AllFreeNovel
Share Us
My mouth goes dry.
How does everyone and their mother know about the McHale Fortune?
“That man who attacked us,” I realize aloud. “At the library. He was one of yours.”
“I only sent him after the girl. I didn’t expect you of all people to show up, but I guess today’s my lucky day. Thankfully I still have friends in high places. It was only a matter of asking around before I figured out your new identity.”
Favreaux stands to full height and takes a step forward, his bloody black boot leaving a stain on the carpeted floor. He crouches before me and peers down his hooked nose, lip curling in disgust. “I lost everything because of you,” he says, low and venomous. “The police seized all my assets when you and Chet turned me in. Now I have nothing.”
“Save your breath,” I hiss. “What you were planning to do—”
“Crossed a line. I know, I know. You and your self-righteousness really piss me the fuck off.” Favreaux jabs the tip of his gun against my forehead, the cold metal biting into my skin. “This is what’s going to happen, old friend. You’re going to get me those access codes. Once I have the money, I’ll give you back your daughter.”
I set my jaw, my head reeling. He’s backed me into a corner, and he knows it. Favreaux has always been a cruel man, and the two decades he spent serving his multiple sentences has only added to his insane cruelty. Poor Penelope is proof of that. He was never like Chet or me. He was never a man of honor; he never had a moral code.
“Fine,” I bite out.
Favreaux sets a black burner phone on Odette’s pink wardrobe with a devilish grin. “I’ve always appreciated your work ethic.”
“Release me,” I demand.
He clicks his tongue, stepping over me like I’m nothing more than dirt beneath his shoes. If I ever get out of this, I’m going to make him regret his life choices.
“I promised my boys they could have a little fun,” Favreaux says lightly. “Go ahead, gents. Just make sure to keep him alive; we still need him to carry out my plan.”
The last thing I remember is Favreaux walking out the door before someone’s foot hits me square in the back of the head.
The world goes black.
Chapter 12
Raquel
Bern, Switzerland, is gorgeous. The sparkling water of the Aare River flows and weaves through the heart of the city, a light layer of snow covering the tops of buildings and the numerous bridges. It feels like something out of a fairytale, hints of charming Germanic architecture evident at every turn. The noonday sun is pale, the sky overcast and gray.
The arches of my feet throb and I can’t stop shivering from the cold. After abandoning the train, I hiked a good mile or so away from the tracks so I wouldn’t be easily followed. I nearly tripped and sprained my ankle on the rocky terrain too many times to count, but by some miracle I made it into the city undetected.
I walk into the first hotel I can find. I don’t care that it’s rundown and on the smaller side. All I want right now is to get off my feet and catch up on some much-needed sleep.
The receptionist at the front desk gives me a judgmental once-over. Her face has a pinched quality, from her small eyes to her pursed lips to the way her button nose curls up in disdain. I probably look like I’ve been to hell and back, but still.
“I’d like a room, please,” I say, mustering up the strength to force a polite smile despite my exhaustion.
“No English,” she replies flatly, her words heavily accented.
I don’t have the energy for this. “A room?” I try again, slower.
The receptionist starts going off in something that sounds a lot like German. I catch exactly none of it, silently cursing myself for not dedicating myself to linguistic studies.
“Look, can you find me someone who speaks English?” I ask, trying not to let my frustration get the better of me. “English, or maybe even Spanish? I know basic Spanish.”
Behind me, the sound of a low, familiar chuckle. The sound sends a shiver down my spine. I feel him step right up to me, one of his big, warm hands falling to the small of my back. My heart skips a beat when I lay eyes on Gabriel.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I whisper.
He ignores me —surprise, surprise— and addresses the receptionist in fluent German. My cheeks warm. There’s something stupidly sexy about a man who’s good with his tongue.
Ha.
