Page 70 of Icebound

Apparently, Le Fauçon agreed with her. “I would have thought you’d guess who your next target is, giving our recent debacle. It’s a man named Peter Madsen.”

Chapter

Twenty-One

“Who’s Peter Madsen?” Bastien said, looking startled.

“He’s the man who tried to kill you at the gala. He’s head of an operation that’s been a pain in my behind for years now. It’s past time for him to go. He has an office in London where you can do the deed. If there are any problems, you can always go out to his home in Hampshire, but he has half a dozen children hanging around. I’m not particularly averse to collateral damage, but it would make things easier if you just took care of him in London. People do get so upset about dead children.”

“I’ve told you before—no children,” Bastien said, still sounding confused by this latest task. He clearly had no idea who Madsen or the Committee were, but it seemed as if something had struck a chord in his tangled brain. He shook his head as if to clear it and focused on Le Fauçon. “If I can’t take care of him at his office, I’ll do it elsewhere.”

“You’re a sentimental fool,” Le Fauçon said genially, with no sting in his voice. “Next, you’ll be telling me you won’t kill women. Or dogs.”

“No dogs either. As for women, I could care less.”

Chloe felt a shiver run down her spine. He sounded cold and heartless, and yet that last night they spent together...

What the hell was going on? If Bastien really had amnesia, then he wouldn’t react to Peter’s name, but she could swear he’d had some kind of recognition. Or maybe it was her own hope, a commodity that was getting harder and harder to come by. She’d come to the conclusion that this was more than simple amnesia. Someone was manipulating him, everyone was lying. There would have been no chance for him to marry Maddelena in the short time he’d been away from her, and his relationship with Le Fauçon and Luc was clearly a long-standing one. It made no sense, but someone, somewhere, was pulling the strings. It had been Le Fauçon’s name that had set Bastien on his odyssey, and it made no sense that he acted as though he’d been doing this for years.

Le Fauçon must be behind it. All of them were lying to Bastien, lying to her. She had the very unpleasant suspicion that they had no intention of letting her go. Ever.

That was all right—she didn’t want to leave Bastien, for fear she’d never find him again. She would wait, and be as docile as she could be, and just hope that Bastien would remember his real life, and her. This was the first sign of memory, as infinitesimal as it was.

“I’ll do it,” he said. “But first, Chloe has to be returned to the States. I can drop her off at an airport on my way to London, but I’m not going until I’m certain she’s taken care of.”

“She’ll be very well taken care of, right here,” Le Fauçon said in his plummy voice. “When you return from killing Madsen, you can take her to whatever airport you want. Or keep her with you, since you seem so determined to protect her.”

‘Is there something I need to protect her from?” Bastien asked silkily.

“Not at all, my boy. You know you can trust me to look out for her. And the job shouldn’t take you long. You’ll be back here in no time, and then you can take her away from us.”

“Why does this feel like a threat?” He wasn’t looking at her, but Chloe could feel his attention centered firmly on her.

“Nothing of the kind, old chap. I wouldn’t make the mistake of threatening you. But Madsen needs to be dealt with quickly, and I don’t want you distracted, as charming a distraction as Miss Chloe is.”

Chloe resisted the impulse to growl. She didn’t trust Le Fauçon, or Luc for that matter, and she suspected Bastien didn’t either. But he sat back, nodding. “Is this a solo operation, or is Luc coming along?”

Le Fauçon gave him a toothy smile. “You don’t need Luc’s help in such a simple mission. You should be in and out in no time, and back here to love’s young dream.”

“He’s not coming back to her,” Maddelena said in a high-pitched voice at odds with her usually sultry contralto.

“My dear, control yourself. If Bastien has chosen her, there’s nothing you can do but wait until he loses interest. He always does. No offence, Miss Chloe.”

“None taken,” she said through gritted teeth. “It sounds as if your daughter’s going to have to get used to someone supplanting her.”

“Bitch!” Maddelena spat, and threw her glass of wine at Chloe, crystal and all, but Chloe managed to duck and the glass shattered on the tiled floor.

“Your aim needs to improve,” she said sweetly. “Or your taste in men.”

“Jean-Marc!” Le Fauçon’s voice was plaintive. “Why can’t you keep your willy in your pants? You know my daughter is a jealous female.”

“I work for you, not your daughter. Come along, chérie,” he said, rising and holding out a hand to Chloe.

They were back to chérie, and probably bébé, and mon ange. It didn’t matter. She was holding on to the first sign of memory she’d seen, as slight as it was. He knew the name Peter Madsen. Was it familiar enough to keep him from killing his best friend?

“I thought I made it clear, Jean-Marc.” Le Fauçon’s voice was unctuous. “She’ll be sleeping alone while she’s here. I can’t have jealous women interfering with our plans.”

“Talk to your daughter about that,” Bastien said coldly, taking her hand in his large, strong one. “And I’ll sleep where I please.”