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I dipped my chin and forced myself to outwardly relax.
“You thought they were from the Paris Syndicate?” he asked. “But why? There are other French syndicates, and I hadn’t seen your mother in years.”
“Why else would they want me?”
“Yes, of course.” He stared over my head. “Interesting, that they knew about you when I myself didn’t.”
“Mom hid me. No one knew what I really was.”
“Except these vampires. Very well. I will look into it. But not because you are helping me. For the information you gather about Philippe, I will pay. But your mother’s killers I will find because they took something that was mine. And then—” he showed some fang again—“I will stake the sons of bitches myself.”
I rubbed my forehead. I hadn’t expected him to take over, and frankly, I didn’t want him to. “I just need their names.”
His jaw set. “Honor requires that I send them myself to their final graves. You have some objection?”
I considered him. My gut wanted to growl, Hell, yeah, I object, but my brain pointed out that with Leo de Froulay involved, I might finally find my mother’s killers.
“All right,” I said. “But only if I’m there when they die. I want to see those bastards burn and crumble to ashes with my own eyes. I want them to know they’re dead because of me.”
De Froulay gave a single, slow blink. Then he smiled. “You are fierce. I like that.”
“Do we have a deal?”
“If it’s possible, then yes. You will be there. Give me what you have—descriptions, the date it happened, where.”
I compressed my lips. “I didn’t get a good look at them. They came too fast. She made me run.”
I closed my eyes against the images that lived in my mind. The fear in my mom’s face. How she’d begged me to hide. Her screams.
And worse, the moment when her voice had cut off mid-scream.
“Tell me what you know.” De Froulay’s deep voice pulled me back to the present.
I swallowed, nodded. “I was twelve, so it was—” I gave de Froulay the year and date, and the name of the small town where we’d lived.
“How many?”
“Three—all men. One blond, and two with dark hair.”
“The French they spoke, it was Parisian?”
I gave a helpless shrug. “I don’t know. I think so.”
“All right. I’ll get started on this right away. If you think of anything else that might help, let me know.”
“I will. You have an email where I can contact you?”
He gave it to me and I memorized it, then gave him a private, very secure email address that I’d set up just for this. “I’ll use the subject line Wine Tasting.”
He repeated the address back, then gazed down at me through hooded eyes. “This isn’t right. My daughter in a uniform? You don’t have to do this. I’ll settle enough money on you so you don’t have to work.”
“I don’t want your money. And I like working security.”
Our gazes clashed. I moved to the door. “If that’s all—?”
He inclined his head, and I escaped into the salon.
Crow was waiting a few feet from the door. De Froulay wrapped an arm around her, and she nuzzled his neck and sent me a significant look over his shoulder. They moved off together.
