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“I’m not proud of it,” Gabriel says, his voice low and tight. He winces when he turns slightly to face me.
“Stop,” I warn. “You’ll pop a stitch.”
He works his jaw, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “It wasn’t an easy choice, Raquel. I have to save Odette, even at the cost of my friend’s life. Just as you have to save Chet at the cost of my daughter’s.”
My bottom lip trembles, a mounting pressure building inside my skull. Dammit, this is so fucking unfair. And worst of all? I kind of see where he’s coming from. Putting myself in his shoes, I can justify every action he’s taken and then some.
We both found ourselves between a rock and a hard place.
A wave of nausea hits me. I don’t know if it’s morning sickness or because this whole situation is so fucked up. I just barely manage to swallow the bitterness coating my tongue, taking a deep, careful breath.
I don’t want Lucius to kill my father, but I don’t want Favreaux to harm Odette. She’s just a sweet, innocent little girl and has nothing to do with this. Suddenly all of Gabriel’s angry early morning phone calls make a lot more sense. He wasn’t upset with Penelope —who, to my absolute horror, I now realize is dead— but with Favreaux, the man Gabriel turned in to the authorities.
An angry man is a scary thing.
A man thirsting for revenge is downright dangerous.
My black burner phone buzzes in my pocket, sending my heart into a panicked stutter.
This is it.
Gabriel watches me as I answer, waiting on bated breath.
“Lucius,” I greet harshly.
“Ah, you’re alive,” he says, sounding thoroughly pleased. “I take it you were successful?”
“I have it.”
“Meet me in Paris,” Lucius instructs. “At the warehouse where we prepared for the Picasso job. We’ll make our trade there.”
“Put Dad on the phone first,” I demand.
Lucius clicks his tongue condescendingly. “You’ve already kept me waiting long enough, Rocky. Bring the codes and you can have Daddy Dearest all to yourself.”
“I’m going to need a few days to drive back to France. I’m out in the middle of nowhere right now.”
“You have until New Year’s. After that, I'm cementing your father’s feet and dumping him in La Seine.”
The call ends with a harsh click.
New Year’s is in six days. With the amount of heat on us, getting through Switzerland, past the French-Swiss border and then all the way up to Paris is going to be one hell of a stressful trek.
Gabriel’s phone buzzes next. He winces when he moves to pick it up off the end table next to the couch. I set it there for him last night, dumping it in a bag of rice I managed to find in the cabin’s pantry. I’m glad both our devices still work considering our impromptu dunk into the mote.
Gabriel answers, his eyes on me the entire time. “Oui? Oui, je l’ai… D’accord.”
He hangs up.
Silence falls over us once again.
“You told him you have it, didn’t you?” I ask, just above a whisper.
He nods slowly. “He’ll kill Odette on the spot otherwise.”
“I don’t want to have to fight you.”
“Nor I you.”
