Chapter 20 #2
Chloe sat up, bleary-eyed, and stared at Bastien. She’d slept like the dead, and hours must have passed. “What time is it?”
“You’ve slept the day away. We’re being summoned to dine with Le Faucon.”
“Who’s Le Faucon?” She pushed her hair out of her eyes.
“My boss.”
“The man who sent you to kill LaDonna?”
“The same. Behave yourself or you’ll end up back in that room downstairs.”
“No, I won’t. You’d rescue me.”
“Don’t count on it.” He came over to the bed. “You’ll have to wear what you’re wearing—we have no clothes for you. You wouldn’t fit in Maddelena’s, and she wouldn’t offer them.”
“No, I imagine not. Why does she hate me so much?”
“Don’t be na?ve. You know perfectly well why.”
“Because you like me?”
“Because I’m fucking you,” he said bluntly. “Get up—we’re late.”
After such tender words, she was tempted to take all the time she could, but she didn’t quite dare.
Her hair was a tousled mess, the sweats were too big on her, but she’d have to make do.
She wanted to meet the man who brokered murders of innocent women, who’d sent her to that horrible little room.
She hadn’t dealt with someone of such unregenerate evil in more than fifteen years, and whether she was ready or not, she was willing to face the monster behind all that had happened to her.
The man looked like a teddy bear. “There you are, my boy,” he greeted Bastien in his plummy English accent.
He looked like an elderly British politician, all benevolent smiles in his white suit, and Chloe was reminded of Sidney Greenstreet in “Casablanca.” “And who’s this little waif you’ve brought with you? ”
“Chloe Toussaint,” he said. “This is Sir Horace Appleby.”
“Le Faucon,” she said, and held out her hand. “I’m the one you had imprisoned in the basement.”
She was rewarded with a hearty laugh. “I see why you like her, Jean-Marc. She’s very outspoken. My dear, I’m sorry for the necessity but I wasn’t here to ascertain how dangerous you were, and it seemed prudent.”
“Don’t apologize to her!” Maddelena snapped from the white cushions she was lounging on. “I don’t trust her.”
“You don’t like her because she’s got your man,” the old man said with a cheery disregard for her feelings. “I thought I brought you up to be a gracious loser.”
“I haven’t lost!” she shot back. “He’ll tire of her, sooner or later, as he’s tired of all the others. He’s mine, and nothing will change that.”
Chloe couldn’t resist the temptation—she turned to face Maddelena and smiled a maddening smile. “I don’t think so,” she said sweetly.
“You bitch!” Maddelena spat, but the man known as Le Faucon simply tutted like an elderly schoolmarm.
“Jean-Marc, control your women,” he said easily. “I wouldn’t like to step in.”
“That’s exactly what you should do!” Maddelena screeched. “You can’t let him parade her around in front of me, his wife! Do something about it!”
“Calm down. No one will be parading anyone around. Jean-Marc will not be sharing her room. He’s going to move his things to another bedroom.”
She didn’t look mollified. “Which one?”
“A bedroom that will be off-limits to you as well. I can’t have these soap operas interfering with my organization.” He turned to Chloe. “I apologize for my daughter’s behavior. She’s been far too indulged, and he is, after all, her husband.”
She was so tempted to say, “no, he’s not, he’s mine,” but she resisted the impulse. This was no cuddly teddy bear of a man, despite what he seemed, this was a monster. She smiled politely, her expression hardening as Luc walked into the room.
“Sorry I’m late,” he said. “I had some loose ends to tie up.”
She could just imagine what kind of loose ends he dealt with. Her sense of betrayal was huge, and she looked at him stonily.
But Luc wasn’t easily cowed. “I’m sorry I had to do that to you, Chloe,” he said earnestly. “I wasn’t happy about it. I spent the whole trip trying to figure out a way around it.”
It was reasonable, explaining away his sullen attitude during the endless drive, and he looked like the man she had almost trusted. She didn’t trust him now.
Her smile was brittle. “It wasn’t your decision,” she said, and Le Faucon laughed.
“She really is delightful, Jean-Marc. She’ll keep you on your toes.”
“She is not delightful!” Maddelena fumed. “She’s stupid and skinny and has a big ass and no tits! She’s nothing!”
Since Chloe was a respectable 34C after having children, she paid no attention. And Bastien had always liked her ass.
“My dear, behave yourself,” Le Faucon said reprovingly. “She is a guest.”
Chloe nearly laughed out loud. Some guest! But Bastien must have read her mind, for he immediately intervened. “I want to fly her out of here, Jefe,” he said. “As soon as I can.”
“I’m afraid that’s not possible, my boy,” he said affably. “She knows too much. We can’t have her telling everyone about this place, this organization. We’ve worked too hard to put everything at risk.”
“She won’t say anything,” Bastien insisted, but Le Faucon simply shook his head.
“We can revisit this later. In the meantime, we have more than enough room, and she’s absolutely delightful.”
If he called her delightful one more time, she was going to scream, Chloe thought. She scowled at the man, and he chuckled before continuing. “Besides, I have a new job for you, one that’s top priority, and I can’t afford to have you moping about. You’ll know that she’s safe enough here.”
“No, she’s not!” Maddelena snapped.
“Maddelena.” The reprimand was no longer indulgent. He surveyed them all. “Let’s go into dinner and we can talk about this.”
And Chloe remembered she was famished. She hoped the cook didn’t serve that same disgusting stew to the household, but she needn’t have worried.
The table in the adjoining dining room was set with silver and linen, and the food was solidly English, blandly so.
At least it was recognizable, and she did her best to keep from falling on her plate with relief and starvation.
Instead, she sat and ate, steadily, watching and listening.
She’d never really been afraid when she was being held by Bastien—she had believed, deep in her heart, that he wouldn’t hurt her.
Le Faucon was a different matter. Despite his jovial attitude and heavy-handed charm, she sensed he was a very dangerous man, and she wouldn’t be able to escape even if she wanted to leave Bastien.
It was hard to believe it had been less than two weeks ago that she’d left North Carolina. She missed her children, but she couldn’t allow herself to think about them. It was too painful. She simply had to trust they were in a good place. She knew, without a doubt, that she wasn’t.
“So, what is this new job you have for us, Jefe?” Luc asked, moving marginally away from Maddelena on his right side. She glowered magnificently.
“It won’t be an easy one, but then, we aren’t employed to do the easy ones. I have yet to congratulate you on your excellent job at Lake Como. You rescued the fat from the fire quite handily.”
“It had to be done, and I couldn’t find Jean-Marc.”
Le Faucon had tucked a linen napkin across his impressive paunch. “That reminds me. Where were you, Jean-Marc, while Luc was finishing your job?”
In bed with me, Chloe thought. And then his words sank in. “Ba…Jean-Marc didn’t kill LaDonna?”
“I’m afraid he failed me. Luc had to take care of business, which he did most efficiently.” Le Faucon’s voice was bland, and Luc preened under the praise. “He’s been quite good at taking care of any business that Jean-Marc might have overlooked. Like you, my dear.”
Overlooked business was an ominous phrase for her, and she glanced at Bastien. He didn’t look moved by the subtle reprimand, but Chloe could feel his tension.
As for herself, she was over the moon. He hadn’t been the one to kill LaDonna, he hadn’t wiped out all the goodness from the earth. There was still salvation in him.
There would always be salvation. But sooner or later, he would remember who he was, know what he had done, and he would have to live with that. She knew he already had souls that weighed on him in times of darkness. She desperately didn’t want him to add any more.
Clearly Le Faucon had other ideas. “This next job will be an extremely tricky one, for Jean-Marc alone, and I can’t allow for any mistakes. It will take all of his ingenuity to carry it off.”
Chloe didn’t miss Luc’s look of disappointment, and she knew she was right not to trust him. He was perfectly ready, even eager to kill. “Who’s hired us this time?” he asked.
Le Faucon frowned. “You know I don’t like to give you that information, if you don’t need to know it to complete the mission. But in this case, I don’t mind—I have decided this man must go.”
“Who is he?”
“We can talk about it another time,” Bastien interrupted them. “The less Chloe knows about our business, the better.”
Chloe suspected it was already too late, but she said nothing, watching everyone carefully.
Apparently, Le Faucon agreed with her. “I would have thought you’d guess who your next target is, giving our recent debacle. It’s a man named Peter Madsen.”