Hockey Mom, page 15
Devon—the man intent on sticking around and helping—remained convinced that he’d gone undetected. Hopefully, that was the case, because she was counting on Devon to retrieve Cory while she took care of Antoine.
The door opened before she had a chance to raise her fist and knock. The top of Marcel’s head showed hints of stubble that enhanced his perpetual glower.
“Where is my son?” she demanded, not in the mood to play nice with this gorilla.
“The little shit is cooling his heels in a bedroom.”
The rude name almost had her hurting him. Call her son a little shit? I don’t think so. But she couldn’t show her hand—or skills—yet. “Take me to him.”
“Nope. Boss said to take you straight to him. Hands up.”
“Excuse me?”
“I’m frisking you, lady. Can’t have you smuggling in a gun and shooting my boss. Also going to be checking you for listening devices.”
“Fine,” she huffed in annoyance. The thug wouldn’t find anything. She’d taken Devon’s advice and come unarmed. Let Antoine be lulled into a false sense of security. It would feel all the better when she later slammed his face off something hard.
The hands didn’t linger at least, patting her quickly and efficiently before Marcel indicated the interior of the house. “The boss is in his office. This way.”
Following slowly, she glanced to her right, noticing a massive dining room, the mahogany wood furniture carved and heavy. To her left, a living room.
Marcel led the way down a hall, which split the house. Wearing only a long-sleeved Henley, his gun was openly visible, strapped to his side. Recalling the incident with Devon outside her room, she already knew he was quick to draw it.
Inside, the house appeared a little less worn and quite grand still, the wooden floors newly varnished yet tired-looking. The walls were freshly painted, but she could see spots in the trim where paint couldn’t hide the dents and scuffs of age, the thickness of it sealing the damage to the wall.
The hall had a door tucked under the stairs to the second floor, another at the far end, but Marcel took her left through a doorway that spilled into a library, the shelves built in and made of dark, varnished wood, most of them empty and dusty. There was no other furniture. No Antoine either.
Marcel strode to the French doors through which spilled some light, the frosted panes hiding whatever lay past them. He flung them open, and she got her first peek at the office situated in a glass atrium at the back of the house, what many often called a three-season room. Even with a fire roaring in the stone fireplace, there was a chill in the air, and the glass fogged, making it impossible to see outside.
Antoine stood alone in the room, hands tucked behind his back, pretending to look elsewhere, obviously intending to make her feel at a disadvantage. Despite his nice suit and even his pleasant features, she hated him. The man had no integrity.
“She came alone,” Marcel announced.
Tanya bit her lip rather than smirk at how wrong he was. Perhaps this would work, after all.
Turning, Antoine held her gaze as he said, “Thank you, Marcel. You may leave.”
She didn’t wait for the guard to close the doors behind him before she launched into a tightly controlled rant. “I don’t know what game you think you’re playing, but it’s not happening. I want my son, and I want him now.” She doubted simple words would work and yet faced with Antoine’s smugness, she couldn’t hold them inside.
He didn’t immediately reply. Instead, he perused her slowly, up and down. “Your features are still the same, and yet there is something different about you.”
She didn’t like that he’d noticed while at the same time reveling in it. Her chin angled upward. “It’s called having a spine and no longer being stupid enough to fall for anything you say.”
“Yes, you were quite gullible. But passionate. I will give you that. I’ve fond recollections of the time we spent together fucking.”
She almost winced at the crude word. “If I was so dumb, then why bother with me?”
He shrugged. “You were attractive if boring. You were a way to pass the time. I must admit, I’m surprised you ever left our hometown. I assumed you’d marry and pop out a few babies.”
“I didn’t have a choice but to move on when my parents tossed me out.”
“How Christian of them.” There was no sympathy in his expression. How wrong she’d been all these years. Stupid, too. To think she’d been mourning something that had never existed.
“What do you want?”
“What any father wants. To spend time with my son. He was quite overjoyed to discover his dear father was actually alive. Less impressed to hear you intentionally kept us apart.”
“What?” Her lips parted on a gasp. “You lied to him.”
Antoine shrugged. “I don’t know if I’d call it a lie so much as a different version of the truth.”
“I never intentionally kept you apart. You were dead.”
“And now I’m not, so let me ask, did you tell my son I was alive after our first meeting?”
She sealed her lips.
“Exactly as I thought.” Antoine smirked, and her hand itched with a need to slap it.
“You took me by surprise. I was thinking of a way to break it to him that his father is a lying douchebag who should have remained dead.”
Antoine grabbed at his chest over his heart. “You wound me.”
“I highly doubt it.”
“Do not pretend to be so high and mighty,” he said with a sneer. “You are no better than I am. You had no intention of ever telling Cory. Just like you planned to keep it a secret from me.”
Which, when said aloud, sounded bad until she remembered the crucial part. “That doesn’t give you the right to kidnap my son.”
“It’s not kidnapping if we’re related.”
“Actually, it is. Give me back my son.”
“No.”
She pursed her lips. “You are unbelievable. What is this really about? You can’t tell me it’s because you want to spend time with Cory.” The man before her didn’t have the emotional capacity to be a father.
“He’s mine, and I’m claiming him.”
Her brows rose as high as they could go. “He is not a possession. And I’ll tell you right now, that if you want custody, you’d better be ready to take me to court. Let’s see what a judge has to say about your actions.”
Once more, Antoine offered a smug smirk. “You obviously mistake me for a person who obeys the law.”
No, she hadn’t. Because law-abiding folk didn’t fake their own deaths.
“Give me my son.” Because she was starting to lose patience and she’d yet to hear the signal indicating that Cory was far away. Had Devon failed to infiltrate and find him?
“Aren’t you the least bit curious as to how I found out about you and Cory?”
“You hired me.”
“Not exactly. My mother did.”
The reply made no sense. “Your mother is dead.”
“I’m speaking of my biological one.” Antoine strode to a photo on the mantel that showed a younger version of himself with a woman. “I found her when I left town. My real mother, loaded to the gills with money, and feeling quite a bit of guilt over the son she gave up.”
“You blackmailed her.”
He cast her a sharp glance. “What makes you think she wasn’t overjoyed to see me?”
“Call it a gut feeling. Why did she give you up for adoption?”
“Her father made her. A religious man who didn’t believe in abortion, and her just a teen. She gave me away and never tried to find me.” He scowled.
“It doesn’t sound like she had a choice.”
“She had a choice. When her father died and left her all his money, she could have looked.”
“But she didn’t, and so you decided to screw with her.”
“She owed me.” Said rather ominously. “And instead of repaying me, she betrayed me again. She found out about Cory.” His lips twisted. “Knew and changed her will so that if she dies, he inherits bloody everything.”
“What?” Tanya blinked at him.
“Fucking cunt double-crossed me. She knew I’d made sure everyone else standing between me and my birthright was dead.”
“You killed your family?”
A sneer pulled his lip. “They weren’t my family. I have no family because of the cunt. And you’re just like her. Trying to keep my son from me.” The irrationality of that statement never occurred to him, and it matched the mad glint in his eyes.
“You were dead.” As if that mattered. Not in his mind.
“And now, I’m back. Which means, things are going to change. Starting with you. You are going to work for me.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.” She blinked at him in confusion as the conversation veered.
“I need your hacking skills.”
“I hate to break it to you, but I don’t hack anymore. I’m an interior designer.”
“Bullshit. I know you’re still working at it. I saw your skills firsthand when a hacker broke into a company server a few months ago and caused a certain operation I was in charge of to fail.”
It took her a moment before she figured out what he was talking about. “You were part of that money laundering scheme?” A huge case. The owner of the company had hired her to find out who was embezzling funds from within. She frowned. “Your name never came up.”
“Antoine never came up,” he said smugly. “Nor did my real name, Bertrand Boucher. Others took the fall. But here’s what was interesting about the hack. That person left a signature behind. Skull and crossbones with pigtails and a bow. I would have thought you’d outgrown it.”
Her lips flattened. “You were the only one who knew I used it.”
“I have to say I’m impressed, hawking your skills on the dark web. And for a pretty penny, too. Did you know my mother planned to hire you to steal more of my secrets? She was setting me up for a fall.” Antoine shook his head. “Her own son.”
“How did she find out about Cory?” Because she’d yet to figure it out.
“By accident, oddly enough. His picture ran in a newspaper, something about winning some hockey medal, apparently. When I confronted her, she said he was the spitting image of her younger brother. Seeing him, she did some research for shits and giggles.” He shook his head.
Tanya’s heart sank as she knew exactly which article he spoke of. Last spring, the boys’ hockey team had won first place in their division. Their picture was taken and ran in a paper. “Is that why she hired me?”
He laughed. “That was just a big fucking coincidence. It was I who put it together finally. See, I already knew about the hacking, I just couldn’t find you. But then I discovered Cory’s existence. I am touched you listed me as his father on his birth certificate. It made all the pieces fall into place.”
What a symphony of errors. “You should have called me. This wasn’t necessary.”
“I originally planned to confront you at your home, but when I arrived, you were already gone. Lucky for me, Mother knew where you went. She was the one who originally planned to stay at the lodge for the duration of the tournament.”
“What happened to your mother?” Because the way he spoke didn’t bode well.
“The same thing that will happen to you if you don’t do as you’re told.”
“I can’t fix the fact I exposed your scheme.”
“No, but you can get me back some of the money I lost. The men I work with aren’t too understanding when circumstances go awry. They expect restitution plus interest for their trouble.”
“You want me to steal for you.”
“Yes.” He didn’t try to bend his intent in fancy words. “You will steal, as often and as much as I want, or never see your son again.”
Blackmail. She shouldn’t have been surprised. “Why do you need me? Why not steal via hack yourself?” Back in the day, they used to bust into databases and websites for fun.
“I stopped playing with code years ago. Management is more my style.”
Actually, judging by the things he’d said, being a raving lunatic was his calling in life. Which meant she’d have to humor him because rationality was out of his grasp. “If I cooperate, I want your promise you’ll release Cory.”
“Separate me from my son?” He grabbed his chest in mock shock. “But we’ve just reunited. Which is why we’ll all be staying together. In this house, as a matter of fact. Just one big, happy family.”
The very thought turned Tanya’s stomach. “Won’t your wife be upset you’re bringing another woman home?”
“Ah, yes, poor Isabelle. She shouldn’t have had that extra glass of wine at dinner. She never could hold her liquor, and those stairs can be slippery.”
Death wasn’t new to Tanya. Heaven knew she’d seen it working for KM. What she didn’t see as often face-to-face was the depravity of those who truly embraced evil.
If she weren’t worried about Cory, she’d grab the pen on his desk and ram it into Antoine’s eye. But who knew what Marcel would do if he realized his boss was dead. She wouldn’t put it past Antoine at this point to have left orders to kill if she gave him any trouble.
Humor him a while longer. “If I stay here, I want my own room.”
“That can be arranged. With a lock on the outside. Wouldn’t do for you to try and escape. I should add that any attempt to do so will result in someone losing a finger. You or the boy, I’ll let you decide.”
“You’re sick.”
“No, I’m merely in control now. No more women trying to bring me down. You will obey or face the consequences. Is that understood?”
“I understand perfectly well. Now, let me see Cory.”
“In due time. First, let’s seal the deal.” He pushed a laptop across the polished surface of his desk. “In order to give myself breathing room with my partners, I require five million dollars, and you’re going to take it from this charity.” He pointed his finger at a logo splashed across the website page. No surprise, he’d chosen a non-profit organization meant for children.
As she sat down, Tanya remained aware that she had to stall. She’d yet to hear the signal. Might never hear it. Had Devon failed?
Chapter Twenty-One
Luck don’t fail me now, Devon chanted mentally as he loped away from the main road, moving uphill through thick trees and brush in hopefully the right direction. Tanya had given him a head start before she drove right up the driveway and entered the belly of the beast.
Leaving her without protection remained the part of the plan he liked least, but as she’d pointed out, “The most important thing is getting Cory out safe. I can handle Antoine.”
Could she? If it came down to it, would she act against the man she’d once loved, the father of her child?
Devon hoped he didn’t have to find out.
Having watched the house for about fifteen minutes before her arrival, he was fairly certain only Marcel and Antoine were inside. He’d yet to see a sign of anyone else, including Cory.
The need to move quickly meant that he didn’t have time to get Mason to bring in a drone and run a heat signature scan on the place. The specialized equipment would have taken a few hours to fly in and then at least another two or three to actually set up. With Cory possibly in danger, they couldn’t wait.
It was Mason who’d informed him that Antoine’s wife was dead. Once they’d known the house where Antoine wanted to meet, Mason managed to do a property title search and discovered that Antoine was now Bertrand Boucher, son of Gisele Boucher, who happened to be on Marcel’s client list.
Fuck.
A widower as of a week ago and, in of a stroke of even more bad luck, his mother had suffered a heart attack and was apparently recovering at home. Devon would wager that all of this had happened around the time Antoine found Tanya and discovered that Cory existed.
A man capable of coldly killing his wife wasn’t someone to fuck with.
Armed to the teeth, Devon had only one gun in hand when he darted across the snowy yard from the tree line to the house. This was the part where he couldn’t avoid being exposed.
He reached the building and paused, gun held at the ready, doing his best to hold his breath and listen. No warning shouts, no sound of alarm, just the distinctive noise of a window opening overhead. He hugged the wall and dared to look up. A foot wearing a sock and no shoe dangled. The green ski jacket proved a bold color statement, the actions of the wearer even bolder.
“Cory? What the fuck are you doing?”
“Devon?” The boy glanced down at him in shock, then beamed. “You came for me.”
“Of course, I did. Be careful and don’t fall, or your mother will kill me.”
“I won’t fall.” Said with the boastfulness of youth. The kid, nimble and quick, made it down to the ground in his socks.
“Where the hell are your shoes?”
“Front hall. They made me take them off before locking me in a room upstairs.”
“Fuck. You can’t walk through the snow like that.”
“I can do it,” the kid said bravely.
He could, and would probably lose a few toes to frostbite.
“Front hall, eh?” Devon glanced around. “Follow me and stick close.” He edged around the house until they reached a back porch, the wooden slats cleared of snow and faintly lit by an atrium that jutted from the back of the house, the glass panes fogged with heat. Given the illumination, Devon instead eyed the sliding door leading to the deck. Through them, he could see a kitchen table surrounded by chairs. He put his hand on the door handle, hoping it wasn’t locked. It slid easily in the track, and warm air rushed out.
“We can’t go inside,” Cory hissed. “He’ll hear us.”
“That’s a chance we’ll have to take. You need shoes. Don’t worry. I’m trained to handle this.” He offered reassurance but made no mention of Cory’s mom. If the kid found out that she was stalling Antoine, there was no predicting what he’d do.
Devon stepped inside, gun in hand, and did a quick check of the kitchen before he beckoned Cory to follow.
