Carnal in Cannes (30 page)

“I"ll bring it up on a map later,” Geoff stated as he wedged his lean hips into the space between Martine and the end of the couch.

“SITREP, anyone?” Harry demanded.

“Pardon?” Martine searched her brain for such an English word.

Harry explained the term.

“Merci.” She sipped on her tea, relishing the zing of the mint in her mouth.

“The WHO, the Salvation Army, and the US Army are restricting the inflow of visitors to the island.” Geoffrey cupped Martine"s shoulder and met her stare directly when she tipped her head back. “For the next few days, maybe even a week, only WHO workers and medical relief personnel will be allowed to land in Port-au-Prince. That means no private expeditions.”

“I was going to hire a jet to take us there,” Harry explained.

“The reports I have indicated no private expeditions for an indeterminate period of time.” Geoff shifted. “We need to evaluate other options.”

“Noted. Let"s move on. The PIs your friend sent to Haiti on my behalf?” Harry directed his question to Suresh.

“I checked with my Miami colleague. His men on the ground have given the green light. Both are current on inoculations, and they have a more than adequate supply of oral rehydration and antibiotics. Dengue is spread via mosquitoes, and the two men are both using protective suiting as well as the mosquito repellent used by SEALs and special ops. In any case my friend has dispatched a jet to Haiti. The plane and two pilots will remain in Port-au-Prince while the PIs try to find Martine"s grandmother. However, if anyone becomes ill, they"ll be transported to Miami immediately.”

“And?”

“Nothing else. The leader of the PIs is Haitian, and he will also be looking for his relatives. I"ll give him the name of the convent right now.”

Suresh"s fingers worked furiously for a few minutes on his iPhone. Bells indicating texts being sent and received penetrated the quiet of the room. In the background, CNN journalists broadcasted updates.

“Well?” Harry dragged his hands through his hair.

“He knows where Ste Marie"s located and will head there right away. He also filed a report with the police on Martine"s behalf and left the
Glory’s
contact information with the authorities. I believe he even managed to bribe someone to put it on top of the chief of police"s priority file.”

“Get him to recant that ASAP,” Harry snapped. “The chief of police is the reason Martine fled Haiti. The man"s one of our secondary targets. By the way, his assistant"s wife"s the one responsible for Martine"s flogging.”

She flinched as everyone stared at her, but the kindness in their eyes softened the impact the words usually evoked, and the shame no longer flamed her insides.

150

Jianne Carlo

“Geoff, any other updates?”

“They"ll target the easiest marks. You know that,” Geoff retorted. “And unarmed nuns with young pupils, sick patients, in a rural area. Is there a police force in Sainte Marie, Martine?”

“Such as it is,” she replied. “There are three of them. Cruel men, but they leave the nuns alone.”

“The PI said that Ste Marie is near the southern coast. The location will delay the looting and rioting until international help arrives to bring the situation under control.” Suresh shrugged when Harry glowered. “I"m trying to take a positive tack.”

“Turn up the volume. I"ll find out the latest information and tap into our secure news base,” Geoff ordered.

For long minutes, Harry and Suresh alternated between scanning CNN, the BBC, CBS, and a couple of direct satellite feeds, and glancing over Geoff"s shoulder as he scrolled through a database of time- and date-stamped encrypted paragraphs.

The thoughts flooding Martine"s brain proved overwhelming, so she busied herself by refilling everyone"s drinks and then sat back down.

“I"m going to superimpose a map of Haiti over each city or province on the screen, focusing on the areas involved. What"s the terrain like, Martine?” Geoff asked.

“Terrain? I do not know this word,” she answered.

“I can show you where her grandmother is, and I can describe the terrain.”

Casmir"s deep voice made Martine start.

She said, “I never told you about Grand-mère.”

“You"re under my protection, cherie. I have contacts in Port-au-Prince, so I made some inquiries after taking you from the ship.” Casmir tilted his head and stared Harry right in the eye. “Put the map on the screen.” When Geoff arched one eyebrow, he added, “If you please.”

Harry pressed a couple of buttons on a remote, blinds descended over the windows, and a screen slid down from the ceiling on the wall opposite the couch.

Geoff"s fingers worked over his laptop, and seconds later a map of Haiti and the Dominican Republic flashed onto the screen. A few clicks, and the map narrowed to Port-au-Prince and the surrounding areas.

Casmir accepted a laser pointer from Geoff and focused the red dot on the city of Musac. “Musac is approximately fifty-five miles directly south of Port-au-Prince.

The terrain is hilly, the roads rough. Mudslides make travel difficult in the rainy season.”

“What else do you know that can help us?” Harry asked.

“The police station was virtually destroyed in the earthquake.” Casmir checked his watch. “The three policemen now operate out of the leader"s home.”

“Two UK medical relief planes dispatched yesterday are on the ground, and another"s scheduled to land as soon as we"re given clearance,” Geoff interjected. “I"ll Mediterranean Mambo: Carnal in Cannes

151

be able to obtain more information now. I suggest we adjourn, each of us works our contacts, and we reconvene over a late dinner.”

“Agreed,” Harry replied. “If the marines are there, I can call in a ton of favors.

Special ops will be represented heavily.”

“The chef"s off duty,” Austen said. “I"ll arrange dinner to be catered. Buzz me if you need anything.” Two seconds later he left.

“It makes no sense for me to go and come back,” Casmir stated. “It will take too long. Is there some place I can work until we meet again?”

“You can work in the study. It"s down the hall.”

“I"ll take him to it.” Suresh lurched to his feet. “I e-mailed you a copy of all the text communications with Haiti.”

“I"ll go through them.”

“Don"t worry, Martine. We"ll find your grandmother,” Suresh assured her. “I have a couple of conference calls, so I must dash.”

Busy typing on his tablet, Geoff didn"t look up when Suresh and Casmir departed. “I"ll be done in a sec. Don"t go, Harry. You and I have to talk.”

When he finished, Geoff looked up, and one brow arched. “This is about the transfer.”

“I have no secrets from Martine,” Harry replied. “Go ahead.”

She stifled a wince at his emphasis on the “I.”

“Are you going still going to transfer all your assets to Martine?” Geoff asked.

“I gave the banks" lawyers the go-ahead before the meeting with Delora started. It"s done. My wife has control of my fortune.”

152

Jianne Carlo

Chapter Fifteen

Harry cupped Martine"s elbow and escorted her out of the room. A dull pounding behind his eye sockets sputtered and faded as they walked down the corridor.

“Harry?” Martine"s soft question captured his attention.

He glanced at her and automatically smoothed the frown lines between her brows.

“Is it true?”

“Is what true?”

“You gave me everything?”

“Mmm,” Harry murmured, taking a deep breath as the full force of the noonday sun warmed his face. “I surely did.”

“Why, Harry?”

“Delora can"t touch the money this way.”

“She wanted you to be her lover again after your papa died, non?”

As always Martine managed to surprise him with her insights.

His neck ached, and Harry rolled his head from side to side. “Yes.”

“I am so sorry, Harry,” Martine said, touching two fingers to his cheek. “That the woman who took your virginity wanted to hurt you. The memories must hurt your heart. I wish your deflowering had been as wonderful as mine, for I will treasure my memories always.”

The knotted tendons in his shoulders slackened, and a surge of adrenaline sent the blood racing through Harry"s veins. Halting he looked into her eyes and growled, “It doesn"t matter now. I replaced them with memories of you.”

His wife"s frown reappeared, and she opened her mouth, shook her head, seemed to think the better of whatever she had been about to say, and smacked her lips together.

Go figure—I say pretty words, and she frowns. Women. Martine. Wives. All
crazy in the head.

“What"s the frown for?” Harry guided Martine over the bridge and onto the pier.

“What happens now?” She shot him the cutest peek, and her odd-colored eyes proved enchanting.

Mediterranean Mambo: Carnal in Cannes

153

“Now the lawyers clean up.” Harry laced their fingers together.

The afternoon sky held a puzzle-piece collection of mottled smoky clouds all dangling and trailing around the brilliant globe of a Dijon-hued sun. The ever-present Mediterranean breezes whooped and swooped helter-skelter, sending women"s skirts into undecided flurries and men"s shirtsleeves into undecided flapping. The last catch of the day was being unloaded upwind, and the scent of salty crustaceans combined with the sharpness of iodine from seaweed entangled with fish ran rampant across the jetty.

“Will Delora have no place to live, really?”

“Nah. I"m all bluster and no spine.” He brought Martine"s knuckles to his lips and kissed them softly, the caress more autopilot response than deliberate, he realized, as he sniffed the faint honeysuckle tang left on her skin. “I"ll let Delora keep her American Express credit card. Geoff"s going to give her a spending limit of ten thousand a month until we settle everything.”

“And your father"s money? What will happen?”

“We"ll offer her a lump sum of ten million if she agrees not to contest the will,”

Harry replied. “Otherwise we charge her with conspiracy. It"s a done deal. Delora"s all about image, and she"s worked her way into Houston society. She won"t want to jeopardize her position. And believe me, she won"t risk jail.”

“You do not need to be married,” Martine said, her hand curving protectively over her belly. “Nor do you need a child of our loins.”

He stopped in midstride and turned to face her, oblivious to the hosts of tourists and natives thronging the jetty, not hearing the hawker peddling gelato flavors in a chalk-on-the blackboard singsong, uncaring when a zephyr lifted the hairs dampening his neck, able to focus only on the sadness pulling her mouth down at the corners.

“I need you,” he said, meaning every word, his gut colliding and convulsing with the admission. He curled an arm around her waist and pulled her to him, sandwiching her hand between their bellies and manacling her gaze to his.

“I need you, Martine Bellamy.” He covered the hand on her stomach with his.

“The question is do you need me?”

“I am not from your world,” she whispered, and a tear skated from the corner of her blue eye to be joined by a host of drops leaking out of her brown eye.

“You are my world. My entire universe. But do you need me, Martine Bellamy?” he persisted as his muscles spiraled and looped, twisting and wrenching daggers around his rib cage, and piercing his faltering heart.

“Oh, Harry,” she breathed and cupped his jaw, and he sank into her gaze. “Yes.

I need you. But—”

He pressed two fingers on her lips. “Say it again.”

“I need you,” she repeated, her mouth tickling the pads of his fingers, a soft puff of air stealing across his palm.

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Jianne Carlo

The sky could"ve crashed to earth, the Mediterranean"s waves could"ve ceased to lap at beach sand, the universe could"ve imploded, but nothing, no force in heaven or hell, could"ve prevented Harry from claiming Martine"s mouth. Drunk on the nectar of her lips, Harry sipped and supped, drowning in the sweetness of her taste, savoring the essence of his woman, his wife, his Martine.

While the world imploding couldn"t disturb his absorption of Martine, his cell phone"s insistent vibration managed to penetrate his lust-dazed brain. Slowly he pulled his lips from hers.

His mouth curved. He loved the glazed look in her odd-colored eyes when he had her all discombobulated. Firming his hands around her waist, he fumbled for the cell phone and touched it to his ear.

“Yeah,” he muttered.

“Jean-Claude Fournier found the complaint the PI filed,” Casmir said.

Fuck.

“Where are you?”

“I haven"t left the
Glory
.”

“We"re on the pier. We"ll head back right away.” Harry ended the call and stared at a pelican rubbing his long, nubby beak through the damp brown feathers on his chest.

“Harry.” Martine tugged at his lapel. “What"s wrong?”

Tell her or not.

No secrets.

“Jean-Claude found the complaint the PI filed. We need to go back to the
Glory
.”

She flinched, and her hand tightened on his shirt. “He knows I am alive. C"est la vie. I have the camera. He cannot harm us—”

“The minute we get back to the boat, you hand over that camera to me. I want your birth certificate too. Both go into the bank"s safe deposit pronto.” Harry grabbed her hand and reversed their position.

“What will you do?”

“What"s best,” Harry replied.