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Gabriel
“Three suspects were confirmed dead at the scene,” the late-night news anchor says robotically to the camera. Three unflattering mugshots pop up on the television screen.
I recognize every single one of them.
“Martin Jones, Harry Lim, and Laura Ortega are known to police,” the news anchor continues, “and were considered persons of interest to Interpol for several prolific heists spanning the last twenty-five years.”
Poor bastards, I think quietly to myself as I sip red wine. If only they had the good sense to quit while they were ahead like I did, maybe they wouldn’t be six feet under.
Penelope approaches from behind, clicking her tongue in disapproval. “Serves them right, I say. Honestly, what is the world coming to?”
“Is Odette asleep?” I ask her, paying her comments no mind.
“Out like a light, sir.”
The images on the television screen flash, a new picture coming into view. The image is grainy, but it’s very obviously of a young woman. It’s not just any young woman, either. When I squint, I can just barely make out the more prominent features of her face.
Raquel.
“Investigators are on the lookout for another suspect who currently remains at large. If you spot this individual, do not approach and contact the police immediately.”
“Good God,” Penelope mutters. “That’s her! The woman you’re hiding upstairs!”
I hush her calmly. “Quiet. You’ll wake Odette.”
The housekeeper storms around the back of the couch and stops right in front of me, blocking my line of sight. She shakes her head, her hands on her hips. “Monsieur Rochefort, I don’t know what’s going on, but that girl is clearly bad news. I don’t understand—”
“And you don’t need to,” I interrupt, standing up to peer down my nose at her. “I have the situation under control.”
“We need to call the police.”
“No.”
The old woman presses her lips into a thin line. “She is acriminal. A criminal sleeping right down the hall from your daughter. How can you possibly think any of this is okay?”
I don’t blame my housekeeper for being overly cautious. A normal person has every right to be freaked out in this situation. I, however, am not a normal person —though I certainly pretend to be. If Penelope knew the truth about who I was, I doubt she would have worked for me in the first place. She’s a good, honest woman. A civilian. And I’m…
“She isn’t a threat,” I state simply. “I’m asking you to trust me on this.”
Penelope stares me down, but I don’t budge. She’s a wide-eyed old dog trying to intimidate a grizzly bear. It takes a minute or two, but she eventually relents, throwing her hands up while cursing expletives under her breath.
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” she grumbles.
“I always do.”
* * *
While the rest of the household sleeps, I get to work.
Disposing of Raquel’s stolen vehicle is a huge pain in the ass. I spend the better part of an hour wiping down the inside with bleach to remove any traces of DNA before prying off the license plates and scratching out any identification numbers. By 2:00 a.m., the vehicle is dropped off at the nearest scrapyard, scheduled to be crushed into smithereens first thing in the morning. I should have done this the first day she got here, but I was preoccupied with making sure she didn’t die on me.
When I get home, I double check all the locks. The doors, the windows, everything. It’s not that far off from my usual nightly routine, but today, I’m especially on edge.
Something about Raquel bothers me. Every time I look at her, I get this strange sensation in my chest. She’s only been here for three days —and unconscious for the majority of it— but that’s all it took for her to completely occupy my thoughts. No matter how hard I try to stay objective, to keep a hard line between us, the more I crave.
I want to know about the heist in Paris. I want to learn more about the explosion that left her in such a state. I need to know why Chet would even consider letting his own daughter join his crew. If I were in charge, there’s no way in hell I’d let Odette anywhere near our line of work. Of all people, Chet should know how dangerous it is. Why would he risk putting a loved one in harm’s way?
Maybe that’s why I feel so… protective. I couldn’t bear the thought of anything happening to Odette. Perhaps I’m projecting onto Raquel now that she’s in my care.
