Should I have even made the promise?
The only thing I really wanted to do now, was kill Russians. Anybody that was involved with Shalimar’s death would die, including Celina. Deep down Jean-Pierre probably knew that. It would cause a little friction, but we would survive. There was no way I would let Celina live now. She’d brought danger right to our door.
The limo moved through the streets of Paris.
I studied Gwen.
She’d been watching me too.
Killing Russians can wait for now. First, I’ll bury Shalimar. Next. . .I’ll show Gwen Paris.
Until then, I had to keep all of us safe. We were going into the Lion’s den now, even though it was still our city. Kazimir had found ways to navigate through our blocks and control sections. We had to stay on our toes.
I looked at Louis. My cousin had been stealing glances at Gwen.
Really? Pick one of them. Or maybe I’m being a horny bastard and paranoid.
I didn’t think I was. Louis had been downstairs with the chef’s sister when Emily had escaped. She’d picked the perfect timing.
We can’t be thinking with our dicks in these next hours. We have to play it straight.
I returned my attention to Gwen.
“I left New Orleans to get away from this. I thought Paris would be different.”
What had she gone through back there? What had she seen?
My mind was intrigued. Anything was better, than thinking of the reality of Shalimar’s death. Anything to distract me.
When Giorgio and I had searched for a chef, it had been impossible. No one had showed up. No one was excited about me being their boss. They probably assumed violence and chaos would come their way.
And they were right.
But Gwen applied.
Had she heard the rumors?
Now Gwen sat with us, being pulled into one of Jean-Pierre’s crazy obsessions. Not that his feelings for Eden, could be put in any category of his past obsessions. His love for her had surpassed anything, that I’d ever seen among all of us.
I knew as we rode in this limo, that Jean-Pierre was prepared to die today if only to save Eden from any danger.
Damn it. I’ll have to watch him too.
We arrived. Forum des Halles stood before us. I remembered being out here over a week ago, sad about the state of Shalimar and me.
Now what?
Like a gigantic sheet heaving above Paris, the huge roof of steel and glass covered the Forum des Halles. It rose fourteen meters high and was made of fifteen glass canopies. They cut the sky like huge blades and reflected the sunlight.
A week ago, Shalimar was walking those long hallways filled with stores and riding up and down the escalator to this level and that. A week ago, she’d been alive. How I wished I could bring back a week ago.
We made it to one of the service entrances on the side. Men sat on motorcycles with guns strapped to their chest. Louis hadn’t half-assed this plan at all.
Giorgio had never got on the plane to everyone’s dismay. He now sat in the passenger side of a small black van while one of his main guards drove.
If things got sticky, Giorgio’s van, and armed bikers would swoop inside the mall through the service entrance, sped our way, and hopefully stop us from being bombarded by Russians.
Louis placed a small bud in his ear and pressed the center. “Can you hear me?”
The person must’ve spoke back.
“Good,” Louis said to the person. “We’re at the Northeast service entrance. Level two. Do you have cameras on the cinema?”
Jean-Pierre stared at Louis like a wild man, waiting for his response.
“Okay. Good. Do you see Eden? Okay. Good. We’re coming.” Louis turned to Jean-Pierre. “Eden is fine. They have camera’s inside of theater 7. She’s sitting in the front with Kazimir. There’s a movie playing. The Lion is talking and sitting next to her.”
Jean-Pierre didn’t look pleased, but what could he say. He did take the Lion’s mouse. Why wouldn’t the Lion flaunt Eden in front of him?
Fast, Jean-Pierre got to the other van.
Louis opened it.
I helped Gwen in.
Our men followed, jumping inside.
The van was a decent size. Benches were on both sides. Two large bags sat in the center, with guns and boxes of ammo. Gwen sat between Louis and me. Jean-Pierre was across from us next to his men.
The door closed.
The van moved.
My heart sped up at the possibilities before us. Now was the time. The moment that’d we’d been waiting for these past hours.
Scowling at Jean-Pierre, I murmured. “Fi-na-fucking-ly.”
Still wearing a scowl, he quirked his eyebrows. “What?”
“Fi-na-fucking-ly.”
Louis snorted, as the van bounced us a little. “That’s not a word.”
“It is,” I argued. “And I can use it in a sentence.”
Gwen gave me a nervous smile. “Go ahead.”
“I’m ready for Jean-Pierre to get Eden, so we can fi-na-fucking-ly end this.”
Jean-Pierre nodded. “I agree.”