Sonata (Butcher and Violinist 2)

Both Kazimir and Maxwell stared at me as I got in.

I looked a mess and reeked. I still had on that torn and dirtied gown. Bandages were plastered on one side of my face. My hair was all over the place, not that I’d cared about beauty in these last hours. My hands were sore, maybe even swollen. I stared down at them. One of my index fingers looked like it was bent the other way.

I flexed them and flinched at the pain.

Oh God.

I’d sprained, or possibly broke one or more of my fingers, from the slamming and banging at the couch.

Maxwell looked at me from head to toe. “We should clean her up too. Give her a dress and some shoes or something—”

“This isn’t a fucking makeover show.” Kazimir typed into his phone and brought it to his face.

“You know what they say.” Maxwell shrugged. “Honey catches more bees, than lemonade.”

Kazimir frowned. “It’s vinegar.”

Maxwell shook his head. “You can’t catch bees with vinegar.”

“Not bees, but. . .” Scowling at him, Kazimir brought the phone to his ear. “I may kill you before we get to Emily.”

“She’ll be too sad, if you do.” Maxwell smiled at me. “Don’t worry, Eden. We’ll get you a nice dress and some shoes. And a shower. Not that you smell bad. Well. . .fuck it. You do smell bad, but I understand why. You had to survive.”

“Stop talking to her.” Kazimir hung up the phone. “Jean-Pierre isn’t answering.”

“You know why?” Maxwell shook his head. “He’s not answering because you probably killed him and Emily, with all that damn mayhem you’ve caused around Paris—”

“It’s my tactic.”

“Horror and chaos?”

“I’ve found it works.”

I cleared my throat.

They both turned back to me.

“You’re. . .” I cleared my throat again. “You’re giving me to Jean-Pierre?”

Kazimir nodded. “Yes. As soon as he decides to answer his phone.”

Maxwell kept his gaze on me. “Knowing my sis? Emily probably took the phone.”

That was the only time Kazimir smiled for a second before the frown returned.

I asked another question, “You’re the Lion?”

Kazimir smiled one more time. “So, Jean-Pierre talks about me to you? I’m not surprised. Jean-Pierre has a problem with obsessions.”

Blinking, I looked at Maxwell, hoping someone could make more sense of everything.

Maxwell must’ve understood how lost I’d been. “Jean-Pierre decided to kidnap Emily—my sister and Kazimir’s… lady. Apparently, Jean-Pierre did that because he thought we kidnapped you, which we kind of did, but not truly. So, we’re sorry, but then again we’re not.”

Kazimir went back to typing into his phone. “Be quiet.”

Maxwell rolled his eyes. “I have a question for you, Eden?”

“Yes.”

Maxwell directed his gaze to my hands. “What are you holding and petting right now? It is an invisible puppy?”

Dear God.

I looked down at my lap as Uni slept. “It’s. . .a unicorn.”

“O-kay. You’re petting a unicorn.” Maxwell nodded. “Unicorns are cool.”

“I’m really drugged up,” I tried to explain. “And… it’s been a long fucking day. Petting Uni calms me.”

Maxwell shrugged. “You go right ahead and pet him… or her. It’s just when you come down, let me know what you took. I want no parts of that shit.”

“Me either,” I mumbled and stared out the window.

Jean-Pierre had kidnapped another person due to me. He’d done it to a powerful enemy. While I was out of the Devil’s grip, I was now with the Lion.

What would happen after this? Would I get back safely to him?

I glanced back at the Lion and Maxwell.

Once the women are all back together. . .then what will happen between Kazimir and Jean-Pierre?

Chapter 21

Impatiently Waiting

Jean-Pierre

What else could go wrong?

The limo pulled up to our new location.

“Has anybody found The Lion yet?” I asked.

“No, but I’m sure they’ll pop up.” Louis headed back to the kitchen and his food.

We’d gone to Gwen’s small apartment in Bondy—one of the lower income suburbs around Paris, that many didn’t want to live in. High-rise social housing filled the western part. In the south eastern part, many didn’t roam there at night. If one ever took a taxi to Paris via the A3, then Bondy would’ve been the ugliest part of the ride.

But the area provided cheap housing for Parisians on a serious budget.

We can do better than this for one of our employees.

When we drove up, Rafael had taken the neighborhood in as I did. I could tell the same thoughts was on his mind.

We’ll have to move her somewhere better. His chef can’t stay here.

Rafael may have even said that, had Louis not pressed him with a more important question.

“Are you going to carry Shalimar’s dead body up to Gwen’s apartment?”

Rafael looked down at the body he’d been carrying out the limo. “Oh.”

He just stood there for several silent seconds.

Is he in shock?

Louis took the body from him. I guided him away, not by grabbing his hand, but giving him a manly pat on the shoulder and never moving it. Three men escorted Emily ahead.