Ice Storm - Anne Stuart [53]
But Mahmoud was as far removed from a whining child as a rattlesnake was, and Isobel kept her eyes forward as Killian talked to him. Didn’t he know it was better not to engage with someone who was bad-tempered and irrational? But then, child-rearing would have been missing in his life, as it had been in hers. Or had it been for him?
Mahmoud had lapsed into a blessed, sulky silence. “Did you ever marry?” she asked Killian.
He slanted a glance at her. “Why do you want to know? Were you hoping I’d carry a torch for you during all these years?”
“Hardly. If you thought of me at all you probably wanted me dead. I’m just curious. Not much is known about the illustrious Serafin. Consider it part of your debriefing.”
“Three times.”
She refused to react. “Interesting,” she said. “At the same time, or were they serial wives? What happened to them—did you get tired of them and have them killed?”
“I try not to kill the women I have sex with. I learned long ago that it tended to leave a disturbing aftereffect. Fortunately, you weren’t so squeamish.”
“So what happened to them?”
“Maria Number One was killed by a car bomb in Sarajevo. Maria Number Two decided she’d do better with the man I was working for. Maria Number Three was murdered. Not by me.”
“They were all named Maria? Couldn’t you have been more selective?”
“Maria’s a very common name in third world countries. I think Maria Number Two is still around somewhere in South America, but since I was still married to Maria Number One at the time, that marriage wasn’t legal. So in case you’re wondering, I think I’m available.”
She’d asked for it by bringing up such a stupid subject. Then again, the Committee needed to know everything they could about Killian-Serafin. If he had any ties, any connections.
“No thanks,” she said, rolling down the window to let some cool air into the car. It was a damp, chilly winter day, but the tiny car was suffocating. “It sounds as if being married to you was relatively unhealthy. At least you didn’t bring any children into the world.”
“Why do you assume that?”
She wasn’t expecting it. She’d managed an effortless calm through most of the time she’d been trapped with him, showing nothing but mild curiosity and annoyance. Her defenses, her weapons were powerful, and she’d learned the hard way not to let anything get to her. Vulnerability was a luxury she couldn’t afford.
And she could only hope he didn’t hear her sharp, painful intake of breath. “Where are they?”
“Not they,” he said, his voice devoid of feeling. “Just one. Maria Number Three was five months pregnant when she was killed. Someone trying to get to me, of course, but she was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
Isobel had to look at him, to see whether he was really as unfeeling as he seemed to be. His face gave away nothing. “I’m—”
“If you say you’re sorry for my loss I might hit you,” he said in an even voice. “It was long ago, and it’s of no importance. I was annoyed for a week or so, but then I moved on.”
“Annoyed?” She could almost believe him. The legendary Serafin would be annoyed. But this wasn’t the notorious monster sitting beside her. It was Killian. He’d overplayed his hand, trying to convince her just how ruthless he was.
“That may have been your first mistake,” she said finally.
If he was worried he didn’t show it. “I don’t make mistakes.”
“Are you serious? You’ve barely gotten out of your various career moves in one piece. If it hadn’t been for you, three hundred ethnic Albanians would have been butchered. If you hadn’t screwed up, Ideo Llosa would have wiped out entire cities. Your mistakes ruined the plans of some of the