Sonata (Butcher and Violinist 2)

Rafael tilted his head to the side. “Are they lovers?”

“What?” Emily quirked her eyebrows. “No.”

“How did your brother and you get involved with Kazimir?”

“It was due to my other brother, Daryl.”

Rafael leaned back in his seat. “Is Daryl the Mouse?”

She tapped her leg. “No.”

“Where is your Daryl?” I asked.

“He’s dead.” She didn’t flinch or appear sad.

I raised my eyebrows. “Who killed him?”

“Misha.”

Rafael chimed in. “You’re okay with that?”

“Life happens.”

There was more to the story. Once again, she complied, but on her own terms. The answers were never enough, just a little sip to the whole drink. She must’ve annoyed the shit out of Kazimir upon first meeting. He seemed like a man that required answers.

I sighed. “Is Maxwell the Mouse?”

She widened her eyes. “No.”

“Who is it?”

“I don’t think that’s important.”

“I say what is important.”

She changed the topic. “Why did Misha’s men take Eden?”

“That’s the answer I would like to know.”

She shook her head. “How did they get her?”

“Tracked her.”

“With what?”

My phone rang. I answered. A deep voice came on the phone. “This is Maxwell. Who’s this?”

“Do you have Eden’s location?”

Maxwell cleared his throat. “No, but we’re contacting the men that may have her. We’ll have a location soon. Where is Emily—”

“Call me when you have a location.” I hung up.

Silence filled the limo.

“Nothing will be the same after this.” Rafael let out a long breath and closed his eyes. “Not France or Russia.”

If I get Eden back, it’ll be worth whatever comes.

Chapter 17

Food for Thought

Rafael

I can’t believe we kidnaped the Lion’s lover. Jean-Pierre has really lost it now.

We made it to my restaurant Shalimar’s minutes later, while Louis’s men monitored the Lion on the other side of Paris.

Kazimir better not bring his rocket launcher over here.

“We have to get in and out.” Jean-Pierre grabbed Emily’s arm and helped her out the car. “Do you have to go to the bathroom?”

“Yes.” She was a small, mousy thing. Looking more like a little girl, since she was only wearing a bed sheet and Jean-Pierre’s jacket. Earlier, I’d been surprised she’d had Jean-Pierre tangoing in the hallway.

She had some decent fighting skills. Can definitely grapple her way out of a hold. Or maybe, Jean-Pierre is so gone, he’s off his game.

The restaurant was closed. I’d woken up the chef, telling her Giorgio had been injured. Without my saying anything else, she knew Giorgio would want her to make a steak frites.

Has he woken her up for food before?

I could totally see Giorgio doing it. While he enjoyed catering to Jean-Pierre, Giorgio expected everyone else to serve him.

Giorgio is definitely trying to fuck my chef. You’re lucky I’m busy, or I would have fun blocking your scheming.

I’d never met her, but after listening to her on the phone, I’d wished I had. She had a sing-song voice. I bet she could carry a tune. I bet her moans sounded amazing.

Stop thinking of that. There’s no time. Jean-Pierre started another war.

We all walked in together.

Emily’s bed sheet dragged behind her.

If Giorgio was here, she would’ve had on clothes. Somehow in the middle of the gun fight, he would’ve found a way to get a perfectly matching outfit to her as we ran.

“So, let’s relax and enjoy ourselves,” I said to cut the silence around us.

Jean-Pierre frowned. “We’re in and out.”

Can you just take the intensity down a notch?

I turned to Emily, spread out my arms, and gestured at the walls. “Emily, I know that we’re only together for business, but what do you think of my palace?”

Hugging her stomach, she doubled over and vomited in the hallway, spilling sludge onto the koi fish tiles.

Everyone’s a critic.

I dropped my arms. “What’s wrong with her?”

Jean-Pierre got to her side. “I don’t know.”

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “I’m fine. Just rattled.”

Jean-Pierre studied her as one of my men rushed to get something to clean the mess. “Do you want some water?”

“Yes.” She wiped her mouth again. “But, can I get it, after I go to the bathroom.”

“Okay.” Jean-Pierre walked Emily back there. She carried the ends of her sheet, scanning the space, studying every detail like she was trying to find a way to escape.

If I was her, that’s what I would be doing.

Two men walked in front of Jean-Pierre and her. Three men followed in back. Another man rushed back with a towel and mop to clean the mess.

“What happened?” Louis stepped inside the restaurant and watched them clean up.

“Kazimir’s lover threw up.”

“This shit probably shook her up.”

I nodded.

Louis eyed me. “What do you think?”

“I think we’re fucked.”

“Kazimir won’t let this slide, even if he doesn’t care about her.”

“And if the Lion does?”

Louis pulled out a flask, took off the top, and took a chug. “Then, we’re super fucked.”

I took the flask and sipped that hard liquid. “Jesus, what is in this?”

“The stuff that make men.”