Spitfire by M. L. Huie

Author:M. L. Huie
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: CROOKED LANE BOOKS

Chapter Fifteen

Livy eased into the foyer of the suite and closed the door, keeping her eye on Nathalie and the gun the whole time. They stood in a ten-foot-long walkway that led to the room itself. Behind Nathalie, Livy got a glimpse of gold elegance: rugs that gleamed and an opulent sitting area that looked out on a breathtaking view of the city.

“Who are you?”

A complicated question, requiring a very precise answer, or else she might be unavailable for future inquiries.

Like they’d taught her at SOE camp, the best lie had elements of truth. “Olivia Nash. I’m a reporter.”

Nathalie blinked. Not the answer she’d expected. She didn’t move the gun, though. Livy knew she meant business, and judging by the lack of any perspiration on her brow or her trigger finger, there was a good chance she had used that little pistol before.

Luc could pick ’em, no doubt, Livy thought. This woman looked like she belonged at the Ritz. Even though she’d probably had only enough time to grab her dressing gown and pistol before opening the door, she looked like a million francs. Her brown hair, cut in a timeless bob, framed a perfectly symmetrical face with lips just this side of pouty and eyes that shimmered even as they narrowed.

“I don’t believe you,” she said. “Tell me why you’re here right now, or I’ll shoot.”

Livy understood now. Nathalie was scared. That made her dangerous.

“I was sent here to talk to you.”

Livy could see she’d said the wrong thing. Nathalie’s eyes blazed. Her whole body seemed to stiffen. “Did he follow you?”

“I wasn’t followed.”

“How do you know? Hmm? He’s clever. He knows what he’s doing. You could have led him right to me.”

A million questions swirled through Livy’s head, but she had to focus on keeping this almost hysterical woman from shooting her. She put her hands in front of her slowly to show she meant no harm.

“I made sure I wasn’t followed. I promise.”

“Then how did you find me?” Nathalie brought the gun up higher, pointing it at Livy’s head. They couldn’t have been more than six feet apart. Livy had nowhere to hide.

“I asked at the theater, where you used to work. They told me. Look, luv, I wasn’t followed and I don’t mean you any harm. I came here for you. You asked for help, and I’m here. At your request. Just be a bit careful with that. Guns tend to go off from time to time.”

“The British sent you?” She held the Beretta steady, but her trigger finger seemed a tad too jumpy for Livy’s liking.

“That’s right. Put your gun down and we can talk. That’s all I’m here for.”

For a brief moment, the hardness left Nathalie’s eyes, and Livy believed she might actually put the gun away and they could get down to business. But a thought flickered in the Frenchwoman’s eyes, and just like that the moment evaporated.

“Tell me your name again?” Nathalie said, the hysteria back in her voice. The jumpiness shook her trigger finger.

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