Page 11 of Icebound

She stared at him in confusion and dawning horror. One thing was certain—he truly didn’t remember her, and all her attempts to make him see the truth were falling on deaf ears. He would kill her, she thought. He would cut her throat and get rid of her body, but sooner or later, his memory would return and he would know he’d killed her. He wouldn’t be able to live with that.

“The truth is you look like my husband,” she said, steeling herself. “But I can see that you’re not him.”

He didn’t look particularly gratified. “Not the man in the picture—I told you that,”

“Well, I didn’t believe you,” she said wearily. “He’s been missing for weeks and I’m desperate to find him.”

“Chérie, if a man no longer wants you, you should just let him go.”

It felt worse than Flambeau’s fist. Was he telling her something? Was this a kind of code to get rid of her?

“But I love him,” she said helplessly.

“A Frenchwoman would have more dignity.”

“There is no dignity in love.”

“Ah, a philosopher. Are you ready to die for love, madame? Because that is what will happen to you, unless you tell me the truth.” His voice was silky smooth, the knife still dangerously close.

“I have told you the truth. That is a picture of my husband, who you can see looks very much like you. But he isn’t you, I can see that.”

“Can you, now?” he purred.

“And I need you to let me go so I can find him. I’m no harm to you—I don’t know who you are or what you are doing, and I couldn’t find you again if I tried. Just let me go.”

“I’m afraid not. Not until I’m satisfied you’re telling the truth.”

“But I am!”

“We’ll see.” He turned away from her, and she wanted to cry out his name, and he would laugh and say he knew her, and everything would be all right.

But her face was stiff from Flambeau’s blows, and she knew there was no easy answer. “Could you at least untie me?”

“And have you run away screaming for the gendarmes? I don’t think so.”

“I’ll stay put, if that’s what you want. I promise.”

“I’m not a man who believes in promises,” he said. And he walked out the door, leaving her alone with the bones once more.

“The house was closed up tight and there was no sign anyone had been there in days,” Anderson said, taking the seat across the desk from Peter Madsen.

Peter closed his eyes in intense frustration. “Are you sure? The place is a fortress, and it could look like no one’s there.”

Anderson shook his head. “I know when a place is abandoned, boss. She’s gone, and there was no way I could break in to see if I could find any clue to where she went.”

“Fuck,” Peter said succinctly.

“I should have gone sooner.”

“I doubt that would have helped,” Peter said, sitting back. “She’s somewhere in Europe, searching for him, and I haven’t any idea where. Probably Amsterdam. You need to get over there, see what you can find.”

“I’ll check flight manifests, see if I can track her. Assuming she travelled under her real name.”

“Bastien’s smart enough to have given her an alternative identity and the papers to prove it, but he probably didn’t tell her about it. Wherever he is, he doesn’t want to be found, and he’d never put Chloe in danger if he could help it. Check the security cameras at the airports, especially Amsterdam’s Schiphol. It’s not like she’s an operative—we’ll find her easily enough.” He just hoped he was right about that. Chloe had spent a harrowing time with Bastien years ago, barely surviving, and she’d had Bastien to look out for her. She’d be useless on her own.

She shouldn’t be that hard to find. Anderson could scoop her up and bring her to them, and she’d have a nice vacation in the English countryside with her children. But who the fuck was he kidding—as long as Bastien was missing, there’d be no nice vacation for anyone.

He had everyone looking for him—Taka in Japan, Reno in LA, MacGowan from his posh life in Pennsylvania. He even had Madame Lambert and Killian keeping an eye out, though they were so well-embedded in their current life that their resources were only enough to keep them safe. He didn’t hold out much hope. Bastien had disappeared completely, and a man with Bastien Toussaint’s past and skills could never be held against his will. Peter would keep on looking, but he had the gloomy belief that Bastien wouldn’t be found until he damned well wanted to be.