Page 82 of Explosive Vengeance

“Based on what you’ve told me, I’m guessing he was.”

“Probably. People lie to their spouses all the time.”

They’d taken a big gamble by coming here. Chloe was still recovering and couldn’t walk or move her left arm without pain. If it had been up to him, they would still be holed up someplace to allow her more healing time, but she’d refused to listen to reason, adamant that she was coming for Dubois and that she had a plan. Since he had half of France in his pocket, no cop or legal organization was going to take him down anytime soon.

But throwing him in jail wasn’t enough for Chloe. She wanted blood vengeance and wouldn’t stop until she had it.

Heath wasn’t entirely comfortable with it, but his choices were either to go with her, or have her do it without him. There was no way he would allow her to do something so dangerous on her own, so here he was.

Hours ago, Chloe had leaked the truth about the trafficked women to Vienne via an anonymous call from a source within the organization Fleur had worked for. The woman had told Vienne everything they knew about Guillaume’s involvement with past shipments, including the one they’d stopped in Le Havre, and sent pictures along with irrefutable evidence lifted from the thumb drives they’d stolen from Dubois’ safe. That meant Interpol would take him down.

Chloe wasn’t going to give them the chance. She needed to do this herself.

She reached her right hand up to tap her earpiece. Her left arm was still bound in the sling across her chest, her entire upper arm various shades of blue and purple and green. “He’s here. Alone,” she informed the rest of the team, waiting nearby. Then to Heath, “I had to make sure he was alone.”

She didn’t want the wife or kids to see him die. Because she was an orphan who had seen her mother die, tough as she was, she refused to traumatize Dubois’ kids that way.

It made Heath fall for her even more. “You sure this’ll work?”

“Yes, because he feels safe here. He thinks I’m dead, and he’s more worried about saving his marriage right now than anything else.”

He shook his head in grudging admiration. “You drive me crazy, but I love that you’re such a badass.”

A slow smile spread across her face. “Me too.” She kept watching the house through the binos.

They waited there in silence until the master bedroom light on the second floor went off. “Ten more minutes, then we get to work,” she said quietly. Then softer, almost to herself. “Hope he knows Wagner.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Guillaume dragged a hand down his face and set the empty tumbler aside on his desk. He’d been in his estate’s office all night, had only dozed a couple of times in his chair. He was fucking heartsick over Vienne and the girls. She wouldn’t return any of his calls or messages. How could he fix this? She wouldn’t go to the media with it, would she?

No, of course she wouldn’t. He was just panicking. Vienne was the epitome of class, and a protective mother. She wouldn’t want this to hurt their girls. He’d always said she was too good for him. Now she knew it was true.

He looked away from the nearly empty bottle of scotch on his desk, the liquor rolling sour and acidic in his stomach. He knew his wife. There was no coming back from this. Her rebuff last night had been final. She would be speaking to her lawyer first thing this morning, if she hadn’t already.

No matter what he did, it was over. He could beg and grovel and apologize. But in the end, it wouldn’t do any good. Now that Vienne knew what he’d done, she would never let him near her again. The only thing left to decide was whether he was going to force her to stay, and how far he was willing to go to make it happen.

Bile rushed up his throat. He surged from his chair, gulping, struggling to breathe as agony crashed over him in a dark tidal wave. A terrible sound clawed out of his throat, like something a wounded animal would make. Panting, he spun around and grabbed the edge of a table, throwing it with all his might. It crashed into the wall, scattering papers and other items.

A glint of light caught his eye on the edge of the carpet. Bending, he picked up the ceramic paperweight his daughters had made him for his birthday last year.

Love you forever!

The words gutted him. He imagined the looks of pain and confusion on their precious faces when their mother told them they were getting a divorce. Or, God forbid, the day they found out what he’d done.

He sank to his knees on the floor with an anguished cry, tears streaking his face. This was too great a loss to bear. He’d already lost his brother. Now his whole family?

He barely heard the knock on the door, hurriedly scrubbed at his face. “Come in,” he choked out.

Jean-Pierre stopped in the doorway, his eyes widening in shock. “I’ll come back.” He turned to leave.

“No.” He pushed to his feet, wiping at his eyes. “Stay.”

Jean-Pierre reluctantly came in and shut the door. “I take it she still won’t talk to you?”

He shook his head. “What’s happening?” Jean-Pierre had been at the other house all night. Guarding Vienne and the girls, but also to keep watch for him.

“She’s been on the phone most of the morning.”

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