More tremors coursed through Chaisley’s body.Dear Lord, help me.
The Führer’s manipulative words made her stomach roil. And it wasn’t just his putrid breath.
She was a trophy to him. For now. Which meant it was time.
Let the finest concerto of her life begin...
chapter
Seven
Why on earth would theFührerwant to applaud that woman? She was blind.Blind!
It had been torture to sit through an entire concert where everyone cheered and clapped. It didn’t matter that she could play the piano. It didn’t matter that she was beautiful. It didn’t even matter that she had German blood in her.
She was imperfect. Flawed.
Crippled.
Just like the paper said.
But when the Führer came back to his seat after speaking to the woman onstage, he’d told him to find a way to bring her to play for his inner circle back in Berlin.
Why?
It made his skin crawl.
It didn’t help that the pianist’s man—whoever he was—kept looking in his direction. And that woman who came out at the end. Who was she? Why did she look familiar?
The whole thing irritated him.
If they were going to purify the world, their focus needed to be sharp and on target.
It was a good thing he’d been promoted.
Hitler needed him.
To stay the course. To weed out the imperfect. To cleanse the scourge from this earth once and for all.
Rick drove awayfrom the concert hall biting his tongue as Melanie and Chaisley spoke in hushed French in the back seat.
It didn’t matter that Chaisley thought pretending to be on Hitler’s good side might give her some kind of advantage along the way. Yes, she’d left the door open to be invited to play for him again. Yes, that might give Rick an opportunity to gain valuable intel. But this was dangerous. Every hair on the back of his neck stood up when the man approached her.
Pure. Evil.
As a spy, he wanted to applaud her and think about all the ways they could gather information. But since he’d gotten to know her a little better, he wanted to protect her. Not spy on her. Not help her play concerts for Hitler.
He wanted to shake some sense into her.
It didn’t sound like Melanie was all that pleased with Chaisley either. Especially since this had apparently been a decision she’d made on her own.
Everything he picked up now from their conversation told him the women had been informed that something much worse was coming. Chaisley was talking of preparing for it.
Her tone changed as she talked about someone named Mary Beth? A child? Wasn’t Melanie’s mother also named Mary Beth? But that couldn’t be her—Melanie’s mother had died. These women were determined to find and help someone else with that name.
It was so frustrating not knowing the whole story. But how could he find out?
Melanie would fight tooth and nail for her friend—that much was all too apparent.
