Behind The Mask by Marianne Petit

Author:Marianne Petit
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: Booktrope Editions
Published: 2015-10-23T23:00:00+00:00

***

Yvette realized too late André had left the church. By the time she ran outside, he was gone. She paced the floor, sick to death with worry.

Jacques wore a silly grin and tried to cheer her up as he spun her around the floor a few times to a spirited French melody from Bayard’s harmonica. Even Luis put aside his negativity and found something positive to say.

Finally, as the first pink rays of the sun lit the sky, André strolled down the stairs and she couldn’t decide if she was happy or furious.

“You’ve been here all night,” he said assessing what she knew was a disheveled appearance and sleep deprived eyes.

“Yes.”

“You should get some rest.”

“Later. Where were you?”

“Have you eaten?”

“André! Where were you?”

“How well do you know Hiram Bingham?” André pulled out a chair, offered her a seat and then sat beside her.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving?”

His expression serious, she wondered what he wasn’t telling her and why.

“How well do you know him?” André pushed a chunk of cheese and brown bread toward her.

“Answer my question,” she insisted.

“Eat.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You need to eat.”

“Stop pushing food on me and avoiding the question.”

André rubbed the back of his neck, a telltale sign something was bothering him. “How well do you know your boss?”

“I know him well enough.”

“Do you trust him?”

She had to think a moment; trust was a tricky thing. She trusted him to help the cause, but if someone denounced him would he bring her down as well? Trust was a double-edged sword. “Yes, he is trustworthy on this.”

“Good. You will need to give him a message.”

“André I was worried.” He was worrying her now.

He ran his palm against her cheek and she wanted to lean into his strong hand, close her eyes and escape; lose herself; not think of anything.

“You needn’t be. I’ve looked into the eyes of death and I’m still here.”

His words sent a pang of sadness to her heart. “You are not made of rubber.”

He grinned. “No just bits and pieces of metal.”

“Seriously. Bullets don’t bounce. ” She frowned. She knew he’d seen his share of battles, had noticed the scars on his arm and his limp, but shrapnel? Just how badly had he been hit?

“I’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye. I was afraid you would want to come with me.” Again, he rubbed his neck as though easing out a knot. “Someone needed to stay with the children.” A fine shadow of stubble darkened his jaw and she swore he never looked more handsome.

“Yes. I suppose you are right. I would have wanted to go.”

“What did the American have to say?”

André’s brow furrowed. “How did you know I went to see Fry?”

“Géry told me.”

The edginess about him, despite his calm tone, caused her foot to tap like a woodpecker intent on getting his next meal. “Is Fry arranging a safe house for the children?” She waited for his answer and wondered why he wouldn’t look her in the eyes.

“No.”

“Why?”

André swiped his lips and she wondered if he would explain.

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