Free I'll Find You by Nancy Bush Page B

vous plaît. ”
    The cabbie nodded and they were on their way. As they sped off, her eye fell to Fort-de-France Bay and the ferry churning its way toward Pointe du Bout.
    “Wait . . .” she said.

Chapter Five
    Just after noon in Los Angeles the clouds opened up and poured rain down in torrents. It never rained in LA except when it did and then it blasted down in sheets. Andre walked out into the October downpour utterly naked and turned his face to the heavens. It was cold, hard, and nothing like Papeete weather, or anywhere else on Tahiti, but it was sharper and more cleansing.
    He was, after all, The Messiah. Meant for greatness, and if those conniving bitches, the handmaidens, could ever put together an original thought among them they would see him for what he was. Oh, he sensed their playacting. They thought themselves so cagey and clever, but they were empty-headed vessels just made for filling up, then winding up, then setting on their way to do his bidding.
    Rain ran over his upturned face and down his chest and the dark, thick strands of his shoulder-length hair. He could smell the sea from where he stood, a briny, frigid scent unlike the musty, luscious heat that came off the South Pacific. He’d been in the States for almost ten years and he was closer to fulfilling his mission than he’d ever been, but there were still hurdles to be leaped, misfortunes to be avenged, people to kill.
    There was also a long list of those who’d dismissed him, and he would not be dismissed. They didn’t know him as The Messiah, but they would soon. And then he could dispense with the handmaidens. Clarice, that mealy-mouthed piece of meat, had once had the nerve to question his title.
    “There’s only one true messiah,” she’d said, her expression troubled, her body tight with fear and rebellion. “And that’s God.”
    He’d punished her for that. It had to be done. And though she’d cried and curled up in a ball from the rough sex and solitary confinement, she’d never questioned him again. Neither had any of the others, who’d kept their eyes downcast and swore how much they loved him. Lies! But he’d pretended to believe them all. When he’d released Clarice from her confinement and then used some of the money to shower her with clothes, jewelry, and gifts, she’d glowed under all the deliberate one-on-one he’d shown her. The other handmaidens had been bright green with jealousy. And everything had gone back to the way it should be.
    At least that’s what they would have him believe, though he sensed, very clearly, that there was a change afoot. Clarice had openly defied him, although Teresa had been pulling back for a long time.
    He shook his head, water spraying in all directions. There were houses on all sides of their rental, but they were bungalows whose windows could not see over the tall fence. No one could see him standing naked in the rain. It was too bad they needed privacy because the thought of prying eyes brought his penis erect. He smiled as he thought of how much he would like to have them watch.
    But he couldn’t bring attention to their way of life. He needed obscurity as he moved forward in his plan. The handmaidens didn’t know it, but the endgame was nigh. The pyramid was being dismantled; the lower levels had been taken out first, peripheral players who’d nevertheless been in his way as he ascended to the top level.
    And once he was there—once he was standing on the pinnacle—then he truly would be The Messiah and he would have no more need for the handmaidens. He would also be wealthy, respected, and in his rightful place. They thought they could take it from him, but they were wrong.
    “Andre?”
    Daniella’s voice scraped along his nerves. He fought back a surge of anger as the sliding door slid open and she stepped cautiously outside, hovering under the eave to keep from being drenched by rain. She was the smallest and plainest of the handmaidens. He would never have