Keep moving,” Clement grunted, sounding grimmer than I’d ever heard him.
“And keep those fangs retracted,” a third man ordered — another DGSI agent, I saw when they all emerged.
Not a bear shifter, I decided. A low-level warlock, judging by the shimmer around his shoulders.
“What’s happening, Clem?” I asked, though the handcuffs locking Henrik’s hands behind his back made that obvious.
“Not now, Geneviève.” Clem barely glanced at me, the way one ignored a pest or a child.
Every illusion I’d ever entertained about Clement shattered and rained down around me like shards of broken glass. Hurt — a lot of it — bubbled up in my soul. Then anger muscled in and took over.
Bene pulled me back, but I lunged forward. And, oh. A fit of magic must have given me a little boost, because I found myself standing firmly between the bear shifter, Henrik, and the door of the squad car.
“This is my property, dammit. I have a right to know what’s going on.” My voice rang out, silencing everyone.
So, yikes. I’d definitely had a Mina moment.
Then Clement looked at me.
“Monsieur Velchynsky is under arrest,” he gritted out.
“For what crime?” When I gestured, sparks jumped from my fingers. Whoa. Definitely a touched by magic moment.
The bear shifter glanced uneasily at the warlock.
Clement heaved a deep breath, then grunted, “For the murder of Claudette Villard.”