She expected Hawk to turn onto Beacon Street and continue west, but, to her surprise, he continued through town, zigzagging along the one-way streets until he suddenly sped up and merged onto the I-93 expressway. She raced after him, careful to stay in a different lane behind him, and called Lionel again.
“They’re not going to the mansion,” she told him as soon as he answered.
“What?” Lionel sounded shocked. “Where are they?”
“They are going south on I-93.”
“South?” he echoed disbelievingly. “Why?”
“I don’t know,” she snarled. “Perhaps I should run him off the road and ask him.”
“No,” he said sharply, as if he believed she might actually do that. “Just stay on him and keep me posted. Are Nim and Butler with them?”
“No, just Hawk and your woman.”
“She’s not my woman!” he snapped. “I don’t know why they would have split up like this, but I need deal with things here. I’ll talk to you later.”
He hung up and Chantal set her phone aside to concentrate on her driving. Traffic was a lot heavier now, but so was the snow, and it would be too easy to lose their prey if they suddenly took one of the exits. Hawk kept to the left-hand lanes, though, passing most of the other vehicles as if he was in a hurry to get somewhere. She kept pace, wondering what he was up to.
She spared a moment to glance at Savard. He gazed out through the passenger window, looking fatigued, and she reached over to touch his hand resting on the seat beside him, He frowned down at her hand and then looked up at her face with a love that she’d never seen directed at her before. It filled her with a curious warmth and she smiled back at him before turning away to keep Hawk and Trisha Macmillan in sight.
50
“What the hell is going on?” Lionel scowled at the phone in his hand before setting it aside. Where could they possibly be going? Back to New York? No, flying would be faster. What’s south of Boston?
He opened up his laptop and accessed the Du Lac files on Pendragon’s facilities in the area. The next office in that direction was fifty miles away in Providence, Rhode Island, but there was nothing there that they couldn’t do in the regional office in Boston.
Have they given up or did they actually get everything they needed yesterday? he wondered. Maybe Hawk was just picking Trisha up from the mansion. No, she would have had her things with her. What good does it do them to leave now?
The answer came to him immediately. It gets Savard and Chantal out of the way. They must have had the house staked out. Damn it! He considered ordering Chantal to return to the mansion but he hesitated. What if I’m wrong? He gnawed the inside of his cheek in indecision.
I can deal with Hawk and Trisha by myself, he thought. I can’t handle Nim on my own. She and Butler have to be on the way. It’s time to leave.
He slammed the laptop closed and tucked it under his arm as he hurried up to his bedroom. It took him only a few minutes to pack up his few belongings and carry everything down to the atrium. He turned around in a slow circle, mentally checking off all of the rooms he’d been in, reassuring himself that he’d cleared out anything potentially damaging. My room, Chantal’s room, the office, the kitchen ... Trisha’s room!
Lionel took the steps two at a time, all too aware that the clock was ticking. He burst into Trisha’s bedroom and grabbed the small gym bag sitting at the foot of the bed, tearing it open and scouring quickly through the jumbled clothes and personal items. He found nothing suspicious and the contents of her purse and wallet gave no hint as to her true identity. He wondered if her name was really Patricia Macmillan. Was it all a lie? he asked himself, feeling an uneasy knot form in his stomach. How could I have been so wrong about her?
He didn’t have time for recriminations, though. He shoved everything back into her bag and slung it over his shoulder, taking one final look around. He hadn’t been in here since the night they made love and the sheets and blankets were still in disarray. He allowed himself one regretful sigh and then headed downstairs.
He threw all of the luggage onto the back seat of the Range Rover, staying alert the whole time for any sign of Nim and her Knights. He locked the front door of the mansion, knowing full well that it wouldn’t slow her down for two seconds, but he had no desire to make things easy for her, and perhaps the locked door would make her think there was something worthwhile inside. The more time she spent here fruitlessly searching for information, the further away he’d be.
Lionel drove to the end of the driveway and pulled through just enough to let the gates close behind him. He looked both ways along Hammond Street, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel as he considered his options. He needed to meet up with Savard and Chantal, but what should they do after that? Keep following Hawk and Trisha? Find a safehouse in another city and wait for their next mission? Head to the airport and return to France? None of them had much appeal, but the last one reminded him that he still needed to make the call he’d been putting off ever since he realized the truth about this so-called Quest. He turned left, heading for Boylston Street, as he pulled up the number.
“Lionel?” She didn’t sound very pleased to get his call, even though it was still early evening in Paris. “You have good news, I trust?”
“I’m afraid not, ma Reine.”
“Attends.” Her voice was suddenly much quieter, as if she took the phone away from mouth, but he still made out her words. “Amelie, donne-moi un moment, s’il vous plaît.” Someone murmured in the background and he thought he heard a door open and close. Then she was back. “Tell me.”
He summarized the events of the last couple of days along with his reasoning about what it all meant. He left nothing out, even though it painted him in a very poor light. “Your agent’s been compromised,” he told her tersely. “You have to warn him immediately.” Losing him was going to be a major setback. Or her, he thought grimly. He had no idea who their informant was.
She was silent for a long time. Lionel turned west onto Boylston, the Range Rover’s wipers sweeping back and forth in a steady rhythm to keep the falling snow at bay. It was already starting to accumulate between the lanes and he wondered how bad it was going to get by nightfall.
“This nurse of yours,” she said finally, “Patricia Macmillan. Is she special in any way? I saw nothing of concern in Giles’ report.”
“No, near as I can tell, she’s just one of their regular agents.” A very good one, he reminded himself sourly.
“Then why is she with Hawk? Is there any purpose for them to be together now?”
“She –” He stopped. That was a very good question. It made sense for Trisha to go with Hawk to the mansion. He couldn’t think of any reason for her to leave town with him. “No,” he said thoughtfully. “She should either have gone with Nim to the mansion or just returned to her regular job at the hospital until she was needed again.”
“So, what are they doing, then?”
“I don’t know, but I’ll find out.” If he hurried and the weather kept the police preoccupied, he might be able to catch up with them within the hour.
“Bon. Keep me apprised.”
“And you’ll get your agent out of New York?”
“I will do what is necessary. Au revoir, Lionel.”
“Au revoir, ma Reine.” He disconnected and sped up, leaving a swirl of snow in his wake.
51
Viviane sat at her desk, her long nails tapping in time with her thoughts. Lionel’s report was disappointing, but not surprising. Nim was both subtle and devious. A plan as convoluted as this was well within her capabilities, although risking the lives of two of her Knights like this seemed abnormally reckless of her. Perhaps she was getting desperate. The war between them had been going on for a very long time, but Nim had few victories to show for it. Perhaps we are finally at the endgame, she thought. I am ready for this to be over.
She rose from her chair and strode to the door separating her office from the r
eception area. Amelie sat on one of the leather couches set off to the side where guests would wait for a moment of her time. She was rearranging her hair, placing the lacquered combs just so to hold her long raven tresses in place, and she hadn’t noticed the door opening. She hadn’t bothered to fasten her blouse back up when she stepped out, and Michel’s face was pink as he tried and failed to keep his eyes on his computer screen. He was making a lot of errors in the letter he was writing, she noted with amusement, and she took pity on him.
“Michel, vous pouvez partir.” They both looked up, Michel startled and Amelie pleased.
“Oui, Madame,” he stammered. “Je reviendrai le matin comme d’habitude, n’est-ce pas?”
“Oui, c’est bon. À demain.”
“À demain, Madame. Bon nuit.” Michel hurriedly saved his work and shut down his computer as Amelie rose gracefully and strode towards her, her bare feet making no sound on the lush carpet. When he rose from his chair and hurried through the glass doors to the elevators beyond, his erection was obvious, straining against the front of his trousers. Perhaps his girlfriend would get lucky tonight.
“Tu es méchant,” Amelie chided her with a wicked smile. “Michel est trop jeune pour de telles choses.”
“Il apprendra,” she shrugged. “Maintenant, que faisions-nous avant Lionel interrompue entre nous?” She slid her hand under Amelie’s blouse and she breathed in sharply.
“Tu ne dois pas l’aider?” she asked, even as she closed her eyes and tilted her head back. “Il n’appelle pas à moins que quelque chose ne vas pas.”
“Ce n’est pas important. Tout est tres bien.” Amelie was right, of course. Lionel usually only called when things were going poorly, but this time, it wouldn’t do to overreact. She still had one final mission for her agent inside Pendragon headquarters. If it went well, the war would be over. That thought sent a delicious shiver of anticipation all the way down her spine. “Montre-moi ton minou, Amelie.”
Amelie smiled and stepped back, unfastening the zipper of her skirt. She let it slip to the floor, revealing her tiny black lace panties. Viviane sometimes wondered why Amelie bothered wearing such scanty panties at all and she thought about asking her just to leave them off next time. Now, though, she watched with parted lips as Amelie turned around and slowly wriggled her hips, easing the skimpy material down over her firm and rounded buttocks. She stepped out of them and leaned back against Michel’s desk. Her pussy was smooth and bare, already glistening within, and the diamond piercing the hood of her clit glittered in the bright overhead lights. Even though it was late on a Sunday, the office building had many tenants who worked long hours. Someone could walk by and look in through the doors at any moment. Neither of them cared.
“Baise-moi,” Amelie whispered, spreading her legs. Her erect nipples and dark areolae showed clearly through the thin fabric of her blouse.
“Avec plaisir,” Viviane purred, kneeling in front of her.
52
Trish stared out through the restaurant window, watching the snow fall harder than ever. It wasn’t quite a blizzard yet, but there was already an inch of accumulation on the less-traveled parts of the parking lot. If they waited much longer, they might not be able to leave at all.
She shifted her gaze to look at Hawk’s reflection in the glass. He was seated across from her in the booth, busy with his cheeseburger and fries. Her own salad sat half-finished by her elbow.
“Are we going to be okay?” she asked finally.
Hawk paused for a moment, glancing at her with a frown, and then looked out the window. “I’ve seen worse,” he said around his mouthful and kept on eating.
“That wasn’t the question,” she told him tersely. They were just outside New Haven, Connecticut, at least half an hour behind schedule because of the weather and the resulting traffic snarls all along I-95. “Are we going to make it to Mom and Dad’s?”
Hawk considered that as he chewed his way along a french fry coated in ketchup. “Eventually.”
“Are you normally this talkative or is it just when you’re with me?” she snapped. His eyebrows went up and she shook her head apologetically. “Sorry,” she mumbled.
“We’ll be fine,” he told her, eyeing his soft drink with displeasure. He’s actually wanted a beer but the restaurant didn’t sell alcohol. “We’ll make up time after we get to New York.”
“What’s in New York?” she asked suspiciously.
“Clear skies.” At her doubtful frown, he tapped the phone sitting beside his plate. “I checked the weather forecast south of here. It’s not supposed to start snowing down that way until after sunset.”
“Good.” It was just after noon now but you wouldn’t know it by looking outside. The clouds hung low overhead, casting everything in dull, shadowless gray. A car slithered by in the parking lot, fishtailing a bit as the driver tried to make the turn to the exit. “Is the Jag going to be okay? It’s not really made for this sort of thing.” We need Lionel’s Range Rover, she thought with an uneasy pang. I doubt he’d loan it to us.
“It’ll be fine.”
“Why is everything fine with you?” She regretted her tone as soon as she said it, but it was too late. Hawk’s brows knitted together in a scowl.
“Would you rather I told you this is the dumbest idea you’ve ever had and we should never have left Boston?”
“No.” She couldn’t meet his eyes.
“Well, it is, but we’re stuck with it, so let’s just get through it.” He looked over the remains of his burger and then set it down, sliding the plate to the side. “What’s really bothering you?”
“Nothing.” He said nothing and just waited. “My parents,” she admitted reluctantly. “They still haven’t called back.”
“It’s Sunday. Maybe they’re out shopping for groceries.”
“Mom should at least answer her phone.”
“Maybe she left it at home.”
“What about Dad’s phone, then?”
“Maybe his battery’s dead.”
“Or maybe they drove off the road into the Shenandoah River and drowned!” Trisha looked around hurriedly, but none of the other patrons seemed to notice her raised voice.
“Is that what you think happened?” Hawk asked evenly.
“No, but it’s not like them to not call me back.”
“They will,” he told her firmly. “It’ll be f–” He paused. “Okay.”
That teased a laughing snort out of her and she picked up her fork again. The salad was tasty enough but she didn’t have much of an appetite. There were just too many thoughts whirling around in her head, a lot of them having to do with the man seated across from her.
“So what was the deal with the Green Knight?” she asked, staring down at the mixed greens in the bowl as she stirred them around.
“What?” Hawk paused in mid-fry to frown at her again.
“The Green Knight. You said he cheated. What did he do?”
He looked down at his fry and dropped it on his plate. “You can read about all that at the library.”
“But you’re sitting right in front of me. You were actually there, you’re better than some old book, aren’t you?” He shook his head silently. “Why don’t you want to talk about it? I thought knights were always bragging about their conquests and things to impress their ladies.” He looked up at that, his dark blue eyes boring into hers, and she flushed. “I mean the ladies, at the court. It did happen, didn’t it? It wasn’t just some made-up story?”
“It happened,” he sighed, “but it was a long time ago.”
“So you don’t remember it?”
“I remember it just fine,” he said curtly. “It just doesn’t matter anymore.” His fingers drummed on the table as Trisha toyed with her salad again, embarrassed for him. Then he surprised her.
“The Green Knight appeared out of nowhere on New Year’s Day,” he said, leaning back with his arms crossed, scowling down at nothing in particular. “We were with Arthur in Camelot –
this was after Guinevere came to court but before Lancelot showed up to fuck everything up – and this eight foot giant dressed in green and carrying an axe walked in and said he wanted to play a game with us.”
“A game?” Trisha echoed doubtfully.
“A wager, really, one of those stupid things we used to do back then. The Green Knight said whoever struck him down with that axe could have it.”
“That seems ... violent. So you had to fight him for the axe and then kill him with it?”
“Not exactly. Whoever took the wager would get a free shot at him, but with one condition: the Green Knight would give the same blow back a year and a day later.”
“But he’d be dead, wouldn’t he?”
“I told you he was a cheating bastard.”
“So what happened?”
“Arthur wanted to accept the wager but I convinced him to let me do it instead. The Green Knight handed me his axe and bent over and I cut his head off.” Hawk rubbed his lip thoughtfully. “Guinevere was a bit upset about the whole thing.”
Trisha’s mouth opened and closed a few times at that matter-of-fact retelling of what was basically a murder in the middle of King Arthur’s court. “And that was it?” she finally asked.
Hawk snorted. “Hardly. The green bastard just picked up his head and said he’d see me in a year and a day. Guinevere fainted and he walked out and vanished. We cleaned up the mess, had the feast, and I got a very nice axe for my wall.” He plucked another fry from his plate.
“That’s all?” she complained. “What kind of stupid story is that?”
“The stuff of legends,” he said sardonically.
“There has to be more to it! If the Green Knight survived, then you were supposed to meet him a year later, right?”
“And a day,” he agreed. “A couple of weeks before the deadline, I went looking for him. I eventually came across a castle owned by Lord and Lady Bertilak. He said the Green Knight lived just a few miles away and he’d be glad to point me in the right direction. Since I was a couple of days early, though, he invited me to stay with them until it was time to uphold my end of the wager.”
Gawain (Knights of Excalibur Book 1) Page 27