She spun on him and grabbed his hand. “Please. Leave my family alone. Please.”
“Start acting like you want them to live, and no one else will get hurt.” He yanked his arm away, removed the tragic news report from her view, took a sip of her coffee, and then left her alone to cry.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Henry fell asleep in Simon’s bed on a pile of dirty laundry. He woke as the sun squeezed a sliver of light through the window between the walls of the adjoining buildings. Simon was gone.
They’d spent the night working on ways to extract Alex from the house without Luc discovering them. The plan they’d devised required several days and a permanent hiding spot for Alex. It would work, if she cooperated. Henry doubted she would.
Simon had disappeared around midnight to find a bed at some woman named Valerie’s flat. He’d told Henry he’d return after a lunch meeting he didn’t seem particularly keen on attending. He had better refocus on helping Alex. Henry couldn’t wait for information about her until that evening, when Simon attended a dinner at Luc’s for a few players in the messed-up game of stolen art and illegal arms. Simon should be speaking to his contact on the inside and trying to catch a glimpse of her now, not later. Instead, at least twelve hours would elapse until Henry learned anything. Unacceptable.
He dressed quickly and stepped out into the spring air to organize his thoughts and rid his body of the stress hampering the mental acuity required to rescue her.
An hour and many blocks through Paris later, he strolled in front of Luc’s residence, a monster of a house framed with a large stone wall extending to each side and protected by cameras sitting in plain view to deter outsiders. Henry glanced around, searching for his best vantage point.
The café across the street was perfect. He hustled around oncoming traffic and chose an available table tucked under a large green awning. The previous patron had left a copy of the International New York Times under a half-drunk cup of coffee. Henry ordered a fresh cup of tea and pretended to read. Shadowing his face from the street traffic, he set to memorizing all the entrances visible to him and considered the best approach inside.
After an hour, a black Audi with tinted windows pulled into the driveway. Luc Perrault exited the car and headed to the front door. Henry fixated on Luc’s gait, his clothing, and his need for a shave. The urge to run across the street and plow his fist through the man’s nearly perfect features threatened to overwhelm him. He cracked his knuckles and prepared to move closer, but took a deep breath and sipped some tea instead. Simon would kill him for being in the neighborhood, but Henry trusted his instincts, which told him to observe, and if needed, act. He threw a few euros on the table and waited.
The front door of the house opened. A large man assisted Alex down the front walk. Seeing her pulled the tension from his chest, only to have it return when he saw the cast on her leg. She’d arrived on his doorstep a few weeks ago with broken ribs and a scarred neck.
Someone had hurt her again.
Short brown hair blew over her eyes as she negotiated the two stairs to the driveway with crutches. Her long pink skirt and pink flats projected a cheerful emotion, but not one spark of anything reflected in her eyes. Her face revealed no pain when she walked, but she was in her lady of the manor mode, quiet and deferential. If she drove away, Henry would miss the opportunity to know her motivation for leaving or if she had chosen to leave him voluntarily. A broken leg told him “no.” He jumped to his feet, forcing a friendly smile to appear on his face, and ran toward her.
“Alex.”
Her head lifted and jerked back in shock, probably at his bruised face and split lip. He continued across the street, narrowly avoided a honking car, and stopped breathless in front of the small group. Luc glared. The man with them, probably security, stepped toward Henry with a malevolent expression. Alex remained dumbstruck.
Luc held on to her elbow as more of a restraint than a support. “Can I help you?”
“I’m her cousin.”
Alex winced.
“A family relation? How convenient.” Luc seemed pleased to meet him. “Nice meeting you, Mr.…?”
“West. John West.”
Luc shook Henry’s hand, gripping it with excessive force that Henry matched. He tried to tame the anger in his eyes, leaving his handshake as the only warning he gave Luc. They released at the same time, like two boxers before the ring of the bell.
Henry focused on Alex, although it was difficult with the guard trying to step into his space. “I haven’t seen you in forever. You took off after that party at Belinda’s flat.”
She shrugged. “Zombie apocalypse. You can’t predict when those things will happen. I should have called.”
“I love a good family reunion.” Luc gestured to the guard to stand down, yet he still held Alex with a firm hand. “Where are you staying? Perhaps she can contact you tomorrow.”
Henry faced Alex. He wouldn’t release Simon’s location to anyone. “Same place as before.”
A slight smile sprouted on her face, until Luc wrapped his arm around her and led her toward the car.
“If you’ll excuse us, my wife and I are late for a lunch meeting.”
The world stopped spinning. Henry could barely breath. “Wife?”
Luc glanced at Alex. Her eyes focused toward the ground. When she looked up, her smile was cold and arrogant.
What the hell?
“We married a few days ago. A complete whirlwind romance.” She glanced toward Luc and smiled, but the smile seemed creepy and distorted.
Why would she marry the man who beat the hell out of her? Did she love him?