I rush down the hallway and push open the door Maxime has indicated. It’s dark. I fumble for a light switch. When I find the button, I flick it on. It’s a bedroom. The sheets are tangled on the bed. It smells of whiskey and sex. A blanket lies discarded on the floor. Snatching it up, I run back to the room at the end. Maxime exits just as I arrive. I cover the woman’s body as best as I can.
“Let’s go,” Maxime says tersely.
I follow him down the hallway. Through the doorway of the lounge, I see Alexis and the other man. The stranger is dressed, and Alexis is holding a bag of frozen peas against his eye. I get the door and the elevator while Maxime carries the woman and says soothing things to her in French even if she seems unconscious.
Downstairs in the street, Gautier, who’s returned, jumps to attention. He gets the passenger door while Maxime lowers the woman onto the seat and secures her safety belt. He says something to Gautier, then races around the car, gets in, and starts the engine. I watch dumbfounded, my words all dried up, as he takes off like a racing devil, the taillights of his car two red eyes in a dark evil of the night.
“I’m taking you home,” Gautier says.
I turn to face him. At first his words don’t make sense. Nothing makes sense. I’m shivering in Maxime’s jacket, but not from cold.
“Come, Miss Hart. Please.”
I look at his outstretched arm. A realization dawns on me. I don’t know how I figure it out because the dots from my mind to my thoughts won’t connect. He’s not allowed to touch me.
“Please,” he says again.
Numb, I follow him to a car parked on the side of the road and get in when he holds the door for me. I can’t breathe. I can’t calm the frantic beat of my heart. For the first time since Maxime took me from my home and brought me here, I’m grateful to my kidnapper. I’m grateful he didn’t hand me over to his brother.
What I’ve seen tonight changes everything. It changes the answer I was going to give Maxime back at the hotel.
Chapter 24
Maxime
On the way to the hospital, I call Dr. Olivier.
“Another one?” he asks curtly when I’ve explained the situation.
“I know.” I glance at the unconscious woman. “This is ending tonight.”
He sighs. “I’ll meet you there in ten.”
I park underground and take the elevator to the ground floor. It’s late. It’s quiet. Dr. Olivier meets me at the side entrance. Together, we install the woman in a private room. The good doctor will treat her and give her something for the pain. He’ll also handle the tricky logistics of the paperwork.
I take a picture of her injuries with my phone. Pocketing it, I say, “Text me an update on her progress.”
The doctor looks up from examining her. “Where are you going?”
“To deal with my brother.”
He nods. It’s not his place to ask questions. “Do you know her identity? I’ll need a name for the forms.”
I’ll need it to pay a hefty compensation, not that money can atone for Alexis’s actions. Plus, her family will have to be informed of her random assault. She’ll say someone got rough on her while she was working the streets. That’s what they all say, but the prostitutes talk among themselves. Hopefully, they’ll stay far away from my brother in the future.
“I’ll get her name to you,” I say. “Send me the bill.” Of course, it’ll include a big fat bonus for the doctor.
Without wasting more time, I get my car and drive to my parents’ house. On the way, I call my father and tell him I’ll be there shortly. It’s almost three in the morning, but he doesn’t share a bedroom with Maman, so I don’t risk waking her up.
My father replies with, “I’ll wait downstairs.”
He knows I won’t call at this hour unless there’s a problem, usually one that involves a traitor or an unauthorized killing.
I kill the headlights before I pull through the gates. Maman’s window faces the front lawn. Father stands in the dark by the door, flanked by two guards.
“Come in.” He walks ahead of me to his study and only flicks the lights on when the door is closed. He’s dressed in his silk robe and a pair of slippers. He pours two glasses of whiskey before taking the chair behind his desk. “What happened?”
I take out my phone and show him the picture I took of the woman in the hospital.
He lifts his gaze to me. “Alexis?”
My voice is clipped. “Yes.”
Sighing, he rubs a hand over his face. “Is she going to make it?”
“I’m waiting for the doctor to text me, but I think so. She’s not much worse than the previous one, and that one survived.” I move closer. “However, the next one may not be so lucky.”
“Fuck.” My father slams a palm on the desk.
He understands the implications of murder. Taking out your enemies is one thing. Taking out the very prostitutes you’re pimping is quite another.
“We have to deal with Alexis,” I say.
My father looks at me, his bad eye drooping more than usual. He doesn’t want to punish his favorite son, but he knows he’s let it go too far. If Alexis doesn’t end up in jail soon, he’ll end up with a bullet in the back of his head. These women have families. They’re locals. Their fear of our power is only going to last so long before someone vengeful gets trigger happy. Besides, this is not the example we want to set.
“Fine,” he says, pushing his chair away from the desk and getting to his feet. “Deal with him.”
He can fucking count on that.
I leave his study with long steps. In the car, I dial Gautier. “Is Zoe home?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Meet me at Alexis’s and bring Benoit. Keep it discreet.”
Back at Alexis’s place, I find him a lot more sober than I left him. He’s frightened, as he should be. He knows he fucked up one time too many. The fucker who was with him is still there. Good. At least the man was intelligent enough to do as I’ve instructed, to stay put. He knows better than to let me hunt him, because then he would’ve been a free kill.
Alexis is pacing the floor, a bag of peas pressed to his swollen eye. “What the fuck took you so long? Where have you been?”
“Home.”
He stops. The color drains from his face. “Home?”
Crossing my arms, I enjoy his palpable fear. “To see father.”
He swallows. “Max, listen, I—”
I turn to his buddy, one of the men I’ve seen frequently at the port. “What’s your name?”
The man is so rigid it looks like his spine may snap. “Francois Leclerc, sir.”
Alexis may be my father’s son, but I’m the fucking underboss, and they both know I come with my father’s blessing. Right now that makes me the boss.
“Who’s the woman?”
Alexis points at a handbag that lies on the table. I go over and pick it up. It’s imitation leather, a cheap quality. The plastic is cracked. Unzipping it, I take out a wallet. There’s an ID card inside. I pocket it and take the bag, then tilt my head toward the door. “Let’s go.”