Rescue Me: A Novel

by Christy Reece

  Marc, on the other hand, was how she'd pictured him. Handsome on the surface, but with something in his blue eyes that revealed the slimy pervert inside. Though he did his best to hide it behind a charming smile, Eden had no problem recognizing evil.

  She'd yet to meet Alfred Larue, but he was due later in the evening.

  Though polite, the rest of Larue family wasn't overly cordial. She got the distinct impression that Georges brought women to family events on a regular basis and she was considered just one more. Fine with her. If they thought of her as just another bimbo Georges was sleeping with, their scrutiny and questions would be much less intrusive.

  She put on her most winning smile and headed toward the mass of laughing and apparently happy people gathered in the enormous living room. Funny, they all seemed nice and normal, giving no indication they were aware of the child rapist in their midst or that their wealth had been gained through the misery and suffering of others.

  Georges warned her that even more of the family would arrive tomorrow. Meeting and lying to all of them wasn't a problem. Escaping so many eyes might be.

  “Claire, my love. Let me introduce you to my father.” Turning from a discussion of current fashion trends with one of Georges's sisters, Eden looked up into faded blue eyes. Tall, with an impressive paunch and balding blond hair, Alfred Larue looked like an ordinary businessman and grandfather. Eden looked hard, surprised that his eyes held only a warm, friendly welcome.

  “Madam Marchand.” Alfred took the hand Eden extended and kissed it with a charming ease. “It's a pleasure to meet you. Our Georges has become enamored of you and I can see why. You are beyond lovely.”

  Her lips curved with sweet innocence. “How do you do, Monsieur Larue. Please, call me Claire.”

  “Very well. And you must call me Alfred.” He beamed at his son. “She's as charming and beautiful as you said, Georges.”

  “I knew you would think so, Papa.”

  Alfred turned and caught his wife's attention. Eden watched as the two exchanged a look of understanding. A strange tension zipped through her. Something was going on here and it involved her. Had they discovered her identity? Was she about to become another victim of the Larues? Her spine stiffened. Like hell.

  “Come, my love, I believe my mother and father want to get to know you better.”

  Adrenaline pumping through her, she pasted a bland, pleasant expression on her face and allowed Georges to lead her from the room. Her eyes assessed her chances of escape. Not good. Two exits. The patio door, blocked by two oversized goons whose dinner jackets didn't hide their impressive weaponry underneath, was on the other side of the massive living room. The other exit was the one she was going through with Georges, his mother, father, and two more goons. She could probably handle two, maybe three of them. But if they chose to shoot her, she had little chance of surviving. Her silver cocktail dress wasn't made of Kevlar.

  Georges led her through an arched doorway of heavy oak into a small room with comfortable-looking furniture and a small, cozy fire. Alfred and Inez headed to a sofa. Georges led her to an opposite sofa and sat beside her. The two goons didn't enter the room. Faces hard and expressionless, they closed the door and Eden knew they were guarding it on the outside. To keep people out or keep her in? She would soon find out.

  The smile Inez Larue flashed her was one of reassurance. “Tell us about yourself, Claire.”

  Comprehension came quickly and with it, a different kind of unease. These people didn't suspect her of wanting to rescue their son's latest victim or bring down their organization. They were concerned parents wanting to get to know a woman their son was enamored of. Other members of the family might have looked at her as if she were just another woman in Georges's bed, but apparently his parents believed otherwise. Had she underestimated Georges's feelings? Was he in love with her and she'd missed the signs?

  Before answering, she turned to Georges with a vulnerable, questioning expression. The avid desire in his eyes reassured her. No, Georges wasn't in love with her. He was in lust. Big difference, but would his parents see that?

  Alfred studied the young woman Georges claimed to be unable to live without. She was beautiful, but he had expected that. His youngest son's taste in women was as predictable as sunrise. What he hadn't expected was the character and strength he saw in her eyes. This woman was different from any other Georges had brought home. Based upon her answers to Inez's questions, they would determine if she would become a member of their family.

  In a soft, melodic tone, she said, “I was raised in the outskirts of Marseilles. My papa died when I was six. Mama worked at a fabric mill to support us.”

  “Are you an only child?”

  “Yes.”

  “And your mother?”

  “Mama passed away a few months after I graduated from school.”

  “So you are alone in the world?”

  “Yes, except for my Jacques, of course.”

  “Ah yes, your husband. So sad that he is an invalid.”

  “Yes. The stroke hit him early in life, taking us by surprise.”

  Inez nodded in sympathy. “Tell us about him.”

  Looking somewhat flustered by all the attention, young Claire shifted in her seat. Alfred watched her carefully. Yes, she moved toward Georges, no doubt looking to him for support and comfort. A good sign.

  “I met Jacques when I was working in a restaurant. We were immediately attracted to each other. A friendship began and then we fell in love.”

  “He is much older than you, is he not?”

  She lifted a slender shoulder. “Love knows nothing of age.”

  “And do you still have this love for your Jacques?”

  Innocent eyes rounded with shock at the question. “But of course, he is my husband.”

  “And he doesn't mind that you've left him for a few days? Who is caring for him while you're here?”

  “Fortunately Jacques is a very wealthy man. We are able to afford excellent care for him. And Jacques knows how much I love him. He need never doubt my faithfulness and devotion.”

  Alfred glanced at his wife as she nodded in approval. Georges had chosen well. Claire's love for her husband continued despite his infirmity. Loyalty such as this was hard to find. She would make a fine wife for Georges and an excellent addition to the Larue family.

  Crystal chandeliers glowed, highlighting the enormous dining room. By anyone's standards, Maria Larue's birthday party was a rousing success. Well over fifty people sat around the gigantic, food-laden table. Laughing and boisterous, the Larues certainly knew how to enjoy themselves. Eden had never seen so much food or wine in her life.

  Despite her knowledge of how they'd achieved most of their wealth, she couldn't help but be intrigued by their closeness. As an only child, with no known relatives other than her mother and stepfather, any meals they'd taken together were quiet other than silverware clanking against plates, or a stinging lecture from her mother on some issue that hadn't pleased her. More often than not, Eden had gotten up from the table with a stomach filled with knots of nerves instead of food.

  Eden slammed the door on those thoughts. She hadn't given any thought to her past in years and doing so while on a mission was beyond stupid. Seeing Jordan again had most likely prompted them, but allowing personal reflections, especially painful ones, while on a job was a distraction she couldn't allow.

  Georges whispered an inane compliment in her ear, bringing her back on point. A small nervous smile curved her mouth, showing her appreciation for his compliment but that she was still not comfortable with his ardor. Georges's disintegrating ethics regarding her faithfulness to her husband were becoming a reality. They'd spent the entire day together and his conduct had been that of an ardent but restrained lover.

  Last night, after his parents' polite inquisition, she retired to her room, claiming exhaustion. When the mansion grew quiet, she'd crept out of her bedroom to explore, but had to rush back inside at the sound of approa
ching footsteps. After more than a dozen attempts throughout the night, she'd given up.

  A slender, masculine hand ran up and down her forearm. “Claire, my love, do you not like the meal?”

  Ignoring the curious glances of people surrounding her, she lifted guileless eyes to Georges. “It's delicious, truly.” Her voice lowered to a whisper: “I think perhaps I'm just a little nervous around so many people. Jacques and I lead such a simple, quiet life that I'm feeling a bit overwhelmed.”

  Her somewhat simplistic plan was to ask for Georges's understanding, plead a tension headache, and be allowed to go to her room. Having the family distracted with their grand dinner would give her the opportunity to search for Christina. Today's island tour with Georges had given her an excellent location to search. But first, she had to ditch Georges.

  In an instant, she sensed that her plan had backfired miserably. His smile leering, Georges raised his hand for a servant. The attentive man leaned down and Georges whispered something in his ear. Tilting her head slightly, she overheard the word immediately. Before she comprehended his intent, Georges pulled her from the chair. His arm draped over her shoulders, he addressed the fifty-plus people chatting and eating around them. “Mama, Papa, everyone. Claire and I need some time to ourselves.”

  She barely got out a breathless “Good night” before Georges pulled her from the room and into the giant foyer. Pulling at the hand gripping her arm, she said, “Georges, no … You should stay with your family. I'm really quite tired and my head is—”

  “Nonsense. I see my family almost every day. You, my love, I see much too infrequently.”

  His hold firm, Georges led her up the stairs, down a long carpeted hallway, and into what looked to be a sitting room. A table sat in front of a small fire and two solemn female servants were hastily setting the table, as another servant rushed in with plates filled with some of the delicacies from dinner.

  Candles glowed, and soft music played through invisible speakers. It was a less than subtle setup for seduction.

  Biting the inside of her cheek, Eden peeked up at Georges. His adoring, lust-filled eyes told the story. The man was intent on romance. With a small inner sigh, Eden knew she had no recourse but to pretend to be pleased with his romantic efforts.

  “Oh … my. You are too kind and sweet.” Leaving his side, in case he decided to start groping, she drifted to the table, picked up a grape, and nibbled delicately.

  “Come … you can do better than that.” Georges pulled out a chair for Eden and she sat down abruptly, her mind whirling on exactly how she was going to get herself out of this situation. Always prepared to do what was necessary to ensure a successful mission, she nevertheless would put off the inevitable until she no longer had a choice.

  Over the next half hour, Eden dined on what she was sure was succulent lobster, mouthwatering pastries, and ultraexpensive wine, but she tasted nothing. She giggled and simpered like an imbecile, hoping Georges might possibly become disgusted by such inanity. God knew she was.

  When she suddenly found her hand clasped in his while he sucked butter from her fingers, she knew she wasn't going to get out of this as smoothly as she had on other occasions.

  Nevertheless, she would try.

  “Georges, you know I cannot betray my marriage vows. Why must you torture me?”

  “Now, now, my love, you knew when you accepted my invitation what would happen. You've put me off much too long. Tonight, you will become mine.”

  If she hadn't had to stay in her role as the silly and naïve Claire Marchand, Eden would have rolled her eyes at such drivel. But since she couldn't be herself, she did what she thought any young woman should do when presented with a man who was basically telling her she was going to sleep with him whether she wanted to or not. She became indignant.

  Spine straight, eyes flashing, she snapped, “That is not true, Georges. I thought you were my friend, that you understood—”

  Moving quicker than she'd ever seen him, he jumped to his feet and pulled her into his arms. Before she could protest, his mouth was on hers. Since he outweighed her by at least a hundred pounds and had wrapped her in a tight embrace, she had no choice but to pretend to welcome his kiss. She blanked out everything but what she needed to do.

  Pressing her body against his, she took his tongue into her mouth and moaned, rubbing against him with sensual intent. At her submission, he loosened his hold. Eden took advantage and pulled away. Gasping breathlessly against his shoulder, she put as much emotion as she could into her voice. “You're right, my darling. I do want you … but please, not here, where servants are around. Come to my room.”

  Georges drew away, his eyes glinting with triumph and lust. “I will make you happy, Claire. I promise.”

  With a tremulous smile, she took her purse in one hand and held out her other hand to lead him out the door. It should have taken them less than a minute to reach her bedroom. However, now that Georges believed he had free rein with her body, he stopped frequently to kiss and paw her every few feet.

  By the time they made it to her room, Eden was not only breathless, she was furious. She hadn't worked this hard in a long time and was determined this would be the last time Georges Larue touched her. The door swung open and Georges suddenly decided to show his romantic side by sweeping her into his arms and carrying her over the threshold.

  Really, this was just too much. Giggling like a besotted idiot, she planted a loud kiss on his cheek and whispered, “Let me go for a second. I have a special surprise for you.”

  At last, Georges dropped her legs, allowing her to stand. Purse in hand, Eden floated toward the bathroom. “I'll be right back… I think you'll be happy with my surprise.”

  She closed the door just as Georges was pulling his shirt over his head, his gleam of anticipation making her dread the next few minutes, though she looked forward to the outcome.

  Withdrawing a cosmetic pouch from her purse, she pulled out a small perfume bottle and from a hidden zippered compartment, a tiny hypodermic needle.

  Her cellphone vibrated just as she lifted the bottle to fill the syringe. Knowing only one person could be calling, Eden set her materials aside and held the phone to her ear.

  “Get out.” The urgency in Noah's voice told her more than his words.

  “What?”

  “Your cover's been blown. Two men just showed up at the address you gave Georges, looking for Jacques Marchand … with some damn impressive firepower. We handled them, but others are sure to come. I'm picking you up at the designated spot in fifteen minutes.”

  Eden kept her voice to a whisper. “I can't leave. I'm certain she's here. I'm not going—”

  “Dammit, Eden, that's a direct order. You're dead if they—”

  “I'm not leaving. I'll contact you as soon as I locate her.”

  “Eden, you can't—”

  “I'm her last chance, Noah. You know that. When Larue finds out about me, Christina will be in even more jeopardy. They'll either take her deeper or kill her. We can't let that happen.”

  A long, taut pause, then Noah sighed. “Call the second you find her.”

  She closed the cellphone. An abrupt knock on the door startled her, causing the perfume bottle to fall into the sink and clatter toward the drain.

  “Claire, darling. Are you all right?”

  Grabbing the bottle, she replied with just the right amount of sugary sweetness. “I'm fine, Georges. Give me one more minute. I promise you won't be disappointed.”

  “My darling, I'll make sure neither of us is disappointed.”

  Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Eden prepared the needle. She tapped down the revulsion of the coming event … getting Christina her only focus. Fortunately his family would think they were occupied, which should give her enough time to do her job.

  “I'm giving you until the count of ten and then I'm coming in after you.”

  Taking him at his word, Eden pumped the last of the liquid from the bottle into the
tiny syringe and pushed out the air. Without blinking an eye, she pulled her dress over her head, unhooked her bra, and slipped her pan ties off, just as a naked Georges pushed open the door.

  As his gaze settled on Eden's nude body, his eyes widened to almost saucerlike proportion, making him look like a cartoon version of himself.

  Flashing a seductive “Come and get me” smile, she put her left hand behind her back to hide her little “gift.” Her right hand pushed her hair over a shoulder, and began a slow, sensual caress, starting at her neck, over her breast, trailing lower.

  Georges focused on her hand, seemingly mesmerized.

  Eden approached him slowly, pleased to see him back up … ah yes, now the kitten stalks the tiger.

  Georges backed all the way into the room and then stopped as if rooted to the floor. Her smile promising him every sexual, secret delight in the universe, she pressed a finger against his chest, until he began to back up again, finally reaching the bed. When he tried to grab her, Eden jumped back, drew her mouth into a pouty bow, and wagged her finger at him. “No … no … no. Let Claire show you how much she wants you.”

  Her hand flat against his chest, she pushed hard until he fell onto the bed. Eden came over him, straddling his legs. She tried to ignore the erection he sported. Had yet to even look at it, and fervently hoped this little trick worked so she wouldn't have to touch it. Leaning over him, she pressed tiny kisses all over his face, then his neck.

  Georges grasped her shoulders to pull her down and Eden settled over him, trying without much success to avoid his penis. His hands caressed her back, slid down to her buttocks, kneaded and pinched. When one hand headed in a direction she definitely didn't want him to go, she knew it was now or never. Moaning loudly, as if she'd never tasted anything more delicious, she licked the side of his neck. Then, in a pretense of caressing the other side with her hand, she brought the needle up and injected it beneath his skin.