Broken French - Natasha Boyd Page 0,135

phone, cursing and yelling as he threw things across his desk to look for it. I saw it peeking out from his pink shirt lying across the bed. Grabbing it, I held it out. He snatched it from me and seconds later was barking down the phone at Evan.

I didn’t know whether to stay or go. I was invisible right now, and I was okay with that. I just wasn’t sure what to do. How I could help. God, I hoped Dauphine was okay. Surely, her uncle wouldn’t hurt her. Especially if money was what he wanted. I yearned to say this to Xavier, but it seemed inadequate comfort for the terror rolling off him in waves. I could tell he was contemplating how to get back to his mother’s house faster.

Why hadn’t people invented teleportation yet?

The boat was moving at a fast clip. The afternoon waves were rough, and my stomach lurched. Wondering how best to help, I reluctantly left Xavier on the phone and went to the bridge, clinging tight to every handrail.

According to Paco, the boat needed to refuel before heading back on the hours long trip to the mainland.

“I should have done it this morning,” he cursed, his face scrunched in agony, and I could see he was on the verge of tears. “Why did I not do it this morning?”

I squeezed his wrinkled hand where it gripped the wheel.

Paco had already called Andrea, Rod, and Chef, and we would pick them up at the dock in Calvi as soon as we could get around the headland.

Every moment counted.

Feeling helpless, I went downstairs and slipped the rubber seasick bracelet back on my wrist. I quickly stripped off my wet bikini and holding onto the towel rail for balance against the rocking motion, rinsed the salt off my body. I pulled on shorts, a t-shirt and running shoes, and threw my wet hair up into a bun. Then, trying to keep my hands busy and my mind distracted, I packed all my belongings, unsure where I’d be sleeping tonight or if I’d be sleeping.

Poor little Dauphine.

God, I hoped she wasn’t scared. What kind of monster might this uncle of hers be? Xavier had mentioned he’d had problems.

My stomach twisted in fear, I felt ill. What must Xavier be going through?

I wanted to be with him and comfort him through this. Trying to think how I could be most helpful, I thought through what we might need when we found her, or what the night might bring. She’d probably have to talk to the police. There’d probably be a lot of waiting. I went to her room. It was freshly made up. A few of the animals she’d left behind were sitting on the bed. I could pack a bag with a change of clothes for her. I went and grabbed the beach bag she and I had been using and took a set of clothes and pajamas from her drawer. Then I selected a small, soft, clingy monkey from her animal collection. In the bathroom, I went through her drawer to see if she’d left an old toothbrush. I found a new unopened one and threw that in the bag too. Going back to my room, I dug out my sketchbook and rolled up a few blank pages with two pencils and used one of my hair-ties to secure it and laid that in the bag too.

I could feel the weight of Xavier’s desperation and fear emanating through the entire boat. Taking the bag I’d packed for Dauphine, I headed up to the galley and threw in a bottled water and a granola bar. What if it wasn’t her uncle? What if his appearance was coincidence? What if some sick fucker had taken her? Not for ransom, but for terrible, unthinkable, unfathomable reasons. My stomach heaved, and my heart pounded. It had to be a thousand times worse for Xavier. And what about Madame Pascale, his mother? She’d lost Dauphine on her watch. God, this was agony. Outside the window was open ocean. I couldn’t tell how close we were to picking up the crew and refueling.

This second night in Corsica had been for me. If I hadn’t been here, Xavier would already be heading home. He might even be there already. My skin grew clammy with the thought. Was it my fault?

I slung the bag on my shoulder and left the galley to the sitting room, so I could see if we were almost back to

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