Deliver Us From Evil

44

REGGIE STRIPPED OFF her clothes and showered, scrubbing so hard it felt like her skin was peeling off her bones. Afterwards she dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, drifted downstairs, found her market basket, and headed up the hill to town. She left through a rear door that opened onto the cobblestone path so she would not have to deal with her neighbor.

An hour later she returned, her basket full of the ingredients for the meal. She prepped the kitchen, freshened up in the bathroom, and put on a white skirt and a light blue tank top. She remained barefoot, as she liked the coolness of the tile floor against her soles. She took time with her hair and face in the bathroom mirror, taking five whole minutes to decide on a bracelet and earrings.

She froze in the middle of this, staring at her made-up face and wide eyes made wider by the magic of eyeliner and mascara.

It’s jealousy. Playing one against the other. That’s all it is.

Whit’s voice sparked across her brain. “So this is all tied to the mission?”

She kept staring at her image in the mirror. “It’s always about the mission.” One more monster ticked off the list. That was all she wanted. And however she got there it didn’t matter.

The sound of the front doorbell almost made her collapse. She looked at her watch. Eight o’clock on the dot. She finished with her primping and rushed down the corkscrew stairs. When she opened the front door Shaw held up two bottles of wine. “The vintner in town swore these were the two best reds he had if my goal was to shamelessly impress a remarkably sophisticated lady of means.”

Reggie took one of the bottles and glanced at the label. “He was right. I am impressed. These must have cost you a small fortune, even in Provence.”

“I’ve never let money get in the way of fun. And as a lobbyist I’m used to negotiating folks down on things.”

She rose up on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. He followed her into the kitchen, his gaze running over the twitch of her hips.

“Do you miss the work?” she asked.

“Not really. I basically was paid an extravagant amount of money to make even more money for people who already had too much of it.”

“I’ve got all the prep work assembled. Your instruments await you.” She pointed to a serrated knife and a wooden chopping board set next to a pile of vegetables and tomatoes.

“Okay, but first a thirst quencher.” He grabbed the corkscrew off the counter, worked the cork out, poured two glasses, and handed her one. They clinked and sipped. He put down the glass and picked up the knife. “So what are we having?” he asked as he started slicing.

“The main course is a stew with chicken, tomatoes, and vegetables and a few closely guarded secret spices. I’ve got a cheese platter and crackers with some stuffed olives to munch on beforehand. Then there’s salad, some bread and olive oil, and a little creamy dessert that I bought at the bakery because I can’t bake. The coffee of course will be from a French press.”

“Sounds terrific.”

“You know, as depressing as Goya can be, I really did enjoy today.”

He glanced over at her as she was stirring the stew. “Me too. Must have been the company.”

Reggie frowned. “Okay, in the interests of full disclosure, Evan asked me to go with him to Roussillon tomorrow.”

Shaw finished dicing a tomato and started on the celery. “Are you going?”

“I told him I would, but I think I’ll drive separately.”

“Okay.”

“You don’t seem okay.”

“If it were up to me you’d have nothing to do with the guy.”

“But it’s not up to you.”

“I’m acutely aware of that.”

“You really think he’s a bad guy?”

“Let’s put it like this, I don’t want you to feel the brunt of my being correct on that issue.”

She smiled. “Well, I take solace in the fact that you’ll be here to protect me.”

His thrusts at the vegetables became so fierce that she asked, “Is there something wrong?”

He dropped the knife and wiped his hands on a dishtowel. “I’ve had a change in plans. I have… I have to leave tomorrow. To go back home.”

The color drained from her face. “Leave? Why?”

“Something’s come up with my son.”

“Oh, God, I’m sorry. Is it serious?”

“He’s not sick or anything. It’s more emotional than physical, but I’m his dad and it’s important enough to cut short the wonderful time I’m having here.”

“I can see why I like you. You have your priorities right.”

Shaw looked away, ashamed at her unwittingly misplaced praise. “So I won’t be here to protect you.”

“I was just joking about that. It’s not your job to protect me.”

When he glanced at her again she’d turned her attention back to the stove. Shaw sensed something else in her features. Was it relief? Was she actually happy he was leaving?

They chatted about inconsequential things over dinner, and didn’t linger over their coffee or dessert.

“I hope everything works out with your son,” she said as he helped her clear the table.

“I hope everything works out okay for you too.”

“Stop looking so worried. I’ll be fine.”

Shaw couldn’t know that she was thinking, And now so will you.

Afterwards, at the front door, Reggie said, “Well, I guess this is it.”

“Take care of yourself.” He paused and added, “Our time together meant more to me than I think you can imagine.”

“Oh, I don’t know, I actually have a pretty good imagination.”

He thought she was going to leave it at that, but then her arms slipped around him, and he hugged her back. Shaw thought he felt her grip him perhaps a beat too long and a bit too tightly. Yet perhaps she was thinking the same thing about him, he realized.

She kissed him uncomfortably close to the lips and Shaw felt himself maneuvering to reach her mouth on the next attempt. They heard a cough and both glanced over to see one of Waller’s men watching them.

Reggie said in a voice loud enough for the man to hear, “Again, I’m sorry you have to leave tomorrow, Bill. Have a good flight back to America.”

Then she closed the door. Shaw stared at the lion’s head brass knocker for a long moment. Why the hell had she said that? He looked around and saw the muscleman’s triumphant smile. The news of Shaw’s imminent departure would no doubt be quickly reported to his boss.

“Nice night,” the guy said.

Shaw walked back up the darkened path to Gordes. He took the shortcut, taking the ancient steps two at a time. The plane left from Avignon at eight in the morning. Avignon was about a fifty-minute drive, so he would have to leave Gordes early in the morning. And Janie Collins would be off to Roussillon with a man who made a fortune by selling girls into sexual slavery and who also wanted to sell nukes to fanatics.

He could opt not to go, but then Frank’s men would come for him and he’d have to go on the run, which meant he would be no help to Janie. He could see no way out of this dilemma. But then again, as Frank had pointed out, he wasn’t her guardian. He was here on a mission. That mission had been canceled and he was being deployed somewhere else. He had turned his back on Katie James, a woman who had risked her life for his. So what was making him want to stay and defend the honor and perhaps the life of a woman he barely knew? It was all irrational behavior, and if Shaw had always been one thing it was logical. But he also couldn’t ignore what he was feeling.

And then in a burst of extreme lucidity it all came together. The villa next door, the gun, the kick to the kidneys, and continuing to swim in the pool when she knew people were watching. And, finally, playing him against Waller. For that, Shaw suddenly realized, was what she was doing. She was setting the guy up for some reason. But she’d let it be known to Waller’s man that Shaw was leaving. The only explanation was that she was trying to make sure Waller would do nothing to harm Shaw. She was protecting him.

So engrossed was he in these new troubling thoughts that he never had time to block the descending blow. It connected squarely with the back of his head. His feet went out from under him and he struck the pavement, cutting his knees and elbows on the hard stone. He tried to rise but another blow sent him down face first. He felt himself being bound and then picked up and thrown into a small compartment.

Then for Shaw it all became black.