The house where the woman took her was at the back of the harbor, obscured between the boathouse and the forest. No one would see them coming or going.
She still didn’t know the woman’s name, but the man who greeted them by the door introduced himself as Lann. Tall and slender but muscular with long blond hair and yellow-brown, cat-like eyes, he resembled a Viking. The only characteristics belying that heritage were his slightly elongated ears and heavy Russian accent. Clelia knew the accent well. At work, she saw many tourists from different parts of the world.
He wore a midnight blue dress shirt and black tailored slacks. His shoes were polished shiny. His nails were neatly trimmed and filed, and he wore a gold thumb ring on his right hand and a pinky ring with a ruby on his left. While everything about his appearance seemed sophisticated and gentle, she wasn’t deceived by his good looks. He spoke in English, asking if Clelia wanted a cup of tea, which she declined, before he busied himself with filling a kettle while the woman handed her a towel and told her to sit down at the kitchen table.
Clelia removed her wet jacket and bundled it into her backpack. Clutching the towel to her chest, she sat down while taking stock of the room. It was a big, open-plan space with a kitchen at one end and a lounge at the other. There were two windows and one door facing the front with another window giving a view of a fenced backyard. A hallway led off to her right. If she couldn’t get through the front door, her best chance at escaping was making it down the hallway and finding an exit at the other end of the house, maybe a bedroom sliding door or a window.
Tilting her head, the woman scrutinized Clelia. With high cheekbones and a thin, straight nose, her face looked like it belonged on the cover of a fashion magazine. Her full lips were painted a dark shade of red, the same color as her long fingernails. A red tank top and stretch pants showed off her perfect curves. A purple pendant hung around her neck—maybe an amethyst—and she wore the same stone in a ring on her index finger.
“I’m Maya,” she said in a curt tone. “You’re Clelia d’Ambois.”
It was a statement, not a question, so Clelia remained quiet.
“If you answer a few questions, we’ll consider letting you go. Understand?”
Clelia regarded Maya from under her lashes. She seemed cold and disinterested.
“Where’s Erwan?” Maya asked, walking to stand in front of Clelia with her hands on her hips.
Clelia recognized the determination in the other woman’s eyes. She’d do anything to get her answers, and Clelia wasn’t going anywhere until Maya had those answers. She bit her lip, but didn’t say anything.
Maya narrowed her eyes. “He’s not even your real grandfather. Why protect him?”
“Who are you? What do you want from us?”
“I’ll ask the questions.” She brought her face close to Clelia’s. “Where is he?”
“He didn’t do anything.”
“We need to question him.”
“If this is about the fires, he doesn’t know more than I do. Ask me what you want to know.”
“If he were innocent, he wouldn’t have run. Where is he?”
Clelia stared at Maya. No matter what they did to her, she’d never betray Erwan. He loved and protected her when everyone else cast her out.
Maya’s expression tightened. Before Clelia could anticipate the move, Maya pulled back an arm and backhanded Clelia. The blow sent her head sideways and made her ears ring. A metallic taste filled her mouth. The ring had caught her mouth and split her lip.
Grabbing Clelia’s arm, Maya shook her. “I asked you a question.”
“Maya,” Lann said from the counter, “gently.”
The backdoor opened and sunlight spilled inside, blinding Clelia for a moment before she made out Joss’s tall figure in the frame.
He stood very still, taking in the scene, and then he stepped inside and slammed the door so hard it rattled in the frame. “Let her go, Maya.”
Maya’s lips parted. A frown marred her face. “I’m questioning a suspect.”
He closed the distance and stopped in front of them. His voice was soft, but the underlying threat didn’t need volume to carry through. “I won’t tell you again.”
Maya loosened her fingers.
“If you ever lay a hand on her again, I’ll cut it off,” he said.
Maya’s eyes widened. A green fire raged in their depths. Aggression tainted the air. Clelia didn’t dare move. Her stomach tightened in response to the power wrestling playing off. Lann, on the other hand, sipped his tea with an indifferent expression, watching the action as if it was a boring spectacle.
Finally, Maya relented. Shoulders slumping with an exhale of breath, she stepped away with narrowed eyes.
Turning his attention to Clelia, Joss traced the seam of her lips with a thumb. “Why is she bleeding?”
“My ring caught her lip,” Maya said.
“What was your ring doing in her face?” he asked, not looking away from Clelia’s lip that was pulsing with a rhythmic ache.
“It’s not the first time we’ve used firmer methods to extract information. What’s your problem?”
“This is Joss’s territory,” Lann said.
“So, what?” Maya asked. “Now you’re suddenly territorial, Joss? Maybe you should go around and piss on every tree.”
Joss’s body went rigid. His voice turned quieter, sounding more menacing than Clelia had ever heard. “Back off, Maya, or find yourself another team.”
“I don’t see—”
“I said, back off.” Joss flexed his fingers. “I’m the team leader. You’ll show me the respect I deserve. Is that clear?”
After a tense beat, Maya lifted her hands. “I’m off.”
“I asked you a question,” Joss said, his eyes searching Clelia’s face as if he’d directed the question at her.
“Fine. We’re clear, but I think Lann and I deserve an explanation. What’s going on?”
Only then did he turn
