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The pounding pain in my chest wouldn’t cease. I stared at the closed bedroom door as Dillon’s departure echoed through the room. Memories of him trailed throughout my apartment like his soft lingering scent.
As much as I wanted to wallow in it, to lose myself completely in the memory of him, I couldn’t. It wasn’t over. It couldn’t be. My heart refused to accept it.
Within the room’s deafening silence, a name flashed through my mind. Lucien had been the closest thing I had to a friend growing up. He lived in Paris and might be the only person who could understand what I was going through.
Grabbing my phone, I dialed his now seldom-used number.
“Hell of a time to call, Remy,” Lucien’s cool voice hummed lightening the tension cinched tightly around my chest.
“How about grabbing a drink?” I asked desperately trying to escape the echoes of Dillon’s goodbye.
“Le Bar Diamant?” Lucien volunteered with genuine warmth just like the old days.
“With pleasure,” I murmured, hanging up.
I threw on a white shirt and dark jeans and got out of there. Entering Le Bar Diamant, I looked around. The bar was wrapped in velvety darkness.
Seeing my cousin for the first time in years, I got his attention. Heading over, we hunkered down at a corner table. The hum of conversations surrounding us blanketed us in solitude. Being handed a glass as soon as I sat down, I took a swig and stared at my old friend.
“I hear you’re getting hitched,” Lucien started, swirling the amber liquid in his tumbler.
“Got backed into a corner,” I admitted before taking another drink.
His sharp green eyes studied me. I could see his empathy shimmering beneath the hardened surface of our mafia upbringing. Seeing my discomfort, Lucien switched topics.
“I might have something that can take your mind off of these things,” he said, his voice taking a mysterious turn.
“What’s that?”
“I know of an auction tonight. It will be a bit unusual. It could help you get some perspective,” Lucien suggested with a hint of mischief sparkling in his eyes.
The way Lucien had proposed the idea made me pause. But what harm could a little frivolity do? It might feel good to spend an evening pretending that my world hadn’t come crashing around me? After all, wasn’t that why I had called Lucien?
I gulped down the remainder of my drink.
“Alright. Let’s go,” I told him intrigued and desperate for a diversion.
Following my cousin out of the bar and into the cool Parisian night, eventually we arrived at the auction. Apparently, Lucien had left a few things out. Entering the heavy metal warehouse doors, I realized that this wasn’t the type of auction that got advertised. Even so, spilling into a dimly lit room, the awaiting crowd consisted of only the richest and most spoilt within French society.
Turning to my cousin to find out what was going on, he appeared tense. His green eyes jumped from person to person as if searching for someone.
Watching him warily, the knot in my stomach churned. This was a side of Lucien I hadn’t seen before. His quiet intensity and strange restlessness made him look more like a predator preparing to pounce on its prey.
The crowd’s mummers fell silent as the auction began. When the first items were presented, I understood what was going on. The indigenous masks and centuries-old swords weren’t exactly pieces that could be sold at a respectable auction house. Because even if they weren’t stolen from a museum, they had to have been taken from their cultural homes without the permission of the native people.
Watching Lucien as the items got more interesting, he didn’t move. The carefree nature that was on display just an hour earlier was gone. In its place was a deadly seriousness I didn’t recognize within my friend. And when the gasps from the night’s final prize filled the room, my cheerful cousin changed.
Turning back to the auction stand, I saw it. The auction’s last item was a Bengal tiger. Pacing back and forth in its cage, it looked as dangerous as it did scared.
I couldn’t take my eyes off of it, it was astonishing. Its majesty was devastatingly misplaced in the seedy world it had found itself. And turning back to Lucien in search of his thoughts, I saw as my cousin’s focus hardened.
With each new bid his eyes zeroed in on the bidder. I could practically see his calculations. This was why he had come. He hadn’t brought me here as a fun distraction. He was here on a mission.
Under the weight of my realization, the stakes suddenly felt incredibly high. As the noise in the room drowned out, the auctioneer announced the winner. I recognized him from my time in Paris with my father. The winning bid came from a notoriously cruel mafia boss known for his mistreatment of exotic animals.
I instinctively glanced at Lucien. The spark in his eyes burned brighter.
“He’s buying it to hunt it down and turn it into a rug,” Lucien hissed, his green eyes turning dark with determination. “How about you help me steal it?”
