He narrowed his eyes on the road ahead and engaged the phone to call Junker. He needed to get Claire. He could deal with Lilah later when his mind was more logical, or at the very least less perplexed with thoughts of potential paedophilia. Not that Jon was that way himself, he was sure, only that he might be thinking of a sale. The ride over to this part of town had been swift, and the finding of Jon’s lodge relatively easy considering its positioning.
Upon arriving at the Strazborg earlier, he’d noted Jon’s car arriving at the back of the building and told Junker to covertly stand guard nearby while he retrieved Lilah. And then, while fucking, which was most unsuitable given the circumstances, it seemed they had all left, their destination unknown at the time. He’d damn near dragged Lilah from the road she’d owned so effortlessly with her commotion and stamping of feet. He could very well have smothered her offending mouth with chloroform to force the issue, given the hurry he was in, but she demanded attention. The correct kind. And she most definitely would not be coerced until she was ready. He could picture the sprinting that would occur should he make one wrong move, and had therefore reverted to pleasantries, hoping for a sensible response. He hadn’t cared in that moment whether she’d slept with Alexander or not. For once, he’d simply accepted his feelings and allowed himself to indulge his need for her, offering love as an avenue to speed her momentum. Thankfully, it had worked, enough to get her in the fucking car anyway.
They had driven aimlessly for some time, pressure building in his innards at the thought of idiotic, albeit captivating fucking, until he’d eventually retrieved a message about Claire’s whereabouts. Thomas and Junker were positioned to be able to see into the rooms by the woods. Junker watched the main door from further afield, and Thomas had been made to climb a tree to see directly into the room in which Claire was sleeping. All was apparently well so far. She was in slumber. Safe. Alive and retrievable.
“Sir,” Junker answered, his tone bored.
“Are they awake yet?” Pascal asked, rounding the bends of the country road to the small track leading to the back entrance of the estate.
“No, Sir. All is still quiet. Two men at the front and one at the back. Neither Innsbrucker nor Roxanne have been seen.”
“And my daughter?”
“Still sleeping. Thomas has given regular updates.”
Hmm. What to do? He ended the call and glanced over at Lilah, who had not looked at him once, then stared back at the gates as they came into view.
“They are in a small lodge at the back of the estate,” he said, pointing into the woods and showing her the direction in which he was heading.
“Okay,” she replied, still looking forward.
“If I give you the keys, will you get yourself back to my apartment? Or will you run from me again before we have finished this one way or the other?”
She turned at that, her mouth slightly parted, showing that she herself was unsure of the answer. The time to be unsure of such things was over. Nothing was currently more prevalent in his mind than the safety of his daughter.
“I intend to get my daughter and leave this country with you. We will go to Rome and discuss matters. When that is settled, you will either leave or stay. Alexander’s plane is waiting for us.”
She sighed a little, twisting her body to gaze back out of the window and tapping her leg. He reached over and carefully took hold of her hand, drawing it to his lips and tasting the very essence of her as it drenched him in promises of peace.
“Have you spoken to him?” she asked, seeming relieved that the bastard was still alive.
“Yes, in some manner.” None of which was explanatory enough for him to know the truth, but all of which was enough for him to understand that this was not as simple as he’d originally thought. She snorted at him and continued to gaze across the woodland.
“I’ll go back and wait for you,” she eventually said quietly, still not turning to face him. “Go get Claire.”
“Lilah, look at me.” She did, but not because she wanted to. It was a look that told him of her uncertainty and distrust. Things he knew well—things he probably deserved if she had not, in fact, fucked Alexander. “I do not wish for you to leave. Stay. Let us resolve this, yes?”
He plugged in the navigation to get her home and offered her his key. “There is a lifetime of me for you to understand, and many questions for you to ask, all of which I will be honest about. But I must do this first.” She nodded her head and smiled softly, a simple quirk of her lips.
“Okay,” she said. Okay? It was not the most reassuring of answers, and as he returned her nod, getting out of the car, he questioned whether or not she would really return to the apartment. He stared at her beauty and felt a sense of fear rise inside him as he flicked his eyes to the tree lined landscape, because she could not be here. Danger was here. Bullets, guns and death. A death he would have her nowhere near. She would not be taken or used as Elizabeth had been. He would not have her held over him. One of the people he loved in danger was enough. Two would be unfathomable.
He pulled his Browning from the glove compartment and gazed back at her as she slid over into his seat, shoving her revolting bag to the floor as she did. If only Alexander were here now. He would know what to do with this situation. He’d treat it like a damn game, slicing his opponents off one by one and enjoying the sensation as he did. He’d be prepared for death with no emotion involved, as he himself had been on their last adventure together. The man would be ready to kill and be killed with little thought for his own well-being. He would be logical, methodical in his killing spree with no sense of panic or fear. The chase had always seemed fun before. However, for once, fun this was not. He completely understood the fear that must have been circulating Alexander’s bones when they took his Rose. The same challenge coursed through him now, too, shaking his bones with thoughts of concern and care for the outcome. Precious things were so rare in a world of non-committal. Only a few caused essential need, and therefore, dread. Lilah was now one of them, whether he liked to admit that fact or not.
She suddenly reached her finger to the black metal in his grasp, stroking over its roughened surface as she smiled and looked up at him.
“You really are a criminal,” she said, flicking her gaze back down to the gun and laughing lightly. “I’ve spent all this time trying to make you appear legitimate and now you stand here holding a gun, proving all my work wrong. A Count ready to do battle.” He was hardly a Count anymore, more the wayward offspring of royalty. One who peppered the outskirts of sanity on more than a few occasions. “You’re just like him, aren’t you? Is this life with you? Or is there a fire somewhere for us with lazy Sunday mornings and papers?”
He didn’t answer her. He couldn’t. He’d never imagined such a thing, certainly not with anyone other than Alexander. Although, in that moment, looking at her eyes and the way she smiled warmly, and thinking of the little girl who was waiting for him, he could think of nothing finer than an eternity of lazy Sunday mornings. Ones with steaming coffee, her weight draped over him, girlish giggles, and his dogs.
“Go home,” he said, switching on the car for her and tilting his head back at the road behind him. He had things to finish first, and Lilah needed to be safe so he could understand her complexities and languish within them eternally. “Wait for me.”
She stared for just a few more seconds before flattening her smile and carefully reversing the car back up the road. She swung it around effortlessly and drove away, leaving the word ‘please’ hanging in the air as he watched her go—where to, he wasn’t entirely sure.
He had things to finish first.
He walked to the gate and launched his body over the top. The ache that creaked its way up his spine did not go unnoticed as he shook it off and continued onwards. Fucking aches. He was too old for all of this garbage. Running around with guns and acting inappropriately was for the young, for the Thomas’ and perhaps the Alexanders of the world. He assumed Alexander w
ould never become too old to kill, nor to enjoy the prospect. However, it had never been something that enamoured himself that much. Killing was only ever the final resort. Extortion was nearly impossible when people were dead. Death was un-useful. It was also symptomatic of an overly emotional response to something, highlighting the current problem at hand: emotions.
He pulled in several long breaths and stalked his way through the forest, negotiating logs and brambles in his way as he tried to stay silent. Insane Jon may have become for reasons unknown, but the man was an exceedingly good shot, one he’d witnessed on several occasions. The last one being a young man who’d tried his hand at fucking the man’s wife. It had not ended well for the youngling, regardless of the fact that Jon cared little for the sexual appetite of his wife.
A short while of scrambling around in the wet winter ground later and he eventually found the tree where Thomas was perched and whistled a call. Thomas smiled down at him then began his descent down the trunk.
“She is still asleep?”
“Yes, Omm. No one has entered since we have been here.”
“Hmm. Anything new to report?”
“No. It has all been quiet.”
Something wasn’t right, or didn’t feel that way. He narrowed his stare at the back of the wooden structure and began to stalk closer, searching for Junker as he did and nodding when their eyes finally met through the space between them. He dug out his phone and called across, knowing the man would have silent engaged on his device.
“Anything of significance?”
“No, all quiet.”
Scanning again for a few minutes, he watched the guard at the back light a cigarette and walk along the porch to the front of the lodge. He checked his watch to count the time it took for him, or one of the others, to return.
“Three minutes, Omm,” Thomas said beside him. He chuckled at the boy and turned to look at him.
“Always?”
“Each time he has a cigarette, he goes to the front, talks to the others and then returns.” Hmm. Perfect. He turned back and calculated the climb to her window. Second floor, but there was an easily scaled façade with plenty of ledges to use. Three minutes would be fine.
And so he waited for the next cigarette break, informing Junker of the plan and letting Thomas know his intentions.
“But, Omm, what if they catch you?” the boy said. No one had ever caught him. Not once. In all the years of climbing through windows when he was at school—windows that belonged to the headmaster—never once had he been caught. He was silent in a quest for something he desperately wanted, deadly if need be.
He tucked his Browning into the back of his belt and lifted his small switchblade into his top pocket. If he could get Claire out of there silently then he could go back and finish the deed. Jon would not be leaving alive, and Lucinda, well, she would either remain alive or not. She was not a concern.
“Thomas, point your gun at anything that dares interfere with me and kill it,” he said quietly, noticing the boy’s shaking hands and wondering why he hadn’t placed Junker back here. “When I get back to you, you take Claire to the car and you hide yourselves somewhere until I call you, yes?”
“But–” He snarled, interrupting the boys potential babbling and gripping his shoulder.
“This is your world now, Thomas. You must. We are not weak in the face of fear.”
The boy nodded hesitantly, but turned his gaze back to the building, steeling a more resolved face and trying to calm his shivering.
“She looks like Grootmoeder.”
He sneered in response and ducked under a tree, watching the guard light his next cigarette. She did indeed look as her lineage suggested. Claire would, no doubt, look most similar to her grandmother when she grew into an adult. She would not learn to behave as she did, though.
“Up, Thomas. Are you prepared?” he asked, raising a brow at the boy’s hands and watching him start to climb the tree again.
“Go, Omm. I am ready.”
Hmm. He hoped so.
Twenty-five sprinted strides was all it took to reach the building, and then a firm handing over the wrapped porch area to land silently on the wooden floor. He was quick to begin scaling the side of the building, grasping at hooks and crevices to gain adequate leverage. His body hummed with enthusiasm as he remembered all those long nights at the hands of a master who needed the pain as much as he. It rallied muscles to work fluidly, covering the upwards climb with precision as he felt the energy pushing him onwards. Halfway up, he heard a noise in the distance and froze against the wall, swinging his head to see where it had come from. Another building lay some half a mile away, the wind carrying the sound over to him. He focused on it, watching for guards and guns, but all he could see was a man and a youngling walking around its perimeter. Hmm. What were they doing out there in the woods? He narrowed his gaze as he clung to the wood, noticing the limp of the child and the slight push the man gave it. Something was definitely not right with the vision. Still, his own daughter was more important than the anonymous other child. He looked away slowly, focusing his mind back on the child who mattered, then began to climb again. Within minutes, he was grabbing the window and quietly pushing it further open to gain access.
The room was silent as he looked at her small face and eased himself in, scanning the corners for any threat. Nothing. There was nothing but an oversized bed with a delicate body within, and a few other pieces of furniture. He crept over, knowing the only way he could get her out quietly was to cover her mouth and try to stop the scream that would surely emanate the moment she woke. With swift hands, he scooped her up in the blanket she rested under and began to cover her mouth, but she didn’t wake. She just tilted her head into his chest and yawned, nuzzling into his body and making herself smaller against him. His heart pounded against her head as he felt love ebb through him again. Real, honest love. A love that would surely consume him. He was so fascinated with her features that he forgot where he was for a moment and simply revelled in the image of her lying in his arms. She was so small, and so very dependent on him to save her from this world they lived in. He pulled in a breath and quietly crossed the space to the window, trying to decide the most appropriate way to carry her back down, then stared back out at Thomas. The boy nodded at him then shook his head rapidly, aiming his gun at something below them. He peered down, noticing a flash of hair beneath him on the porch. Hmm. He’d spent too long gazing and not enough time getting out of the damn room, it seemed. He would wait then. The next cigarette break would give him time to descend.
He sat back into a chair, pulling out his Browning, and watched the man below hover on the porch as Thomas’ frame camouflaged itself in the tree once more.
Idiotic. Why had he waited so long? The question hardly needed answering as he glanced back down at Claire in his arms. She was perfection, her little mouth silently blowing out breaths as she fidgeted to make herself more comfortable on his lap. Sweet fingers grabbed the blanket and pulled it tighter around her, and brown curls cradled her face, teasing the sides of her cheeks as she drifted back off into a deeper sleep. His daughter. His enchanting little daughter, who was currently lying with her back against the gun he had aimed at the door. It was not something she would be doing again, ever. She would be safe from this turmoil. She would live serenely in a place of consequence, and make a decent life for herself that had no connections with sin or criminality.
He looked out the window again and stared, waiting for the nod he needed as more minutes ticked by. Nothing moved in the room as he kept his eyes trained on Thomas and tried to fathom the climb back down. He’d never had to carry something from a room before. How did one hoist a child and keep them asleep while scaling a wall? He knew not, but he thought she would be best kept close to his chest. So, he rested the gun against his thigh and began tying the ends of the blanket around his neck, creating a cradle of sorts around her body and through her legs. Hmm. It was as secure as it was going to get. Than
kfully, knots were something of a skill of his, though he pondered Alexander’s hands tying them instead for better security. The man was quite ingenious in his rope work, unfathomably so.
Finally, Thomas nodded again, indicating that it was safe to descend once more, so Pascal belted his gun and began the perilous few feet back down to the floor. With Claire in his arms, everything suddenly became hazardous. One trip, one fall, one squeak from her and this would all be over. He was under no illusion that he would be shot if he were caught. Any one of the guards or Jon would happily kill him for interfering in their plans and potentially harming the child in his arms in the process. However, interfere he damn well would, and then, when she was safely away, he would come back and kill.
His feet finally touched the floor as he held her tightly and kept his back pressed to the lodge, waiting for Thomas’ command to run. The nod came as the boy waved his hand. With no time to lose, he put all his faith in the boy and climbed the barrier, clinging to Claire’s small sleeping body as he did, and then began to sprint back to the woods. She bounced about despite his efforts to keep his body soft against her, but the need to reach safety was now more pressing than her remaining asleep. He was not at all surprised when she garbled something into his chest as he ran. His hand immediately reached for her face, smothering it into his jacket for fear of yet more noise.
“Mama?” she mumbled against him. Mama? Mama was the one who had got her into all of this trouble in the first place. Mama would not be coming anywhere near her again. He thought about just killing the bitch himself as he raced the final few meters. Now was as good a time as any; it could always be explained away with a fire or an accident of some sort.
Clambering them over the final barrier in his way, he glanced up at Thomas and saw the boy rapidly finding his way down the tree. Junker was crossing the wooded area to the left of them. Hmm. A team indeed—one that appeared to have saved the day with no adverse consequences as yet. He kept moving deeper into the woods anyway, listening intently behind him for any notion of threat that may try its hand at stupidity.
Serenity's Key Page 6
