They might be touting him as a whack job and a murderer, but at least he wasn’t that “monster” from Seattle battling chronic panic disorder on top of running a hardcore kink club. He owed them, big fucking time, for getting all that crap suppressed. Whatever it took, he’d gladly repay the favor—especially because they’d wrapped the third mystery into the package too. The most important secret to them as well as him.
“You are all familiar with the expression timing is everything, n’est-ce pas?” Carris leveled at the throng up in Paris. “Well, we had a deliberate reason for waiting out Brickham as we did.”
A violent snort spewed from Jayd. “Because you are the degan kimfuks who set the trap for us?”
Samsyn whipped over a glare. “Fembla!”
She glowered back. “What?”
“Watch your fucking language!”
“Silence.”
It was the first word King Evrest had uttered since they arrived, but it was already in a language Brick supported. Clear leadership was like a magic spell in a pit of chaos, especially if one’s unofficial enemy was on TV making statements that sounded all too official.
“Maximillian Brickham took Jayd Cimarron to Montmartre because he was getting ready to confront her with a devastating truth,” Trystan declared. “A specific truth about her past.”
“Shit.” Brick was joined by Samsyn and Shiraz in the gritted growl. Requiemme got busy with a rasping plea to her Creator, but Evrest and Jayd were silent.
Too damn silent.
But there was no time to dissect all that. Like them, Brick was morbidly riveted on the screen. Carris was a ringmaster in the hot light of stardom, not about to jump off his trick elephant of momentum.
“A truth,” he added then, “that will change not only her, but the fabric of our nation.”
Fate gave them a split second of relief, as Irianna the Intense released a scathing chuckle. “You are speaking about a twenty-four-year-old princess, monsieur, not her elder brother.”
“Ahhh.” Carris was ready with his own scoff. “A princess. But do you really mean…a princess?”
“And here it comes,” Shiraz snarled.
“Scum of my sweaty scrotum,” Samsyn spat. Since it bested anything Brick had in mind, he gave the guy nodding props.
“And that means exactly what?” another reporter demanded, already inciting Carris’s act of “sincere concern.”
In a matching tone of laughable sobriety, Trystan declared, “The man who died by Brickham’s hand on Sunday, in front of Jayd Cimarron’s eyes, was a quiet local artist—”
“Named Louis LaBarre.” Irianna was back to her brutal impatience. “We know all that as well, Monsieur.”
“Of course you do,” Carris conceded with urbane ease. “Every one of you has done your due diligence, researching every detail you can, yes? That means you also know that LaBarre lived in Paris for just over twenty-five years—but that you hit sizable walls about learning anything about him before that.”
Before he was done, Irianna and her trenchant scowl were in widespread company. Every reporter in the throng was outright flushed with impatience. After savoring their frustration for another moment, Carris continued.
“That is because all his public records have been purposely sealed. And that is because, twenty-five years ago, Louis LaBarre was living on the island of Arcadia. More specifically, he had moved into the royal palais as a sponsored artist for various island beautification projects. He was hand-selected by the queen to help with the refurbishment of the palais itself.”
Well, that livened up the sweaty horde. “Hand-selected by the queen…in what way?” came a demand from the crowd. “Are you alluding to something more?”
Carris clicked up a confident smirk. “Not an allusion,” he asserted. “Because there is actual proof. For a number of months during that project, Louis LaBarre had a passionate and secret affair with Queen Xaria Cimarron.”
More energy blasted the horde. Contemplative scowls became prurient gapes. Fascination flared into astonishment.
And then bedlam.
“Are you saying that Princess Jayd was the product of that affair?”
“Do you have solid scientific proof of the claim?”
“Who knew about this? How high in the Arcadian palais did the cover-up go?”
“What does this mean about the succession of the Arcadian crown?”
“Did Jayd know about this already? If not, when was she told?”
“Was that why she was on an off-grid trip to Paris?”
After those questions were yelled in fifteen ways apiece, Carris settled the storm with a dramatic inhalation.
“Saints’ shriveled balls,” Samsyn grumbled. “What the hell is he scheming now?”
“I firmly believe that the princess had no prior knowledge of this information,” Trystan stated, “and that she only learned it because of Mr. Brickham, who was seemingly in concert with Mr. LaBarre to extort money from Jayd and her family.”
In Paris, more gasps from the crowd. In Jayd’s living room, more rounds of hissed profanities. The only one abstaining from the cussing party was Evrest, though Brick wasn’t sure how long he’d resist.
“Since we strongly suspected that was the case, my team and I decided to lie low and follow the man. Let me tell you, it was rough going to keep our silence, especially as Brickham began to compel and constrain the princess.”
“Compel?” was no Intense Irianna, but she was also no slouch about tenacity. “And constrain? That is not the story we have gathered, monsieur. The additional footage of the two implies they were close and affectionate. Perhaps even intimate.”
Brick was relieved to watch Carris swipe the air as if erasing a chalkboard. That was only half as fun at witnessing an insane rush of jealous color to his face. “If they were, I am certain he forced her.”
“Forced?” Jayd exclaimed. “Is he fucking kid—”
“Language!” Samsyn barked.
“But the bonsun lies like pond scum!” she exclaimed. “Who does he think I am? What does he think I am? Some helpless marsh reed, snapped in half by the first alligator who approaches and wants to bite?”
Brick swung his head around, notching his own glance to that of her oldest brother’s. Had the seething little sprite just compared him to a swamp gator? Exactly how mad was he? Jesus on a river reed, she was too gorgeous for her own good in ranty mode.
Thank God for Shiraz again, moving in with a firm hand on her shoulder. “Ssshhh. We know this, all right?”
But for all the glass waters of the guy’s reassurance to his sister, he swung a hell of a stormy glare back at Brick. But could he be blamed? Jayd’s outburst had delivered one hell of an informational boat into the brothers’ protective harbor. Whether Brick would sail or sink in those waters, he had yet to know.
“We were hoping to catch LaBarre and Brickham in the act of their blatant corruption and carefully selected our time to uncloak our presence,” Carris continued. “But before I could move my men in close enough to capture audio on their exchange in the pub, Brickham got wise to our intentions. As you are aware, he is retired from one of the most elite special forces teams in the world. We knew it would be a delicate feat to pull off.”