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“I don’t want trouble, Gator.”
“No trouble at all, babe.”
Babe.She smiled at that. “I appreciate it.”
After ending the call, Sylvie couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that had settled over her. If Marvin was indeed stalking her, she needed to be extra careful. But she refused to let him control her life any longer. She had to find a way to keep him out of her house and out of her life for good.
12
THE NEXT MORNING
“Don’t come to the bar,”Bruno warned Marvin, his voice tense and serious.
“Then where?” Marvin asked, a hint of apprehension in his tone.
“The Bulldog Café, just outside the city. And make sure no one follows you,” Bruno said.
“I’ll look out for your car,” Marvin said, trying to sound casual.
“I’ve changed it,” Bruno replied. “It's a black Dodge Charger.”
“Okay.” Marvin paused. Curiosity got the better of him. “Why the change?”
“Because of you, you idiot,” Bruno snapped, frustration seeping through his words.
“I don't understand.”
“I think you do,” Bruno said. “Sylvie’s house…yesterday afternoon.”
“Oh…” Marvin’s voice wavered.
“Yeah... Oh,” Bruno echoed sarcastically. “What the hell did you think you were doing?”
“I was...”
Bruno cut him off. “No. Stop! Meet me there, and we’ll talk about it. And don’t do anything stupid until then. Don’t talk to anyone... don’t see anyone... and especially not Sylvie.”
With that, he ended the call abruptly, leaving Marvin to wonder what the fuck Bruno was going to do. He couldn’t even think of what he would say…even he knew he’d been an idiot when he’d snapped at seeing Gator’s bike in Sylvie’s drive.
* * *
Bruno endedthe call and turned to the bartender. “I’ll have another beer, thanks, Elodie.”
As she moved away to get his beer, Bruno caught a glimpse of a familiar face in the reflection of the mirror behind the bar. It was Baptiste, and Bruno couldn’t help but feel a twinge of annoyance. He didn’t want company right now, especially not Baptiste, who had a knack for asking too many questions. Questions that Bruno would rather not answer, especially about his replacement car.
He swiveled around on his stool and greeted his friend. “Baptiste, mon ami.”
Baptiste laughed, his eyes lighting up with amusement. “It’s a start.”
“Qu’est-ce qui t’amène icitte?” Bruno said. He’d been learning French phrases from a translation app he had on his cell phone.
“What brings me here?” Baptiste repeated. “Actually, I saw that black Dodge Charger in the parking lot and wondered whether it was yours…unless you’d changed back to the Crown Vic…but here you are.”
“As I said, they gave me an upgrade at the precinct,” Bruno said, trying to keep his story straight.
“And where’s the Vic? Getting the burnt rubber removed from under the fenders?” Baptiste said.
How the fuck does he know?“I can tell you why I was there, my friend, but it could put you in danger. Is that what you want?” he asked, gauging Baptiste's reaction.
