Rhapsody (Butcher and Violinist 1)
“I promise, Eden. You’ll be safe.”
“Okay.”
He turned to walk off.
“But,” I blurted out.
He paused and turned around. “Yes?”
“But. . .if I feel unsafe, I will leave.”
“Hmmm.” He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. The whole time he studied me. “Define unsafe.”
I held my hands out. “Feeling like I’m in danger.”
“Anything could make you feel like you’re in danger.”
The man screamed again.
What had he done? Did he deserve this? It’s not your questions to ask, Eden.
Jean-Pierre gestured to him. “He should feel unsafe right now, but not you.”
“True.” I nodded. “But. . .his screams do make me feel a little unsafe.”
“Then, I’ll make sure he doesn’t scream anymore.”
I widened my eyes.
“In a nice way.” He gave me a wicked smile. “I’ll tell him to keep it down.”
I tapped my foot.
“But if you feel unsafe, you tell me first.” He unfolded his arms and placed his hands in his pockets. “You don’t just leave. It should be a discussion. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“We’ve just begun, but I’m enjoying myself. Are you?”
I blushed. “Yes.”
“Bien.” He looked around the hallway. It was empty besides us. “How wet are your panties?”
I blushed. “Very wet.”
“Give them to me.”
I blinked.
That wicked edge curved those full lips into a smile. “I want to put them in my pocket, until I see you later. That would keep down the screams.”
I opened my mouth and then closed it.
“It was a joke. Don’t be scared.”
I lifted my dress a little, grabbed my panties under it, and slowly wiggled them down. The whole time he watched. I stepped out of them and held the panties in my hand. “I can do this girlfriend experience, but. . .again, if I don’t like the situation or feel unsafe, then I am finished.”
The muscle in his jaw twitched. “Of course.”
I handed the panties to him.
He pointed to the door next to me. “Stanley will be waiting for you in his office. He’ll show you to your room and make sure you’re comfortable.”
“Okay.”
“I wasn’t expecting visitors this evening, so don’t wait up for me. Get your rest.”
“Okay.”
He placed the panties in his pocket. “I’ll see you later, Eden.”
Chapter 13
A Symphony of Blood
Three years ago
Jean-Pierre
Rafael slipped the bloody gloves off his hands and dropped them on the carpet. “Pussy is better than music.”
“No,” I said. “Music eases the stress and pain that pussy causes. So, how can pussy be better than music?”
He gestured for our main guard Giorgio to bring him a chair. “Jean-Pierre, if you could fuck an instrument, I think you would.”
“We’ll never know that answer.” I turned to the battered man in front of us. Tied by rope, he was slumped over forward in his chair and panting. Blood-drenched saliva spilled from his mouth.
Giorgio carried a chair over to Rafael.
I walked over to Dr. Vieg, grabbed his sweaty face, and lifted his view to me. “What are your thoughts, Dr. Vieg? Is pussy better than music?”
Rafael had blacked both of Dr. Vieg’s eyes. A purplish shade decorated them. The torn man gazed up at me and blinked tears away. “I…I d-don’t know.”
I let go of his face. “You don’t know much tonight.”
Our men stood behind us, armed and ready to shoot at our command.
We’d made a mess of Dr. Vieg’s office. Shelves and broken pieces of porcelain birds lay scattered across the carpet. My men had cracked his safe, grabbed diamonds and boxes of francs. They continued to yank open files and drawers as they scanned every document they could find. Meanwhile, Rafael’s men had discovered the drugs and porn as they always tended to do.
Dr. Vieg had a nice stash of cocaine and marijuana in a gold box adored with carved flowers on the top.
Giorgio brought it over to Rafael like a waiter presenting the dessert tray.
Rafael pulled out a rolled joint and sniffed it. “Not bad. At least the doctor knows about cannabis.”
Giorgio closed the gold box, pulled out a lighter, and lit it the end of the joint for Rafael.
I shook my head. “You don’t know what it’s rolled with.”
“He’s a doctor. I’m sure it’s the good stuff.” Rafael inhaled and then coughed. “Yes. It’s the good stuff.”
“Nevertheless, I’m getting bored.” I leaned against Dr. Vieg’s desk and studied him. “Anything else, before you die?”
Dr. Vieg trembled. “Please, Jean-Pierre…I…I don’t know. . .who has…the violin.”
“I doubt that.” I unbuttoned my jacket, took it off, and handed it to Giorgio who instantly appeared at my side. “You made ten million dollars off the deal. Surely, you have the buyer’s address.”
Dr. Vieg shook his head. “It was black market.”
“It was black market.” Rafael coughed as he laughed. “Who says things like that, but liars? I thought doctors were supposed to be smart.”
I undid my shirt while Giorgio placed my jacket on his arm and waited. “Dr. Vieg isn’t a medical doctor. His degree is for music theory.”