“That’s because he’s watching us.” Carter lifted his gaze to the camera above the doorway and aimed his weapon. Ella squeezed her eyes shut but still flinched when he fired.
“Who?” Ella asked as Jesse reached for her waist and pulled her to his side.
“What’s going on? Who were those men?” Henry spoke up before anyone could even contemplate answering Ella’s question.
“A man like you would have security, but there were no bodies other than the ones we put down.” Carter crouched before Henry’s chair and set the muzzle of his gun to the man’s knee, which had Henry pinning his back to the red leather and his hands gripping the chair arms. The corner of Carter’s mouth twitched before he tilted his head to the side and studied Rochella as though deciding whether or not to kill him.
Carter wouldn’t, would he?
“They didn’t stay and defend you. So, why’d your guards cut and run?” Carter’s smooth tone could melt butter, and yet somehow, that made him come across as almost more intimidating.
Were it not for the firm hold Jesse had on her, Ella’s legs would most likely have given out ten minutes ago.
Dead bodies littered Henry Rochella’s home. And Jesse’s boss was holding a gun to the fashion mogul’s knee. This was the stuff of movies, not her life.
“I pay my men to protect me. Not enough to die for me. They warned me of a threat, and we went into the safe room. They’re not trained fighters, which you all clearly are,” Henry answered, his tone a bit sharper than she’d expected, given Carter’s proximity. Nothing timid, and certainly not charming, about Henry right now.
“I’m only going to ask you this one time.” Carter’s even-tempered voice inched lower this time, deep-blue-sea kind of low and dark. “Are you working for The Chechen?”
“The who?” Henry’s eyes widened, and maybe he was a good actor, but to Ella, he seemed as surprised by the question as she was.
Because who in the hell was The Chechen? Was the word “The” part of his name, like the actor The Rock? The two words had rolled from Carter’s tongue with such a heavy weight.
“Those were The Chechen’s men?” When it was Sydney’s voice that broke the silence, Ella looked at Sydney in shock. Emotion, damn near a 6 out of 10, which seemed to be a lot for her, crossed her face. Tight draw of the lips. Sharp line across the brow. And oh-shit creases around Sydney’s eyes.
Yeah, that’s not good. Sydney showing fear? The woman cut down those men in the house like she was playing paintball.
Carter stood and lifted his gun from Henry’s knee, then set eyes on Sydney. “That was his team. But I don’t think he had plans to hurt anyone tonight. He wanted confirmation we were here in Paris.”
“And most likely to study our moves and learn how we operate,” Gray said while pointing to the blown-out camera. “He was watching us.”
“I’ll go destroy the footage anyway. We don’t need it falling into any other hands that we were here,” Sydney said, blinking slowly and suddenly appearing pale and exhausted. She looked to Gray and waited for his nod before quietly making her way to the safe room, eyes focused on the floor and bow still in hand.
A cold bluster of air shot up Ella’s back. Ella had yet to see Sydney act like anything other than a badass. Nothing seemed to scare her. And now it felt as if Sydney had seen a ghost.
Jesse must have sensed Ella’s fear because he tightened his hold of her. It had to be hard for Jesse to stand down and watch Carter handle Henry when she knew he most likely wanted to tear the man apart if he was in any way connected to what happened tonight. The fact he’d reined in his anger instead of attacking Henry, that he’d chosen to stay by her side and comfort her, meant more than he could possibly know.
“We should get out of here soon,” Griffin announced, but Ella had a feeling the guys wouldn’t be going anywhere without Henry or prying answers from him first.
But did he have answers? Or was this all a misunderstanding?
“You still haven’t answered his question with a yes or a no.” Gray’s menacing tone drew Ella’s focus to see Gray had moved next to Carter.
The two team leaders stood before Henry, and it seemed to be enough to put that fear of God back into him.
“No, I don’t know any Chechens.” Henry looked toward the fire, away from the two men. “But I am working with French Intelligence. This,” he began while opening his palms, keeping only his profile to Ella, “was not a coincidence.”
Ella closed her eyes at his words, her head falling. Shoulders drooping. She’d hoped and prayed for a misunderstanding.
Jesse maintained his hold of her and began moving his thumb in small, soothing circles over the small of her back. The way he’d maintained control of his anger, especially at the revelation from Henry, had her breath stuttering a little. Because so much of her was still afraid that control would soon snap.
“Talk,” Gray prompted.
Henry nervously settled his hands on his knees and focused his gaze there as well, then cleared his throat. “A week ago, I was contacted by French Intelligence and offered a deal.”
“Why? Your record was clean,” Griffin said.
That’s right. Griffin had been the one assigned to look into Henry, and Ella knew he’d be kicking himself in the ass for missing whatever this was.
“I may have purchased some hard-to-get furs and other fabrics through less than legal channels this year. There’s been a lot of supply chain issues if you haven’t been paying attention to the news,” he said, defending himself, which was going to be a wasted effort in this room. “The police knew, but they turned a blind eye to it.”
“Money tends to shut people’s eyes,” Gray remarked, then made a get-on-with-it motion, directing Henry to keep talking.
“Well, the police no longer wanted my money. They wanted my help. And they promised me I’d avoid charges and they’d permanently look the other way if I agreed to do one thing.”
No. Ella squeezed her eyes closed, knowing what was coming. And she wasn’t sure if her heart could take the news. She’d been so excited when this icon of the fashion world had sought her out and said he loved her designs, offered her a chance to work with Rochella. But it was all fake. My God, she felt like a fool. How could she have ever truly believed a billionaire would stumble upon her Instagram account with only fifty-nine followers? “There are no Southern gems. No retirement-birthday party for your mom in June. It was all fake,” she whispered, tears choking her up now.
“The retirement and party are real, but no, there are no, um, gems.” Henry’s words had her opening her eyes, her heart breaking. “I was instructed to help them draw a woman to Paris. A woman whose interest was fashion. And well, that’s why they picked me. They seemed to already know so much about you, I—I don’t know.” He looked at Ella, and there was a hint of apology in his eyes, but she refused to accept any sorrys from him if he were to offer. “I didn’t have a choice.”
“There’s always a choice,” Jesse spoke up this time, and unlike Carter’s tone, Jesse’s was cutting. Knife-across-the-throat cutting. And she almost closed her eyes again at the memory of him doing exactly that.