I was contemplating all the people I needed to yell at before the morning was up when my father summoned me, saying we needed to talk. Great. Another lecture. Just what I needed. Part of me wanted to walk away and leave all the responsibilities weighing on me behind.
When I reached my parents’ house, I noted Lance’s car in the driveway and frowned. Maybe I wasn’t in for a lecture after all. Maybe this was a meeting about some new problem that had arisen, but if that were the case, I would already know about it.
Antoine greeted me, took my coat, and told me my father was waiting in his office. He wasn’t alone. Lance was there along with Corbin and Marjorie. This was a goddamned intervention. I should have seen it coming.
“I know what you’re trying to do here, but I’m not going to—”
“Sit down, son,” my father growled. “Don’t speak again until I say it’s your turn.”
I clenched my fists and pressed my lips together, but I did as he said.
“I’m tired of you walking around here looking like you’ve lost everything to your worst enemy. We beat the Landrys—as I knew we would—but you’d never know it by the way you’re acting. I’m well aware of how much we spoiled Corbin”—my youngest brother huffed, but our father waved him off—“but you’ve never acted like such a brat.”
His words felt like slaps.
“Pop, I—”
“I’m not finished. I know you have your reasons for feeling like you do, but you’re not doing a damn thing about it, and we’re all tired of you taking your anger out on us. I gave you the position you’re in because I thought you knew how to lead, but you’re neglecting everything.”
I was hurt by his accusation but also furious. “I’ve been working all day and most of the night. I haven’t been neglecting any—”
“You’re going through the motions, but all you’re doing is sending out orders, ones you haven’t even thought through. You’re not making anyone want to follow you, not since the night with the Landrys.”
Marjorie interrupted then. “Remington, darling, we’re tired of seeing you so hurt and sad.”
“Just go fucking talk to him,” Lance said.
Marjorie narrowed her eyes at him. “Language.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He attempted to look contrite, but Tony jumped on his shoulder and chattered as if in agreement with what he’d said.
I was not taking relationship advice from a monkey.
Corbin met my gaze, and I couldn’t remember him ever looking so serious.
“Like I told you that night I hung out with him. He cares about you.”
I slammed my hand down on the arm of my chair. “If he cares about me, then why the fuck did he leave?”
“Do not use that language in front of Marjorie,” my father barked.
I jumped and looked at her. “Excuse me.”
“That’s all right.”
“Henri left because he heard what we said, not because he doesn’t care,” Lance said.
“He wouldn’t listen to an explanation.”
“Would you have?” Corbin asked. “If you were mad and hurt and feeling vulnerable, would you listen?”
“Are you listening now?” Lance asked.
They were coming for me like a pack of angry wolves. I could stand up to wolves. I’d stood up to men who were far more dangerous, but this was my family, the people who knew me best, the people I shared my secrets with. I’d thought I could share secrets with Henri. I shared more with him than I had with my brothers, but he’d walked away.
Marjorie laid a hand on my knee. “He needs you.”
“Go tell him. Make him listen,” Corbin insisted.
The rest of them nodded.
Shit. They were right. I was miserable without him, and that wasn’t going to change. I always went after what I wanted. Why should this be any different? I would give him a choice about coming back with me, but I wasn’t going to give him a choice about listening. Not anymore. “All right. I’ll go see him.”
“Now?” Corbin asked. When did he get so demanding? Maybe I really hadn’t realized how much he’d grown up.
“Tonight. He’s got a temp job at a florist today.”
“How do you know that?” Lance had an obnoxious smirk on his face.
“Because I’ve had someone following him to make sure he was safe and that he didn’t…” I stopped. I’d never told them the real story of how we’d met, and I wasn’t going to do that now. If Henri wanted to tell them one day, that was fine, but it was his story to tell.
“Tonight then,” Pop said. “As soon as he’s finished with work.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And don’t think we won’t hold you accountable,” Lance added.
I glared at him. “Do not follow me.”
“I won’t.” He glanced at Corbin, and I did not like the smile that passed between them.
I jabbed my finger toward Corbin. “You don’t follow me either.”
He gave me an enigmatic smile.
For the rest of the day, my concentration was even more fucked up than it had been for the last two weeks. All I could think about was seeing Henri that night. I thought through what I would say over and over, but I couldn’t make it sound right.
I continually checked in with Oswald, the man tailing Henri, and he continued to assure me Henri was at the florist. He kept his tone neutral, but I was sure he was questioning my sanity.
As if I hadn’t waited long enough, Henri stayed at the florist after it closed, not leaving until almost eight o’clock. Oswald’s best guess was that he was doing inventory. I knew he needed all the extra money he could get, but if he would just agree to be mine, that problem would disappear.
Finally, Oswald texted me that Henri was leaving. I checked my appearance in the mirror, grabbed my keys, and was about to walk out the door when my phone rang. It was Oswald again.
“Mr. Theriot.” His voice sounded weak, his breath ragged.
“What’s wrong?”
“They took him.”
I had to grip the doorframe to keep from sinking to the floor. “Who? Where?” I would find Henri and then I would kill whoever had dared to touch him. Henri was mine. I’d never been more sure of that.
“I think it was Landry. Charles Landry.”
No way. No fucking way. “Charles Landry is dead.”
“Looked just like him. Beard and all.”
Shit. Why hadn’t I listened to Henri? Why hadn’t I looked into Charles’s supposed death?
“You’re injured?”
“Shot in the shoulder, but—”
“Where are you?” He gave his location, which was about a block from Henri’s new apartment.
“I tried t-to follow, sir, but I… couldn’t keep up.”
“Stay where you are. I’ll have someone pick you up. Which direction did they go?”
He told me the direction, but that didn’t really mean anything. If it really was Charles, chances were he’d taken Henri to the warehouse where I’d seen him “die” the night I’d met Henri, the night my life changed.
I couldn’t believe this was happening. Why hadn’t I gone after Henri before now? Why hadn’t I listened when he sworn he’d seen Charles? I should never have assumed the threat was neutralized. I should have ordered my man to stick closer.
I pushed all those thoughts away. I couldn’t change any of that now. I had to focus on finding him. I called Lance. I wanted him with me, but I wasn’t going to wait. I was in my Ferrari before the call went through. This time, I didn’t care about discretion. I didn’t care if someone ripped my car apart piece by piece. All that mattered was Henri. I had to save him.
40
Henri
I had no idea how long I’d been lying on a concrete floor, shifting in and out of consciousness. Every part of me ached, and my eyes were so swollen I could barely see. I doubted I could identify my location even with perfect vision. When the men who’d captured me dragged me from the trunk, the bes
t I could guess was that I was close to the street corner where I used to work.
They dragged me to a building that looked abandoned. Before forcing me inside, they took my phone and tossed it aside as if I could use it with my hands bound. Once inside, the bearded man—Charles Landry?—threw me over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry and crossed the warehouse floor to a cell in the corner. There was nothing in the cell. It was just concrete floor, cinderblock walls, and iron bars on two sides. Who the hell had a cell in a warehouse? No one I ever wanted to know.
Landry, or whoever he was, dumped me on the floor. I couldn’t brace my fall with my hands bound, and I hoped to hell I hadn’t cracked a bone.
I felt wider awake, but before I could make any sort of plan, I heard footsteps approaching. I didn’t recognize the man who entered, but I couldn’t see the details of his features, only that he had shoulder-length dark hair. He squatted next to me and ripped the tape from my mouth, making me gasp.
“So you’re Remington’s boy?”
“No.”
He slapped me so hard the world tilted, and I nearly blacked out. My cheek pulsed, and for a minute, I thought he’d dislocated my jaw.
“Don’t lie to me.”
I didn’t say anything else. My face hurt too much for me to speak anyway.
The man asked me all kinds of questions about Remington, about his business and his allies. I knew many of the answers, but I refused to tell him anything. When I remained silent, he punched me and twisted my arm until I was sure my wrist was broken. That didn’t make me talk, so he started burning my arms with the end of his cigarette every time I didn’t answer. I didn’t care what he did; I wasn’t going to break for him.
Remington might not love me, but he’d never hurt me, and I knew he wouldn’t. He was nothing like the dark-haired man or those who had captured me, and I wouldn’t give them access to him or his family. None of them deserved the treatment I was receiving.
I wondered how much longer it would take for him to just kill me. I hoped it wouldn’t be long. I was determined, but I didn’t know how much more I could take.
41
Remington
Lance met me down the street from the building where I’d seen Charles Landry and one of the gunrunners.
“Henri’s not the only one to have seen Charles since his supposed death. I’ve got Blackjack looking into it.” I was thankful I hadn’t even had to ask Lance to dig up all the intel he could.
“So you really think it’s him?”
“There’s certainly a chance,” Lance said.
Something seemed off, and suddenly I realized what it was. “Where’s Tony?”
“I left him at home. In his cage.”
Tony hated the cage, so Lance almost never left him there. “Why?”
“I needed to focus on you and Henri.”
I didn’t say anything else, but I knew how much that meant. Lance might annoy the hell out of me, but I couldn’t ask for a better brother.
“Show me the building. I’ll check out the perimeter to see if there’s any sign of a struggle or recent entry.”
I wanted to be the one in control. I wanted to be the one with the ideas, the one to save Henri, but the only thing that really mattered was that he was alive and whole and with me. I could barely think, so there was no way in hell I could orchestrate this mission. I had to listen to my brother.
Lance was the best tracker I knew. If there was any evidence of Henri being brought to the building, he would find it.
When we approached, I pointed to the side door where Charles had stood when he was shot. There was no one around. No cars were parked in the alley or on the street in front of the building like there had been before.
Lance motioned for me to wait. He moved carefully, looking at the ground. I was vibrating inside, but I held myself still. I didn’t even breathe as he studied the area. Finally, he motioned for me to join him. Had he found something?
He pointed to the ground. There were two sets of footprints visible in the muck of the alley. There were cigarette butts thrown down by the steps that led to the side door. They were still white and perfectly round. If they’d been there long, they would have been dirty and crushed. It wasn’t much, but someone had been there recently.
Lance’s phone buzzed, and he held up a finger, signaling me to stay where I was. A moment later, he held up his phone and showed me a text from Blackjack. Charles alive. Death faked. Working with gunrunners. Planned a takeover.
Shit, he’d double-crossed his twin brother. “He’s mine,” I whispered.
Instead of responding, he grabbed my arm and pointed at something shiny that lay to the side of the stoop. I bent and retrieved it. Henri’s phone.
Lance raised his brows, and I nodded. I wanted to rush in. I didn’t care who or what was in that building. I was going to take them out and get my man back, but Lance tugged me back down the street.
“We need a plan,” Lance said.
I could only nod in response. I was seething with anger, and I knew I was lost to reason.
42
Henri
The dark-haired man delivered a sharp kick to my chest. I thought the searing pain I felt might be from a cracked rib. I bit down on my lower lip, trying to stay quiet, but some of my agony crept through anyway. The man loomed over me, laughing. He was enjoying my misery. I wondered again when it would end, then something creaked, a man shouted, and gunfire erupted.
The man torturing me pulled his gun, but before he could aim it, Remington appeared and grabbed him. The man’s gun went flying, and Remington wrenched his neck. There was a sickening crack and Remington dropped his body to the floor and raced to me.
“Henri, are you okay?”
I couldn’t find my voice. I stared at the man who had tortured me. He had to be dead. No one’s head could hang at that angle if they were alive.
“Henri! Look at me. Please.” Remington’s hands skimmed over me. I cried out when he touched my arm. “Shit. I’ll take care of you. I promise. I wish I could kill that fucking bastard again.”
Lance appeared then. “It’s finished. I know you wanted Landry, but I killed him for you. Henri needed you more.”
He nodded as he ran his hand over my hair. “I’m right here, cher.”
Lance cut me free from the tape that bound my wrists and ankles. I cradled my left arm against my abdomen, trying to breathe through the pain.
“We need to get him out of here, Remy,” Lance said. “He needs a doctor.”
Remington cupped my face. “Henri, I love you. I’m so sorry about… everything.”
I looked up at him then and tried to free myself from the daze I’d been in. He’d just charged in to save me. He hadn’t cared that the man who was hurting me was armed. He hadn’t cared about anything but—“I love you too.” My voice was rough and weak, but his smile told me he understood.
“Oh, cher, I love you more than anything. I was wrong, so stupid and… wrong and…”
There were tears in his eyes, and I was certain Remington rarely, if ever, cried.
“Come on. Show me where you’re hurt other than your arm.”
“I… um… I may have a cracked rib.” When I pointed to my chest, Remington saw the burn marks. He turned my arm over slowly and examined it, then he kicked the man who’d tortured me so viciously. His body slammed against the wall.
I frowned. “Isn’t he already dead?”
Lance smiled at me. “It never hurts to make sure.”
Remington picked me up and held me against him, careful not to jostle my arm. “Lance, you drive. I’ll send someone back for my car.”
Lance frowned. “I’m not sure your car will still be here when we come back. If it’s even still here now.”
“I don’t give a fuck about the car. All I care about is getting Henri out of here and having his injuries seen to.”
I stared at him. “Did you drive the Ferrari?”
“Yes, but it doesn’t matter.”
He’d referred to the car as his baby, and now… I laid my head on his shoulder and sighed. “I don’t want to go to the hospital. I just want to stay with you.”
“I have no intention of leaving you even for a minute,” Remington said. “There would be too many questions if we went to the hospital. We have a doctor on retainer who will come to my house.”
Lance patted his brother’s shoulder. “I’ve already contacted him.”
Remington held me in the back seat as Lance drove. They both wanted to know exactly what had happened, so I explained about the men grabbing me. A sudden memory had me trying to sit up. “They shot someone. There was a man. I think he was trying to help me, and they shot him.”
Remington glanced away and let out a long breath.
“What is it? Did you find him? Did he die?”
“He’s fine. I… I had him following you. I needed to know you were safe, but I told him not to let you see him, which meant he wasn’t close enough. I’m so sorry.”
“Are you sorry you had me followed or that your man didn’t get to me in time?”
“I’m sure you’d like me to say both, but only the second one.”
I smiled at him. I probably should be mad, but right then, I couldn’t make myself care.
“I do love you,” Remington said, kissing me lightly on the lips. “I tried to tell you the night before you left, and I was going to tell you when I found you getting ready to leave.”
“You mean that wasn’t a dream? You really did say that when I was falling asleep?”
“Yes.”
My stomach flip-flopped as I realized what I’d done. “You mean all this… That if I’d just listened to you… If I’d just stayed…”
He shook his head no. “None of this is your fault. None. Of. It. I should’ve made sure you were better protected, and I should have listened to you about fucking Charles Landry.”
Remington Page 19