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There were rules about where bad guys killed people? Her father was a con man, not a killer, so she didn’t know how this worked.
“Buenos días, señor,” Mikel said, halting six feet away from Dupont.
“Bonjour, mademoiselle et monsieur.” Dupont held up the wand. “With your permission?”
Mikel nodded but didn’t move. Quinn could tell that her boss had scored the first point somehow.
“I am also jamming all communications,” Dupont said as he stepped forward to scan Mikel.
“Of course,” Mikel said, his eyebrows raised in a way that said he had anticipated Dupont’s every move.
Up close, Dupont looked younger than she had assumed in Lisbon, probably in his forties. His mouth was thin, and his nose had been broken at least once. He moved like Mikel did, with the stealth of a hunting cat. A jitter of nerves ran through Quinn to settle in her knees, forcing her to lock them so they wouldn’t fold under her.
As he turned to her with the wand, he scrutinized her face with that flat, malignant gaze. Suddenly, fury blazed across his face, twisting his mouth into an ugly grimace.
“We’ve met before, mademoiselle. In Lisbon, I believe.”
So he hadn’t identified her face from their encounter, yet he had asked for her to attend this meeting. How? Why? Her knees started to buckle again, but she thought of Gabriel, of all he had suffered. Strength flowed through her, and she stood tall to meet Dupont’s eyes without flinching. “Yes, we did.”
“That fils de pute Kodra! He led you there.” Dupont turned to Mikel. “Were you there too?”
Mikel shrugged but did not answer.
Dupont moved in close to Quinn, crowding her as he ran the wand slowly around her shoulders. He brought it so close to her breasts that his knuckle brushed the cotton of her T-shirt. She hissed in a breath but didn’t move.
“Back off,” Mikel snarled, “or I’ll use that wand on your face.”
Dupont held his ground for a couple of seconds before stepping back.
Quinn let out the breath she’d been holding.
Mikel stepped forward to put himself between Quinn and Dupont, forcing the Frenchman to step back. “Your meeting is with me, not Quinn,” he said.
Dupont addressed Mikel. “What do you want?”
“The person who masterminded the abduction of the duke,” Mikel said.
“I was not involved.”
“Not many people could pull off an operation that complex. You would at least hear about it.”
“Why would I tell you?” Dupont started to reach inside the pocket of his leather jacket. Out of the corner of her eye, Quinn caught a flicker of movement from Mikel. Dupont froze. “I am getting a cigarette. Nothing more, I promise.”
“Please…smoke the whole pack,” Mikel said with a wolfish smile.
Dupont pulled a packet of cigarettes from his pocket and took his time lighting one. The tip glowed as he drew in a lungful of smoke.
“If you don’t tell me the truth,” Mikel said, his voice a lash of ice, “you will have a difficult time succeeding in your future business ventures, as I have demonstrated.”
Dupont blew out the smoke in a series of perfect rings. “Are you stupid enough to threaten me?”
“Your stupidity far exceeds mine,” Mikel said. “You kidnapped a member of the royal family of Caleva. And not even the member you targeted.”
Something ugly flared in Dupont’s eyes as Mikel’s sneer hit home. “I would never make such a mistake, so now you can be sure I didn’t do it.”
“You asked for this meeting,” Mikel pointed out. “You must have something to tell me.”
Dupont took another drag on his cigarette before he dropped it in the dirt and ground it out with the toe of his polished black boot.
