Sonata (Butcher and Violinist 2)

“Who?”

“I don’t know. It might not be right.”

“Who?”

“I think they said, Drayden.”

“Or Dragon?”

“It could be.”

Louis walked over to him. “Did you ever see your wife and kids after that first day?”

“No, but they were in the other room—”

“They’re dead.” Louis shook his head and kneeled down. “We’ll check and make sure they’re fine, but I’m sure they’re dead.”

Ju’s mouth hung open, and his eyes watered.

“But at least there’s a bright side to this. You’ll be reunited.” Louis took out his gun and shot Ju in the head.

“You shouldn’t have shot him.” Rafael brought me a drink. “Maybe, Jean-Pierre wanted to do it.”

I took the drink, going through all the new details in my mind. “A tracker from America to Paris that the Devil had been following.”

Louis put his gun up. “Celina is hiding from Misha.”

“Shalimar is hiding from someone too,” Rafael added,

“People were killed in Belladonna. Now Shalimar is in Paris, but for the purpose of giving Eden a necklace.” I took a gulp of whiskey. “Shalimar gives the necklace to us. Three days later, the Devil is lured our way and takes over our security guy’s family.”

How could I have been so fucking stupid.

I finished the drink, not even tasting the liquid, just needing the burn down my throat. “The necklace had the tracker, but why would Celina want that on Eden? Why would she put her niece in danger? Celina is a lot of things, but the main reason I didn’t kill her is because I always felt she had Eden’s best interests at heart.”

“I don’t believe this. Someone’s setting this up.” Rafael shook his head. “Shalimar wouldn’t give a tracker to Eden.”

“I don’t know,” Louis said. “If someone is chasing Shalimar, it would make sense to give whatever it was to Eden. Who could better protect it then Jean-Pierre?”

But I didn’t protect it. . .or Eden. . .Jesus Christ. She’s with the Devil!

Louis and Rafael spent time arguing about the tracker situation. I had no time for the back and forth. If no one had answers, then they should be looking for them.

“Rafael.” I pointed at him. “Talk to Shalimar. Find out everything. If you can’t get answers, then call me. I’ll come over.”

In other words, make her ass talk, before I come over with my bows. I had no idea, if Shalimar was friend or foe? If she knew that the necklace was being tracked by killers, and willingly gave it to Eden, then I would hurt Shalimar.

I will slice that pretty little face, until you tell me everything.

Rafael studied me. “Shalimar didn’t do it. This isn’t her fault.”

It better not be.

I tenderly tapped his shoulder. “Let’s see if she can help us with hard answers. Very, very hard answers.”

Rafael scowled. “I understand.”

Do you? If she has anything to do with this. . .

I would think of that later. I had to choose one nightmare at a time. Rafael wouldn’t want me to hurt Shalimar. And I would never want to hurt Rafael.

Decisions. Decisions.

I felt like I was dying. Heat and life slipping away from my body. Drained.

Louis’s phone rang. He answered, talked for a minute, and smiled, “No. Tell Giorgio that Rafael will not open the restaurant for him. We’re a little busy, but. . .tell him I’m glad he’s okay.”

Rafael’s face brightened. “Is that OCD bastard okay?”

I paused.

Louis nodded. “He’s out of surgery and requesting Gwen’s Steak-frites and a pale blue Brioni from the Fall season collection.”

I let out a long breath and poured another glass.

“Give him whatever he wants. I don’t give a damn.” Rafael took another drink. “I’ll wake up the chef myself. What else does he want?”

“Here.” Louis tossed the phone to Rafael.

“Tell Giorgio, I love him. I’m going to clean up.” Taking the whiskey with me, I left them all in the office, ready to get out of the bloody clothes.

This can’t be happening. This can’t be real. There was no warning. No fucking warning.

I didn’t walk into my bedroom—the space that I’d shared with Eden for these past amazing weeks. I couldn’t step inside there now, not without her. Besides men crawled over every inch, grabbing fingerprints and checking to see whose drops of blood were on the carpet.

Eden, I’m so sorry. I told you I would protect you, and now. . .

I went to one of the many extra rooms instead.

No memories moved in these rooms.

None of the walls had been blessed with her presence.

That was where I shed my clothes. In an empty room. No furniture. No paint. White blank walls, and a gray concrete floor. There, I kneeled on the ground for the first time in my life. There, I prayed to God.

There, a cold silence pooled over and drowned my soul. Regret and guilt crawled inside of me, burrowing into my bones.

What I will do for you, Eden—the people I will kill—I’ll never be able to wash the death off my hands. I promise. You’ll be back to me.