Destiny Read Free Page A

to do that. He didn’t like the possibilities that existed when Jean was out of his sight.
    Then a cell phone chirped.
    At first, Foulard believed that his employer was calling back. Lesauvage could be an impatient man and a demanding taskmaster. Then, his hand on the phone in his pocket, he discovered that the device wasn’t ringing and didn’t even sound like his phone.
    The noise came from above.
    He looked up and his pistol followed his eyes.
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    A VERY PRESSED HIMSELF against the alley wall. Even though he hadn’t been running, his lungs constricted and his own breathing sounded loud to his ears. His heartbeat was a snare drum in his heaving chest.
    He felt bad at having left the woman. Of course he had known the two men were there. He had contacted them to let them know she was seeking to uncover the mysteries of La Bête.
    Corvin Lesauvage, the man Avery had gone to with his own problems only weeks ago, was interested in La Bête. Everyone in Lozère knew that. In fact, most who lived around the Cévennes Mountains knew of Lesauvage’s interests.
    When he’d first offered his services to Annja Creed, Avery had mentioned that she should meet Lesauvage, that he was something of an authority on the subject. She had declined, saying she wanted to form her own opinions before she talked to anyone who might influence her views.
    Avery grew afraid for the woman. He knew the kind of men who followed her. Lesauvage maintained two kinds of businesses. The two men on the woman’s trail were of the dangerous kind.
    Squeezing his eyes shut, willing himself not to cry, Avery thought of his father. Surely his father was cold in his grave now. The funeral had been two—no, three—weeks ago. He’d lost all sense of time. It was June now.
    Pressing tight against the wall, Avery waited. He concentrated on the fact that what he was doing would help him get revenge for his father’s murder. The policeman who had killed Gerard Moreau would not bask in his glory much longer. He would freeze in a grave during winter. Avery had sworn that.
    A cell phone chirped down the alley. It was her phone. He breathed a sigh of relief to know she was still there. He’d been worried she’d figured out he’d led the men to her. More than anything, he couldn’t fail Lesauvage.
    Then a gunshot shattered the quiet locked in the narrow alley.
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    O KAY , A NNJA THOUGHT grimly as she listened to the strident ring of her cell phone in her pocket, the element of surprise is surprisingly gone.
    The two men whirled to look up at her. Both of them held pistols and looked ready to use them.
    With the tent pole in both hands, Annja leaped, propelling herself upward and out.
    One of the men fired, and the bullet tore through the space she would have occupied if she’d thrown herself directly at them. The steel-jacketed round fragmented against the stone wall and left a white scar.
    Annja flipped through the air and landed gracefully in the alley, now to the men’s backs.
    â€œNo shooting!” one of the men bellowed.
    With her feet spread apart, knees bent to remain low, Annja swiveled her makeshift bo stick from her left hand to the right and hit the shooter in the side of the face. His sunglasses shattered and blood sprayed from the impact. He squealed in pain.
    Moving quickly to her left, using the stumbling man as a barrier to prevent his companion from aiming at her, Annja gripped the stick in both hands again. This was so not a good idea, she told herself.
    She wasn’t by nature a violent person, but she immediately resented anyone who tried to take advantage of or intimidate her. That was one of the reasons she’d taken every martial-arts class she could in New Orleans as she’d grown up.
    Plus, Sister Mary Annabelle at the orphanage—eighty years old and still spry—was a firm believer in a sound mind and a sound body. Sister Mary Annabelle had never missed a