“No—no—Maxim, please.” Nicholas crawled to his friend’s side, stroked his face, and murmured his name, over and over.
“Get him out of here,” Jeffers growled, staggering to the chair he’d left earlier. He sank into its billowy softness and closed his eyes, suddenly weary beyond belief. “Go away and leave me alone.”
“He won’t wake up—oh God—help him, damn you,” Nicholas sobbed.
“I said get out, and take him with you.”
“But he needs help. Call for a doctor.” Nicholas stood and took a step closer, looming over him, his fists clenched.
Jeffers knew he was in danger, and so played his trump card. “If Guillaume doesn’t hear from me by noon today, your sister’s life will end.”
Nicholas paled, clearly defeated, and returned to his lover’s side.
“Get rid of him and then come back here,” Jeffers instructed. “We need to leave.”
Nicholas gathered Maxim in his arms and staggered out of the room, kicking the door shut behind him.
Jeffers flinched at the loud noise and ran a shaking hand through his hair. He regretted losing control. This would just make everything more complicated.
Nicholas and Maxim were imbeciles; he should never have left the important work for them. He refilled his glass with whiskey and contemplated his next move. The buyer’s reputation for ruthlessness added a sense of urgency.
Heather James would regret ever causing him trouble.
Chapter Fourteen
Heather slowed as she approached Uncle Henry’s yard. That darn intuition in her gut kicked in again, and she faltered to a stop. She twisted her hands together and looked up and down the quiet street. Wouldn’t it be great if a cop car cruised by right now? Although what she’d say to convince them that something was wrong, she had no clue.
She’d tell the whole story to her godfather and get his advice. Chances were he’d persuade her to go to the police. Which made perfect sense, and it’s what she should have done right off. He’d probably offer to go with her. At least she wouldn’t feel alone.
Could she be arrested for living in a house bought with the proceeds of a crime?
Ha! Based on her father’s journals, many, many crimes.
Hopefully, Uncle Henry would pay her bail.
She sat on a neighbor’s front step and willed her heart to slow. This was ridiculous. She’d done nothing wrong.
Except fall for a guy who wasn’t what he seemed.
The sooner she got this over with and in the hands of the authorities, the better. Then she’d clean up her little house and her life. Striding to Henry’s front door, she kept an eye out for anyone suspicious-looking.
The bell rang inside the house and footsteps approached the door. She was about to ring again when the door opened. Uncle Henry stared at her like she had horns.
“Hi, Uncle—”
“No, I’m not interested in contributing, thank you,” he yelled, blocking the door with his body.
“What are you talking about? Are you—”
“I said, I’m not—”
“Ah, there you are, ma petite. Come in, come in.” Mr. Jeffers appeared behind Uncle Henry and used his cane to push the other man to one side. He reached out and grabbed her wrist, pulling her into the house. Glancing up the street before closing the door, he then made sure the dead bolt was locked.
“Mr. Jeffers, what are you doing here?” Her stomach did backflips. This didn’t make sense. Henry had warned her to stay away from Jeffers, and now here he was, in Henry’s house.
“I’m visiting my old friend. Let us all sit down and perhaps you could open some wine, eh Henri?”
“Oh, I—I just remembered—ah—” Heather pressed her back to the door, feeling for the lock.
Mr. Jeffers grasped her arm. She flinched as his bony fingers dug into her flesh. He led her into the dimly lit living room. Now she understood her feelings of unease. Henry followed, very pale, a sheen of sweat on his face.
“Let us see what we can do about our little problem, hmm?” Mr. Jeffers settled into a chair and placed his cane across his knees. Henry staggered to the couch and collapsed against the cushions. Heather hurried to his side.
“Are you okay? Can I get you anything?”
He shook his head and took her hand. “Forgive me, my dear. I should have told you the truth, all of it. Perhaps this could have been avoided.”
“I don’t understand. What are you talking about?”
“He is talking about our partnership with your dear father. And the lucrative business we had together. The proceeds of which gave us all a very comfortable life.” Jeffers laughed quietly and looked around the room. “It seems you are the only one who was sensible with his money, my friend.”
Henry closed his eyes and shook his head. “I am not your friend. And if you hurt one hair on—”
“Bah, no one will be hurt. And this conversation is boring me. I am returning to Tournus this afternoon. Perhaps you should come with me, mademoiselle. We can come to some arrangement while we travel, n’est-ce pas?”
Heather looked from one man to the other, with no clue what to do.
Who were these people?
Her father’s journals hadn’t mentioned any names, just initials, but from some of the stories she’d read, the men got nasty on occasion. Could these old gentlemen actually hurt her? Well, not Henry; he looked pretty upset by the whole deal. But Jeffers appeared to be at the end of his rope.
She scanned the room, looking for a phone. Or a possible weapon. Or a magic lantern. A magic genie would come in real handy right about now.
“You know, I don’t have to go all the way to France.” She swallowed, her dry throat feeling like it was lined with sandpaper. “Why don’t we just settle things right now? Tell me again what you are looking for, maybe I just missed—”
Jeffers surged to his feet and whipped his cane through the air, bringing it down hard on top of the delicate birdcage music box, the crack like a pistol shot. Pieces of metal flew in all directions, and one yellow feather drifted to the floor.
“No,” Henry croaked, frozen in place, tears gathering in his eyes.
She lunged for the door, but Jeffers caught her before she’d taken a second step. He was amazingly strong for such a frail old man. His fingers sank into her hair, and he gave a sharp tug.
“Stop that, you’re hurting me.” She took a swing in his general direction, but he blocked her fist with his stick. Pain exploded in her fingers.
“I am tired of playing this game, you silly girl. You will come with me, and you will not cause any disturbance. Henri would not enjoy the consequences.”
She trembled at the thought of the old man being hurt because of her, and she stopped struggling. “I don’t know what the hell you want, but you won’t get away with it.”
“I already have.” He unlocked the door, checked outside, and dragged her toward the car parked at the curb next door. It was the same car that had taken her to dinner. Where were Maxim and Nicholas? She didn’t dare scream, for fear they were waiting for an excuse to hurt Henry.
Praying for the appearance of a dog walker or a nosy neighbor, she dragged her feet. But the street and sidewalk remained empty.
Once seated in the car, Jeffers pulled away from the curb and drove well over the speed limit. It was early enough in the morning that there was little traffic in the neighborhood, and Jeffers didn’t have to stop for a light. She kept expecting a cop to appear, but there never was one around when you needed them. She wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. Or cry, or scream. This was a scene from a bad movie, not her life. She should be home doing the laundry or feeding Samson. Not racing toward the airport, about to be whisked out of the country.
“Wait, I don’t have my passport.” Relief flooded through her body. She couldn’t go to Europe without her passport.
Jeffers finally had to stop at a traffic light, and Heather grabbed for the door handle. This was her chance
, now or never.
“Don’t be a fool,” he spat, jabbing a pistol into her ribs.
Cripes, where’d he get a gun?
Even if she got out of the car, she couldn’t outrun a bullet. Her skin prickled with sweat, but at the same time she shivered.
Time to try the common sense angle again. “We’ll be stopped at boarding if I don’t have—”
“Not to worry, we will not have to clear customs. I have it all arranged.” He smiled, or grimaced. She saw that he gripped the steering wheel hard, and a trickle of sweat ran down the side of his face despite the chill in the car. His color wasn’t very good either, sort of a greenish gray.
“Maybe we should wait until you’re feeling better,” she began. Dang, she was running out of possible excuses.
He burst out laughing and used his sleeve to wipe his face. Turning into the drop-off lane at the airport, he drove past all the terminals toward a gate marked Private. A guard waved him through, and they sped across the tarmac to a small jet waiting with its door open, a set of stairs angled down to the ground.
“Don’t bother asking for help. These people know who pays their salary. They also know what will happen if they get in my way.” He waited for one of the uniformed men to open his car door, then climbed out with the help of his cane. Another man appeared at Heather’s door, and from the blank expression on his face, she knew there was no sense appealing to his better nature. She seriously doubted he had a better nature.
And then he took her purse, confirming that he was a total jerk.
All too quickly she was buckled into one of the six seats in the small plane. Jeffers took the seat across the aisle; the rest of the plane was empty. One of the pilots gave her purse to Jeffers, who pawed through it before handing it to her.
She almost didn’t want it anymore. Granted, there wasn’t much of value inside, but it was her purse, for God’s sake. Didn’t all men know a woman’s handbag was sacred territory? A quick glance inside confirmed everything was still there, and there was nothing she could use to get out of this situation. Like a knife, or a nail file. She doubted an emery board would inflict much damage.
The pilot announced they were cleared for takeoff, and once they lifted off, her options vanished. If there had been any chance of escape or rescue, swooping over the rooftops and into the clouds pretty much took care of those.
“How long is the flight?” Perhaps if she could get him talking, she might learn something that could help her once they landed.
“We will land in England to refuel, then continue on to Tournus.”
So there’d be at least one more opportunity to attract someone’s attention and get help. If she could be at a window and motion to the plane gas guy, she might convince him she was in danger.
All was not lost. She’d never given up easily before. She wouldn’t start now.
Her stomach growled, and he shot her a look of disgust. “Um…could I get something for breakfast? And some water or coffee?”
Jeffers sighed and pressed a button in his armrest. Half a minute later the copilot appeared, and they had a conversation in French. The man in uniform glanced at her, frowned, then shrugged. He went to the back of the plane and returned with a bottle of water and a muffin, which he dropped into her lap.
I guess I know where I stand. Heaven help me if something goes wrong with the plane. I bet I don’t get a parachute.
She ripped the package open and ate the dry muffin, washing it down with the water. Remembering the file she’d found in Tony’s file cabinet, she went over every minute they’d spent together. Was he in league with Jeffers?
Hearing heavy breathing, she looked at the old man. Asleep. She unbuckled her seat belt as quietly as she could and stood, watching him. She eased into the aisle to look for something to use as a weapon. Pain exploded in her leg and she looked down to see Jeffers’s cane blocking her way. Dammit, he didn’t sleep for very long.
Straightening her spine, she pushed the pain down deep. She wouldn’t give the bastard the satisfaction of seeing her cry. “I was just going to the bathroom, jackass. Unless you want to pay for cleanup on aisle one, I suggest you let me by.”
He glared at her a moment. Could she yank the stick out of his hands and bash him over the head with it? And then what would she do? Probably get pushed out the door at ten thousand feet.
They stared at each other until he finally removed the cane. “You should know that these men are loyal to me, and will not hesitate to kill you if you try anything.”
“Whatever.” She continued on her way to the bathroom, locking the door behind her. Of course there was nothing in the tiny compartment that could be used as a weapon. That would have been too easy. Her chance of survival might look grim right now, but there was still time. Once they landed, she would try her damnedest to escape.
…
Tony bounded up the front steps of the elegant house, pounded on the heavy door, and prayed he wasn’t too late. The sense of danger increased with every second that passed, and he was ready to rip the door from its hinges. The sound of shuffling footsteps grew louder, followed by the sound of numerous locks being undone. Finally the door opened a crack, and a watery eye peered out at him.
“May I help you, young man?”
“I’m a friend of Heather’s and I really need to talk to her. Is she here?”
The eye filled with tears, and the door opened wider. The man shuffled away down the hall, leaving him to follow. He slipped his gun free, stepped into the spacious hall, and closed the door before following the old man into the living room, every sense wide open.
“Sir, where’s Heather?” He stood in the center of the room, taking in the classy furniture, the tasteful artwork, every muscle tensed for a sneak attack. He knew Henry had been out of the game for over twenty years, but there were no guarantees where his loyalties lay.
“She was here earlier, but she left. I’m afraid I can’t tell you anything more.” He slumped into a chair and covered his eyes with a shaky hand.
“You can’t, or you won’t? Listen, I think she’s in danger. If you know—”
The old man uncovered his face, giving him a look of tired defeat, mixed with sadness and fear. “Does it matter? She’s beyond your reach. There’s nothing to be done.”
Tony’s blood chilled at the words. He crossed the room in two strides and grabbed the man’s collar, hauling him from the chair.
“Listen, old man, I’m not going to lose her. If you know anything you’d better tell me. Or I’ll haul your wrinkled ass down to the police station and leave you to molder in a holding cell.”
The other man didn’t put up any resistance, simply stood there. Tony suspected he’d fall to the ground if he let go.
Blowing out a disgusted curse, he pushed Henry back into his chair, and paced around the room. Where could she have gone?
“Was Jeffers here? Did she leave with him?”
He was surprised to hear a sob. His skin crawled, nasty images forming in his mind.
The old man hunched over the coffee table, moving bits of broken metal around.
Tony crouched in front of Henry and gentled his tone. “Where did he take her?”
“France.”
White-hot fear filled his body, the blood draining from his head. He ran through several scenarios, and discounted them all. Except for somehow getting himself to France.
“Look, don’t worry, I’m going after her.”
Henry’s face had gone pale as death, and tears ran freely down his cheeks. “Jeffers is a sick man. He no longer cares who he hurts.”
“What do you mean sick? Mental?”
“Cancer. Terminal. He’s desperate. Oh God…” He buried his face in his hands. “He’s going to kill her. I’ll never forgive myself.”
Tony raced out the door, leaving the old man to live with his own demons. He didn’t have time to offer comfort. Pressing the speed dial, he briefed Sam and headed for the highway. If he was very, very lucky
, he’d be in the air within the hour.
He couldn’t lose the one woman he wanted in his life. Not before they even had a chance.
Chapter Fifteen
Tony broke a few speed limits on the way to the airport. Cursing a blue streak, he fumbled with his cell phone, expecting to find a message from Chas. Still nothing.
Having to find a pet-sitter for Delilah and the cat had delayed him. He’d also had to contact an agent who could be in place in case anything happened at this end. Luckily his replacement loved animals and agreed to stop by the big house. All the arrangements had used up a good two hours. Meaning Heather was halfway across the Atlantic.
The thought of her not arriving on the other side sent a rush of adrenaline through his system, making it hard to breathe. If Jeffers hurt a single freckle on her adorable nose…
When he arrived at the airport, he learned that the private plane Sam had scrounged or bribed some billionaire for his use wouldn’t be available for another hour.
What the hell good was having powerful friends if they couldn’t also rewrite flight plans at the drop of a hat?
Every second of delay spelled more danger for Heather.
Tony killed some time refreshing his already perfect recollection of all the facts of the case. Then he read the back-cover blurbs of every book in the gift shop. It seemed like they all involved conspiracies of one sort or another. Did the authors have no original ideas?
After choking down a dry burger, he paced out to the gate again. His skin was about to crawl off his muscles.
Finally his phone buzzed, and he ducked into a quiet corner to take the call.
“Chas, we’re in the shit. What do you know at your end?”
“Merde. I heard Miss James is coming here, with Jeffers. I need to get back in there before I raise suspicions. Zut—” The sound of the phone dropping to a hard surface, a few shouts, and the line went dead.
Portrait of a Girl Page 12