Long Road Home(24)

He carried them back inside and set the sack down on the end of Jules’s bed. She sat up and hungrily eyed the sandwiches he was unwrapping.

“I got you chicken salad and root beer,” he said, allowing himself a small grin.

She let out a groan of sheer ecstasy. “Root beer. Oh my God.”

He chuckled and tossed her the can. Then he handed over her sandwich and collected the bag. He moved to the small table by the window and unwrapped his own food.

They ate in silence. Jules seemed to savor every bite, and he wondered, not for the first time, how long she had gone without meals in the past.

He checked his watch when he finished. Though he was aching for answers to his questions, he knew Jules needed rest more than anything. And he could use a night’s sleep himself.

He stripped off his shirt then walked over to the bed closest to the window and pulled back the covers. He could feel Jules looking at him as he slid beneath the sheets. Turning in her direction, he propped his head up with his hand and watched her while she finished eating.

With a nervous glance in his direction, she tossed her can in the garbage beside the bed and stood up. He averted his eyes while she slipped out of her jeans, but he could see her slim legs, her shirt falling to mid-thigh.

To his surprise she moved closer to him until she stood directly over him. He looked up to see her blue eyes wide, uncertainty shining in their midst. “Do you remember when I used to crawl into bed with you and we’d talk?”

His chest swelled, memories burning brightly. They had talked for hours until she fell asleep. He had savored those moments of closeness with her. He scooted over and patted the spot next to him, wondering if she wanted to do that now.

She slid in beside him, and he pulled the covers over her slight form. He reached his hand out to gently caress her face, his fingers trailing down her cheek then up over her ear to tuck a blonde curl away.

“Don’t try to hide from me again, Jules. Whatever’s out there, we can face it together.”

She looked away. “I won’t run again.”

Triumph surged through his veins. He stared at her for a long moment, trying to decide whether or not to bring up the subject of her disappearance. He didn’t want to push her, but she seemed to be waiting expectantly. Did she want him to ask? “Do you want to talk?”

Fear leapt to her eyes as she turned back to him. “I-I…” Her voice trailed off, and she swallowed hard. “What do you want to know?”

“Why don’t you start at the beginning?” he gently urged. “What happened in France? Why did you call me and tell me you couldn’t be near me or Mom and Pop?”

She took in a shaky breath, and he rubbed his hand up and down her side, wanting her to feel secure.

“I was having coffee, waiting for the train back to Paris. It was the day before I was supposed to fly home.” She rolled over on her back and stared at the ceiling. He let his hand fall away and watched her intently as she continued.

“A waiter delivered a drink from some guy at the bar. Next thing I know, a Frenchman sat down at my table and began spouting weird things.”

“Like what?” Manuel asked.

“He told me my real name was Magalie Pinson and that my parents were Frederic and Carine Pinson. I told him he was psycho, that my name was Jules Trehan and I’d never heard of the Pinsons.”

Manuel frowned. So far this wasn’t just weird, it was plain bizarre.

“He then said that they had killed my real parents.”

“Who did?”

“He didn’t say,” she replied. “He handed me an envelope and told me when I’d read the contents to give him a call, that we had much to discuss, including my future.”

“What was in the envelope?” he asked, unable to remain silent. A thousand questions were burning a trail through his brain. None of this made any sense.

“I didn’t read it until much later. It was recruitment information for the NFR, and it gave detailed information about my supposed parents. They were members of the NFR’s charter group.”

“And you believed them?” he asked in disbelief. This didn’t sound like the Jules he knew. She wasn’t so gullible.

Her eyes flashed angrily. “Of course I didn’t believe it. I told him to take a hike. He walked away. Then the guy from the bar walked over, pulled a gun and told me to come with him. He was American, to my surprise, and he told me it was time for me to find out who I really was. He shoved me into a taxi, and we took off.”

“And what then?”

She paused for a long time, staring up at the ceiling, her breath coming in short bursts. “And then I went to hell.”

He shoved up on his elbow and curled an arm around her waist, forcing her to turn slightly toward him. “You’re with me now, Jules. They can’t hurt you anymore.”

“I wish I could believe that.”

“Talk to me,” he asked, not sure how hard to push her. But he needed the truth. Needed to know why she had agreed to do the unthinkable. “Why can’t you believe that I can protect you?”

She appeared to think deeply about his question. She went completely still, and her breathing shallowed. She seemed to be fighting a very personal battle, one she wasn’t sure she wanted to share with him.

He held his breath, not realizing until now just how important it was to him that she trusted him.