Page 87 of Icebound

“Sorry, chérie,” Luc said, before he tied the gag around her face. It bit into the sides of her mouth, and she wanted to scream, to see if any noise came out, but she didn’t dare. She’d have to wait for Bastien to come.

And he would come. Those fools thought they’d get him back on their filthy drugs, but they didn’t know Bastien as well as they thought they did. They wouldn’t get near him.

She had no sense of time. It could be early evening; it could be after midnight. It was dark past the windows, and she was more aware of the boat rocking gently on the water of the Thames, the smell of the docks, slightly dank and rotten. They were on some sort of yacht, and she wondered where the crew was. Given the size of the room, it was too big for Luc to manage on his own, and she couldn’t imagine Le Fauçon was going to be of any use. Maybe they expected Bastien to sail it, but it was more likely the crew was out on the town.

He didn’t come. It seemed as if hours passed, though her current uncomfortable position might have contributed to that feeling. She kept her hands in her lap, her fingers working on the knots, trying to loosen them, as she watched Le Fauçon pace around the salon, getting more and more edgy as time went on.

“Will you stop pacing!” Luc snapped, surprising her. Le Fauçon was his employer, wasn’t he? That was hardly the way to talk to a man who held life and death over you.

“Where the hell is he?” Le Fauçon said fretfully. “He should have been here by now.”

“He’ll know it’s a trap,” said Luc. “He’ll be figuring out the best way to approach us.”

“But what if he brings others with him? We told him to come alone or we’d slit her throat, and he’s not about to risk that. But he’ll be furious that we’ve taken her, and he might not be thinking clearly.”

“Jean-Marc always thinks clearly, not with his dick.” Luc said. “And if he brings anyone with him, our guards will take care of them.”

“What if they kill Jean-Marc by accident?” Le Fauçon fussed.

“Then we cut Chloe’s throat and drop her overboard and we sail away. We can find someone else with his special gifts.”

“I don’t think so,” Le Fauçon insisted. “He doesn’t have his reputation for nothing.”

“The guards will stop anyone he brings with him and they have orders not to interfere with him.”

“Was that wise? He’s going to be very, very angry. He’s irrational where that girl is concerned.”

Woman, Chloe thought defiantly, working the ropes with her long fingers. They almost felt as if they were beginning to loosen, but she didn’t know if that was simply wishful thinking.

“That’s exactly why we took her,” Luc said patiently. “Why I made sure he kept her with us when we went to Como. It will upset his equilibrium, and he’ll be so desperate to get her safely away from us that he won’t be thinking clearly.”

“He’s a dangerous man,” Le Fauçon warned him.

“Granted. But he’s not going to risk Chloe’s life. He’ll try to negotiate, not come in guns a-blazing like some terminator.”

“Maybe,” said Le Fauçon. “I don’t think you should underestimate him.”

“I never have.”

The rope came loose, but she kept her hands together as if they were still tied. At this point, there wasn’t much she could do with her hands free, but she could count on the element of surprise. She desperately wanted to rip off her gag, but she remained totally still, her head slightly bowed, the perfect image of lost hope.

As Luc and Le Fauçon continued to bicker, Chloe took in her surroundings. There were two doors to the salon—one at the far end, another in the middle of the cabin, near her. If they went to the farthest one, she could possibly make it out the other door and over the side of the boat. The idea of immersing herself in the Thames was far from appealing, but a definite improvement on having her throat slashed. Given her choice of execution, she’d rather be shot—it would be faster, neater. She didn’t think they were going to ask her preference.

“What was that?” Le Fauçon demanded suddenly.

“What was what?” Luc said irritably.

“That noise. It sounded like someone falling.”

“You’re imagining things.”

“I heard someone fall. Check with the guards.”

“And alert him? I don’t think so. We wait.”

“I don’t like waiting,” Le Fauçon whined.

“Tough. Unless you want to take off now with no crew and Chloe as our hostage. Then we could be sure Jean-Marc would follow us, but we wouldn’t be in such a protected position.”