Page 61 of Papa's Bébé
So Matthieu wasn’t going to give him too much credit. Plus, he’d waited until after the threats became physical to actually tell her about them.
That lost him points too.
Matthieu got out and opened the gate. As he turned, he spotted a sedan driving slowly past. The man stared at him.
That was odd.
He memorized the license plate. He’d get Brody to run it after he got Maya inside and fed her.
Coffee? That was all she’d had today? Getting back into the car, he drove it straight into the garage. This wasn’t the sort of neighborhood where you safely left a Dodge Viper in the driveway.
Hopefully, her garage door had a lock on it. Not that that would necessarily stop anyone.
Some of Ink’s guys were going to install a security system tomorrow morning. So he only had to get through the night on his own. Ink had offered to come help, but Matthieu had reassured him that he had this.
He hadn’t spent ten years in the French Special Forces and come away with no skills.
He turned off the car and waited for her to wake up.
Well.
This wasn’t good. She had to be totally exhausted to fall asleep in a strange car with a man she’d just met.
Of course, she wasn’t wrong to trust him. He would never harm her.
After closing the gate, he headed back into the garage. Then he opened her door and unbuckled her belt. He would love to let her sleep, but he needed her keys to get into the house.
Although he could easily break in, he remembered her talking about her babies. Which he assumed was maybe a couple of dogs?
So he reached in and gently picked her up in his arms.
Still nothing.
She was so relaxed, that her head dropped back over his arm and she started to snore.
Matthieu fought back a smile. No doubt she’d be horrified to learn that she snored.
He walked through the backyard and came to a stop as he saw the chicken coop.
That wasn’t what he’d expected to find in the suburbs. Although the houses out here did have larger plots of land. Maybe that’s why she’d moved to such a bad area. For land for her chickens.
Were these her babies?
“Maya?” he said quietly as he rocked her back and forth.
She barely weighed anything. Did she skip meals a lot?
That was something else that wouldn’t be happening on his watch.
“Maya, wake up, Bébé.”
Merde.
What was he doing? What was he doing calling her Bébé?
Not only did he have no right to call her baby, but in French? Although his name made it obvious he had a French background, he still tried to keep his voice free of an accent. Having an accent invited people to talk to you. They seemed to think you’d be interesting or have something to say.
Matthieu didn’t have anything to say. He wanted to keep people at bay, not invite them to get closer to him.
