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“Got it, boss.”
He waved them out and they left, leaving him alone with a blubbering Dave. He was begging again, but Mathieu tuned him out. He could save his breath because in Mathieu’s opinion that motherfucker was already dead. He checked his watch again, noting the seconds ticking down with dread that grew heavier and heavier.
“Mèd!”He poured himself a drink as he uttered the curse, ignoring the slight tremor in his hand as he picked up the glass of Rhum Barbancourt Estate Reserve, an aged sugarcane dark rum from his birthplace of Haiti. He circled the desk and stood at the large windows, staring out at the lake in the back of his house. The sight usually brought him peace, helped to settle him down, but now…
He tossed back the drink, face twisting into a grimace. The taste brought back memories he’d rather forget, but he couldn’t. Dave’s annoying cries were like the buzzing of an annoying gnat that he wanted to swat away so he could focus.
A knock came on the door of his office and he called out for them to enter without turning around.
“Here she is, boss.”
He took his time before he faced the room. His gaze landed on the terrified face of Jemma, Dave’s young girlfriend. Blonde, gray eyes, nice curves. The two met at a strip club where she’d been working weekends to help pay for college. Within weeks of meeting, Dave made her quit while he paid for her to go to school and took care of her living expenses. Jemma was his favorite.
Dave’s cries got louder, which made tears roll down Jemma’s face.
Mathieu jerked a nod to the two women who held on to Jemma and in unison they shoved her to her knees besides Dave.
“Please. Don’t hurt us.” Jemma’s voice trembled. “I don’t know—”
“He’s not afraid of me,” Mathieu told her softly. He walked over and bent, brushing a lock of hair from her forehead. “He breaks my rules and refuses to give me what I ask for.” He shrugged. “So, I don’t think Dave is afraid of me.” He straightened. “You’re here to change that.” He didn’t have time to mince words. Instead, he pulled the gun from his waistband and brought it to her forehead.
“No!” Dave shrieked. “Please, he’s in a house at 1165 Seabird Trail. Don’t hurt her. P-please, boss. Please.”
Mathieu tsked, holding Jemma’s gaze as she sobbed. “There. Was that so fucking hard?” He lowered the gun and picked up his phone from the desk, sending the information with just a goddamn minute to spare. He bit the inside of his cheek, holding the wild anger and fear at bay with nothing but his frayed control. Once he saw that the message had been read, he refocused on the two people kneeling in front of him.
Relief swam in Jemma’s eyes and tears flowed, dripping down her chin, shoulders slumping as if she’d dodged a bullet. Literally.
Huh. Mathieu cocked his head and raised the gun, tapping the trigger. Jemma’s body jerked as a hole blossomed in the middle of her forehead. The women who’d brought her in caught her body before it dropped onto the floor, dragging her away.
Dave doubled over, screaming, but Mathieu kicked him upright with a foot to the chest.
“I just wanted to make sure you saw what you did. Because Jemma’s death is on you.” He pressed the gun to Dave’s forehead. “But she won’t be alone for long, will she?” He pressed the trigger again, ending Dave’s sorry life.
4
All Mathieu gotin response to the information he’d sent to Daniel had been another proof-of-life photo. His men had spent hours searching and they were still no closer to finding Win. Everything inside Mathieu wanted to storm the fucking hotel where he knew Stavros and Daniel were staying, guns blazing, but that would mean putting Win in danger.
That was something he wouldn’t do.
Not again.
But waiting around was… He couldn’t sit still. He owed it to Win to protect him, though he hadn’t been able to do so in the past. He owed it to him this time to come through on his promise, and if Stavros and Daniel turned him into a second-time liar he’d send them to their graves, even if it meant his own demise.
His phone rang as he paced the shore of his backyard lake and he answered quickly. “News?"
“Still no sight of him,” Jason said. Soft-spoken yet deadly, he’d stepped up in Lee’s absence and was proving to be just as invaluable. “We watched them leave the hotel a few hours ago and we followed, but they went to the address you got from Dave. No sign of Sparrow.”
Damn it. He squeezed his eyes shut. “What about the hotel, were you able to check their rooms?”
“They left all their men behind. They’re guarding the rooms and we’re outgunned.”
Not for long. “I’m on my way.” He walked toward the house, gesturing for the men around him to follow. “Sit tight and let me know if anything changes,” he told Jason then ended the call and turned to the men waiting for orders. “Suit up. We’re going out.”
There would be no rest until Win was out of the clutches of men who wouldn’t think twice about hurting him or using him to get whatever it was they wanted from Mathieu. With his sister out of the city and away from him, Win was the only person close enough that Mathieu would consider family.
But Win wouldn’t want that title. He wouldn’t want anything to do with Mathieu, who’d had to clean house recently. While he’d been busy building his empire, the people at his side were betraying him left and right.
He could feel his father’s disapproval even now, years after the old man was dead and buried. As he sat in the back seat of the Range Rover being driven to the hotel, he could hear his father imparting life lessons. He’d taught Mathieu a lot of things, all of them invaluable, but he’d never taught Mathieu about love. About what to choose when he was torn between revenge or forgiveness. His father never taught him those particular lessons.
