Free Claimed by Tara Crescent Page B

him instead.” She paused. “Had it not been for Lucien, none of what came after would have happened. Does it make me a horrible person that I’m conflicted by this situation?”
    Her honesty was a gift for which I would forever be grateful. “I couldn’t kill my father,” I responded in kind. “I can understand.”
    “Did Dylan know?” she asked. “That you knew about his slaves?”
    “I had to get close to Dylan again if I was going to help the women he’d destroyed,” I replied. “At some point, I’d gained enough of his trust for him to disclose some details.” It was hard for me to keep the disgust I felt out of my voice. “That’s the reason I first started going to Lori’s auctions. I needed to demonstrate I belonged in his world.”
    We were both silent for a long time, lost in our thoughts. Finally, she spoke. “What now? Where are we at?” Her voice was hesitant. “Do we move forward, Alexander? Or is the past forever going to define us?”
    “Dylan’s dead.” My voice was firm. My heart was freer than it had been in a long time. “I’m no longer bound by his sins. I couldn’t kill him, but you could and you did. Perhaps that’s what I needed to be fully free of him.”
    My fingers played with her hair as I spoke. The next words were important. “You told me you wanted me last night, Ellie. I hope you meant you wanted me around for a long time, because I don’t think I could survive if you want to leave again.”
    I wanted to say more, to profess my love and ask her to marry me, but I couldn’t do any of these things, not yet. Not while the shadow of Bectell hung over us.
    Her stomach growled at that moment and she went beet-red. “Incredible timing,” she muttered, looking completely mortified. “You sure you don’t want to change your mind?”
    I laughed at her. “Come downstairs, bright star. I believe Jean-Luc has some croissants and some pan au chocolat for you.”
    ***
    Ellie:
    Jean-Luc was waiting downstairs in the study when we finally went down. “Took you long enough,” he grumbled at Alexander in his gravelly voice.
    I smiled at him. Beneath the taciturn exterior was someone who would take a bullet for Alexander. “I heard a rumour about pastries,” I told him. I was starving. We hadn’t eaten last night, I’d fallen asleep right after our session and had slept for fourteen straight hours.  
    Alexander chuckled and moved to the kitchen to make coffee. Jean-Luc indicated that I should follow him to the study, holding out a brown paper bag to me. I snatched it from him and buried my face in the bag, inhaling deeply. I’d missed the boulangeries of Paris. San Francisco had plenty of excellent bakeries, but nobody did pastries like the French. “What’s up?” I asked him, munching at a croissant. I got the distinct sense that he wanted to talk to me alone.
    “I just want to clear up a few loose threads,” he responded. “Did you go to the bar in Saint Denis looking for Alexander the night you killed Klimov?”
    I shook my head. “That was coincidence, pure and simple.”
    “Alexander would call it fate,” Jean-Luc said. He fixed me with a piercing look. “Be honest with me, Ellie. Bectell wants to kill Alexander. If it comes down to it, can you put a bullet into the heart of the man who trained you for five years?”
    “I don’t know.” I met his eyes. “Do you want me to lie and tell you I’m happy about this? I’m not.” I exhaled. “But I didn’t kill Daniel Schneider, Jean-Luc. I don’t agree with what Lucien is doing. If it comes down to it, if it means keeping Alexander safe?” I gulped. “I can shoot.”  
    Whatever I’d said, it had been the right thing. Jean-Luc nodded. “Fair enough,” he said. He didn’t quite smile at me, but he looked marginally less threatening.
    That encouraged me to ask my next question. If Jean-Luc was in a talkative mood, I was going to take advantage. “How long have you known Alexander?”
    “Since he