Chapter 9 Lucien #2
I shake my head before I follow the idea any further.
It’s a good idea, and I know Jacky would do it, but Luke is only twenty-one, and though he’s big and at least a little bit clever, he’s also young and fairly stupid.
He doesn’t like killing people and I know for a fact that he can be talked into just about anything but a pretty girl.
Hell, Brooks managed to convince him that I gave her permission to take one of my Ducatis and leave my house, right after I told him not to let her go anywhere.
And the truth is, Luke is one of the only people in my family I actually like. I don’t want to put him in harm’s way before he’s ready. At least no more than strictly necessary.
I turn back to the lists and start scanning, thinking about the other person I like in my family.
My baby sister.
She should be in this house, should be taking up space in the kitchen and shouting at the cook about how to make the best hash browns.
Coming down here and sticking her nose into my business, demanding to know what’s going on and how she can be involved.
Trying to cut me down with those flashing brown eyes of hers, and pretending she knows exactly what she’s doing when she doesn’t have the first fucking clue.
God, she’s annoying.
And the house feels empty and haunted without her here.
My father has asked me at least one hundred times in the past day when I’m going to pick a wife and settle down, but hasn’t said anything about my sister, and suddenly that seems suspicious as well. Does he not realize she’s missing?
Or did he have a deal with Dominick Landry for her, as well?
She hasn’t been missing for long enough to be in the group of girls being shipped out tomorrow night, but if I can get those girls to my house, I can start asking questions about my sister. Maybe find out whether they’ve seen her–and where Dom is keeping her.
“Daniel,” I snap, moving toward him again before the thought is complete. “I want you on comms and extraction vehicles for tomorrow night. Give me the best way to get those girls away from the port and back to the house. And Luke?”
He snaps to attention like he’s been waiting for his orders, and I want to hug the kid. He has no idea how hard it is to find loyal people in this line of work, and a large part of me wants to shield him from anything bad. Protect him from the life I’ve had to lead.
Unfortunately, I don’t have time for that.
“I’m giving you the most important job. Figure out whether Dom is using a schedule when he moves Brooks. I want to know if there’s a pattern. Find out what he’s trying to teach her and how to use it. How and when I can get her back out.”
I turn and head for the door, my mind on both Brooks and Corinne, and try to figure out whether I can use one to find the other.
Brooks thinks there might be girls in the basement at Dom’s mansion, and I wonder abruptly if Corinne is there.
It would be just like Dom to take my little sister and then keep her in his own house–a house she knows–just to try to hold something over my head.
Or threaten Brooks.
I have no way of knowing until we get some of those girls, but I suddenly want to be back near Brooks.
If they move her again, I want to be the first to know.
I reach the door and push through it, furious at the world for putting me in this situation, and nearly run into someone right on the other side.
I’m confused as all hell when I see that the someone is Camille Landry.
And right behind her stands Kate Fontenot, with a girl I’ve never seen before.
“What in the actual fuck are you two doing in my house, and who the fuck is that?” I snap.
Camille looks at me with such lazy arrogance that for a moment, I almost forget that I don’t hit women.
“We’re here because Brooks told us if we ever needed a safe space, this is where we should come,” she says.
“And that’s Laura Boone. She saw her best friend get snatched yesterday and we brought her here to ask her a few questions.
Find out what she knows. Brooks told us you’d probably want to question her yourself. ”
Everything around me goes so still I can hardly breathe, and for a long, slow moment, I feel like my brain has actually stopped working.
Then I start asking questions.
“Brooks knows you kidnapped a girl?”
“God, do you have ears or what, Lucien?” Kate snaps. “We didn’t kidnap her. Her friend was kidnapped. But she saw it happen.”
“And you brought her here to question her?”
At this, Camille rolls her eyes. “Obviously we brought her here. You used to be a lot smarter. What happened to you in the past week?”
Brooks happened, I don’t say. Brooks and her insane plans and need for constant danger and incredibly bad ideas. I’ve spent the last week chasing after her and trying to keep her alive, and it’s evidently taking all of my brain cells to do it.
Wait.
“Brooks told you to bring her here?” I ask, suddenly realizing what else they said.
Both girls nod, looking at me like they suddenly have something they don’t want to tell me. Camille has her lips pressed together and Kate’s eyes have gotten much larger, while Laura–the kidnapped/not kidnapped girl–is looking between the three of us like she’d rather be anywhere else.
She must know they’ve just let something slip they shouldn’t have.
“You’ve... talked to Brooks today?”
Camille nods slowly, her eyes considering. Probably because she knows they did just say something they shouldn’t have.
“How in the fuck did you talk to Brooks today? Have you been to the mansion? Did Dom let you in? What’s happening there?”
Kate and Camille share one long, loaded look, and suddenly I know exactly what they’re not telling me.
“Brooks has a phone,” I say slowly. “She called you.”
“Actually, I called her,” Camille corrects.
As if that’s the important thing.
I turn and walk away before I kill someone. Because Brooks called Camille, which means she has a phone. She’s able to communicate with anyone.
And she called them but not me.
She fucking called Camille, instead of calling me.
I pull my phone out of my pocket and glare at the screen, then scroll through the recent calls, looking for anything out of place. There’s nothing, of course. The only people who call this phone are the ones specifically given the number, and I’ve never given it to Brooks.
I also don’t know the number she might be calling from.
But I’m furious at the thought of her calling anyone other than me–though I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.
I’m out the front door and on the way to one of my motorcycles before I remember the other thing Camille said before things got jumbled.
She said the Brooks told them if they were ever in trouble, they could come to my house to be safe.
And I didn’t think it was possible. My body is burning up with fury at the thought of her calling them instead of me, particularly after what happened last night. I’m angrier than I’ve been since yesterday, when I found out she went to the port by herself.
But the thought that she told her cousin to come to me if she ever needed a safe space?
That makes it a little bit better.