Читать книгу Betrayals - Carla Neggers, Carla Neggers - Страница 11

Jean-Paul Gerard had found the small redwood-and-stucco house on Russian Hill with no trouble, and he stayed out on the steep sidewalk, enjoying the perfect San Francisco day. It was a beautiful city. He’d flown in yesterday after discovering The Score discarded on a bus and had checked out the lay of the land before coming up to Jared Sloan’s today. He’d slept in Golden Gate Park and had eaten cold dim sum for breakfast; he could feel it churning in his stomach now as he waited for Mai Sloan.

According to his rough estimate, she should be heading back from school in just a few minutes.

A mite of a girl came around the corner and skipped down the hill, swinging her book pack. Jean-Paul felt his mouth go dry at the sight of her shining hair, at her energy. She was so like Tam.

When she saw him, her pace slowed, and he knew she was debating crossing the street. He’d had that effect on people for many years, but couldn’t get used to it. Even in the seediest areas of Honolulu, he drew nervous stares from strangers. He was fifty-four years old and could have passed for eighty with his pure white hair and his weather-beaten skin, deeply lined from years of exposure to disease, parasites, bad food, sleepless nights, alcohol and the worst—the very worst—in humankind. A livid welt of a scar ran from under his right eye down his cheek, then jutted left under his chin and finally trailed off down his neck. He didn’t have a lot to live for, and people could tell, with just one glance.

“Mai?” His voice cracked, and he tried to sound less threatening, less scary than he looked. Not daring to step toward her, he went on quickly, “I knew your father in Vietnam.”

Her dark eyes lit up with interest. “You did?”

“And your mother.”

That drew her closer, her book pack dragging on the sidewalk behind her. “I’ve never met anyone besides my father who knew my mother. What’s your name?”

“Is Jared home?”

“Yes—he works out back. Come on, I’ll show you.”

Excited now, the girl pushed open a five-foot wooden gate and led him along a stone walk, flanked with lush greenery, onto a deck. Across a postage-stamp yard was a small shed that obviously had been converted into a studio; a window box overflowed with motley petunias.

“Dad,” Mai yelled over the deck rail, slinging down her pack, “we’ve got company!”

Jean-Paul heard a sound from the door to the house behind him and turned, spotting the U.S. Army issue Colt .45 Jared Sloan held in his right hand.

When Mai whipped around, she paled and staggered back a step. “Daddy…”

“In the house,” Jared said. He stepped out onto the deck. “Now.”

Mai didn’t need to be told twice.

“It’s been a long time,” Jean-Paul said mildly.

“Get out.”

“I have no desire to hurt you or your daughter.”

“Crawl back into whatever hole you crawled out of and don’t come near my daughter again. Understood?”

Jean-Paul nodded. “As you wish.”

He backed off the deck, went slowly down the walk and through the gate, hoping he was concealing his jubilance. Jared Sloan continued to hate and fear him. Yes! That meant that he, Jean-Paul, had secrets yet to tell.

He had leverage.

You’re crazy to go up against these people again. But what did he have to lose? His life had been shattered a long, long time ago.

He could get the Jupiter Stones. There was still a chance.

For you, Maman…

And he could have his revenge. For his mother, for himself. Maybe, at last, there could be peace in his soul. For so many years, it had been too much to hope. Now…he had to try.

Shutting the gate behind him, he found that he was crying. He couldn’t stop himself. Tears streamed down his scarred face, blinding him, and the more he brushed them away, the more they came, until finally he stumbled down the street, letting them come.

There could yet be peace. And justice. Yes, he had to try.