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What to do when you destroyed the man you loved so badly that he couldn’t stand the sight of your face? His father hadn’t shared any wisdom on that, either.
Was he strong enough to remain standing after all those hits? He still didn’t know.
They arrived at the hotel, meeting up with Jason and his team before they all filed into the elevator. Mathieu cracked his knuckles before fisting his hands at his sides as they rode up to the floor Jason indicated. He hated having his actions handicapped. Stavros and Daniel knew what they were doing. They knew just where to hit to make sure he couldn’t hit them back.
He couldn’t do shit about them taking Win, not without first knowing where he was and if he was safe. He couldn’t turn the city upside down looking for Win without alerting Jairo Beltran.
His mouth twisted when he thought about Jairo.
They’d been allies until they weren’t.
They’d been cordial until they weren’t.
They were enemies now, and though Jairo didn’t know the true extent of why and how that change came about, two men did: Win and Mathieu.
The elevator doors opened and the moment Mathieu’s men stepped out ahead of him, a chorus of guns cocking echoed.
He sighed and exited the elevator, making his way to the front and addressing Daniel and Stavros’ men. “I want the man your bosses have stashed in this place.” Because Win had to be in there somewhere. “You have five minutes to produce him,” he told them. “If not, my people will start shooting.” He had a headache from hell making his entire face throb, his eyes were gritty, and he kept fighting the panic inside at the thought that something could be really, truly wrong with Win. That could be the reason his men were unable to find him.
He wouldn’t know who he’d turn into if anything happened—
The second set of elevators dinged open and he glanced over to find Stavros, Daniel, and Daniel’s nephew standing there. Mathieu faced them squarely, but after muttering something to Daniel, Stavros got out and walked past him as if he didn’t notice Mathieu.
“Pascal.” Daniel’s lips curled. “Back up. Otherwise, I won’t give you the dignity of killing you myself. I will let my nephew handle you.”
As if those words meant anything to him. “You think I give a fuck about your threats, Nieto? Where is he?”
“Are you making demands? After harboring an enemy of mine within your territory, you are making demands?”
“You don’t scare me,” Mathieu told him. “I want to see—”
“I scare your men,” Daniel shot back with a small smile. “I think they would follow through if I ordered them to turn their guns on you.” He spread his arms wide. “I am thinking seriously about giving that order.”
“Stop playing with your food,” Stavros called from somewhere out of sight. “You have twenty minutes.”
Daniel grinned. “You heard him. Do I spend the next nineteen minutes scrubbing your blood from under my nails?”
Enough with this bullshit already. Mathieu bared his teeth. “If you think you can take me, you’re welcome to try. But I’m not leaving here without who I came for.” Holding Daniel’s gaze, he lifted a hand, waving his people off. Everyone immediately scattered at that gesture, leaving only him, Daniel, and the silent nephew.
“Bueno.” Daniel smiled and Mathieu had to bite down on the inside of his cheek to not slam his fist into the fucker’s face.
Not yet. He had to bide his time. With Win on their radar, he had to bide his time, take measured actions. So he followed Daniel up the stairs that were mere feet away. Stairs that led to the floor above and to another hallway, identical to the one they just left. This hallway was filled with even more men.
Son of a bitch.
He’d been this close the entire time.
Just like the floor below, there were four rooms, and guards were posted at each, making it impossible for Mathieu to tell which one Win occupied.
The guards at the third door straightened when they spotted Daniel. One of them used a key he pulled from somewhere on his person to open the door then stepped back. Mathieu entered on Daniel’s heels.
The sight of Win, tied up but safe, hit him like a punch to the chest. He wanted nothing more than to close his eyes and bask in that shoulder-slumping relief. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t close his eyes, as that would mean not seeing Win’s face.
Mathieu couldn’t do that.
Win’s head was down but lifted when they entered. His gaze landed on Daniel first, expression defiant. Mathieu ignored the parts of him that had always loved that look on Win’s face. He took note of the way Win’s eyes—a glacial green—rounded when he finally spotted Mathieu.
“Mathieu?”
