Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 72308 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72308 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Grave tilted his head back and finished off his drink. “Fine. Have it your way.”
“He’ll be at Heath’s party on Saturday.”
“And you know this how?”
“Because I know people.”
He turned in his chair and regarded me straight on. “What are you suggesting? We have a shootout in someone’s house?”
“As far as the world is concerned, you and I are still estranged. Roan won’t raise an eyebrow when he sees me there. In fact, he assumes you still think Karl is your enemy right now.”
“True.”
“So I go and slip something into his drink. He’ll die from natural causes four hours later.”
“Not a bad idea,” I said.
“Untraceable.”
“But you can’t get caught, Cauldron.”
I gave a slight laugh. “This will be a walk in the park, man.”
“Don’t be arrogant. I won’t be there to back you up.”
“And I don’t need you to back me up.”
My brother stared at me with that look of concern I hadn’t seen in a decade. “The last thing I want is for you to lose your head because of my bullshit.”
“And the last thing I want is for my brother to lose everything because some asshole decided to fuck with him. Don’t worry, I can do this.”
We stared at each other for a long time.
It’s not like I had anything to lose…
Grave continued to study me. “You’re sure?”
I nodded. “I don’t think Karl is going to be so easy, so save your energy for that…”
14
CAMILLE
The blacked-out SUV pulled up to my house in the fog. It was a cold winter night, the first week of January, a time of darkness after the death of twinkling lights. I got inside, and wordlessly, I was transferred to another part of the city.
I had no idea where I was going.
A couple minutes later, we pulled up to the Louvre. The prism was lit up like a beacon in the darkness. Even the fog couldn’t diminish it. Up the steps was a man who stood alone, fused with the darkness as if they were one and the same.
My heart quickened in my chest, not from excitement, but a twinge of fear.
I finally got out, tightened my coat around me, and walked up the steps to join him.
It was a strange meeting place. Not a clandestine get-together between lovers. More like a location for a handoff.
I came closer, recognizing his features once I drew near.
It was freezing out, but all he wore was a long-sleeved shirt with the fabric pushed to his elbows. He was in dark jeans and military boots. He looked exactly the same as the night I’d met him a few days ago.
He admired the Louvre for another moment before he acknowledged me, not with words, but a stare.
“Are we going inside?”
He turned in the direction we were heading, approaching the entrance to the museum. We were on the other side of the prism and pond, and it would have made more sense to be dropped off on the other street.
“When people ask who I am, what do you want me to say?”
“They won’t ask.”
“What exactly is this? A dinner party?”
“A meeting.”
“Like…a business meeting?”
“Everything is a business meeting.”
“Well, what do—”
He halted and stared me down directly.
I lost my voice instantly.
“Relax.”
Relax? “That’s a little hard to do when you’re a drug dealer and I’m not sure what I’m about to walk into.”
“It doesn’t matter what you’re walking into because you’re with me. You’re untouchable. Do you understand?” Those dark eyes burned into mine with the heat of flames. He could burn down this entire city with that look. “Relax.”
We crossed through the fog then finally approached the double doors to the Louvre. The lights were on, but no one was around, so it seemed unlikely to be the location of a grand party.
We entered, the lights on as if it was business hours. The walls were covered with ancient and priceless pieces of art, from the Byzantine Empire to the French Revolution. It was all there, preserved in oils and clay.
Bartholomew walked on like he knew exactly where he was going.
I stayed at his side, bundled up in my coat.
After several long hallways echoing with our loud footsteps, we entered a larger room, full of round tables with golden chairs underneath the crystal chandelier. Classical music played lightly over the speakers, but it wasn’t loud enough to cover the quiet chatter and clink of wineglasses. There were only fifty people here, more or less.
It was mostly men, the beautiful women only there as signs of stature. The room was warm after the cold outside and the empty hallways, so I let my coat slip from my arms before a waiter appeared to take it away.
Bartholomew turned his piercing gaze on me. “Third table from the left. The man with the moustache.”
My eyes followed his directions. “What about him?”
“I need to speak to him privately.”