Cougar Mom

by Eve Langlais

  “You’ll be using the wedding as your cover,” Mother stated as soon as they managed a secure connection.

  “And a hello to you, too.”

  “We spoke in person, not even an hour ago,” Marie Cadeaux stated with an exaggerated sigh.

  Meredith grinned. “And? Manners are for friends, too.”

  “I am not calling as a friend but as your boss. We have a mission.”

  “What’re the details?” Meredith asked as she finished tying the quail that she’d stuffed with sausage, rice, and herbs. It would be delicious served with some veggies. A fancy feast for one person.

  The screen that projected from her marble countertop changed views. It was an expensive little extra when she had the kitchen custom-designed, but it made accessing her recipes so easy—and it could do video chats in a pinch.

  A picture appeared of a man, his hair close-cropped, a light brown, maybe blond in the right light. He wore a suit, layered with an overcoat as he exited an expensive sedan.

  “Is that the muscle?” Meredith asked, noting the thickness of him.

  “That’s the target, the elusive Mr. Laurentian.”

  “Not so elusive if you got a picture.”

  “A rare one. Cameras have a tendency to misbehave in his vicinity.”

  “That’s interesting,” Meredith claimed as she washed her hands.

  “There are a lot of interesting things about Mr. Laurentian,” Marie declared. Years later, and they still worked together, Meredith choosing to remain active in the field unlike Marie, who went into management.

  “Who is he? What has he done?”

  “No one’s quite sure. You might say he’s a bit of an enigma. He came out of nowhere about fifteen years ago. He is currently based out of New York, with offices around the world, but it appears the island you’re about to visit is his main base of operation. He has dual citizenship, which is odd, given he appears to be of French origin.”

  “What does he dabble in?” Meredith asked, leaning closer to swipe the screen and take notice of the finer details. The strong line of his jaw. The slight tilt to his nose as if he’d broken it before. The way he towered over people when he stood beside them.

  “On paper, it looks like he’s really good at buying and selling stocks, plus acquiring properties at rock-bottom prices.”

  “Then reselling them high?”

  “Not exactly. He turns them into viable businesses or low-rent apartment buildings that are heavily subsidized.”

  “Sounds like he’s a good guy.”

  “In most respects, he is. Except we haven’t been able to discern where his initial investments came from. Just like we can’t figure out how, with all the money he basically donates, the man remains filthy rich. The assumption is he has another business that funds his activities.”

  “Dirty money.” It existed everywhere there was a market for vice.

  “Maybe. And not the main focus of our task. There is a contract to terminate.”

  Someone wanted Mr. Laurentian dead.

  The recollection faded to the background as Meredith hit the beach. This time of night, only a few people were on it, including someone with the rolled-up pants of a tourist, who was exchanging something with a rather scruffy fellow.

  Probably a drug deal.

  She marked their location and appearance for reporting later. The last thing they needed was some kind of drug war during the wedding.

  The fellow with the rolled pants headed back to the resort and cast her only a quick glance before continuing on his way.

  The sun was setting, bathing everything in an orange glow. She dropped her towel on the sand and kicked off her sandals. She’d not brought a weapon, not with her building in sight and the inability to hide it.

  The undulating waves beckoned, the tug of them gentle and sucking at the sand under her toes.

  She waded into the warm surf and, as soon as she could, began to float, stroking through the water. The twilight eased into full dark, meaning she wasn’t exactly visible, especially given how far out she’d swum from shore, which meant that when the Sea-Doo came out of nowhere, she assumed it didn’t see her.

  She managed to avoid it and, treading water, yelled, “Hey, watch where you’re going!” Marine rules stated that vessels on the water after dark must have lights.

  As if hearing her, the watercraft flipped around and came barreling again for her.

  Meredith knew better than to panic. She began swimming for shore, which proved increasingly difficult with the agitation of the water as the Sea-Doo circled her. The jerk was doing donuts, and the waves tossed her around.

  Rather than fight them, Meredith dove underwater and swam, but she couldn’t hold her breath forever. She surfaced, and as if the person on the watercraft waited for her, it came screaming towards Meredith. This time, she couldn’t avoid it, and it clipped her hard enough that she saw darkness.

  She blinked her eyes and noticed filmy white curtains all around. Mosquito netting and a bed. Both unfamiliar.

  Where am I?

  A face leaned over her, tanned and handsome. Short-cropped hair. Blond. A square jaw and a nose slightly hitched as if once broken. The man seemed familiar. Concern filled his gaze. “You’re awake. How do you feel?” his deep voice purred.

  It did things to her. Made her feel horny. Maybe not the best thing to admit aloud. Not to a stranger at any rate. Or was he someone she knew?

  “Who are you?” she asked. Only to frown. Her mind struggled to answer an even more fundamental question. “Who am I?”

  There was something utterly frightening in that moment as she struggled to recall even something as basic as her name. She hyperventilated. “Who am I?” she cried again at the man. Surely, he would know.

  “You tell me.”

  She would have, except… “I don’t remember.”

  Chapter Two

  Hugo wanted to curse as the woman obviously played him for a fool. To think he’d felt sorry for her when he found her washed up on the beach. And now, she pretended to have forgotten her name. Such an obvious ploy.

  “Nice try, lady. I don’t know who you are,” he said, straightening. “I found you passed out on the beach about to be dragged out into the ocean. Not the safest thing. You could have drowned.”

  “Then I guess I should thank you for saving me.” Her brow creased. “What happened?”

  “You tell me. Were you drinking?” It happened all the time. Tourists came here and seemed to forget their limits, and the resorts didn’t help with their unlimited alcoholic offerings.

  “I don’t know. Do I smell like booze?”

  “I am not sniffing your breath.” He leaned away and crossed his arms. When he carried her earlier, he’d not noticed any lingering scent of liquor, but not all of them left a stench.

  “My head hurts like I’m hungover,” she moaned.

  “Booze or drugs, doesn’t really matter. You should learn to control your vices.”

  “Do you think that’s why I can’t remember anything?” Her eyes widened in feigned fear. She did a great job of acting. “Maybe I got a dose of something bad.”

  Or maybe she was full of shit. “I’ve already called emergency services. They should be on their way eventually.”

  “What do you mean…eventually?” she asked as she sat up and put a hand to her head, overdoing the act in his opinion.

  “Meaning there is only one working ambulance currently, and it had to transport someone clear across the island to the airport for an emergency departure.”

  “I don’t need an ambulance,” she grumbled, still palpating her head. “I have a headache, probably because of the lump.”

  “What lump?”

  “As if you didn’t notice. It’s huge. Did you hit me?” The suspicion in her eyes almost looked real.

  He snorted. “Nice try. Who did it? You, or your accomplice? Are they about to rush in and make accusations?”

  It took her a moment to grasp his impli
cation. “I did not hit myself.” Then an even bigger lightbulb widened her gaze. “You think I’m lying.”

  “I am not a fucking idiot,” he said with a sarcastic drawl. “Amnesia is nineties soap opera shit. It doesn’t happen in real life.”

  “What would you know about soap operas?” she inquired.

  “I used to be a big wrestling fan back in the day. And even they did the amnesia thing. It’s a cheap gimmick, and an obvious one. Meaning, I am not falling for it. So, you can take yourself and your fabrications and wait for the ambulance on the porch, or leave since your plot failed. I will mention, this house is fully equipped with cameras, meaning you can’t accuse me of anything later in order to extort money from me.”

  “I would never,” she huffed. “What kind of pathetic life do you have that you think everyone is out to cheat you?” Rising from the bed, he had time to note her lithe body in the swimsuit. He’d not dared change her and had just tossed a blanket over her shivering frame.

  With her awake, though, he could finally take full note. Beautiful woman, tall, slim. Not young, perhaps her late thirties, early forties. Her wet hair hung down her back, dark in the dim light. Her bathing suit molded to her firm body. He handed her the robe he kept nearby.

  “That’s priceless, the woman faking amnesia calling me pathetic. I’ve encountered your kind before, pretending and acting to extort money. Unfortunately for you, I learned from each experience.”

  “I would never blackmail.”

  “How would you know if you can’t remember?” he taunted. “Now, get moving before I call the cops.”

  She glared as she snatched the robe and tried to slot her arms into the sleeves. It took her a few tries where her eyes crossed, and she swayed. Then she simply stood there, looking forlorn in the oversized garment. “I think I should sit down.”

  “You can sit outside.” He didn’t fall for the act.

  She took a step to the door, her gaze a little vacant. She swayed.

  Despite his misgivings, he steadied her lest she slam into the small table with the expensive vase.

  She felt clammy to the touch. He could see her temple and the blood trickling from it. That wasn’t fake.

  Still, he released her and stepped back. Some people would go to any lengths.

  She exited the room and paused. “Where do I go?”

  “You can sit on the porch and wait for the ambulance or call yourself a ride.”

  “But where will I go? I have no money. No identification. I don’t know where I live.” With each statement, her voice hitched.

  His resolve hardened. “Stop the act.”

  Her shoulder slumped. “I wish it were an act. I really can’t remember.”

  With him following, she exited the guest bedroom, head tucked, not once looking around at the décor. If he didn’t know better, he’d say she watched her feet.

  The front door loomed, and her shoulders slumped at the sight of it. But she didn’t argue as he held it open and ushered her out. It slammed shut, but that wasn’t enough. He locked it, too.

  What was she doing? He could have gone to his office and watched via one of the many cameras. But, instead, he stood watching her from behind the curtains in the living room for some reason. She eschewed the facing chairs with the little table between them to sit on the step, a huddled figure in plush terrycloth. She hugged her knees.

  Still acting. She stayed there, barely moving during the forty minutes it took for the ambulance to arrive. She took the charade the whole way.

  The next day, the police showed up. His butler knocked on his office door to inform him.

  “Sir, Superintendent Pierrot is here to speak with you.”

  “About what?” he snapped. “I’m a busy man.” And Pierrot liked to talk, then hint about how his department could really use some new piece of equipment or another until Hugo agreed to buy it for the man. Why he didn’t just send him an email request, Hugo would never understand.

  “He has questions about the woman picked up on the property last night.”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake. She better not have accused me of anything.” Hugo rubbed the spot between his brows, feeling a headache forming. He’d not gotten enough sleep. He never did these days. A restlessness had invaded his spirit and dreams, making it impossible for him to get more than a few hours at a time.

  “What should I tell him?”

  Tempting as it was to tell Pierrot to fuck off, Hugo sighed. “Send him in.”

  It took less than a minute for the high-ranking policeman to enter his office. Hugo eyed Pierrot, a dark-skinned man who remained fit despite the pressure of his position. As a male in his late forties, Hugo knew how hard that could be. “Superintendent, to what do I owe the honor of this visit?”

  “I am here on official police business. I just left the hospital after speaking to a woman who claims she was on your property last night.”

  “More like this morning.”

  “So, you admit to having met her?”

  “If we’re talking about a tall redhead, then yes, I did. And I don’t care what she’s accusing me of, I have video footage that shows I never touched her.”

  Pierrot’s brows rose. “No accusation. We’re just trying to find out more information. She’s lost her memory.”

  “Has she now?” he said sarcastically. Pierrot shouldn’t have been the gullible type.

  “She has quite the gash on her head. The doctor says it’s impeding her ability to remember. Since she appeared to have been in the water when her accident occurred, she lacked any form of identification.”

  “How convenient.”

  Pierrot’s gaze sharpened. “I see you’re skeptical, but I think she’s telling the truth. She doesn’t recall who she is.”

  “If that’s the case, then someone will report her missing.” Especially if she turned out to be a tourist, which seemed likely given her pallor. The media would make a big deal about the poor tourist attacked or almost drowned. Never mind that their home countries were no better, they liked to hammer the paradise spots.

  “If she travelled here alone, it might be a few days before anyone notices.” Hotel staff didn’t always keep track of their guests.

  “Well, I can’t help you. I just found her.”

  “Where?” Pierrot had taken out a pad and a pen.

  “On the beach. Close to where the property line ends.”

  “What time?”

  “Around three a.m.”

  The pen stopped moving, and the cop’s gaze fixed on him. “Why were you on the beach at three a.m., Mr. Laurentian?”

  “I couldn’t sleep.” He only got a few hours a night now. Not that it affected his performance. He was as sharp and fit as ever, just not sleeping. “When I get restless like that, I like to go for a jog on the beach.”

  “And you just happened upon a woman washed ashore.”

  “I don’t know if she washed up. I saw her on the sand, the water trying to suck her in. So, I did what anyone would do and carried her to safety.” Something he was beginning to regret.

  “Was she awake?”

  “No.”

  “Was she already injured?”

  It suddenly occurred to him that this was an interrogation. “I did not harm that woman.”

  “Which you can prove, I assume.”

  “Shouldn’t my word be enough?”

  Pierrot shrugged. “It would help if we had, perhaps, some video footage of her discovery to corroborate your version of the events. It would forestall any suspicions that might arise.”

  His lips flattened. “No cameras, given it was past the edge of my property.”

  “Meaning, we only have your word that you weren’t the one to hit her.”

  “Why would I hit her?”

  “Perhaps you met this woman and partied a little too hard. Could be it was an accident, or things got a little out of hand.”

  “I don’t pick up strangers to bring home. Ever.”

  “Yet
you brought this woman?” Pierrot pounced.

  “Because she was unconscious. What else was I supposed to do?” Hugo snapped. “Leave her on the beach?”

  “Why not call for help where you found her?”

  “For one, I didn’t have a phone. And, secondly, she was cold and wet.”

  “I thought you said she wasn’t awake. How would you know she was cold?”

  “Because I have fucking eyes.” He could still picture how she shivered on the sand.

  “How did you transport her here?” Pierrot kept scribbling.

  “As I said, I carried her.”

  “You did?” A disparaging glance in Hugo’s direction. “Are you sure you didn’t have help? Someone who witnessed what happened?”

  “No help,” Hugo growled. “Now, if we’re done, I have work to do.”

  “Just one more question.”

  “What?”

  “The policeman’s summer barbecue is slated for next month and—”

  Hugo cut him off. “Laurentian Enterprises would be delighted to make a donation to our very important local police force. Happy now?”

  The police superintendent saw himself out, and Hugo leaned back in his chair with a sigh.

  He couldn’t believe the captain had actually implied that he’d hurt the woman. He also thought she told the truth. Could Hugo have been wrong about her?

  He rang his secretary. Francis answered. “What is it, boss?” No mockery in the tone. Francis would never dare.

  “The woman that was here last night. I mean, this morning. Can you find out if she’s still at the hospital?” Francis didn’t ask what woman. First thing Hugo had done, was advise his staff of the intruder to see if anyone had heard or seen anything.

  “Let me have a peek, sir.”

  Francis didn’t bother to put him on hold, simply tapped away on a keyboard before announcing, “She is still a patient. According to her file, she is suffering from cranial trauma with a hematoma on her brain, causing swelling and loss of some cognition.”

  “I don’t suppose you have access to any visitor logs?”

  Francis snorted. “You’re joking, right?”

  He sighed. Things were more relaxed in the tropics. Too relaxed for someone organized like him. “Who’s paying for her care?”