Page 65 of Icebound

“You’re lying!” He shook her again, then let go of her, and she went sprawling on the tiled floor. He yanked on his clothes, heading for the door. She couldn’t be dead—he would know. He didn’t know how, but he would have felt it. And he was being a sentimental fool. What was one woman, more or less? He’d never cared that much for anyone, and there was no reason he should feel that way for Chloe.

But reasonable or not, he was numb with fury. He slammed the door open and stalked down the long hallways to Luc’s room.

Luc woke with the barrel of a gun pressed against his temple. His eyes shot open, and he looked up at Jean-Marc standing there, murder in his eyes. “Did you kill her?” Jean-Marc demanded.

Luc froze. The wrong move and he’d be very dead. Jean-Marc was looking insane with rage, and Luc knew his life hung in the balance.

He didn’t make the mistake of lying, though Le Fauçon would chew his ass for it. “She’s not dead,” he said quietly.

Jean-Marc didn’t move the gun from his head. “Where is she?”

“It’s not my fault,” Luc said. “Le Fauçon wanted me to get rid of her, but I was afraid you’d find out and go ballistic. It was easy enough to talk him into imprisoning her instead, though now I wonder if I should have. You’re way too caught up in that woman, and it’s dangerous. We don’t really know who she is.”

He pressed the gun harder against his head. “Where is she?” he demanded again.

“She’s here. She’s locked in the basement. Le Fauçon wanted her dead, but I argued for her. It’s because of me that she’s still alive.” If he thought that would inspire Jean-Marc to move the gun, he was mistaken.

“Get up.”

Luc moved very carefully, sliding out of the bed. He was wearing his boxers and nothing else. “Let me get dressed and I’ll take you to her,” he said.

“Fuck that. You’ll take me to her now.” He grabbed his arm and shoved him.

“Don’t tell him.” Maddelena had arrived by now, swaying slightly. “He doesn’t really care about her—he’d just doing this to hurt me.”

Jean-Marc looked at her in disgust. “Go back to whatever bed you can find, Maddelena. This doesn’t concern you.”

“She’s stolen my husband!” she complained blearily.

“I was never yours to begin with.” He pushed her out of the doorway, then gestured with his gun to Luc. “Now.” His voice was soft, low and deadly, and Luc didn’t hesitate, heading out the door. Jean-Marc followed close, and Maddelena was left behind, weeping drunkenly.

“Better not bring her back,” she called after them. “My father won’t like it.”

“Fuck your father, and fuck you,” he said, and they were gone.

Chapter

Twenty

The noise at the door tore Chloe from her fitful sleep, and she froze. She knew this was going to happen—someone was coming to hurt her, maybe kill her, and there was nothing she could do about it. Scrambling off the cot, she backed into the far corner of the room, crouching to fend off whatever was coming.

The door slammed open, and Bastien stood there, fury practically vibrating through him. For a moment, her heart stopped. He wouldn’t be the one to kill her, would he? He was the one who’d ordered her locked away—why would he care one way or another?

He strode into the room, and she cowered in the corner. He had a gun in his hand…

Which he tucked in the back of his pants as he approached her, the way one would approach a wild animal. “Did anyone hurt you?” he asked gently, squatting down in front of her.

She looked at him warily, then shook her head. “You told them to lock me up…”

“I did not. I told Luc to put you on a plane to America,” he said, and she knew it was the truth. “He was supposed to provide you with a passport and enough money to get home.” He put out his hand to her, and she hesitated, then let him pull her up. “Can you walk?”

He could carry her—he was strong enough—and she really liked the idea, but she resisted. “Yes,” she said. “Where are we going?”

“Back to my rooms.” She heard Maddelena let out a shriek of rage in the background and realized they weren’t alone. Luc was there as well, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers, and she wanted them all gone.

“Okay,” she said quietly. For the first time in three days, she felt safe, and she took a hesitant step forward. She’d underestimated her strength—her legs were shaky and she felt dizzy, and Bastien scooped her up into his arms, and she was home again.

He carried her through the long hallways effortlessly, but once they reached the main part of the house, she offered to walk. He simply held her tighter, moving through the place with determination, until they reached his rooms.