Double Dealing: A Menage Romance(11)

After washing the dishes, I shook them off before taking them back in. Inside, I checked the food supplies, concerned. Francois had used more of our food than I'd thought, and we only packed for two people on a three-day wait at most. "Francois."

"Yes brother?" he asked, looking up from Jordan. I could see that he was interested in her, and understandably so.

"When you said you used our midday meal, I didn't realize just how much you used. I need you to go shopping. Think you can take the Jeep?" I asked, not trying to order him but making it clear I wasn't merely requesting. "While you’re out, pick up some warmer clothing for Miss Banks."

Francois nodded, giving Jordan an appraising look. “Will a medium or a size eight do?”

"Close enough," Jordan said with a smile. "I wear a six most of the time."

"I don't suppose you'd consider letting me go on the shopping trip?" she added, looking at me. I had to smile at her sense of humor and shake my head. "It was worth a try."

I nodded, part of me looking forward to the next few hours while Francois left the mountains to do the shopping. "It was, Miss Banks. Come, my brother needs get going."



* * *



After Francois left, I sat down in the chair between Jordan and the door, watching the fire and her at the same time. “Sorry about of all of this, but we couldn’t take a chance. I’m normally not in the habit of taking hostages, I assure you. In fact, I prefer to not be noticed by anyone at all."

"So you two are good at this I take it,” Jordan commented. She shifted, curling her legs underneath her and running her hand through her hair. She still had the blanket over her legs, which I understood, the cabin was cold, and the fire wasn't very large. We'd set aside wood, but hadn’t planned on living in woodsy luxury for our wait. "Any stories you want to tell?"

"Maybe later," I replied. She looked at me and sighed. “Francois’ boast that we both could disappear into Roma culture is true, but still, we shouldn’t tell you too much. I’m sure the police will press you for everything, and I’d rather not throw them any bones. And I overheard Francois tell you my name. So Felix is fine."

Jordan looked away into the fire. "You seemed pretty angry earlier, Felix.”

I shook my head. "I get that way when things don’t go as planned on the job. I don’t do a good job of controlling my stress levels sometimes, and this operation from the beginning has been what I believe some Americans call a clusterf*ck. From the purchase of this property, much farther from the museum than we planned, to me literally running you over, to now problems with our extraction plan. Our father wouldn’t have approved of this from the beginning, but I let Francois talk me into it. The money was too good to pass up. By the way, how is your head?"

Jordan touched the back of her head carefully, her eyes tightened against any pain, but shook her head after a moment. "I think it'll be fine. There's no crust of blood or anything, and I don't have too much of a headache anymore. What does your mother think of what the two of you are doing?"

"They are fine with it," I replied. When she gave me a confused look, I waved it off. "It’s a long story. Maybe another time.”

“Sounds interesting. Well, do you have a radio or a TV around here?" Jordan asked. "It isn't that I don't want to talk, but this huge amounts of silence is kind of weirding me out. I seem to have spent too much time in the city with its perpetual background noise."

I shook my head, then thought. "This cabin doesn’t have electricity. Just a second, though. Francois is a bit of a musician . . . he usually brings something along for times like this. Come, I’ll see if I can find it."

Jordan shrugged and got up off the couch, letting the blanket stay where it was. It was my first chance to look at her without the shroud-like cloth, and I found myself staring, to the point that Jordan cocked her head and smiled. "What?"

Shaking my head, I regained my senses. “Sorry.” I felt an unfamiliar smile come to my face, one of genuine pleasure and not a grimace of restrained frustration, and I gestured towards the bedroom. "Shall we?"

Jordan walked into the bedroom and to the far corner, where she stood quietly. "I didn't see anything that looked like a musical instrument earlier. There isn't much in here."

"You are right, but you forgot here," I said. I picked the LED lantern up from the side table and turned it on, carrying it over to the far side of the room and kneeling next to the dresser before unlocking Francois footlocker. He always used the same combination, 1-1-3-0, a personal gesture. Opening it up, I lifted out the upper tray that contained a shirt, underwear, and two pairs of pants, looking for what I hope Francois normally packed. "Ah, here it is."

I pulled out Francois’ guitar, holding it up. "It’s not full sized, in order to fit inside the locker, but do you think you could play this?"

Jordan's brown eyes sparkled, and she nodded. "That's a 2/4 size guitar, right?"

"I couldn’t tell you,” I admitted. "Francois bought it years ago, for the footlocker only. At home, or when we can, he plays a full sized one."

Jordan came over and held out her hands. I handed it over, impressed as she handled the instrument with care and respect. She looked it over, her eyes widening as she looked at it. "It's not wood."