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“You scared me to death.”
I instantly closed my laptop lid, trying to put myself together. I’d spent a couple of hours trying to find out as much about Francois as possible, which made it seem like I was obsessing over the man. Okay, maybe I was, but since the vision of his face, the feel of his hot breath tickling my skin refused to go away, I had about a dozen reasons.
All viable.
All ridiculous.
“Is there something you need?” he continued as he rolled down the sleeves of his shirt. He’d changed into more business attire, which meant he was likely going out. I wondered if he had a hot date. No, he wouldn’t do that. He remained furious with worry, and angry that the man who’d almost attacked me hadn’t been caught.
“Just researching the killer.” That wasn’t a complete lie. I had shifted through newspaper reports in LA for the last few months, trying to find anything that might resemble the murder. I’dfound nothing. Maybe the police were keeping his MO under wraps. However, the bulk of the time had been spent on studying Francois, which kept my pussy throbbing and my nipples aching.
I was heading into some dangerous territory since the ruthless man was due to arrive at any time.
“You don’t need to do that. I’m certain the detectives are very capable.”
“You don’t really believe that.”
He chuckled. “You could always see through me. There are some friends of mine looking into the situation. Just to make certain all bases are covered.”
“Translation time, Dad. You mean friends of Uncle Francois.” I used the term lightly, trying to pull back from my earlier anger. If I didn’t, my father would grow suspicious.
He lifted an eyebrow and walked closer. “What do you want to know about him? Don’t tell me that you aren’t curious. I can tell by the look on your face and the way you grilled him earlier. Might as well spit the questions before he comes to play hero.”
Hero. I could tell by the look in his eyes that he’d always wanted to be my hero. Didn’t every father? He’d never been given the chance. Not really. Maybe I hadn’t given Francois a chance, using my infatuation as a weapon instead.
“Why does Mom hate him so much?”
“Because she believed he pulled me into the gray area in business and in my personal life.”
“She thought you were having an affair?” That didn’t really surprise me in the least.
“For one thing, which I wasn’t. That’s not something a Baxter does. Her main beef was about how my business tactics changed.”
“That’s what I thought. You did that yourself, didn’t you?”
My father had always tried to hide who and what he was, but at this moment, he appeared tired. As if the world had beaten far too much out of him. “Let’s just say I came from a very poor family. Francois was my friend from the time I was a scrappy kid in school with holes in my jeans and secondhand tennis shoes. He was just enough older that I looked up to him, maybe more than I had with Arman. Francois allowed me to understand what money could do and how it could change a life. He allowed me to experience things through his eyes and in his world. I pretended I was his brother, his parents welcoming me. For a little while, I was a happy kid.”
“I never heard that story.”
“That’s because your grandparents died when you were a baby. Your mother refused to talk about my past, including with you. At least by the time they both died, I’d managed to pay off their mortgage and give them a cruise, as well as a few nice things. It was the best feeling in the world.” He had a faraway look in his eyes. “Anyway, if you’re asking if Francois is a dangerous man, the answer is yes. Which is why I trust him implicitly. Which is why he’s the only man who can protect you.”
There was almost a hint of sadness in his voice, which created a horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach.
“Did you really take a bullet for him?”
He seemed more surprised than anything that his friend had shared something so personal. “Yes, I did, which also pissed off your mother, but I’d do it again in a heartbeat like he’d do for me.”
“Now he would for me,” I said in passing.
“Yes, he would. He’s a good guy underneath all that bravado bullshit.” He laughed softly, as if there was a hidden joke somewhere.
“What if what happened to me is about him, not me? What if someone is trying to use me against him?” I wasn’t certain what Francois had told him.
When he didn’t react at first, I sensed he’d already suspected as much. Had the random serial killer thing been a lie to keep me from feeling additional terror and paranoia?
“Anything is possible in our world. That’s why you’re going to listen to him. Can you do that for your old man?”
In our world. Ours. As in plural. He’d accepted the fact that by associating with Francois and his family, we were all under the microscope, in danger of being targeted.
