You Slay Me
Page 47

I fished a card out of my purse, stopping by the phone that sat on the nightstand.
"Where are we going to go? The police are going to be looking for you."
"I'm aware of that," I answered as I punched the but-tons on the phone. "Rene? Hi, it's Aisling. Are you free in about half an hour? Jim and I are going to need a ride. We're making an escape."
"An escape? Yes, yes, I can pick you up." Rene prom-ised to be outside Drake's house at the appointed time. "Has he hurt you? Should I bring my revolver?"
"No, he hasn't hurt me, and no, definitely do not bring any guns. I have a feeling Drake is a hard guy to hurt, and he can zap you. . . . Well, just don't bring it. See you in thirty minutes."
"That takes care of being seen on the streets by the cops, but where are we going?" Jim asked.
I opened the bedroom door and peered down the hall-way. It was clear. "The only place we can go— Amelie's."
"OK, but don't kiss me again in front of Cecile. She's the jealous sort."
We trotted down the stairs only to meet Drake coming in the front door.
"Good morning. You look lovely. Paul has a good eye,"
he said, looking me over, flashing me a sexy smile. My fingernails bit into my palms as I tried to keep from throwing myself on him. Honestly, what was I thinking? How could my body know the truth about him and still not care? I was thoroughly ashamed of myself—he was a murderer! He had lied to me! He had stolen from me! He was amusing himself with me at my expense, andstill I wanted him.
I didn't have to let him know that, though. I raised my chin and gave him a cool look. "Yes, he does. You were out?"
His eyes—lying, traitorous eyes—flashed puzzle-ment. "I had to get something. For you, as a matter of fact."
"Oh really?" I turned and walked with him toward the kitchen, Jim trailing behind us. "What would that be? Cyanide? Strychnine? Hemlock?"
"Nothing so exotic," he said, holding the door open for me. I stepped into the sunny, cheerful kitchen and mused on how a man could have such a black heart and yet ap-pear so utterly droolworthy at the same time. But then, he wasn't really a man, was he? He was a dragon, and drag-ons loved treasure above all else.
With a flourish, Drake pulled a small container out of a paper bag. I blinked in surprise at the sight of it. "Lemon yogurt. I had an idea you might like it."
My cheeks burned with a blush at the flames of desire visible in his eyes. He had invaded my dream, the erotic dream I was having about him just an hour ago. The beastly man! "Thank you," I said thickly, taking the yo-gurt and claiming a seat.
Breakfast was difficult to get through. Drake clearly was puzzled by my reaction to him, but he didn't say anything beyond asking me what steps I thought we should take to find the killer or killers.
I looked him straight in the eye. "I think the best thing to do would be to talk to the witness."
"Witness?" His brows pulled together in a frown. "What witnesses?"
"The demon that was summoned by the person behind the murders."
"Person? You think it is just one person?"
"Oh, yes," I answered, my gaze steady on his.
"I suppose that makes sense. The two murders are ob-viously related." His brows smoothed. 'Talking with the demon is one idea, yes, but I believe a more practical one would be to speak with Therese, the Venediger's mistress. She would be able to tell us who visited him yesterday."
Hmm, what was wrong with that picture? Let's start with Drake had already admitted he was at the Venedi-ger's yesterday, not to mention his plan drew my atten-tion away from questioning the demon he had used. Still, it wasn't wise to let him see I had figured him out. This was obviously a time when it wouldn't hurt to play stu-pid. "Good point. Very well, just as soon as I've taken Jim for his walkies, we'll go question the mistress."
I hurried through the rest of the meal, wanting nothing so much as to get out of there before my resolve cracked. Drake was using me, nothing more. He didn't really care about me. He didn't like me. He only wanted the lode-stone; that's why he was protecting me from the ponce.
"Go out to the side of the house and get my bag of clothes," I instructed Jim quietly at the bottom of the staircase. "Take it around front, to the street. I'll meet you there." I glanced at my watch. "Rene should be there in a couple of minutes."
"Where are you going?" Jim asked. "You're not going to let loose that dragon fire all over Drake's house, are you?"
"What do you take me for, an arsonist?"
"Well, you did burn the Venediger to a crisp—"
"We don't know that. I'm sure the fire department put the gazebo out before his body was torched.
Besides, that was an accident. Now, go do what I told you to do. I'm just going to leave Drake a note that will hopefully buy us a little time."
I ran up the stairs to my room. I left a note on my pil-low that simply said I was going to pursue another av-enue of investigation on my own, one that Jim and I were better qualified to do than him. I ended with a request that he question Therese while I was doing my thing. I doubted if it would convince Drake to leave me alone permanently, but hoped it would give me a few hours' head start.
Rene was waiting by the time I made it, breathless, to the rendezvous point. I pushed Jim into the taxi, jumping in after it as I gave Rene the order to leave.
"Where do you wish to go? Why are you in the hurry so great? What has happened?"
I told him to take us to Amelie's. "Nothing has hap-pened, except I found out that Drake is the one who mur-dered both Mme. Deauxville and the Venediger."
"Drake? He is a thief, yes, but a murderer, too? And who is this Venediger?" Rene asked, peering over his shoulder at me.
"Eeek!" I screamed, pointing at the parked car he was about to plow us into. "Eyes forward and I'll tell you."
It took the length of the trip through a morning rush-hour Paris to tell the tale of my experiences during the last twenty-four hours, but by the time Rene pulled up to Amelie's shop he had the bulk of it, everything except the fact that Drake was a dragon.
"I would ask you to stay with me until it is safe for you," he said apologetically as I got out of the taxi, "but with five small ones running around, my apartment is filled to the overflow."