Page 70 of Fuse

“Oui.” She pushes off the wall and starts a slow pace along the glass, gazing out at the summer sunshine as if every ray holds a shadowed memory—because it likely does. “For once in my life, I wanted to be one of the beautiful ones. But by the time I realized how huge a trap Faline had set, it was too late. At first, I was bound by financial obligations to the Consortium. They not only resolved my debts but paid for a life of luxury I had never known—as long as I repaid their investment with interest, of course. Once those debts were paid, I’d begun falling in love with Dario and would never think of leaving him in that place by himself.” Her shoulders jolt up, and she rocks her head back as if the reflected sunlight has become stabs of lightning. “Perhaps…they knew that somehow. Even back then…”

“I wouldn’t put it past Faline.” I sniff. “She might have known and then simply waited for the best moment to use it against you.”

She turns back, lifting one hand against the glass wall with enough pressure to form defined prints. “I would not put it past her, either.”

The snarl beneath her voice has me regarding the woman with distinctly new eyes. “You really do hate her as much as we all do.”

The woman doesn’t move a muscle. “Oui.”

“And you’ve hated her for a long damn time now. Even on that night when you and I first met…when you came into the Brocade and deliberately baited me about having been out with Reece earlier that night…”

Still not a single flinch. Until she finally confesses, “That week…I was not in my right mind. Faline promised me half the world if I helped her get Reece back. She was desperate and dangled the brightest rewards to gain my cooperation.” She blinks a few times. “And I just wanted to be done with all the dirty missions…”

As she tilts her head, seemingly to soothe her guilt, curiosity drives me to copy the action. “I don’t get it, though. That woman’s obsession with Reece…” I squirm from just having to voice it aloud for the first time, admitting that I’m hoping Angie will echo my puzzlement. I want to think Faline’s fixation is just a weird Svengalian thing, or perhaps an issue of pride because he escaped in the first place. But deep down, I sense it’s not. I sense it’s more. And damn it, that’s exactly what every terse line across her face confirms as well.

“Well.” Angie pulls her arms around herself, rubbing opposite shoulders. “It is most definitely an obsession.” She tips her head back the other way. “As I clearly learned when I failed the mission.”

As I fill in the inevitable, and awful, conclusion to that, it’s hard to keep looking at her—but with matching certainty, I know that Angie isn’t dredging this all up to throw it back in my face. It’s written across her face when she circles her regard back to me, her gaze glittering and her chest pumping.

“I have performed so many hideous tasks for that woman, Emma—and I am deeply sorry for all of them,” she grits out. “But right now, I am resolved to make her sorry for them too.” She drops her arms—with her hands already fisted. “More importantly, I am going to make her pay for them.”

Though I’m tempted to stumble backward, as if her declaration should make me reel, I’m not sure why. “Errrmm…excuse the freak out of me?” I face her fully, planting my feet wide with my arms at my sides. Fleetingly, I imagine Reece taking in my ready-for-anything superhero pose and then chuckling beneath his breath while ordering my clothes off with his eyes. Arrogant bastard. Beautiful soulmate. Live for my light, Reece. Hang on for me. Please hang on…

Angie indulges half a smile at my astonishment but only gives herself that one moment before going on. “I think I know where she is, Emma.”

And I reel. Oh, God…I knew it. “And it is a little closer than Barcelona?”

“Absolutement.” She squares her shoulders beneath her trendy pink blouse, wearing the frothy fabric as if it’s become battle leather. “Yesterday, as Reece and Kane were fighting, I heard her as loud as one of those helicopters circling the city.” Her confidence becomes a discernible vibe on the air. “It was her, Emmalina. I know it.”

“How?” I shake my head. “I mean, I’m not doubting that you heard something, but—”

“It sounded like a cat in heat crossed with a chainsaw.”

So much for the last drops of my skepticism. “Okay, so maybe it was her.”

“She was loud this time.” She fortifies her stance even more, banishing the last of the tears from her gaze. “And strong.” The tears vanish from her gaze, becoming the brilliant greens of Mademoiselle La Salle, world class femme fatale. “She was close, Emma—if I must be honest, closer than I wanted to admit at first.” The rest of her classic features align with the new sobriety in her stare. “But in this game, with these bastards, denial can bring disaster.”

I should probably borrow a good chunk of the woman’s gravity, but I’m too damn excited for the emo rock channel right now. I go straight for the stunned-but-excited gawk before charging, “Where? Can you home in the Angie Antenna to a more specific location than all of downtown?” Which is, according to the news updates scrolling on the muted TV I passed in the living room, still just a few red tags shy of a war zone—though to get my hands on Faline Garand, I’m more than ready for the risk.

Which is why I allow myself half a breath of relief as soon as Angie scoops her chin a little higher and gives in to half a grin. “I believe I can be very specific.”

“Okay…” I extend the second syllable, all but turning it into a full question.

Luckily, Angie doesn’t waste any more time on being coy. “Rancho Palos Verdes,” she declares.

“RPV.” I rock back on one foot while fully contemplating the answer. “Where the Consortium used to own a mansion…”

“In my name,” she fills in quickly. “Though it was, according to them, sold off a long time ago.”

“But you don’t know that for certain?” I press. “And how is that even possible?” Something about her somber reaction cranks the severity of mine. “If the deed was in your name, you had to sign the sale papers. They couldn’t have just…forged…” But I stammer to a halt from the second she jumps her eyebrows. “Oh, shit. They certainly could have.”

Though she hitches a casual shrug, the serious layer of her demeanor persists—to the point that I give in to a bugged stare while she takes a second before disclosing, “They waited for a while to tell me about the sale to my face.” Another casual-not-casual shrug. “It was the moment before they informed me about having killed Dario, as well. It was all very well calculated, I am sure. Their aim was clear, after all. To prove, at the best moment possible, that they could do whatever they wanted with my existence and get away with it.”

As I release a long breath, I let my shoulders sag by an inch. “No wonder you want to kill that woman.”

Her lips are back to their tense line. “Now more than ever.”

“And you need my help to do it.”