The Last Time I Saw Paris - Lynn Sheene [88]
“This is not the plan,” Grey said, anger radiating in his voice.
A new voice, a mix of bluster and fear, spoke in a provincial dialect. “My job is to take you to the drop at the appointed time. I do not make the decisions, Monsieur. I cannot control the pilotes anglais.”
“Tell him, Grey. No deal.” Walker interrupted in English.
Grey answered Walker. “I can’t do that, Captain. We must do what we can.”
Claire slid back from the windows, let her voice rise. “I’m back.”
Chairs scraped across the wood floor, the door opened. Grey leaned out, the lines around his eyes tight, jaw tense. “Come inside, Evelyn, and meet Monsieur Citron.”
A farmer with hair like a ragged bush stared at Claire as she entered. His hands stuffed in his pockets, he smiled, the smallest bow, but his stare appraised her like livestock. “I see,” he said to Grey.
Walker leaned against the wall, glaring. Grey led her outside. Claire motioned to Marta to stay in the trees as she crossed the yard and followed Grey inside the barn.
“The plane is coming. But they won’t offload any cargo. They’ll take Walker. Not Marta or Anna.” Grey’s face was hard.
“What do you mean? They can’t do that.”
“They can. Only the pilot.”
“No. You can’t accept this.”
“I have to. I’ll drive Citron and Walker to the point, as directed. When I get back, we’ll figure out a way to get everyone out.”
Claire paused, replayed the conversation in her head. There had to be a way to change this. But something didn’t fit. “Citron said I see. What did he mean?”
“It doesn’t matter now.”
The way Citron looked at her. It was as if he was judging her worth. What had he expected? Suddenly it made sense. Grey had made another arrangement. For Claire. A deeper wave of anger shook her. “You were going to send me away too.”
“It’s not safe for you in Paris anymore.” His eyes met hers. “I want you all safe, cared for, away from here.”
“You lied to me. I have a life in Paris.”
“Von Richter wanted you, Claire. In Paris, he would eventually find you. If he learned you were a Resistánt, he would take you deep into rue des Saussaies, and you would pray, you would beg, for someone to make the pain stop.”
“Marta and Anna are alone today because they weren’t helped. In Paris. I helped save Christophe. I helped you. I’m not leaving.”
“You’ve done enough.” He gestured toward the house with the tilt of his head. “Think of the girls. They need you.”
“When do you leave?”
“Tonight.”
Claire stalked away.
While the men plotted in the barn, Claire settled the girls in the kitchen, buckets of water at their feet to wash the berries. The girls were quiet.
Claire prayed for Madame Palain’s graceful words, but nothing came. “Walker is leaving tonight. Only Walker.”
Marta’s body went still, dripping berries cupped in her hand. Her eyes turned toward the floor, she reached for Anna. Claire read the tenseness of Marta’s shoulders, her knuckles white where she gripped Anna.
The sight pierced Claire. “I promise you’re going to get out of France. I promise you will be safe.”
Marta nodded, but her expression didn’t change.
That evening, Claire and the girls watched Citron and Grey prepare the truck. As the sun set, Walker hugged Marta and Anna good-bye, a kiss for Claire, then climbed into the truck.
Claire turned to go inside. Grey caught her arm in the doorway. “I don’t have a choice.”
Her eyes caught the glint of a pistol tucked inside his belt, covered by the hem of his jacket. She swallowed the fear surging in her stomach. “I do.”
“It’ll take one day, two at the most. Then I’ll be back for you and the girls.” He bent toward her, his lips brushed her cheek.
When she didn’t respond, he released her and walked toward the truck.
Claire’s heart splintered inside her. She ran, catching Grey as he moved to climb in the driver’s seat. She pulled him close and her lips found his in a deep, ravenous kiss. “Promise me, Thomas Grey.”
“I promise.”
Chapter 9
THE BETRAYAL
Lyons-la-forêt, Normandy. October 26, 1943.
Three days had passed since Grey left them.