Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 94915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
I curse and look around. “Which room?”
“That door there.” The clerk points. “Stairs go up. His office is there. Please—”
I pull the trigger. His blood and brains shower the wall in a gory spray. I kick his body over and gesture for Jean to stick with me. “Keep an eye on the back,” I order my soldiers. “Niall, take the front. Two minutes.”
We break apart. Jean’s on my tail as I follow the clerk’s instructions. The door leads to a narrow, rickety staircase, and on the second floor is a large office area with several desks. Dirty posters are tacked on the walls, and a huge safe takes up an entire corner.
We rip it to shreds. There’s money, papers, receipts, the sort of shit I expected, but nothing about Dusan’s organization. Someone likely heard that gunshot, which means we don’t have that much time anymore, and I’m betting there are cameras all over the place. Best-case scenario, the cops are on their way. Worst case, it’s Dusan with twenty men.
“Over here,” Jean says, kicking over a chair. He’s got a knife out and he’s ripping into the seat. “Look at this.”
Inside the fabric, hidden under the cushion, is a narrow ledger. He holds it up, grinning, and I take it from him. I flip through, heart racing as I try to make sense of the names and numbers.
In the distance, sirens blare.
“Time to go,” I say, shoving the ledger into my back pocket.
We hurry back down the steps. The place already smells like kerosene: Niall’s men are splashing it all over the front. I step over dark pools of the stuff and follow them out the front door. They spill a line of accelerant in a zig-zagging pattern before Niall tosses a Zippo into the mess.
It burns with an audible whoosh. The air sizzles as the fire swallows the storefront. All that paper, all those cigarettes, they’re good kindling. The kerosene just helped it all get started.
“Find anything good?” Niall asked.
“Might have.” I show him the ledger, but I don’t hand it over. “I’ll have a copy made for your boss.”
“Good.” Niall looks grim. “This wasn’t my idea, you know. This fucking war.”
“Maybe not, but you’re in it now.” I grin at him viciously as the building begins to burn.
The sirens are still distant, but they’re coming.
Chapter 29
Brianne
Iknow Julien doesn’t want me wandering around, but when midnight rolls past, I can’t sit still anymore.
The mansion is dark this late. There are a few guards out, but none of them pay me much attention other than curious glances. I’m in sweats and a long-sleeve shirt, and I wander down in search of a decent glass of wine.
The place is massive. I could get lost in here easily. I have to stop and orient myself a couple of times, but fortunately, I navigate down a side hall and find myself in a dimly lit industrial-style kitchen. It’s silent right now, and I feel like a burglar as I start opening up refrigerators at random. Lots of ingredients, fresh vegetables, some leftovers, that sort of thing, but no wine.
“Looking for something?”
I jump and groan as I bang my head against one of the stainless-steel counters. I press against my aching skull and look back at the entrance where a heavyset man’s watching me with a friendly smile. He’s definitely one of the Frenchmen, and I vaguely recognize him as someone related to Julien’s grandfather, but I can’t recall the man’s name. He’s older with dark hair, and there’s a strange edge to him that immediately makes me uncomfortable.
“Wine, actually,” I say, trying to smile. “Fuck, that hurt.”
“Here, here, let me get you ice.” He goes to a freezer, opens it, and fills a cloth. He brings me over the bundle and waves my hands away when I try to take it, pressing it down on my head himself. He’s bigger than me and his breath smells like whiskey. “You hit it pretty good.”
“I was just startled, that’s all.” I manage to extract myself away from him, but keep the ice on my head. “Thanks for this.”
“Anything for Julien’s new wife.” He’s still smiling, but I don’t think he’s happy. “I’m Henri, by the way. In case you’d forgotten.”
“Right, Henri. I’m Brianne.”
“Oh, I know your name, Irish girl.” He leans against one of the counters, standing between me and the exit. “Can I ask you something? And I mean this with all due respect.”
“Honestly, I was just looking for something to drink—”
“How did you convince Julien to marry you? Pascal, his Grandpère, had a very good match all ready for him, but suddenly you appear and ruin all of his plans. You can imagine how upset the poor man was.”
“I didn’t know anything about that,” I say, lowering the ice from my head. I place it down on a counter. My eyes drift over the nearby tools, searching for a weapon, but that’s absurd. Even though this man is allied with Julien’s grandfather, it’s not like he’s going to assault me in the middle of the mansion like this. He’s just trying to intimidate me, and I won’t let him.