Chapter Eight
………………………….
Q
“EH, MA?TRE?”
I stiffened as I stepped over the threshold of my home. “What is it, Suzette?” Wiping my hands with the damp towel Franco had given me to clean up with, I hoped she wouldn’t notice the pink bloodstains.
Not my blood.
Blood of the men who’d tried to take my son.
Three men were left. Imprisoned in the abattoir at the back of my estate for the past few weeks, slowly giving me information.
That didn’t include the eleven men I’d already dispatched.
They were rotting in a canal somewhere.
In pieces.
Glancing at the blood beneath my nails and the bruises on my knuckles, my housekeeper nodded with comradery and held out the phone. “A call for you. The number is blocked.”
My heart fisted as fury poured through me. The last phone call I’d received from a blocked number was the reason all of this fucking mess began in the first place.
I should’ve killed him the moment he appeared on my doorstep.
He was the reason my wife barely let me out of her sight, and my son had grown up far faster than I’d wanted. Tess had slaughtered two of the men who’d abducted Lino before I could stop her. The darkness in her returned with a vengeance. Whatever her kidnappers made her do when she was stolen lurked behind her grey-blue eyes, and it fucked me off that all her healing, all her happiness, had unravelled the moment evil tried to harm us again.
At least this time, I’d been ready.
We’d won.
But I still didn’t have the man responsible.
Henri fucking Ward.
“Is it him?” I balled the dirty towel and bared my teeth. “That cocksucker of a brother who’s responsible for Lino’s abduction?”
“It doesn’t sound like him.” Suzette pulled back the phone. “I’ll tell whoever it is that you’re not—”
Snatching the receiver from her, I snarled, “What the hell do you want?”
Some man inhaled sharply. “Is that Mercer? The man related to Henri Mercer?”
If I could slaughter someone just by speaking to them, I would slaughter this bastard for ever linking that name to me. “He’s not a Mercer. He’s fucking dead.”
“Look, I’ve got to go. I’ve been on the line for too long. Just…Henri—”
“Where is he? Tell me so I can—”
“He’s gone too far,” the man whispered. “We can’t stand by and let him continue—”
“What’s he done now? Who’s he hurt? Tell me, and I’ll—”
“Henri mentioned you tracked him by cufflinks.”
“They’re useless. He’s in an untraceable—”
“Check again.”
The line went dead.