“Because he’s the one who’s been selling your clothes instead of burning them.”
“Alain?”
Catriona rubbed her temples. She felt like she was talking in circles. “Yes.”
“To Russians?”
Catriona sighed. The nationality of the heavies wasn’t the information she’d hoped Mo would find troubling. “Sure. I dunno. Volkov has a bit of a Drago thing going.”
“Drago?”
“The boxer. Rocky Three. Four? Four. It doesn’t matter. He’s got a touch of a Russian accent.”
The corner of Catriona’s mouth curled into a smile as she heard Broch’s brogue in the back of her head.
Ye hae an accent. Nae me.
She shook her head.
Stop. No.
Somehow, Mo had finally been stunned into silence. Catriona moved away from her to rap on the walls. They sounded solid. Too solid for the inside of a house. Cement? It seemed this room had served as a prison before. She noticed a pattern of droplet-sized stains on one wall and scratched at one with her fingernail.
Dried blood, maybe.
Fantastic. That bodes well.
“Alain wouldn’t do this.”
“Ah you’re back.” Catriona turned to Mo. “He would and he did.”
Mo pressed her lips together, appearing to hover somewhere between rage and sadness. Despair won out and her eyes began to tear again.
Catriona tilted back her head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you. And I’m sorry to be the one to tell you—”
“It’s okay.” Mo’s voice fell to a whisper. “I’m sorry about your friend.”
Catriona opened her mouth and then shut it. She’d wondered if Broch’s disappearance had penetrated Mo’s shield of self-absorption.
Mo chewed on her lip. “He was your boyfriend?”
“It was complicated.”
“It always is, right?”
Catriona nodded. “He wasn’t stealing my clothes, but yes.”
Mo chuckled. “I know, you’re right. Alain is a thief at heart. I always did fall for the bad boys.”
Catriona wasn’t sure if five-foot-five Alain in his five hundred dollar shirts fit the bad boy mold, but she let it go as Mo barreled on.
“I should have known. I’m so sorry to have dragged you into whatever nasty scheme he’s gotten himself into now. They’re keeping me to hold over him...”
“Yep.”
Mo frowned. “But why are they keeping you?”
Catriona’s scalp tingled. Mo had struck on the dread she couldn’t place, the phantom lurking in the back of her mind.
Why are they keeping me?
They’d had no problem killing Broch. They had to keep Mo for leverage over Alain. She’d been telling herself they thought she was also important to Alain, but why would they think that? Would Alain have said that?
Probably not. After all, he’d sent Volkov after them. So Volkov had to know she wasn’t that close to Alain’s heart—
Stop this line of thought...there be dragons. It’s unproductive.
She flashed Mo a tight smile and wandered to the door.
Don’t think about their reasons. Think about getting out.
She dropped to her knees, but found the door too close to the floor to see much of anything outside.
“I wish we had a way to see out there. To get a feel for how many people are babysitting us.”
“Do you think you can get us out of here?”
“I don’t know. At some point an opportunity might arise. We’ll have to be ready.”
“Peter, ask her where her husband is.”
Catriona heard someone call from farther away. Maybe from out on the porch. The door rattled and she stepped back as the sound of a releasing padlock snapped. A moment later, Paunchy stuck his head in the door.
Paunchy Peter.
His attention locked on Mo.
“Where’s your husband?”
Mo’s hand fluttered to her chest. “What do you mean?”
Peter picked at the skin on his arm. “He isn’t answering his phone and he isn’t at your penthouse. Where is he?”
Mo shook her head. “I don’t know. Did you tell him—?”
The boy scoffed. “Did we tell him we have you? No. That’s what we’re trying to do.”
Mo’s eyes widened. “I, I honestly don’t know.”
Peter opened the door to enter and Catriona stepped forward to block his path to Mo.
“She doesn’t know.”
He looked her up and down. “She knows.”
Catriona looked into Peter’s eyes. His pupils were dilated and jerky. That combined with the way he itched and his general pallor implied he had a drug problem. Meth-head if she had to guess. That was good. She didn’t want a guard working at top capacity.
She wanted to escape.
Catriona motioned to Mo. “Why would she hide Alain from you? It doesn’t help her. And why would she protect the man who’s been lying to her? The man whose gotten her into this mess?”
Paunchy Pete hooked his mouth to the side and glanced at Mo, who raised her hand to her mouth and sobbed.
“And he’s been cheating on me. I hate him!”
Peter winced. It seemed she wasn’t the only one finding the pitch of Mo’s wailing unpleasant.
His jumpy eyes bounced in Catriona’s direction.
“You better hope we find him soon.”
She nodded. “If we think of anything you’ll be the first to know.”
She glanced at his hip and saw his gun there, tucked in his waistband.
Sloppy.
As Peter turned to leave, Catriona took a step forward, following him. He reacted, spinning to face her and blocking her path from the room.
She held up her hands. “I’m not trying to get out. I just had a thought. Did you check Paris? He goes there a lot. The hotel, not the city, obviously. The restaurant...I forget the name.”
The man grunted. “Get back.”
She took a half-step back.
Paunchy Pete closed the door and she heard the combination lock snap back into place.
“Alain doesn’t go to Paris,” said Mo. “That would be so, so.”
“I know. I just wanted to get a peek outside. I didn’t see anyone else.”
“So he’s
