as you that got kidnapped.”
“I know that, Mom. I‟m sorry. I would much rather it was me than you.”
Kael wanted to kill her. She was an expert at making herself the victim.
Maybe that was what appealed to straight men: a woman who needed rescuing.
Angel stood there apologizing to the woman for reminding her that he nearly lost
his life barely six months ago.
At last Angel noticed the rings. “Mom, are you married?”
St. Germaine placed his arm around her shoulders in a brief hug. “We married
last month.”
“How come you didn‟t invite us?” Angel glanced at Kael.
“Give him this; we have to go,” St. Germaine said in French and passed his
wife a small gold and cream colored gift bag he had been holding.
“I was very busy; things have been hectic,” she said with a shrug. “Anyway,
look. I brought you a belated Christmas present.”
Angel took the bag but made no attempt to look inside. He was getting upset.
“Is this my belated birthday present too?” The image of the single birthday card
from the family maid sitting on Angel‟s desk the day Kael had met him came back.
“For Christ‟s sake, Angel, I was running for my life last September.” Very
discreetly St. Germaine squeezed her hand, and she lowered her voice. “Do you
think I was happy about leaving you? I had no choice.”
“I‟m sorry,” he said quickly, taking a step toward her but not daring to touch
her.
You bitch, manipulating your son until he apologizes for your neglect.
“Open your present,” she ordered.
While Angel focused on extracting a box from the gift bag, Madame St.
Germaine looked at her husband and spoke in halting, heavily accented French.
Angel and the Assassin: Be Brave
39
“My son has good taste in men. I wasn‟t expecting a man like him when Angel e-
mailed that he was living with a schoolteacher.”
“He‟s not a schoolteacher. I don‟t know what he is, but he‟s not a teacher. The
boy may think he is,” her husband replied, keeping his voice low and smiling when
he caught Kael‟s eye. “He looks extremely intelligent and rather dangerous.”
“And I speak your language perfectly, Monsieur,” Kael said in French. He
looked at Samantha St. Germaine. “Your accent, Madame, is appalling.”
Her blush was apparent even through her makeup, and from the look in her
eyes, he had angered her. Her husband offered him a slight bow of acknowledgment.
“And yours is perfect, Monsieur. You speak as well as a Frenchman.” He smiled
again. “Better than most.”
Kael continued in French, knowing Angel would not be able to follow easily.
“Are you planning to stay in his life? Because you have hurt him enough already.”
Her face twisted into an ugly sneer, and she gave up butchering the French
language and spoke in hushed English. “Don‟t get in my face. Who do you think
looked after him for eighteen years?”
“Not you. A lot of foster parents and maids from what I heard.”
“I did my best. I was on my own with him. You think that‟s easy? I can tell just
by looking at you, you come from some rich family. I bet you went to a fancy school
with your perfect English and French. You don‟t know what it‟s like struggling just
to pay bills.”
Kael leaned in close, knowing that any minute Angel would start listening.
“You couldn‟t be more wrong, Madame St. Germaine. I had a single mother just like
you. The difference is my mum worked her arse off to give me the best life she could.
She didn‟t abandon me.”
Gregoire St. Germaine stepped between them as politely as he could. “Is his
college expensive, Mr. Saunders?”
“Yes. It‟s an excellent school, and Angel is extremely intelligent and very
creative.”
“I am happy to pay for it.”
Kael leaned into the man‟s face until he was no more than two inches away. “If
you are happy to pay for his college, why wouldn‟t you pay his fucking ransom? Or
did your bitch of a wife tell you not