CHAPTER TWO #2
“Let’s hope.” I tap my finger on my glass, considering all the angles. “Am I safe to assume you’ll interrogate and neutralize anyone who meets certain markers, patterns of behavior, and has motivation at this point?”
“That is the plan,” he confirms. “We won’t be frivolous.
We have a profile. We’re starting with independently wealthy—self-made billionaires or possibly millionaires—and assassins.
Both have the means to taunt us, access to your services, and very little loyalty.
We’re doubtful that a connected family is spearheading this. ”
“Well, that narrows it down.” I finish my drink and push off my desk to head back out. “A bit. We have plenty of both.”
He senses that I’m done, so he cuts to the chase. “Do we have authorization to infiltrate La Lune Noire and deal with suspects as necessary? We’ll use the utmost discretion so there is no obvious breach of bylaws.”
Our bylaws prohibit attacks and retribution on property.
It’s necessary to ensure we don’t devolve into anarchy.
If a member initiates one single act of violence while here, the penalty is death, and they become a part of the La Lune Noire soil.
It sounds harsh, but anything less would destroy the sanctuary.
There are perks to being the one in charge though. I can change the rules.
“Do whatever it takes to keep her safe and here with us. I don’t care who you have to eliminate.
” I swing open my door, traipsing through the penthouse, which houses the nostalgia of nearly two decades of a family I’ve poured my all into, and the fury at it being threatened slices through me, but I refuse to be rash.
I got to where I am because I keep a cool head and respond strategically.
“It’s probably best if I’m kept in the dark until you’ve got something concrete.
Otherwise, I’ll end up taking matters into my own hands. And that would be bad for business.”
“Understood. Carry on as usual then. Let us tend to this.”
A few hours later, as I’m breezing through the halls, eager to make it upstairs for family dinner—which we have without fail three times a week—Bernard intercepts my path, wordlessly guiding me into an office within our security room.
After the conversation I had with Wells, I’m on high alert. “Did something happen?”
“You tell me,” he replies, pulling up live footage of a table at our Italian restaurant—Soirée Italienne. That eatery isn’t open to the public, so whatever he’s about to point out is concerning a member. He selects the camera he wants and taps the screen. “Thoughts?”
The first thought that assaults me when I survey the couple having dinner is that the woman is fucking stunning.
Regal and glamorous with an understated elegance.
The second one is a reprimand for ogling another man’s date, wife, partner.
Someone who isn’t mine. I despise cheaters and refuse to be one, even in my head.
So, I pull myself back together. “That’s Beck Davis. Tech mogul. Good guy. Longtime member, but rarely here. Is there an issue?”
“Perhaps.” He’s disturbed about something, but Bernard has a wealth of insight, so I forgive his elusiveness and choose patience. He zeroes in on the woman. “What about her?”
Maybe he’s as taken as I am, though I hope not. This woman couldn’t even be thirty, and Bernard is easily twice that, plus some. He’s been around since I was a kid. He helped Ryker—who is the next-oldest Noire sibling—and me raise the others after our parents died.
“Well, she’s indisputably gorgeous. Exquisite.
” I gesture toward her, determined to remind him and myself to keep our heads on straight.
“But young. Too young. And Beck’s guest.” She’s also too young for Beck, but I don’t say that.
Slipping my glasses on and leaning in to examine every detail the screen unveils, I find myself even more enamored.
“What color is her hair? It’s too dark to be considered auburn, but it isn’t brown. Or it is with a reddish tint—”
He clears his throat in an ahem-I’m-still-in-the-room manner, his brown eyes dancing. “I’d call it mahogany. Picture that mane jet-black and the stature slightly shorter. A curvier figure.”
All that does is have me noticing her long legs, gracefully crossed and jutting out from beneath the table. She’s tall with lean muscles. Lithe and stately. Luminous rosy-beige skin. Refocusing, I imagine her face with very dark hair, and there is something familiar.
I rub my forehead, wishing I could clear away whatever cobwebs are keeping the recollection at bay. “There’s a vague remembrance, but … I can’t place her. How can that be when she’s so young?”
“It’s not her,” he says, making little sense while scrolling on his phone, until he lays it before me. “That’s who you’re remembering.”
“Fuck,” I hiss, bouncing my gaze between the picture of a couple on his phone and the security footage of the enchanting woman in my Italian restaurant. “You think this is Stone Gallagher’s daughter? Are you sure?”
“Not one hundred percent.” He grinds his molars, leering at her. “But my gut says she is. She doesn’t have Melody’s coloring, but otherwise, she’s the spitting image of her. With Stone’s eyes.”
I study the twenty-some-year-old picture of Stone and Melody again, unable to deny the mother-daughter resemblance.
“He’s been off-grid since the fire. I searched for him, like I did all my father’s enemies, but when he disappeared, I figured it was best to leave it alone.
Last I heard, there was speculation that he’d remade himself and was running a training camp. ”
He scratches his salt-and-pepper beard. “My sources suggest the same, which means that exquisite young woman with the mahogany hair is likely a well-trained assassin. Possibly among the best in the world.”
Very possible if she’s Stone Gallagher’s daughter and learned from him. He was unbeatable.
Since I’d prefer time to process this information, I wave him off. “Well, she came to the right place then. As long as she’s not planning to off Beck in their suite, we’ll be good.”
“Or you,” Bernard drawls.
Well, yeah, there’s that. And the fact that Beck Davis is on the cusp of becoming a billionaire. Independently wealthy. This is why I didn’t want Wells to tell me anything. I’m going to be suspicious of everyone and eager to kill half my members. That’s one way to go out of business.
We’ll all be alive though.
I stuff my hands in my pockets, dismissing his inference. “That’s quite a conclusion you’re jumping to.”
“You need to turn her in.” He means hand her over to both Wells and KORT.
Bernard knows all. He’s everywhere, invisible, trusted. He never divulges a source, but also never withholds information. It’s our understanding.
I ponder his angle on the situation for a beat, but there are so many reasons not to turn her in. Yet.
“They’re going to do their own investigation.
If I tell them who she is, they won’t bother finding out why she’s here.
In a place that makes sense for her to be.
With a member in good standing that we have no reason not to trust.” Even as I spout that, doubt creeps in because they both meet the profile.
“We absolutely need to keep an eye on them,” I go on.
“But we have to balance warranted suspicion with our objectives. Her circumstances make her look guilty, which is precisely what our whole business is against. And she wouldn’t stand a chance defending herself in an interrogation.
She’s been raised by the most skilled assassin in the world, who hated Dad with a vengeance—for good reason.
She likely has no real identity. They’ll kill her, or at the very least, torture her. ”
“Perhaps that’s wise,” Bernard growls. That’s an opinion from a man who loves me and my family, not a man who shares the same values I hold.
What if I’m making a mistake? I would choose Rena’s life over this woman’s in a heartbeat. Maybe guilt doesn’t even matter if it sends the warning that no one with questionable intentions toward my family will survive us.
No. I am not my father.
This fucking day.
Bile singes my throat, but I stand firm. “I will not condemn her to death before I know. Not after what her mother or mine endured.”
Empathy sails across Bernard’s face. “And they were relatively innocent regarding this world. That woman is not.”
“We don’t know that. Even if she is Stone’s daughter, there is no guarantee he trained her.
” I think about how I raised my siblings.
It was impossible to keep them from the business, so I made sure they were skilled in every way imaginable, but these circumstances are different.
“She could’ve been kept away from her father’s affairs.
He disappeared to keep her and her brother safe.
He wanted revenge on my father, but chose them.
I always respected that. Why would he pull her into this life? ”
“She’s here.” His brows knit, an indent of his wisdom puckering the space between his eyes.
“Maybe for all the reasons you mentioned. If he’s kept tabs on you like you have on him—which would’ve been far easier on his end since your life is so public—he knows the kind of man you are.
He knows you raised your siblings and revamped La Lune Noire.
Ask yourself this: if you were going to send an assassin to take you down, based on who you present yourself to be and what type of person could work themselves into your circle, who would you choose? ”
I tuck my glasses into my suit jacket and pull the door open, racing toward the only destination that will lend some clarity while answering him over my shoulder, “Her.”
“Exactly.”