61. Summer

Genre: Paranormal romance, drama

Type: Series
Characters: Krisis, Durant

Prompt:63. Summer

Word Count:  1700+

Warning: coarse language, sucky pictures, wordy

Rating:  M- (coarse language, adult situations, nudity. N.B-Applies to the whole series)

Summary: Krimsyn and J.D. celebrate their engagement, and Krisis feels envious

63. Summer

________

Champs Les Sims, present day...

When Ben called to let him know the tip-off had panned out, and the woman photographed in the French countryside was Leigh, Krisis immediately jumped on the next plane to Champs Les Sims. By the time the limo pulled up outside his vacation home, he was irritable and grumpy; but anyone would be after an eleven hour flight. He just wanted to take a cool shower, and get a change of clothing before hitting the streets. The sooner he found Leigh, the sooner they would return to Bridgeport, and he’d get back to Lily and the band.

The first thing he noticed when he jumped out of the car was the heat. In his eagerness to be reunited with Leigh, he’d forgotten it was summer in Champs Les Sims, and his luggage bag was stuffed with warm clothing fit for cold weather.

Francois, his gounds caretaker, gave him a warm welcome and they exchanged a few kind words before he vanished inside the house with Krisis’ luggage bag.

Krisis hung back and surveyed his land. He was pleased to see the place looked well-cared for, the lawn was groomed to perfection, and the rosebushes were in full bloom. He could almost taste the heady fragrance from the grapevines and the pomegranate trees in the back yard.

As he looked up at the house, he found himself wondering if Leigh would like it. It was the perfect home away from home, big enough for a large family, but looked cozy enough to exude a homely feel, unlike the bachelor pads he owned all over Bridgeport.

He liked the idea of a home…loved the thought of putting down roots in France…Preferably with Leigh...

Colette, his housekeeper, burst out of the front door then and ran down the short steps.

 “Mr. Frost, it’s so good to see you again,” she sang in a heavily accented voice, kissing both his cheeks.

“Colette, likewise,” Krisis replied politely. He had known her for a little over ten years, but he was still not used to her affectionate ways. Hell he was still not used to men kissing men as a form of greeting, as it was customary in these parts of the world.

“Will your lady friend be joining us?” Colette raised her eyebrows questioningly. He knew she was referring to Adele, the French model he had dated on and off whenever he was in Champs Les Sims.

“No. Adele won’t be joining us…Not now and not ever again!” Krisis immediately regretted his abrupt response when he caught the shocked look in the housekeeper’s eyes. It wasn’t the poor woman’s fault she didn’t keep up with the tabloids. If she had, she would have known Adele was ancient history, and he was reformed now.

Just as he was about to apologize for his abruptness, his cell phone rang, and he fumbled around in his jeans pocket to answer it.

It was Ben. Krisis moved away from the eager ears of his hired help.

The PI had had to return to Bridgeport, and they’d missed each other at the airport by mere minutes. When Krisis’ flight landed, Ben’s was leaving. But he’d covered a lot of ground while he was there, and he gave Krisis the name of his French contact.

________

The next morning, Krisis had just made his way to the cellar to get a bottle of wine for Colette when his cell phone rang. He was pleased when the caller identified himself as Durant, Ben’s contact. A rendezvous was arranged for 3pm that afternoon. The contact couldn’t meet him sooner because he was still trying to secure the photographs of Leigh from the French journalist. But he assured him he’d be at the said location at the agreed time.

“I hope you have the payment!” The contact drawled in his thick French accent when he saw Krisis approach the meeting spot.

No introductions were made, they were both busy people, and they didn’t see the point in wasting precious seconds on useless pleasantries.

“Money’s not a problem. Show me what you have,” Krisis stood his ground. He was royally pissed off and taken aback by the other man’s brash attitude. Where he came from, people produced results first before they got paid, but then again, this was Ben’s contact.

 “These were very hard to secure,” Durant announced as he took out a brown envelope from the pocket of his kaftan. He grudgingly handed the package to Krisis.

“And I appreciate that,” Krisis replied coolly, accepting the envelope containing photographs of Leigh.

He quickly looked through the photos, all the while wondering why none of the newspapers in Champs Les Sims had bought them yet. He knew for sure in Bridgeport they would have sold like hotcakes. The rabid paparazzi were always shoving cameras and microphones in Leigh's face, and being mauled by journalists was the only thing she hated about his job, she didn’t even mind his deranged fan-girls.

In any case he was glad the photographs were safely in his hands now, along with the memory card from the journalist’s camera.

 “Who is that?”Krisis asked, tapping his fingers on the snapshot of the elderly man caught on camera with Leigh.

“Laurent Lambert, her neighbor,” The PI replied. “Apparently they’ve grown quite close. He’s a well known literary writer in these parts, and it seems your lady is quite taken with his work.”

Good. Krisis was pleased with the explanation. At least he wouldn’t have to break the old man’s bones.

“These were taken a few weeks ago, after her first sighting. They come from different sources. She  lives a reclusive life mostly, and only ventures into the market for supplies.” The contact explained the next set of photographs.

Krisis’ heart caught in his throat and tears clouded his eyes when he saw the last photo in the pile. He tenderly caressed the outline of Leigh’s face with his thumb. She looked vulnerable and sad, and so lost . He longed to take her in his arms, and kiss away the pain and bewilderment he saw in her eyes.

Krisis continued to leaf through the stack of photographs, and Ben’s contact filled him in on the ones that grabbed his attention.

“These were taken the first day she got here. They were at the Cantina Café, at the centre of town. They spent a large part of the afternoon there, before taking a stroll around the fountain and ending off their evening with a kiss.” The French PI relayed what he’d been told by the journalist.

“I can see that,” Krisis snapped. A low, animal-like snarl escaped from his throat when he glanced at the shots of Leigh in another man’s embrace.

There has to be a logical explanation. He kept telling himself. But seeing her liplocking with another man was heartbreaking, and it did not sit well with him. Her lips belonged to him, and him alone.

That sonofabitch will  wish he was dead when I’m done rearranging his pretty boy face. He vowed. He had been willing to just talk with the two men  Leigh was supposedly living with. But the photos quickly made him revert to his original plan. He’d take action first, and ask questions later, if pretty boy could still talk, that is.

More photos of Leigh and the man-child. But in this set, his attention was on the second man. He wasn’t as 'touchy feely' with Leigh, as the punk was… The second man was safe, for now at least. He glared at their faces, trying to figure out their connection to Leigh, more importatly how they tied in with Jacqueline’s scheme. He was convinced they were in on her plan. He wouldn’t be surprised if Jacqueline had paid lusty lover to seduce Leigh, and in her vulnerable state, she was bound to believe anything. The sooner he found her, the better.

Krisis was reduced to tears once again when his eyes lingered on Leigh. She literally took his breath away. He felt like he was free falling from the highest skyscraper in Bridgeport, and he was so afraid that when he reached the bottom, it would be too late, Leigh wouldn’t be there to break his fall because she was wrapped up in someone else’s arms.

He was petrified he’d lost her and all because of a well orchestrated misunderstanding…But he’d die first before he gave up on her. Pretty-boy and his partner were not keeping him away from her. He’d been through hell and back for her; he wasn't giving up now at the first sight of trouble. And that punk spelled loads of trouble...

His anger rose exponentially with each passing minute. The punk, as he referred to Jesse, was all over this last set. If he wasn’t ogling Leigh, he was up in her face kissing her.

“Who is this kid?” He asked at last, unable to keep his anger in check any longer. The first kiss he had overlooked, but the second and the third, he couldn’t. Even a blind man would have seen that the punk was head over heels in love with Leigh, and judging from the comfortable way she was with him,  it was obvious she cared for him deeply too.

“That’s Jesse Williams. He’s a freelance fashion designer, and socialite. He throws the weirdest, and most epic parties!” Ben’s PI informed him, but didn’t offer anything else, and Krisis wasn’t sure he could handle more anyway. He didn’t care about the bastard’s career or his fucking social life. He was more interested in why his hands were all over Leigh.

“How do I find him?” Krisis asked. Leigh’s toy boy had earned himself a place on his ‘shit list’, quickly replacing Jacqueline on the number one spot.

 “Mr. Lambert, their neighbor, confirmed they left the country a few days ago. Leigh too. He doesn’t know where they’re headed, or when they’ll be back. I’m sorry.”

Perfect! Krisis thought bitterly. He was back to square one, and he still had no idea where Leigh was. But at least she’s in one piece.

Five hours later he was at the airport, ready to head back home. Just before he boarded the flight back to Bridgeport, he called Ben and asked him to dig up all the dirt on Jesse Williams…