Standing in the Shadows (McClouds & Friends #2)(57)

"Really? What?"

He let go of her hair, to her relief, and stared up at the ceiling. "Unusual childhoods, for one thing. We both suffered the traumatic loss of our mothers at an early age, for instance."

She made a soft, distressed sound, but he was not trolling for sympathy. His eyes were remote. "We both had mentally unbalanced fathers. We both have physical defects. His were inflicted by me, and mine, indirectly, by him." He held up his maimed hand, and passed it over the puckered bullet scar that marred his pale thigh.

"Fascinating," she murmured. "I never thought of the symmetry. The matching injuries. Hand and thigh." She leaned over, ran her hand over the scar on his thigh, and took a calculated risk. She drew his hand to her lips and kissed each scarred stump.

He smiled his appreciation of the gesture, and she shuddered with her relief. "What else?" she urged.

"Intensity," he mused. "Inability to compromise. He is a good enemy. I will be sorry to lose him. It will be almost like losing a friend."

Like he knew what it meant to have a friend.

The dangerous thought flitted through her mind before she could suppress it, and fear followed in its wake. She could not afford to let such things float to the surface of her conscious mind. He was supernaturally acute, sniffing out every slightest scent of treachery.

His eyes focused on her with unnerving intensity. "I have always been good at sensing fault lines, exploiting them," he said. "So was Victor. He actually had the gall to try it on me. Remember?"

"Yes," she said quietly. "That was why you killed him."

"I found his weak point, and then tap, tap, crack, and he came apart. That is how I will destroy them all. Tap, tap, Tamara. That's all it takes, and they will fall over their own feet to destroy themselves."

She hoped her smile was not shaking. "Brilliant," she said.

"Erin will be the hardest, but I think I have the key to her now."

"Her weakness is Connor McCloud, obviously," Tamara said.

"Look deeper than the obvious," he snapped. "Erin likes order. Chaos makes her frantic. Her father's disgrace, what happened at Crystal Mountain, it shook her to her foundations. When the rest of her world falls to pieces, we will see what she is really made of."

"Brilliant." Her voice sounded mechanical to her own ears.

"This is moving fast," he said. "We must accelerate things, to keep up with McCloud's and Erin's immoderate lust."

"I spoke to our operative in Marseilles earlier, right before you came to me," she told him.

He seized a lock of her hair and tugged it again, cruelly hard. "You should have told me immediately."

She forced herself to whimper and cringe. Her own nature would have dictated stoic silence, but she did not want to challenge him. Oh, no, no, no. Even she knew when to bend. "I'm sorry," she said. "You were so passionate… it drove it right out of my mind. Please…"

He let go of her hair and backhanded her across the face. "What did he say?"

She touched her throbbing cheek. Another bruise. She was brilliant with paints and powders, but there were limits even to her genius. "Martin Olivier is ready to play his part," she said. "They've coached him carefully. He will be captured by the police, and confess to seeing you and Georg at the rendezvous point outside Marseilles. Whenever you want him to."

"Call them," he said slowly. "It must happen the day after tomorrow. That gives Ingrid and Matthieu time to arrange poor Claude's transport to Marseilles."

"Isn't it dangerous to move a man in a coma?" she asked timidly.

Novak shrugged. "Claude has never disobliged me in his life. He would not dare to die before it is convenient for me. Yes, Tuesday morning would be best. That will also give Erin and McCloud time to generate some titillating X-rated video footage for us when they get back to Seattle. I need it for the grand finale. Speaking of which, Rolf Hauer is in place to take care of Claude? That has to happen shortly after Martin's confession. Preferably the same day."

"He is in Marseilles, awaiting orders," she assured him. "All the pieces are in place. Your choreography is absolutely brilliant."

He stared at her for a long, uncomfortable moment. "You flatter me, Tamara," he said slowly. "I hope very much that you don't ever presume to manipulate me with flattery. I dislike that."

The white-hot glow in his eyes terrified her. "God, no. Really, I—"

"You know, of course, that your knowledge of all these details binds you to me for life. And beyond."

She forced herself to relax against him and smile up into his eyes through her lashes. "Yes," she said softly. "I am honored by your trust."

He parted her legs and thrust his hand inside her. She reminded herself, as she moved sinuously against him, that this couldn't last much longer. And he would pay for every insult to her body, in blood.

He lost interest in touching her very quickly, thank God, and flopped onto his back. "I wish I could have watched them tonight."

"You'll have your chance," she said. "This is just the beginning."

"I've developed quite a taste for video voyeurism. I imagine you did, too, during your time with Victor, hmm? It was his passion."