Chapter 17

SEVENTEEN

Sabella

The engine of a car sounds outside just as I'm finishing my breakfast in the kitchen. Angelo never visits during the day unless the children are here. Heidi normally comes late in the afternoon. The only other person who'd come around this early is Fabien.

I tense a little, remembering Angelo's order not to let Fabien visit alone. Too bad. Fabien became a friend. I'm not going to chase him away.

Already looking forward to the company, I go to the lounge and open the door with a smile. A white car with a rental company logo on the side pulls up. When the driver opens the door and steps out, my smile slips and my heart starts racing.

Lieutenant Lavigne.

Behind the aviator sunglasses, I recognize his face.

How did he find me? He probably asked around in the village where many people know I live here. Nothing stays secret in a small town.

He tilts his head and studies the house before shooting me a stilted grin. I clench my teeth and glare at him. Despite the unwelcome message my body language sends, he makes his way over, climbs the three steps, and stops in front of me.

Removing the glasses, he says, "Good morning, Mrs. Russo."

I take in his bloodshot eyes and leathery skin. He bears the marks of someone who works too much and doesn't take care of himself. I want to tell him to get out of my sight, but I know from experience he's a cop who doesn't stick to the rules. He's not going to turn around and leave politely. He'll force his way in if he must. It's best that I keep the upper hand for as long as I can, even if I have to pretend to be in control of the situation.

Not bothering with a greeting, I go back inside the house. He follows, leaving the door open. We measure each other in silence. The unpleasant memory of our first encounter stirs up my resentment and anger.

"It seems like you're doing well," he says, looking around the space.

I cut a gaze over his dusty suit pants and creased jacket. "I can't say the same for you."

A chuckle rumbles in his chest. "I had to catch an early flight. I've been up since four this morning."

I cock a hip. "Are you hoping for sympathy?"

An unfriendly smile splits his face. "I suppose that means you're not going to offer me breakfast." When I don't reply, he adds in a mock-hopeful tone, "Coffee?"

"You do realize my husband knows that you're here." Heading toward the kitchen, I add over my shoulder, "He's having the house watched."

His steps fall on the floor behind me. I pour a mug of coffee and push it into his hand. I may hate his guts, but with his murky eyes and the dark rings marring them, it looks as if he hasn't slept in days.

"There's sugar on the table and milk in the fridge," I say.

He blows on the coffee. "Thanks." The smirk that pulls his lips over his teeth is anything but grateful. It's rather taunting as he holds my gaze over the rim. "I take mine bitter and black."

I cross my arms. "What do you want?"

He takes a sip of coffee and casts a glance at the ceiling. "If your husband is having the house watched like you said, it's strange that he hasn't shown up yet or sent someone to drag me off his property."

The same thought crossed my mind, but I don't express it. I don't want to give him the benefit of knowing my doubts.

"He's probably got cameras in the house," he says in a tone too casual for the heaviness of his declaration.

I try not to show him how much that statement shocks me, not that it should. It sounds like something Angelo would do. Why haven't I considered that earlier? I mentally kick myself for the oversight.

As I suddenly remember the phone I hid in the vent, every muscle in my body tenses. Why hasn't Angelo confronted me? There are only two plausible explanations. Either there's no cameras, or he hasn't seen that part of the recorded feed. But the most pressing question is why Angelo is allowing the lieutenant near me when he's so certain I'll betray him. If he knew when Johan showed up, he must know the lieutenant is here. Angelo's guards would've alerted him.

I'm still pondering that when Lieutenant Lavigne says, "Let's get some air."

He leads the way, opening the kitchen door and stepping outside. He doesn't stop on the veranda. He walks all the way to the edge of the cliff and stands there facing the view with the mug in his hand.

I'm reluctant to follow, but my curiosity gets the better of me. Did he come to make another deal or to threaten me? Did he uncover something? I keep a small distance between us, looking at the flat surface of the sea and the sun rays bouncing off the water, but my mind isn't on the pretty scene.

Did Angelo hope I'd betray him? Is this a test? Is that why he's allowing Lieutenant Lavigne's unannounced call? Because he could monitor our conversation via the spyware he secretly installed? Well, the joke is on him, because he can't listen in on us now. I'm surprised his men haven't showed up the minute we exited the house. Maybe they're on their way. Maybe they're planning an ambush.

I'm so consumed by my thoughts that I jump when Lieutenant Lavigne speaks.

"Your husband must be very jealous."

I give him a cutting look.

He drinks his coffee and smiles as if butter won't melt in his mouth before adding by way of an explanation, "The cameras."

"I suggest you finish your coffee. You have a long drive to the airport."

He utters a humorless laugh. "Does that mean you changed your mind?"

"About what?"

All traces of fake amiability vanish from his face. "Don't toy with me, Mrs. Russo. You'll find I'm a man of little patience."

"Toy with you? You're the one who showed up uninvited."

He narrows his eyes. "Are you saying you didn't send me a message?"

"A message?" I exclaim. "Why would I do that? You're the last person on Earth I want to see."

"So," he says slowly, scrutinizing me. "You don't have information for me?"

I ball my hands at my sides. "I already told you when you interrogated me, and I'll tell you again. I have nothing to say to you. There's no information to give you, and even if there was, I'd never give you anything on my husband."

He steps closer. "Did he threaten you? He found out what you're up to. Is that it?"

Yes, Angelo threatened me. Yes, he believes I'm up to something. But no, that's not it. Not even close. I give an internal start as the realization dawns. I don't want to send him to prison. The thought of him being locked up behind bars for the rest of his life physically hurts. The mental image jars me so much that the truth hits me like a sucker punch.

I can never betray him, not because I'm scared of the consequences but because I care. Despite everything, I still care about him. I've seen the man inside the monster. He showed himself to me on many occasions of which none can be clearer than when he made himself vulnerable by admitting he always chose me. But perhaps the most shocking insight of all is that I love both the man and the monster.

"I'm right," Lieutenant Lavigne says with a smug expression.

I back away. "You should go."

"I can guarantee your safety if that's what you're worried about. Witness protection and amnesty for you and your family like I promised."

"I'm not going to repeat myself."

"Are you sure about that? If you blow me off today, I won't give you another chance."

"You heard me. I suggest you take care on your way back. As you said, my husband is jealous."

He invades my private space. "Oh, come on." He chuckles. "You're not still angry about the full-body search, are you? Did having to strip naked and bend over wound your pride?"

Conjured by his words, the humiliation of that day crashes over me anew. "Go to hell."

He nods several times, watching me with a condescending look. "Just remember what I said. If he goes down, so do you."

"Goodbye, Lieutenant Lavigne."

He dumps the rest of the coffee on the ground and shoves the mug into my hand. "Just for the record…" Caressing my face with a leering gaze, he continues, "I watched when that female officer shoved her fingers in your cunt and up your ass."

My mouth drops open at his brutal crudeness. Flames erupt over my cheeks.

Having dealt that low blow, he turns and strolls away, his snicker lingering in my ears as he rounds the corner of the house.

How can he be so crass? Isn't he ashamed of himself? Then again, just because he's fighting on the right side of the law doesn't mean his methods are clean. He proved that in Marseille. He's nothing if not as determined as Angelo. He'll deploy any weapon and any means to achieve his goal, even if he has to use innocent people. He's not the savior he pretends to be. I'm not that stupid. To him, I'm nothing but collateral damage.

Seething with anger, I go inside. Embarrassment burns hot under my skin, but I'm shivering like a cold person.

I play our meeting over in my head, thinking what I could've said or done better. As I dissect our conversation, another disturbing thought enters my mind.

If I didn't send that message to Lieutenant Lavigne, who did?