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I roll my neck and stretch my shoulders.
My plane is ready for me. Cosette’s been kept prisoner at Le Luxe, the private sex club owned by my brother Thayer. But I’ve already made my decision.
I won’t keep her there. What kind of a punishment would it be for her to be in a place familiar to her, where she has friends and acquaintances and the potential to escape?
I’ll bring her back to Paris.
Here, I can make sure that she'll never betray us again. Here, I can keep a closer eye on her.
And here, I'm closest to the people I need to ultimately destroy.
“Hey, man.” Philippe grins at me and shows me a bag of tiny glass bottles. He mouths, “You want a drink on the plane?”
I grin back and move my mouth away from the mouthpiece. “You fucking know it.”
Thayer doesn’t need to know. My older brother’s the most serious asshole I know, and he’d kick Philippe’s ass for drinking on the job. He’d roll his eyes at me and talk about the loss of control, the need for precision and focus, but I don’t fucking care. Sometimes, it takes the edge off.
I grab one and slide it into my pocket. I’ll drink it on the plane.
“For one goddamn time I wish you’d take a ride,” Thayer says. “Do you have any idea how much easier that would be for us?”
I clench my jaw. “No.”
I drive my own cars and I like it that way.
“For Christ’s sake, Lyam. You should really consider trusting the people we hire. You know we vet the fuck out of them.”
“No.”
Why does he have to harp on this?
He blows out an angry breath on the other end of the line.
“Lyam, you should reconsider.”
“Why?” I ask, as I slide into the driver’s seat and start the engine. “You know I like to be the one behind the fucking wheel.”
He curses. “Because people know you’re someone important. They respect you. Because if anything happened, you could shoot instead of having to navigate a fucking car.”
I shake my head. “I don’t need a driver to get respect.” Being a trained assassin who hits on the first shot will do that just fine. And if that fails to work, I have other methods. “And I can handle myself.”
I transfer the call to the car speakers.
He drops the subject. “Fine, suit yourself.”
“I will. After I park, one of my men will take the car back.” I take a left turn as Thayer pauses. “What?”
“That won’t be necessary.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
Thayer sounds apologetic, my first warning sign. It’s out of character for him. “I was going to tell you about that—”
My voice is low and controlled when I respond. “Tell me aboutwhat?”
Up ahead I see a flash of black. I narrow my eyes at the signature uniform of thegendarmerieand slow down to get a better look.
Two of them, unfamiliar to me. One, a man who has a tattoo on his lower right arm, forbidden until recently. The other, a woman with short black hair.
