Chapter 4 #2
But Chloe wasn’t relieved. Luc looked like a graduate student, with his wire-rimmed glasses and scruffy hair, but he wasn’t her friend.
She glanced at Bastien, who sat engrossed in his papers, not bothering to look at her.
He’d clearly dismissed her from his mind, and Chloe wanted to call out to him.
It would do her no good. She had no choice but to wait till Bastien was ready to talk to her, obviously when his associates were gone.
She’d be patient, as she’d always had to be with him.
Getting details of his past out of him had been painful and sparse, but then, none of that had really mattered.
He’d been entirely open about their current life, and she’d made do with that.
The more she learned about his past, the more horrified she’d become, and she’d decided long ago that she was better off not knowing.
Now she wished she’d pushed harder. Maybe then she’d know why the name “Jean-Marc” sounded familiar.
She tried one last time. “Bastien,” she said, taking a step toward him.
Luc was faster. He’d whipped her back toward the door and she realized she’d mistaken another bad man for rescue.
Because that’s what they were, bad men without conscience or scruples.
And Bastien was the leader, looking at her now out of perfectly blank eyes.
In any other situation, she’d believe that he was a stranger, some odd doppelganger to her beloved Bastien.
But not this man with the distant expression in his eyes.
This was her husband, looking at her as if he’d never seen her before in his life.
And she was horribly afraid that he hadn’t.
“Tie her up and put her in the bone room,” Bastien said without looking up. “I’ll question her later.”
“Bone room?” Chloe echoed nervously.
Luc answered her. “Haven’t you heard about the catacombs of Paris? We’re off in a secluded branch of them, but we had to move the bones that were all around us. We piled them in a room at the back. Don’t worry—they’re the least likely thing to hurt you in this place.”
She glanced around her. These rooms may have been catacombs once, but clearly people had lived here off and on during the centuries. “Aren’t you afraid some tourists are going to get lost from the tour and show up here?”
“That would be too bad for them,” Flambeau said with a heartless laugh. He clamped his huge, rough hand on Chloe’s arm and pulled her away from Luc. “Come along, chickie. It’s the dead room for you. Sooner or later,” he added with an explosive laugh.
But Luc seemed to have lost interest, and Bastien was still perusing those damned papers. What could be that important? She tried one last time as Flambeau was dragging her from the room. “Bastien!”
“Shut up!” Flambeau knocked her sideways with his fist, and she went down on the hard stone floor, sprawling. He hauled her upright again, and she was dizzy from the blow, when the silent man deigned to speak to her.
“Madame, I am not your husband. I’ve never seen you before, and I don’t know where you got that picture, but it is definitely not me.
My name is not Bastien, and I suggest you come up with the truth very soon or it will go badly for you.
My friend Flambeau is not known for his tenderness with women, and I will turn him loose on you if you continue to lie. ”
The words were cold and clipped, in the slight French accent that was real, not feigned. He’d been a master of languages and accents as an operative for the Committee so long, long ago—it was no wonder he could sound truly French.
She was dizzy, in pain, and in despair, and she almost opened her mouth to call his name once more, but she shut it again without uttering a word. This man couldn’t be her husband, no matter how much he looked like him.
And then Flambeau dragged her from the room, farther into the murky darkness, and she wondered if she would ever see daylight again.
“You’re putting off the inevitable,” Luc said once they were alone in the room. “Why are you being so squeamish? You need to get rid of her, sooner rather than later. What’s the hold-up?”
Jean-Marc leaned back in his chair, entirely at ease. “You think I’m squeamish?” he said gently, and Luc flushed.
“Of course not. I misspoke. But why don’t we just get rid of her?”
“Maybe I just don’t want to see Flambeau get what he wants.”
“That’s hardly an excuse to keep her here. She could disrupt everything. Have Flambeau finish her, or I will.”
Jean-Marc just looked at him. “You’re more squeamish than I could ever be. You rescue street cats.”
“Maybe I like cats better than humans,” Luc countered.
“I don’t blame you. I want to find out what she knows first.”
“Well, then, ask her. I’ve seen you get information out of an unwilling subject—it wasn’t pretty. Is it because she’s a woman?”
Bastien cocked his head. “I’ve spent the last weeks planning how to kill a woman—I’m hardly likely to draw the line at some busybody American tourist.”
“Then let Flambeau finish her.”
“He’s not as good at extracting information. He’s got a heavy hand.”
Luc made an exasperated sound. “You sure you don’t recognize her? Someone from your murky past?”
Jean-Marc narrowed his eyes. “I wouldn’t have forgotten a wife. If I did, it would be Maddelena. This one might come in handy. If you’ve got a problem with that, then take it up with Le Faucon.”
“You know he’s impossible to find.”
“Then shut the fuck up.”
Luc stared at him. “Seems to me you’re awfully sensitive about—”
“Enough. A submissive woman might be useful in Bellagio. Have you forgotten? The invitation to the gala is for a couple. If I show up alone, it would cause talk, and I have every intention of getting in and out without being noticed.”
“You think bringing an unwilling hostage with you is going to make things easier?” Luc said. “She doesn’t strike me as particularly submissive. And she’s hardly going to stand by and let you shoot an international saint.”
Jean-Marc’s smile was chilling. “You’ve forgotten my notorious ways with women. She thinks I’m her missing husband. I’ll get her to do exactly as I want, and if she proves difficult, you can give her some of those little blue pills you feed me.”
Luc’s expression darkened. “Your memory’s not back completely. Those are supposed to be help—they’re hardly keeping you complacent. In fact, you’re foggy about the recent past. Who says you didn’t meet this woman at some point, marry her, and—”
“I’m already married. I don’t think I’d let that little detail slip my mind. This woman is a stranger, but she might come in handy. If not, I’ll give her to Flambeau. Just as long as he does it elsewhere—all that screaming might prove distracting and we’re running out of time.”
Luc let out an exasperated snort. “I think you knew that woman, during the time that’s all a convenient blur. I think she was someone who got close to you, and—”
“If I did know her and have somehow managed to forget her, it’s all the more reason to keep her around. She might have the answers to what happened to me.”
“Then ask the dumb bitch!”
Jean-Marc rose to his full height, and Luc took an involuntary step back. “Who is in charge here?” he said softly.
“You are,” Luc said immediately. “But I’m supposed to be looking after you, making things easier…”
“You’re pissing me the hell off.” His voice was low and cold, and Luc paled. Jean-Marc Clement was a very dangerous man, and he’d be a fool to forget that.
“Sorry, boss,” he said hastily. “You know what you’re doing.”
“Remember that,” Jean-Marc’s steely voice was soft, terrifying. “I’m going out to meet with Stephane…”
“But you’re not supposed to leave here,” Luc protested, then stopped.
“Since you’re so bewitched by my not-wife, it makes sense that I talk with the one man who’d know something about her. Nothing happens in this part of the city without Stephane being aware. Just make sure Flambeau behaves himself.”
“He’ll be easier to handle if you let him play a bit.”
He let out an exasperated sigh. “He’ll have his chance eventually. Right now, I have a use for her, assuming I can make her compliant enough. Flambeau will simply have to wait his turn.”
Luc whistled. “I guess she really isn’t important to you. Flambeau is a brute.”
“Her only use is what she might do later. If necessary, a taste of Flambeau should make her a lot more amenable, but I’m pretty good at making women do what I want.” And without another word, he walked out of the cavern, following the long, twisting corridors back to civilization.