AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She smiles and switches to English—it’s difficult to understand with her heavy accent, but I don’t have it in me to reply in French before my caffeine hit. “Yes, where you want,” she gestures to the tables. “I bringcaféandcroissantto your table.”
I thank her and make my way to a vacant table at the window. During my months of research, I got some unexpected support from Mom’s newfound uncle, Philippe Laforêt, who popped up during her extensive search for her French roots. Turned out he’s not just a cop in Paris, but the head of the Sex Crimes Department. What are the odds? And he has been a great help. Over the last few months, we’ve had numerous conference calls, but this is the first time I’m going to meet him in person. And despite Austin being here with me and having my heart in all sorts of knots, I won’t let him in on my research. Yet.Hemight be divine, butIam determined.
For the first minutes, I just sit there, quietly enjoying my drink and the scenery. The narrow street is so vibrant, the feel so different from Manhattan. I like listening to thelanguage of lovefloating around me and the different gestures and habits. A tall, dark-haired guy walks in and greets his friend, who’s just ordered two coffees to go. They offer each other two kisses before the first man hands the dark-haired guy a coffee. Then, after a “Bonnejournée,” they leave the place.
With my cup at my lips, I allow myself to shiver at another thought of Austin. How can I not be consumed by him when he touches me like that? He’s my wet dream come true, though with a surprisingly foul mouth. But just the thought of his version of a massage—his firm, muscular body trapping me between his legs—turns me into a quivering mess. Him taking both our cocks in his large hand while pumping us to bliss.Fuck. And this morning, waking up to that picture of perfection—disheveled hair, soft snores, a relaxed expression on his devilishly beautiful face—is something I could get used to. After all these years of pining.
“Connor?”
I jolt at the sound of my name and look up to a man, who’s without a doubt my mom’s uncle, Philippe. Apart from his obvious auburn hair—apparently a trait that runs in the family—he’s of average size, wearing dress pants and a cream-colored button up, while a coat is casually slung over his arm. In his other hand, he’s holding a briefcase.
“Philippe!” I stand, mentally brushing away the shameful thoughts. They’re swiftly replaced by a genuine feeling of excitement at meeting a new, overseas family member. We eye each other curiously for a moment before we both chuckle a bit awkwardly. “Uhm, do we kiss? Hug? I’ve seen people doing both here.”
His lips curl into an amused smile. “As you want.” When I don’t react immediately, he simply pats me on the shoulder and pulls me in for a brief hug. “That will do for now. It’s a pleasure to meet Norah’s youngest son. You already have coffee?” I point toward my drink and watch him signal the girl behind the counter and point at our table. She nods and gives us a thumbs up. He gives me a knowing smile and we both sit down. “Courtesy of being a regular.”
“Or perhaps it’s because you’re a cop?” I try with a smirk.
He laughs at that, then becomes serious. “I’d love for us to get to know each other properly. After all, it’s spectacular to wake up one day and find out that you have family on the other side of the world.” We let his comment linger for a moment, before I say, “Yeah, it was kind of strange for us too. Mom’s always been obsessed with France.”
Philippe lets out a grin. “Well, France is a great country, best wine in the world.” We thank the waitress who brings us more coffee and I know that we’d both love to go into more details about the past, but are also eager to get on with the case. Meeting to discuss work is somehowsafer. After all, some words don’t need to be spoken to understand the feelings that are there, hovering under the surface, glued to the heart. However, I still feel like revealing some things about our childhood. “Mom loves listening to old, French music, like Edith Piaf and Serge Gainsbourg. Plays it loudly throughout our entire apartment, especially when she’s having a bad day and needs to unwind. I’m happy that she found more pieces to her puzzle, that she found you.”
“Thank you.”
“Shall we?” I hesitate, and he offers me a relieved smile. “That’s an excellent idea. After all, you’d like to know exactly how you’ve gotten yourself into this nightmare, and more importantly, how to get out. So…” He opens his briefcase and takes out a notebook. “A few things. Right now, I can give you some basic information, but I really would like you to be settled into one of our safe houses before I share the intelligence we have on your murderers.”
“Both of us,” I blurt. When Philippe raises a brow, I add, “I came here with someone from The Void. I mentioned them before, didn’t I? So, uhm, someone from them came along.”
He leans back, hands folded around the back of his neck. “You did. Are they run by a family too?”
“Yes.” I contemplate his question. “I mean, I guess so. They’re pretty secretive about it.” I take out my phone and shoot Mia a text, asking her to check.
“Alright.” He opens his notebook and takes out his pen. On the top of the blank paper, he writes ‘Les Frères Perdus,’ then taps the pen against the words. “Thisis your attacker. A French cult that offers enchanting sex experiences to a very niche, high-brow clientele, exclusively on invitation. We’ve had them on the radar for a few years now, but these guys are as slippery as an eel. Perhaps because some of their clients are powerful people—politicians and CEOs—and they’re protecting them from being caught. But also because it’s difficult to identify them since they don’t do anything illegal to the untrained eye. Let me explain.”
He writes the words “family”, “power”, and “sex”. “Their main values, if you like. They make piles of money by selling thesesoirées, these sex parties. They’re held in a secret location, the address only communicated once you’ve been invited.”
“How many of them are there?”
“We’re not certain. We have a guy on the inside, but we’ll still need to be careful. He’s an official member of thefamilyand they are a snake pit. The only reason he helps us out is because we had him booked for drug trafficking and he took the deal: he gives us intel, and we let him off for his misdemeanors. Now, in order to understand them, you’d need to know how they function. So,” he draws, “This is how they’re organized. You’ve got theInitiator,” he taps against the written word. “The founder. We don’t know much about him yet, other than that he has a reputation for being ruthless. He’s not usually present during theirsoirées, thoughheis. TheMaster. He’s an important pawn and acts as the link between the organization and its clients. At least, that’s what we believe. Then we have theCaptains. As far as we know, they have two at present.” He writes the word twice. “Since they sell sex, physical appearance is very important to them. TheirCaptainsare tall, blond, and dark eyed.”
I let out a huff at that. “So you mean they get selected by those criteria?”
One glance at Philippe’s stare is all the answer I need. “Riiiight.”
“Indeed,” Philippe agrees, then draws another line and adds the wordTrésor. “These are the guys who make all the others rich. Make no mistake, these guys are carefully selected, matching the physical characteristics that are required. TheTrésoris small and lean with dark hair and light eyes. They’reprettyboys, if you like.”
This time my scoff gets stuck in my throat. “Where do they find these guys?”
Philippe shrugs. “There’s a reason they’re called the Lost Brothers. Our informant confirms that these guys are recruited from the street, from bars, but sometimes even from college. They match the lonely type—they’re looking for somewhere to belong. Once persuaded, they are inaugurated according to the family values.”
I shake my head, feeling a shiver through my spine. “Unfortunately, I can relate to that. Our line of business isn’t much different.”
Philippe nods. “It never is. Unfortunately, young and lonely people can fall prey easily. Being persuaded into becoming a model, an influencer, who wouldn’t want that? And the money comes in quickly, but like everything, it comes at a high price.”
“Sex?”
He nods. “Obviously. And drugs. Once they’ve had a taste of their reward, they’ll easily come back for more.”
“Damn.” Angélique would kill me if I suggested such a thing for the girls we hire, despite them being far from angelic.
