AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“You do not know me. I fail to see what a meeting would accomplish in the way of reassurance.”
He was right about that, but she was already reassured. If Rodrigo had been the one making the call, he’d have jumped at her proposal for a meeting. Sending someone else to meet her, drawing her into the trap by using someone she didn’t recognize, would have been a simple matter. This man was notRodrigo, and wasn’t working with Rodrigo.
She started to say that he was right, a meeting wasn’t necessary, but Swain made an urgent signal and mouthed, “Meeting,” then nodded his head. He wanted her to insist on the meeting.
She couldn’t think of any reason why, but she shrugged and went along with him. “I want to see your face. You know mine, don’t you?”
The caller hesitated, and she knew she’d guessed right. “What does it matter if you know my face? I could tell you any name and you would not know the truth.”
That, too, was true, and she couldn’t think of any logical reason for continuing to insist, so she went with illogic. “That’s my condition,” she said abruptly. “Accept or decline.”
She heard him draw a deep, frustrated breath. “I accep
t. I will be in front of the Jardin du Palais Royal tomorrow at two o’clock. Wear a red scarf and I will find you. Come alone.”
Swain shook his head, a determined expression on his face that told Lily he wouldn’t budge on this.
“No,” she said. “A friend will be with me. He insists. You are in no danger from me, monsieur, and he wants to be certain I am in no danger from you.”
The man laughed, which was transformed by electronics into a harsh, barking sound. “You are difficult. Very well, mademoiselle. Are there any other conditions?”
“Yes,” she said, just to be contrary. “You wear a red scarf, too.”
He laughed again and cut the connection. Lily closed the phone and blew out a breath. “It isn’t Rodrigo,” she said unnecessarily.
“Seems not. That’s good. We may actually be getting a break.”
“Why do you want to be there?”
“Because a man that reluctant to meet has something to hide, and I don’t trust him.” He picked up her coffee and handed it to her, then winked. “Guess what this means.”
Lily blinked, still so focused on the call and its implications that she was at sea. “What?” she asked, bewildered.
“It means we have today.” He clicked his coffee cup against hers in a salute. “And tonight.”
With nothing to do but enjoy each other, he meant. A slow smile curved her lips. Moving to the window, she opened the curtains and looked out at the brightly sunny day. “If you get bored, we can make that trip to Disneyland,” she said. She thought she could do it now, and enjoy the memories of Zia rather than suffering from them.
“Can you go naked there?” he asked, sipping his coffee.
Knowing exactly where this conversation was going, she pursed her lips and said, “Not likely.”
“Then I’m not leaving this room.”
28
The next day, Saturday, was another cool, sunny day that brought the tourists out in droves. Swain had thought tourists would have been thin on the ground this time of year, but evidently not. A lot of them had evidently felt the need to see the Royal Palace gardens, or maybe there was some sort of festival going on. There had to be something to account for the crowds.
Unfortunately, “in front of” the gardens turned out to be a rather vague instruction. The ornate garden park was large and bordered on three sides by shops, restaurants, and art galleries. One entered the park through a large courtyard dotted with striped stone columns, which he supposed was some artist’s idea of . . . something, but they looked jarringly modern and out of place among the architecture of the 1600s. There was a long line of taller, more stately columns, too, which further reduced lines of sight. Between the columns and the throngs of people, many of whom seemed to be wearing a red scarf, spotting any one person was more difficult than he’d expected.
All in all, he considered this a piss-poor way to make contact, but it was somewhat reassuring. A professional would have picked a better way, which meant the guy they were dealing with was a rank amateur, possibly someone who worked at the Nervi laboratory and was alarmed by what was happening there. They would have a definite advantage over him.
Lily stood beside Swain, looking around. She was wearing sunglasses to disguise her eyes, as well as brown contacts in case she needed to remove the glasses, and the same cloche she usually wore to cover her hair. Swain looked down at her and caught her hand, pulling her closer to his side.
He thought of himself as an uncomplicated man in his wants and needs, his likes and dislikes, but there was nothing uncomplicated about this situation with Lily or the way she made him feel. He was caught in a hell of a dilemma, and he knew it. The best he could do was take care of one thing at a time, in order of importance, and hope to hell everything worked out. It couldn’t work out with Lily, of course, and he felt a fist squeeze his heart every time he thought of what he had to do.
If only he could talk to Frank. Frank was alive, conscious, but heavily sedated, and still in ICU. In Swain’s opinion “conscious” didn’t exactly describe his condition, because according to Frank’s assistant he could respond to such requests as “squeeze my hand” and occasionally mouth the word “water.” To Swain, conscious meant you were holding conversations and having a rational thought process. Frank was a long way from there. He was in no shape for a phone call even if his cubicle had a telephone, which it didn’t.
There had to be some other solution for Lily. He wanted to talk to her: sit her down, hold her hands, and tell her exactly what was going on. Things didn’t have to go down the way Frank had decreed.
