Sonata (Butcher and Violinist 2)

She shook her head yes, but she whispered, “No.”

Goddamn it, Shalimar!

I rose. “Where did Celina take whatever it is from?”

“I have no idea.”

Another lie.

She leaned back on the bed and spread her thighs.

And now we’re back to the pussy tactics.

Letting her go, I took a deep breath, trying my best to calm my racing heart. It irked me that Shalimar wouldn’t just trust me. “Close your fucking legs.”

She pouted. “No.”

“If you’d told me this from the beginning, Eden wouldn’t have been caught.”

She didn’t blink or move.

And then something dawned on me. “You’re smart enough to know there would have been a chance Eden got caught.”

She nodded yes, but said, “No…I-I…didn’t think that—”

“You knew there was a chance.” I rose from the bed, so I wouldn’t strangle her. “You knew, but you didn’t care. You wanted Eden grabbed or hurt or. . .”

Tell me I’m lying, Shalimar. Come on. Say it. I’m lying.

Another tear left those beautiful eyes. She wiped it away.

“Your mother is dead. Your sister too.” I backed up. “You’re hurt. In pain. You want someone to pay.”

Her sweet sad face shifted to anger.

I lowered my voice. “And Eden is in Paris, having a romantic adventure with Jean-Pierre.”

“I wouldn’t have done that.” But she nodded.

“You did do it.” I rubbed my face, feeling more heartbroken than I’d ever been. “I’m more shocked that Celina supported your new plan.”

She turned away.

I cursed under my breath. “Celina didn’t know about your new plan. She didn’t know you were going to give it to Eden.”

“W-when she realized I’d come to Paris, she told me to go somewhere else.”

“Where?”

She kept her mouth shut.

Enraged, I stormed over to the shelf and turned it over. “Where?!”

Books and plants toppled, crashing onto the floor. Horror shook her body as she widened her eyes. Some of my men rushed in, saw what was going on, and hurried out.

“Where goddamn it?!” I stepped over the mess. “Where did Celina want you to go?”

“T-to Japan.”

Celina rushed for new resources. Somehow, she had a contact with the Yakuza, or maybe, it wasn’t that she’d already had a contact. Perhaps it was that she could give them what she took from Misha.

“What’s the tracker attached to?” I charged for the bed.

She jumped up from it.

I prowled her way. “What the fuck is it?”

“Wait.” She waved her hands. “Look. C-Celina is in Paris. She’s forgiven me, and she’s going to have everything covered f-from here on out.”

I leaned my head to the side. “But Celina doesn’t know that Eden is gone, does she?”

“I-I just found out from you.”

I cocked a brow. “What is attached to the tracker?”

“I’m not saying anything else.”

“You fucking will.”

“Celina will already be—”

“You don’t have Celina to worry about anymore, Shalimar.” I fisted my hands. “I wish I could be the man to get the answers from you, but I’m not him. I can’t hurt you. I can’t make you talk. I can’t.”

Her chest rose and fell. I hoped she was thinking it through. I prayed that she’d finally decided to let me know it all, so we could save everyone.

I waited.

Silent minutes passed as I studied her.

She wouldn’t budge.

Fuck. Jean-Pierre will have to talk to her. And I won’t stop him. I won’t limit him.

Shalimar knew what she was bringing to Paris, and she let it happen. If Eden died, then Jean-Pierre would die too. And that meant that Shalimar would’ve been part of killing him.

“I love you, but I don’t love you more than Jean-Pierre.” I backed away. “I suppose that was probably the problem from the very beginning.”

“W-where are you going?”

“Goodbye, Shalimar.”

“No.” She hurried my way and grabbed my arm. “Please. Just give me time.”

“Eden doesn’t have time.”

She wore a sullen look on her face. A whole river of pity ran through me. “You say you love me, but you never did. You just loved the idea of loving me. You just wanted to be like Jean-Pierre, but you’re not. That’s why you need him to come to me. You’re not him.”

“You’re right.” I took my arm away and left.

“Rafael!”

I paused but didn’t face her.

There was truth to what she’d said. Jean-Pierre’s obsession for Eden did make me wonder about love. I thought I could get it with Shalimar, but perhaps it was only because she was the first woman I’d seen after Jean-Pierre’s start of war. His need to fight for Eden… had triggered something in me. In all of us. Louis. Giorgio. We all moved different after those years. We earned more. We fought more. We had purpose, for the first times in our lives, and it had nothing to do with death, or money, power, or fucking reputation.

Jean-Pierre—Le Boucher—the dark monster that brooded the halls and depressed the shit out of us no matter where we were—Jean-Pierre was in love. And he walked differently when he was in love. He smiled. He brightened. He talked with a song in his voice. And it all had been infectious. Like a virus infecting right at first contact, never letting go.