Thirty-eight
Jolie didn’t even crack a smile. Instead, he unlocked the door and pushed me into the bakery. Okay, not quite the way I’d envisioned this happening. He gave me a final push, and I broke my forward momentum by slamming my hands against his front counter.
I kept my back to him. A torrent of French filled the shop. Normally, I love the French language but not today. He continued to yell, his words falling on me like pieces of glass. Technically, I was the more innocent of the two of us. Then he switched to English.
“How dare you?” he roared. “I tried to convince my partner you were not an innocent victim in all this. You are a conniving spoiled brat.”
“Don’t hold back,” I shot out.
He waved his hands in disgust. “I would never let my granddaughter talk like that. And I never would have worked with your papa if—”
I flipped around. “Worked with my dad? What are you talking about?” That made no sense. No way would Dad work with a homicidal pastry chef.
“He asked me to be a part of his Spy Games. Quite ironic, don’t you think?”
The knowing smile on Jolie’s face reflected the truth. He knew I knew about him, and he didn’t care. I fiddled with the flower pin on my shirt, a gift from Dad, pressing the record button.
“Yes, quite, considering you’re the spy,” I said.
He laughed, a deep belly laugh.
My anger went from simmering to rolling waves. “It won’t be funny when you’re convicted and put in jail.”
Tears streamed from his eyes. “Little girl. You know nothing.”
“I know a lot,” I shouted. “I know you hired Malcolm to take Aimee’s place so you could spy on my family.”
“HA!” The word burst from his mouth like a gunshot. “Oh, you have brought me so much entertainment these past weeks I do not know whether to get rid of you or to hire you onto my staff.”
“I am not some sort of joke. This is serious.” I stopped myself before blurting out that I was here to rescue Mom.
He wiped his eyes. “Eh. When the night we’d planned for your kidnapping went up in smoke, I made other plans.”
“I don’t believe you.” I racked my brain and couldn’t think of any near-kidnappings. No men in dark clothing. Nobody offering me candy. Nothing.
“Let me explain.” He took a bow.
And they call Americans obnoxious.
“Malcolm was a plant.”
“Duh.” Okay that sounded totally childish. “I know he took Aimee’s spot to get to me.”
“Wrong!” He burst out again, laughing. “He was a plant at Les Pouffant’s. He was never a struggling waiter in need of cash. He asked you out on a date and romanced you because I paid him to.”
Right then and there I became a piece of pastry dough, punched and slammed around until there was no air left in me. I had my suspicions, but to hear it stated out loud made it real. Too real.
“Why so pale? Malcolm is way out of your league my dear. Forget him. He will bring you nothing but heartache.”
“But why?” He’d tried to kidnap me before I even had any thought about entering the pastry contest? “I’m a nobody.”
He nodded. “True. But I needed to make sure. Do not worry you passed the test.”
I stepped closer to him. “You needed to make sure about what?”
“That is classified.” He made the motion like he was zipping his lips.
My anger went from rolling waves past boiling to the cracking stage. “You’re not the only ones with secrets, Santa Claus.”
“Please, enlighten me.”
“I know things about you too. I know about your precious Aimee. And I know your secret in the basement.”
Jolie stopped blabbing, his words dried up. Slowly, a change came over him. His mustache twitched and he ran the back of his hand across the bottom of his beard. His nostrils flared and his face turned the color of a brilliant sunset. His chest heaved in and out, and he stepped closer, pushing his face in mine.
“How do you know about that?” His breath smelled like peppermint and sugar.
It felt really good to have pulled something over on him. “Sorry. I’m not at liberty to say.”
“What?” he blasted out.
My body trembled under his roar. I straightened my back and stood firm. No fear. “Life’s not so funny when you’re the one being fooled, is it?”
He growled and pushed me away in disgust.
“Honestly, if Aimee knew what a big bully you really are, she’d probably never talk to you again. So, why don’t you hand my mom over to me, and I’ll leave. And you can forget all about me.”
A devious smile pranced across his face. “I know nothing of your mother.”
I looked out the window and gasped. “Zut alors!”
Quick as lightning Jolie fell for the oldest trick in the book and whipped his head around to see what happened. I reached into my large purse and grabbed my taser. With one quick thrust I aimed for his big belly. But he wasn’t as stupid as he looked. He caught my wrist inches from his belly. His grip tightened on my arm until I groaned in pain.
“You want to play with the big boys? Non? Then I will treat you like one.” He twisted my wrist around and jammed the end of the taser into my side.
Bolts of electricity entered my body, zaps of pain shot through my limbs. I felt numb. I hit the floor with no chance of blocking my fall. Drool wet the side of my cheek. Jolie’s evil cackle filled the air and settled deep into my soul. My body twitched. He grabbed my wrists and dragged me across the floor. I mumbled out words of protest. My head lolled back and we passed the glass case with fresh pastries and entered the kitchen. A door creaked open, and he brought his face close to mine. The smell of peppermint washed over me.
“You can’t fool me. I know your family has been watching mine. First your mother, then you, and finally your father drawing me into his Spy Games. I will take your family out before they can finish me off.”
With that, he gave me a push down the stairs.
A Spy Like Me Page 39
