Sonata (Butcher and Violinist 2)

We did.

The movement we’d heard above us, went silent. It could’ve been her, or someone else could have left the stair well. Silently, we moved up. Each time we made it to the floor, I slowly opened the door and checked the hallway.

Fuck.

If I didn’t find her, then I couldn’t do the exchange. This was the last thing I needed. Our conversation ran in my head as I raced around.

My phone buzzed.

Rafael and I checked the building’s roof.

I pulled it out and answered. “Yes?”

Kazimir’s voice came on the line. “I’m texting you the address. Bring Emily in ten minutes.”

“Okay. I will.” I hung up.

Rafael looked at me. “Who was that?”

“Kazimir. He said he was texting the address.”

Rafael held his hands out. “And?”

I headed off. “And we’re going to get Eden.”

He stopped me by grabbing my shoulder. “How the fuck are we going to do an exchange, without something to exchange?”

I rubbed my face with both hands. “We’ll be creative.”

“How?”

“Gwen could maybe pretend to be—”

“Fuck that. We’re not involving Gwen. Really? That’s how you want to play this? Let’s get the first black woman we know to stand in.” His voice rose. “I thought I would never say this, but finally you’re taking this too fucking far.”

“What do you want me to do?!” The last word cracked. I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes. “What do you want from me? If anybody took you, I would do the same. If they took Giorgio or Louis, I wouldn’t be reasonable. I would go hard. I would bully presidents, until you were back to me. I would crush buildings. Every resource. Every movement. Every ounce of energy, would be put to get you back.”

I opened my eyes and stared back at him.

“Okay.” Rafael frowned. “I just don’t want any more women to die this week.”

“Me either.” Slowly, I left the wall and hugged him.

He tried to get out of it. “What are you doing?”

“I’m sorry about Shalimar.” I held him longer and then let him go.

“Okay. Okay. Get off me. Let’s do some more stupid shit today.”

“Yes. Let’s talk to Gwen.”

Once Kazimir gave me the address, I sent out a message to all my men.

My phone rang again.

I picked up. “Yes?”

Louis spoked, “I have your message, but we have a problem.”

“What?”

“The three main warehouses that hold are guns in Paris.”

“Yes?”

“They’re full of lions.”

Of course they are.

“People are trying to kill the lion, but they can’t even get inside without one of them coming for our men. What do you want them to do?”

“Figure it out.” I hung up and looked at Rafael. “We found the lions.”

“Where?”

“You don’t want to know.”

Kazimir had proven to be more than his bully reputation. He was smart and resourceful. His mouse had showed the same thing. She’d found ways to get close and get away.

But did our conversation still matter.

The Mouse had held her hand out. “We exchange with a few hiccups, but we don’t stress about those hiccups.”

I quirked my eyebrows. “What am I shaking to?”

“Our friendship, and no war.”

“Hiccups? This is more than a hiccup, Mouse.” A dark chuckle came from me, as I stormed off to the elevator. “To friendship my ass!”

Rafael shook his head. “You’re finally losing your mind.”

“Clearly, you haven’t been paying attention. I haven’t had my mind in a long fucking time.”

Chapter 23

Fi-na-fucking-ly!

Rafael

Well, there goes any chance with Gwen.

Not that I was in any mood, to be with any women anymore. I’d made a sad attempt at talking to her while she tried to get me to eat, but Shalimar’s dead body, continued to play in my mind.

And even worse, now Jean-Pierre had told her everything—the kidnappings and the possible war. He told her that we could protect her.

Lies. Can we protect anyone anymore?

Eden had been taken right under our eyes. Shalimar had been tortured and killed. Emily escaped.

Yet, she sat there, in her small living room, listening to Jean-Pierre but looking at me. There was a sadness in her gaze. Like she wanted to hold me. Like she wanted to wipe the tears, I wouldn’t let fall.

Jean-Pierre had always been persuasive with his words, especially when he was at his most desperate. He painted her a picture of future fortune and complete protection to her family. He declared, that the task would be simple, but have possible threat.

That part he didn’t sugarcoat.

He placed a high price tag on it. When Jean-Pierre ended, she looked at me for several silent seconds, nodded her head, and agreed to Jean-Pierre’s plan. Deep inside, I knew some of the reason she did it was for me. It might’ve been crazy to think so, but something whispered that in my head.

Why would she do it for me? She barely knows me, although she’s been in my restaurant for a few months, helped it make it what it is. But why?