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Private Numberappears on the screen.
My pulse ticks at the side of my neck. I’ve given out my number hundreds of times over the years, but I don’t trust this. My thumb hovers over the button to ignore the call, but it could be important. You never know when some random asshole might get the urge to spill a secret.
I accept the call. “Hill.”
“Do you know what a white elephant is, Gabriel?”
“Bettencourt. What the fuck do you want?” I scan the parking garage. Still no people.
“It’s a party game people play, but it has ancient origins.”
“I know what it is. I’ve been to plenty of parties.”
“The King of Siam would give albino elephants as a gift to those he disfavored. A courtier who received one would have to keep the animal, because it was a gift from his king. But the cost of keeping such a creature would bankrupt him. It was a gift of ruin.”
“Are you trying to tell me something, Bettencourt? I’m beginning to think you don’t like me.”
“I have Elise.”
My blood runs cold. Bettencourt’s not done talking, but I’m done standing here. I run for my car, throw myself into the driver’s seat, and back out of my spot. I want to gun it out of the parking garage and settle for going as fast as humanly possible while keeping a close eye on the parked cars.
“She’s mine, of course, but if you want her, she’s yours. Consider her a gift. A white elephant, if you will.” He laughs. “More trouble than she’s worth, that one.”
“I don’t believe you.”
A rustle over the line. Then, muffled: “Don’t do this. Don’t make me do this.” The voice gets clearer. “Gabriel? Gabriel, please. Help.”
It’s Elise.
Fuck.Was that missed call because he came to the bakery? Did this motherfucker take heragain?
“Let her go.”
“As I said, you can have her.” A satisfied chuckle. “She’s yours for the taking.”
“Where are you?”
“Where else? I’m at my building, ready to finish what we started.”
I hang a hard right. The Bettencourt International headquarters aren’t far from Mason’s penthouse. I run three red lights and get there in a matter of minutes.
The building’s dark and quiet, just like it was when I was here before. That’s a bad sign. It means he probably isn’t bullshitting. Normally, buildings havesomelights on at all times. A little foot traffic. Overnight cleaning crews, that sort of thing. If Bettencourt’s cleared the area, it’s because something’s going down. Something private. Something violent.
I pull the car onto the sidewalk and get out.
I want to rush into the building and get Elise into my arms, where I can make sure she isn’t hurt. I want to punch Bettencourt in the face and keep punching.
Old habits keep me in place. I don’t rush in without a plan. That’s a good way to die.
And this could be a trap.
Bettencourt definitely has Elise. I heard her voice. That doesn’t mean he told the truth about being in the building.
I take my phone out of my pocket and open my recent calls. It can’t be Mason. Charlotte’s pregnant, and he shouldn’t leave her to help me with a risky situation.
I don’t want Jameson in a risky situation, either, but I’ve helped him through a million scrapes.
He answers right away. “What’s up, loverboy?”
