Carnal in Cannes (29 page)

Martine"s belly wrenched into tight knots, but she refused to be cowed. “My grand-mère is sick. She has the malaria. I owe her everything. I did what I had to.

With the money I can bring her to France and make sure she gets well.”

Harry"s cell phone jingled, and he jerked the vibrating instrument out of his front shirt pocket. Examining the screen he said, “It"s your friend,
Cas
. I paid that little shit forty-three thousand euros for info he already knew.” Thumbing Accept, he barked, “I expect my deposit refunded in full.”

She heard the faint murmur of Casmir"s low rumble, and Harry"s bronzed complexion paled.

“When?”

His face had taken on that blank expression he had when questioning her.

“Thanks.”

Returning his iPhone to his pocket, he said, without meeting her eyes, “Pass me that remote.”

Martine blinked. The change of subject and his grim mouth made the hairs on the back of her neck tingle. Reaching to grab the silver tool, she asked, “Is something wrong?”

Finally he met her gaze, and she flinched, at once knowing disaster had struck. She stopped breathing.

Framing her face with both palms, he said, “There"s been a massive outbreak of cholera in Haiti. Thousands have died.”

Non, not now. Not when I am so close.

Nails digging into her palms, Martine swallowed, and the bitterness coating her gullet raced to her mouth. A shudder racked her body, and the tears she never shed pooled in the corners of her eyes. Biting the insides of her cheeks until the stinging forced her splintering thoughts into submission, she inhaled and exhaled.

“We have diseases all the time in Haiti,” she said. “Cholera, malaria, the yellow fever, dengue—”

“Shush,” he crooned, touching two fingers to her mouth. “This is not like those, sugar. It"s bad.”

He removed the remote from her hand and switched on the plasma TV

mounted on the wall behind the desk. CNN blared to life. Harry turned up the volume.

“
The pictures you are about to see are not recommended for children and the
easily upset,” the male anchor stated. “Massive epidemics have devastated the
population of Port-au-Prince and its environs within the last three days. One in three
persons in the capital is a victim of cholera, typhoid, or dengue. The authorities do
not have the drugs necessary to stop the spread of these diseases, and the government
is appealing to international aid organizations for immediate help. Dead bodies are
Mediterranean Mambo: Carnal in Cannes

145

turning up in the hundreds, hospitals are turning away victims because they have no
room, and looters are targeting the few drugstores left standing. Medical clinics,
including those being run by nuns and priests, are the targets of both criminals and
citizens desperate for medicine. Areas where clinics have been destroyed include
Carrefour, Petit Goave, Leogane
…”

The rest of the announcer"s words jumbled in Martine"s brain.

Two hours away from Grand-mère. Please, Lord Jesus, please keep her safe. I
will never lie again. I will be a good Catholic. I will stop stealing food.

A coldness descended over her with the dankness of a funeral shroud, and her hands and feet grew icy with each word the announcer spoke, with each shot of Port-au-Prince flashed on the screen. Martine flinched as familiar yet not familiar images jerked her soul apart.

Harry stroked her spine, massaged her hair, and murmured soothing phrases she didn"t comprehend. Burying her nose in his shirt, she inhaled, and his familiar scent took the tension out of her knotted muscles. Her fingertips traced the line of hairs at the V of his neck.

“I"ve got your back, remember?” he asked over and over, and the words sank into her head. “We"ll find her.”

She let him say the two phrases until she began to believe in them both and in her grand-mère"s strength.

Finally, he asked, “Ready to talk?”

Lifting her face from his chest dampened from her crying jag, she replied,

“Oui.”

He kissed her forehead, each brow, the tip of her nose, and brushed his lips gently over hers. “You"ve gotta be strong for her, Martine. That"s what she wants.”

“I have her back, Harry,” she said.

“Clever, beautiful, brave wife.” He kissed her mouth again, a soft smack, drew back, and swiped away the tears on her cheeks. Harry grabbed the half-empty water glass and brought it to her lips. “You know the drill. Drink.”

After she"d emptied that glass and a third of another, he placed the tumbler on the table and handed her the box of tissues.

“Did you recognize anything on the CNN reports?”

“Oui. Non.” A hiccupped sob stopped further speech. “The river at the end. It looked like the river where I lived as a child. The mountain villages could be anywhere. Oh, Harry, what if they attacked the clinic where my grand-mère is?”

“She"ll be okay,” he said, tipping her chin up. “Look at me.”

Martine stared into the eyes she"d come to love.

“Your grand-mère survived being thrown into the streets. She saved you from your mother. She rescued you from Solino. She survived the earthquake. Do you really believe a mere disease could best her?”

I so want to believe you.

146

Jianne Carlo

“
Il est très mauvaise
, Harry.”

“English, Martine.”

“It is very bad. There are so many bodies. So many women and children left to rot in the sun.” Martine drew strength from the determined glitter in his gaze. Her lips trembled. “There"s no one stronger than Grand-mère. Save you, Harry.”

“Geoff works with MI6, Suresh has connections all over the world, and I have two private investigators already on the ground in Port-au-Prince. We"ll find your grandmother. I promise.” Harry clicked the remote, and the screen went blank. “I need your help, Martine.”

Though he said the words, Martine knew he asked her a question. “I am not going to crumble, Harrison Indiana Ford. Tell me what you need.”

“All I need is for you to stay calm and focused. Right now I want you to go and have a long hot shower. Then meet me in the bar area. I"m calling in Suresh, Geoff, and Casmir. While you"re showering, I want you to remember everything you can, particularly about your last few days in Haiti. Can you do that?”

“Yes,” she said.

“Go and be quick. I need to make sure my PIs have been inoculated and have the medical supplies necessary to survive.”

“I hope they are all right,” she said.

Martine didn"t know how much time passed in the shower. After toweling off, she found one of Harry"s discarded T-shirts thrown on the bed, picked the soft fabric up, brought it to her nose, and sniffed, closing her eyes. Images of Grand-mère revolved through her mind—going to market together, cooking together, setting the table together with the broken china rescued from the house she"d occupied as Grand-père"s mistress. A smile tugged at her mouth.

You will survive.

She dressed in a fog, pulling on her old jeans and impulsively shrugging on Harry"s T-shirt. Resolutely she lifted her chin, walked to the armoire, opened the door, and picked up a pillowcase. Martine turned around, took a deep breath, then marched over to the sideboard, sat cross-legged on the floor, and opened the last drawer. She"d hidden the food under the napkins and in the covered stoneware bowls stored there. One by one she emptied each bowl into a pillowcase.

It’s a sin to throw this out.

She stared at the contents of the pillowcase.

I’ll give it to the Bandoleer’s wife. She’ll know who needs it the most. And no
one else will know my shame. This one, anyway.

Martine stored the pillowcase in the empty minifridge in the guest quarters closest to the stern of the boat. No one ever entered any of the unoccupied staterooms. The cheese and bread would keep until she could get it to the Bandoleer"s wife the following day. Her conscience appeased, she headed forward, or to the stern, as Austen termed it.

Mediterranean Mambo: Carnal in Cannes

147

Only Harry was in the bar area. She stood for a moment in the doorway drinking in his every feature, loving his easy grace. Stacks of paper flanked either side of a laptop on the coffee table. His concentration was absolute. His gaze strayed from the sheet in his hand to the screen and back again. Something must have alerted him to her presence, for he lifted his head in her direction.

Their gazes met and held, and he smiled.

Dropping the sheet he held, Harry lurched to his feet, catching his knee on the edge of the table, and his lips moved. She recognized the curse he muttered under his breath, and her mouth curved.

He ate up the distance between them, tugged her into his arms, and asked,

“Better?”

“Yes,” she replied. “Kiss me, Harry.”

For a few seconds he didn"t comply with her demand, but then his lips sipped at hers, testing, soft, tender, slowly sliding back and forth. Closing her eyes she returned the caress, touching the tip of her tongue to his upper lip. His palm cupped her neck, the other curved around the small of her back, and he tasted her, and she him.

They stood there together for an eternity, for a pin drop, the world not penetrating their tender oblivion. When Harry abruptly broke the contact, she blinked in bewilderment.

A throat cleared behind them.

Austen said, “For crap"s sake. You can clear your throat a zillion times, Stanford. They"re not going to hear you.”

Martine grimaced and squeezed her eyes shut as a fiery blush swept up her neck.

Harry ran his finger along her jaw, and she opened her eyes. He searched her face, seemed to find what he wanted, and gifted her with a crooked grin.

“Time to get to work,” he said.

“I"m ready.”

“We"re all here.” Martine recognized the slight British clip of Suresh"s voice.

The temperature in her cheeks climbed.

Harry"s hand dropped from her jaw. He raised his head and quipped, “Let"s get this show on the road.”

Shifting, he guided her to the couch, and the two of them sat side by side.

Harry twined his fingers with hers as the others filed in—Suresh, Austen, Geoff—

and she turned to look at Harry after Casmir"s lanky form followed.

“He can help.” He worked his jaw. “And he"s on a retainer.”

“She"s under my protection,” Casmir stated. “Your money"s been refunded.”

“She"s
my
wife,” Harry growled. “
I
protect her.”

148

Jianne Carlo

“Cut line, Harry. Stop acting like a jealous fool.” Geoffrey stood in front of the coffee table, legs wide apart, his arms folded over his chest. He shot a scowl at the Gypsy. “If you care a whit about Martine, you"ll stop this BS and cooperate. We"ve no time to waste. The situation in Haiti is dire. I fully expect it to worsen exponentially over the coming days.”

Casmir"s cheeks shaded to a cooked beet"s hue. His eyetooth tugged at the edge of his lower lip, and he shrugged as only a Frenchman could, the gesture more a statement of arrogance rather than indifference. “I am here for Martine. I"ll do whatever"s necessary and more.”

“We"ll find your grandmother,” Suresh assured her as he took a position in the chair on the left of the couch. “I have two of my best Web guys mining for information.”

Austen crammed his bulky form into the other chair flanking the sofa. “I"ve called in all my favors with my army buddies. Anyone who may be deployed to Haiti is on watch.”

Martine"s eyes watered dangerously, and gratefulness coated her vocal cords too thickly for speech. She smiled at each one of them in turn—grouchy, gruff Austen; supersmart, suave Suresh; and confident, caring Geoff. Not one of these men had known her scant days ago, yet here they were assembled for the sole purpose of helping her find Grand-mère.

I owe every single one of you.

“Shall we call the meeting to order?” Geoff asked.

“Yes,” Harry replied. “Take anything you need as you need. Food and drink"s on the sideboard. All the tech tools are here.”

A flurry of activity transpired as Harry spoke, the other men grabbing beverages, but they all ignored food for the time being. Harry, unasked, brought Martine a cup of peppermint tea and a bowl of strawberries. She set a mug of steaming black coffee in front of him.

Martine noted each man had some sort of computer, Casmir his Dell laptop, Suresh an iPad, and Geoff a tablet she didn"t recognize. Only Austen didn"t brandish a technological tool; instead he slouched down and stretched tree-trunk-thick legs under the coffee table, his fingers laced over his belt.

“Before we begin getting into details, let me bring everyone current on a few salient facts.” Harry then summarized the events Martine had described to him, glossing over the details of her flogging.

“I want to see that camera,” Geoff stated.

“As soon as I have,” Harry growled and he and Geoff locked gazes. Geoff rolled his eyes in concession. “Right now we focus on Martine"s grandmother. Do you know where she is?”

“Sainte Marie,” Martine replied. “That"s where the nuns who took me in are.

They have a hospital.”

“How far is that from Port-au-Prince?” Suresh typed as he spoke.

Mediterranean Mambo: Carnal in Cannes

149

“Three hours if the bus doesn"t break down,” Martine replied.