Aubrielle's Call (17 page)

John ran his palms down her arms and took her hands. “It would. But there is someone I must find. It’s most urgent.” 

“Your smuggler friend?” Aubrielle pulled her hands away from John. “Mae told me he no longer stays at your apartment.”

“That’s true. Billy left with François.” He lowered his voice. “The man I seek recently worked at
La Fleur.
If he returns to the club or contacts someone there, I may find a clue to where he’s gone.” He tried to pull her into his arms.

Aubrielle stopped him with a hand to his chest. She smiled to soften the rebuke. “We should talk first.”

John nodded. Exhaustion and disappointment etched his face. “I’ll check on you tomorrow afternoon, well before sunset, and then we can have our talk.”

“Brie darlin’, I could use a bit of help,” Mae called.

Aubrielle took a step back. “You’ll see yourself out?”

John nodded. “I’ll be back late, but if you need me—“

“We’ll be fine.
Au revoir
, John.”

CHAPTER 25

John pulled the back door shut. He adjusted his fedora then buttoned his overcoat as he glanced up at the cloudless Paris sky. It would be another cold night. A familiar ache he recognized as bone-weary fatigue clung to the back of his neck. He rubbed his palm over the pain even though he knew there was only one cure.

I need sleep.

But there had been little time to rest and his eyes drooped from exhaustion.

After he and Henri had left the hospital, they’d returned to the building where they had rescued François, but Karl and his Nazi allies had fled, leaving no clues. Back at the apartment, Henri helped bandage the bullet wound in John’s shoulder—a minor injury that had already stopped bleeding

As the sun rose, John had walked the streets of
Le Marais
district, past the
Café Jardin de Lune
and Asher’s Market, hoping to catch a glimpse of the bastard’s discolored face.

When those efforts failed, he had made his way home to rest. Instead, every time John closed his eyes he saw Nescato, wrapped in a blood-smeared Nazi flag instead of her animal skins. Sleep had never come.

And again tonight, he hunted the German spy.

Nescato is alive
.

Resurrected from his long dead past in an instant, her evil specter, once consigned to bitter memory, again walked the earth. Corrupt with malice. Hunting him.

Karl had said the witch possessed the same immortality she had cursed on John.

Is she bound to love only one, as I am?

His breath stuttered. He blinked the cold, clear skies from his watering eyes.

And if so, is she bound to me?

John’s stomach convulsed, scalding his throat with burning bile. He swallowed back the bitterness with clenched teeth.

Impossible.

Nescato should have found him centuries ago, called to John in the same way he’d been magically called to Aubrielle. He halted in mid-step, hand on the rail, as his world careened out of focus.

Except, by her own words—her own monstrous curse—there could never be a threat to his life.

His immortality would leave her forever blind to John’s location. Their location
.

Blind until now.

Movement in the yard caught his attention as Henri stepped out of Éclair’s enclosure. He brushed his hands on his thighs while he waited for John to descend the steps. “Her gelding is fed and watered for the night, but he needs a long walk.”

“I agree.” John nodded. “But not tonight.” He passed Henri and continued out the back gate. “Hopefully, I’ll learn something so I can get my hands on Karl Reimer.” He crossed the street and continued toward the avenue.

“You’re not going to drive the truck?” Henri asked.

“No. A cab is quicker and will draw less attention.”

“What did you learn at the hospital?” Henri ran to keep pace as John rounded the corner.

John glanced at Henri and slowed his stride. “François and Billy are no longer there, or they were admitted under different names.” He raised his hand for a cab. “The staff told me they had no record of attending to either man.”

A cab changed lanes and pulled to the curb where they stood.

Henri rounded the vehicle, shaking his head. “That’s odd.” He dropped into the seat. “No, ridiculous. What could have happened to them?”

The back doors of the cab shut in unison and the cabbie looked over his shoulder.
“
Où allez-vous?”

“La Fleur Chantante, s'il vous plaît.”
John lowered his voice, “The
Sûreté nationale
must have moved them. It’s the only explanation I can muster.”

“Will we ever know if they survived?”

“I don’t know, Henri.” John stared through the window at the lights on the tower. “I hope so.”

They lapsed into silence. Just before the last turn, Henri looked at John. “Aubrielle’s father doesn’t have long.”

“No. He doesn’t.”

The cab stopped in front of the club. John paid the cabbie then shook his head in dismay at the line. “We might not get in.”

“We’ll get in.” Henri held out his hand to slow traffic, and both men hurried across the street.

The new doorman nodded as Henri approached.
“Bonsoir, Vogl. De retour à nouveau?”

Henri grinned. “
Bonsoir,
Webber. Is
Monsieur
Bonet here tonight?”

“Of course.” Webber passed them through the line. “He told me to keep an eye out for you.”

Henri raised a brow at Webber as they passed the doorman and entered the club. They checked their overcoats and hats, then surveyed the cozy club.

There were a few empty chairs, but beverages on the table held the seats for the dancers. An accordion player led the house band in a musette as couples twirled in each other’s arms near the empty stage.

“This way.” Henri nudged John’s arm and stepped into the crowd heading for the owner’s booth.

Bonet spoke briefly to the men at his booth, his scrutiny on John and Henri.

The men rose from their seats and disbursed into the club.

“
Mes amis
.” The large man’s arms swung wide to indicate the open seats to either side of him. “How are you this evening?” Bonet’s red suit matched the leather booth and cast his skin the color of green olives.

John released his suit button and folded himself into the booth. “
Bonsoir, Monsieur
Bonet.”

“B
ébé.
” Bonet signaled a waitress. “Bring my friends some refreshment.”

“Coffee.” John gave the busy waitress a weary smile. “Black.”

“And you,
monsieur
?” She looked at Henri and grinned.

“A glass of the house wine,
s
'il vous plaît
.
”

The waitress winked at Henri and swished her skirt as she disappeared with her tray into the crowd below.

“My Bébé, she likes you.” Bonet flicked his cigarette ash toward the tray and chuckled. “I like you too, Henri Vogl.” He puffed and blew smoke toward the ceiling. “I like you both.” His smile widened, and he included John in his glance. “As it happens, because of recent unfortunate events, I have an opening in my staff for a personal valet.” He crushed the cigarette out and picked up his glass. “Would either of you be interested?”

Henri sat forward. “I would be.”

Bonet rolled the edge of his napkin beneath his thumb. “That position includes room and board since you will need to be available to me for certain periods outside of business hours.”

“You’ve not heard from Karl?” John asked.

“
Non
. He never returned after you chased him through my kitchen.” Bonet withdrew another cigarette from his silver case and tapped the end on the table. “Although I have come to know, through certain sources, that Karl remains in Paris.” He raised a thick brow at Henri. “You’ll have to empty the room of his things.” His lighter flared, and he inhaled. “A Nazi in my employ.” He shook his head, chuckled, and blew a smoke ring at the table lamp. “Next thing you know, I will have dealings with the
Sûreté nationale.”

“Karl left personal items?” John exchanged a quick glance with Henri. “Could we see the room?”

Bébé stopped beside Henri and rested part of the tray on the edge of their table. She delivered the coffee and wine along with the bill.

Bonet picked up the tab up and stuffed it in his pocket. “If Henri takes the job, the room and all its contents would be his.” Bonet laughed in delight at his wit. “You’d have to ask him.”

John shifted his attention to Henri.

Eyes bright, Henri picked up his glass and swirled the wine. “I think we’ll be able to come to an agreement. When would I start?”

Bonet’s grin widened. “Tomorrow afternoon would be soon enough although you are welcome to the room immediately. Bébé can show you where it is when she returns.” He pulled a leather string with a key attached from his vest pocket. “This opens the new lock on the back door.” Bonet raised his brow and leaned forward as he handed Henri the key. “Do not lose it.”

Face flushed, Henri jammed the key into his jacket pocket and took a small sip of wine.

Bonet switched his attention to John. “And you,
mon ami?

“You have a job offer for me as well?” John tasted the hot coffee.

“Not as prestigious as my offer to your friend, but you would have access to certain privileged information as one of my security escorts.” He sniffed. “Karl was not the only individual to leave my employ recently.”

“Really?” John studied the club owner. His name and accent declared him a native of France, but visually, he appeared to be Persian or perhaps Greek.

“How many openings do you have?”

“Originally two, not counting my personal valet. I’ve hired Webber for the door, but Bruce has also failed to return to work.”

Neither of those men had been killed at the apartment.
How many men accompanied Karl Reimer?”

“Shouldn’t you require references?” John asked. “Considering Karl and his associates.”

“You are two of the most honest men I have ever dealt with.” Bonet looked from John to Henri. “I have no doubt and no need of another opinion.”

“You’ll allow me time to consider your offer?” John asked.

Bonet grinned wide, exposing wine and tobacco stained teeth. “For a time—say, two days?” He tapped out his cigarette. “Ah, I almost forgot.” He reached into his vest pocket and brought out several colorful tickets. He handed two to each man. “Passes for the New Year’s Eve Extravaganza. Henri, you may have that night off, and it would make me happy if you both would bring a guest.”

When Bébé returned to their table, Bonet held up his hand. “Leave your tray here and show Henri to Karl’s old room.”

John slid from the booth when Henri stood. “I must be going as well.”

“
Adieu,
John Larson. Let me know by this weekend if you will accept my offer of employment.”

“Thank you,
monsieur.
” John followed Bébé and Henri down the steps and along the dance floor to the door on the far side of the stage.

In the back room, Bébé turned left and continued past the raised backstage to the dressing rooms. She passed two curtain enclosures on her right, then opened the door at the end of the hall.

The small room contained a single bed, a nightstand, and dresser, as well as a cushioned chair beside a door. She turned the knob and held out her hand. “
Les toilettes et la salle de bain.
”

“Merci,
Bébé
.”
Henri grinned at the attractive waitress.

She returned his regard, assessing him up and down before she walked from the room. “
De rien.
”

Both men watched her hips sway as she sauntered down the hallway.

When she paused beside the backstage stair, she waved long slim fingers at the men.

“Bonet is right. She likes you,” John said. He opened the dresser drawer and searched Karl’s clothes.

“Women always do.” Henri opened the nightstand drawer. “A pretty face is all they see. They make up the rest in their heads.”

John finished with the third drawer, then turned and considered Henri. “That’s why you liked Aubrielle. She isn’t impressed with how you look.”

Henri shrugged. “She spoke to me as a person and put me in my place more than once. I hoped she would look deeper than my hair or my eyes and find value.” He clenched his fist and held it to his chest. “Here.”

“She values you as a friend. As do I.” John raised a brow. “And so might
Bébé
if you give her a chance.”

Henri closed the nightstand and turned out the pockets of the suits hanging in the open closet. “I’ll stay here tonight and finish going through Karl’s things.” He pulled out a used handkerchief and made a face as he tossed it into a trash can beside the bed. “Give my apologies to Aubrielle. I’m afraid I’ll need to miss the rest of her Hanukkah celebration.”

John scanned over the dresser top and peered behind a cheap painting of the Paris tower. Too tired to think. “I’ll tell her. She’ll understand and be happy for you.” John called over his shoulder as he walked down the hall. “And you let me know if you uncover anything that will allow us to find Karl.”