Broken by a Dangerous Man

by Cleo Peitsche

  That explained how Rob had called me. Funny how I hadn’t even wondered about it.

  I continued to work on my sandwich, which was disappearing far too quickly. A boat went by, and we both watched it. I wondered what Corbin was thinking.

  He finished his sandwich and balled up his empty wrapper. I watched as he easily rose to his feet, and I heard his footsteps walking away. A moment later, I heard him returning, and he sat next to me, closer this time.

  He was strangely quiet, and I realized that his attention was focused elsewhere.

  “What is it?”

  “We’re being watched,” he said, and I sucked in air. I started to turn around. “Don’t,” he said.

  “Who’s watching? Do you think it has to do with… with the reason you’re here?”

  “Doubtful. It could just be a thief, targeting tourists.” He shook his head. “But I’m not assuming anything. Are you done with that?” He indicated my sandwich.

  There were still a few bites left, but it was just empty pita. “All yours,” I said, handing it over.

  Instead of eating it, he balled it up inside the wrapper and pushed to his feet.

  Under the guise of watching Corbin, I turned around. It had gotten a bit crowded, with people loitering under the bridge, sitting on the steps, milling about behind us.

  I looked up and saw plenty more people at the level of the street. None of them seemed to be paying particular attention to me or Corbin, though.

  Corbin returned. “Whoever he was, he ran off when I got up again,” he said. “I didn’t get a look at his face.”

  “Are you sure it wasn’t just a coincidence—”

  “Yes.”

  And I had to believe him. This was what he did. Or what he used to do.

  “Should I be worried?” I asked.

  His blue-green eyes darkened. “No one will ever hurt you so long as I’m around.”

  A little shiver traveled the length of my spine. I wasn’t worried about being attacked. I just didn’t like hearing Corbin talking like that. With him, it wasn’t an idle threat.

  I swallowed.

  He looked at his phone. “I need to get back,” he said. “Tonight is going to be a late one, but Bertrand will take you anywhere you want to go. And don’t forget to call your mother. I promised her you would.”

  We looked at each other and smiled.

  He got up, helped me to my feet, then helped me dust the dirt off my ass.

  I appreciated it for reasons that had nothing to do with cleanliness.

  Chapter 8

  Back in the hotel, Corbin swapped his sophisticated shirt for a black turtleneck. He downgraded his jeans, too. He went into the bathroom. I heard water splashing in the sink.

  When he came out, his hair was damp and parted down the middle. The ends were tucked behind his ears. He was still hot as sin, but he’d gone from looking rich to looking like a heartthrob college professor.

  It gave me all sorts of inappropriate fantasies about being punished for cheating on the final exam. What the hell was wrong with me?

  “You look different,” I said.

  “That’s the idea.” He pulled on a houndstooth blazer and took a case from the pocket. When he settled a pair of wire-rimmed glasses on his nose… I wouldn’t have recognized him.

  “What do you think?”

  “Strangely hot. But why?” I asked.

  “Because I’m a chef.”

  Right. That had been his career at the time of his wife’s abduction.

  Ex-wife, I reminded myself.

  “But you’re a private chef now,” I said. “That’s what’s on your taxes, right?”

  He smiled. “Don’t worry. I’ve got my story straight.” He removed the glasses and the blazer, pushed up the sleeves of the turtleneck to reveal his muscular forearms, and pulled on a stylish hat, a sort of low-profile fedora that could have seemed desperate and trendy but was surprisingly sexy.

  Just like that, the rich guy was back.

  “Can I make a humble request?” he asked, his voice rumbling sexily. He touched my knee, and lust raced through my veins.

  “Sure.” I was anxious to do anything I could to redeem myself.

  “Please wear the ring. This isn’t an easy time, for either of us. Wearing the ring might help you remember how much you mean to me.” He leaned in to brush a kiss against my lips.

  After he’d left the room, I tried to figure out where his capacity for forgiveness had come from. I couldn’t have forgiven him so quickly, I didn’t think. I was like my father in that regard: stubborn and unable to ignore a slight.

  Corbin was stubborn, too, but he wasn’t self-destructive.

  I went to my suitcase and pulled out the dirty jeans from earlier. I remembered putting the ring into my left pocket, but it wasn’t there. Nor was it in the right one.

  Frowning, I carefully searched the pockets a second time, my fingertips probing for a hole it might have slipped through.

  Unzipping the dirty laundry compartment didn’t reveal the ring hiding in a crease or caught in a sock.

  Icy panic settled over me like mist, growing chillier by the second.

  If I’d lost that ring… Corbin would either think I was lying and didn’t want to wear it, or that I’d thrown it away on purpose.

  Even if I could convince him that it was an accident, he might assume I’d subconsciously intended to lose it.

  Why wouldn’t he, after the way I’d acted? I’d used all my strikes. If I fucked up again so soon…

  My hands were clammy as I double-checked the compartment.

  Maybe it had fallen out when I was carrying my clothes from the bathroom. Or maybe it was in the bathroom itself.

  Drenched in a cold sweat, I ran to the bathroom and dropped to my knees. I shook out the bath mat and ran my fingers behind the tub’s feet.

  It wasn’t there.

  The panic changed from a mist to heavy ice that seemed to be tightening around me, constricting my chest, depriving me of air. Still on all fours, I crawled out of the bathroom, retracing the path I’d taken earlier, my eyes and fingers sweeping the carpet.

  The ring was simply gone. Upending my suitcase and cautiously shaking out each article of clothing didn’t make it reappear.

  Think!

  But I couldn’t think. My brain was foggy. When I’d lived on my own, I’d had this problem sometimes when I was running late and couldn’t find my keys; I’d be too busy freaking out to step back and logically work through the problem.

  Sitting on the edge of the sofa, I leaned forward and rested my head in my hands. I took a deep breath and retraced my steps for the day.

  The bed! It must have fallen out when I was sleeping. Of course.

  I rushed in and inspected the floor, the top of the bedspread. Carefully, I peeled back the light, fluffy comforter. Then the sheet.

  In the end, I pulled off all the bedding, but the ring wasn’t there.

  Sagging against the wall, I swiped my forehead with the side of my wrist. Maybe I’d lost it at the airport, or on the plane. I distinctly remembered putting it into my pocket, but maybe I’d misjudged. I hadn’t looked down to check; I’d been going by feel, just the way I did when I put things into my pockets day in and day out.

  After retracing my steps three more times, I looked up the numbers for the airport and the airline.

  No ring matching the description had turned up in the lost and found. The lady on the phone kept asking if I’d left it at security and if the ring had little green stones. “Could the yellow look green?” she asked.

  “No, diamonds and yellow stones,” I said.

  “These are bright green. It’s definitely not your ring, sorry to say.”

  The airline was even less helpful. They put me on hold for fifteen minutes, then said they’d call back.

  That snooty flight attendant. If she’d found it…

  I closed my eyes and exhaled, feeling defeated. Then I called Bertrand.

 
“It might have fallen in the crack of the seat,” he said optimistically, “but it wasn’t sitting on the floor.”

  “Are you positive?”

  “Absolutely. I went through to make sure everything was clean.”

  “Oh.” The word came out as a long, sad sigh. I wanted to just lie down and die, then come back in the next life and do everything better. Much better.

  “Why don’t I come get you? You can look for the ring, then we’ll see the sights.”

  I wondered if he was bored, sitting around waiting for me to summon him. “Yeah,” I said. “I wouldn’t mind seeing the Eiffel Tower.”

  “I’ll be in your hotel lobby in five minutes.” He’d probably been sitting around the corner with a newspaper and a thermos of coffee. For all I knew, he had a second, empty thermos so that he’d never need to leave his post. I’d definitely be giving him a huge tip.

  “I’ll come out,” I said.

  After fixing my hair, I grabbed my daypack and dumped in the new cell phone, a packet of tissues, and some lip balm.

  Then I checked the bag, just in case I’d put the ring in there but had forgotten.

  I had to accept the awful truth: the ring was gone.

  There was only one option left. I knew which luxury retailer it had come from. Maybe they had a shop in Paris.

  At least Bertrand would be happy to have something else to do to pass the time.

  Chapter 9

  The ring had not fallen into the seat crack.

  I told Bertrand where I needed to go. He made a brief call to see if the store was still open.

  “They closed at seven,” he said, “but we can go first thing in the morning.”

  “Guess that’s my only option,” I said. And maybe I’d get lucky. Maybe the airline had it and would call before then.

  I still didn’t know how much the ring had cost, but it wouldn’t be cheap. If I got very, very lucky, they’d carry an identical ring but with less expensive materials. Corbin would never know the difference, and I wouldn’t go broke. If I got sorta lucky, the replacement price would be “only” a few thousand. That would wipe out my savings and max out my credit cards, but at least I’d be able to fix the problem.

  But if I had no luck at all? It could easily cost ten thousand or more. Corbin was wealthy, and he enjoyed spending money on me.

  “I’m afraid the patisserie is also closed,” Bertrand said apologetically. “I already checked. But the tower is open until late, and in my opinion, it’s better to visit at night.”

  I stared out the window while he drove, and I tried to imagine Corbin living in this city. It wasn’t easy. For one thing, he always drove such huge vehicles. But of course he’d been just a normal guy when he lived here and wouldn’t have needed something that could survive a grenade.

  “Where do the diplomats live?” I asked, remembering that was one of the details Corbin had mentioned about his old neighborhood.

  “You want to know which arrondissement? The 16th.”

  “It wasn’t a number,” I remembered. At least, I didn’t think it was. When Corbin had told me about his time in France, I’d been more focused on the details of his life, not the details of the city.

  “I’m sure it’s the 16th,” he insisted. “It’s a nice neighborhood, with some quality museums, but for a first-time tourist, I’d suggest starting with the Louvre. Or, if you like the impressionists, the Orsay.”

  “Maybe we can drive through the neighborhood, if it’s on the way?”

  “It’s not far from the tower. Just across the river, in fact, but there’s not much to see at night unless you want to visit the le bois de Boulogne, which I’m sure you do not.”

  I frowned. “Why not?”

  “Nothing to see,” he said, though his smirk suggested otherwise.

  “I’d really like to visit the area where the diplomats live,” I said.

  “No problem.” Bertrand changed lanes and put on his turn signal. The stoplights, I noticed, were very short, and they stood on the sidewalks as opposed to hanging over the intersections. If I’d been driving, I wouldn’t have remembered to look for them.

  The road Bertrand wanted to turn onto was jammed.

  “Is traffic always this bad?” I asked.

  “Rarely at this time of day.”

  We sat through two light cycles without making any progress. “Maybe we should do it tomorrow,” I suggested.

  “I could take another route, but I think you’d prefer to visit the neighborhood in the daytime,” he said, swiftly changing lanes again.

  I soon caught glimpses of the Eiffel Tower. Bright lights outlined it, making it impossible to miss. I wasn’t prepared for how large it was, and when we finally reached the rectangular, tree-lined park where it sat, I was frankly in awe.

  “Hard to believe it was meant to be a temporary structure,” Bertrand said. “For an exhibition fair, you know.”

  My nod was a lie; I hadn’t known. I wondered how sturdy it was. On the other hand, it had been around for a long time, so I guessed it wasn’t going to fall down on top of me.

  “I’ll park the car. Perhaps you should wait here,” Bertrand said.

  “You don’t have to come at all. It’s not like I’m going to have a hard time finding it.”

  Bertrand’s face fell a little, so I added, “Unless you’re bored or something, but I’m fine on my own.”

  “And if you need a translator?”

  At a major tourist attraction? Surely the signs would be in several languages.

  That nagging feeling about Bertrand bloomed into a realization. “Do you have any special skills, Bertrand? Do you carry a gun? Can you immobilize an attacking thug with three quick moves?”

  Bertrand’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, then he smiled. “Corbin needed a favor, and I owe him.”

  Sounded like a story I wanted to hear. Or perhaps not. “I’ll wait for you here.” I got out and moved to the sidewalk.

  The wind had picked up. I wrapped my arms around myself and arched back, trying to see the tower’s pointed top.

  The structure reminded me of a ballerina: graceful and smooth from a distance, but muscular and tough upon closer inspection.

  Six buses pulled up. The doors opened and groups of Japanese tourists spilled out. Within moments I was in the middle of an excited crowd, so I moved away.

  I walked under the tower’s legs and glanced up its tutu. It was hollow for the first few levels. I continued on so I could observe it from the other side. Bertrand had a phone. If he couldn’t find me, he’d call, though if Corbin had asked him for a favor, he was likely capable of locating someone pretty quickly.

  Poor Bertrand. I was itching to yell at Corbin for putting one of his friends at my beck and call, but I was definitely on probation, so I wasn’t going to yell at him for at least a year. Maybe longer, if I couldn’t solve the problem with the ring.

  Normally I wasn’t the sort of person who took a lot of photos, but the Eiffel Tower warranted an exception. I pulled my bag off my shoulder so I could take out my phone.

  A hand tentatively touched my arm, and I turned to find myself facing Massimo.

  “Whoa,” I said. “Where did you come from?”

  “Now you know how I felt earlier.” He guided me to the side, out of the flow of pedestrian traffic. A cool wind carried the scent of fried batter.

  Massimo jammed his fingers awkwardly into his pockets. “I saw you leave the hotel, and I followed,” he said. “In case you were wondering how I found you.”

  “Um… How do you know which hotel I’m at?”

  His discomfort grew visibly. “After I walked away from you at the airport, I doubled back.”

  “And followed me to the hotel?”

  He nodded. “It scared me when you popped up out of nowhere. Think about it. I thought I should keep an eye on you. Investigate the investigator.”

  “Did I pass?” I couldn’t help the tinge of irritation in my voice.

  A reticent sm
ile turned his handsome face stunning. “Your boyfriend is really hot. I see why you’d want to keep him. Whoever his wife is, I say you challenge her to a fistfight.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” I said. “Since you know I’m not lying, why are you still following me?”

  The smile vanished. “Because I need your help, and I wanted to talk to you alone.”

  “Then you’d better be fast. My escort is just parking the car.”

  “I didn’t kill anyone,” Massimo said quickly. “No one is perfect, and I’ve done things I regret, but I’ve never been physically violent. Never. Not even while I was drunk, not even joking around.”

  “What does that—”

  “Someone must be trying to frame me. It looks really bad, Audrey, and I need help. I hate myself for not being with Neil right now, but I can’t go back into the country. They’ll arrest me.” He fell silent, but the desperate, pleading look in his eyes was overwhelmingly loud.

  “Massimo, I don’t have any power. Whatever happened, you’ll have to sort it out yourself.”

  “It’s what you do, though. Investigate things. You can find out who the killer is, and then I’ll be free to go back and take care of Neil and Pooksie.”

  Pooksie was their canine person.

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “You want me to insert myself into a murder investigation? That’s so far out of my league.”

  “But you’re good. Even though we talked for a long time, I had no idea you weren’t just another client. You got me to tell you so many personal things. And Audrey, I don’t want to complicate your life, but I don’t know anyone else. Fate put us both in Paris for a reason. Please, I want to fix this so I can get back to Neil. He needs me now more than ever.”

  I shook my head, but he grabbed my hands.

  “If the situation were reversed, would you give up? You have to help me. Please. Audrey. Please.” He tried for a charming smile but only managed to be pitiful.

  I sighed. The guy really had no clue. “Don’t get your hopes up, but I’ll see what I can find out—”

  “Thank you!” Massimo kissed me on the cheek, and I was so surprised that I went stiff. Then he squeezed me in a hug. “Thank you so much,” he said.