"Isn't that what you wanted me to do?" he asked. His voice held that amused edge again.
"Yeah. I'm just not used to you giving me exactly what I ask for."
"I would give you anything you wanted, ma petite, if you would only let me."
"I wanted you out of my life. You don't seem to want to do that."
He sighed. "No, ma petite, I do not want to do that." He let it go at that. No accusations about me wanting to be with Richard instead of him. No vague threats on Richard's life. It was sort of odd.
"You're up to something," I said.
He turned, eyes wide, long fingers pressed to his heart. "Moi?"
"Yeah, you," I said. I shook my head and let it go. He was up to something. I knew him well enough to know the signs, but I also knew him well enough to know that he wouldn't tell me until he was good and ready. Nobody kept a secret like Jean-Claude, and nobody else had as many of them. There was no deceit in Richard. Jean-Claude lived and breathed it.
"I've got to change and pack before we can leave."
"Change your lovely red skirt, why? Because I like it?"
"Not just that," I said, "though admittedly it's a plus. I can't wear my inner pants holster with the skirt."
"I will not argue that having a second gun will help our show of force tomorrow night."
I stopped and turned. "What do you mean, tomorrow night?"
He spread his hands wide. "It is too close to dawn, ma petite. We cannot even drive to the master's lair before the sun rises."
"Dammit," I said softly and with feeling.
"I did my part, ma petite. But even I cannot stop the sun from rising."
I leaned against the back of the love seat, hands gripping the edge hard enough to hurt. I shook my head. "We're going to be too late to save him."
"Ma petite, ma petite." He knelt in front of me, staring up at me. "Why does this boy bother you so very much? Why is his life so precious to you?"
I stared down into Jean-Claude's perfect face, and had no answer. "I don't know."
He laid his hands on top of my hands. "You're hurting yourself, ma petite."
I moved my hands out from under his, crossing my arms over my stomach. Jean-Claude remained kneeling, a hand on either side of me. He was entirely too close to me, and I was suddenly very aware of how short the skirt was.
"I have to go pack," I said.
"Why? Don't you like your room?" Without moving, he seemed closer somehow. I could feel the line of his body against my legs like heat.
"Move," I said.
He leaned backwards, sitting on his heels, forcing me to move past him. The hem of my skirt brushed his cheek as I walked past. "You are such a pain in the ass."
"So nice of you to notice, ma petite. Now, why are you leaving this lovely room?"
"A client's paying for the room, and he's not a client anymore."
"Why ever not, ma petite?"
"I pulled a gun on him."
His eyes widened, his face a perfect mask of surprise. The mask slipped and he stared at me with ancient eyes. Eyes that had seen much but still didn't know what to make of me. "Why would you do that?"