Chapter 24 Lucien
Lucien
Of course, we’re not lucky enough to get away without them finding us.
We’re too valuable for that.
We’re nearly to the gate , me behind the wheel and Luke in the passenger seat, while Brooks and Beau are in the back, when Dom’s men come after us.
I hit the accelerator and skid out of the driveway, onto the main street, and then take full advantage of the long, straight road, pushing my car to show its full speed and beat the men behind us.
I’m in a fast car, and we’re drawing away from them when the road suddenly turns and I’m forced to slow, spinning out around the corner and fighting to make the turn.
Dom’s men catch up and start shooting, and Luke boosts himself out the window of the car with the rifle and begins shooting back.
“Why the fuck is someone always shooting at us when I’m in a car with you?” Brooks shouts from the back seat.
“Because people are always trying to kill you!” I shout back.
I jerk the wheel to turn left, and then right, and when I hit another straight road I gun it for the end, shooting around the slower traffic and praying that we don’t hit anyone.
“Where the fuck are we going?” Brooks continues.
“Do you have to ask so many questions right now?” I ask. “I’m trying to drive, here.”
I hear her mutter something about people who can’t talk and drive at the same time, but ignore that. She’s always thought she’s a better driver than anyone else, and there’s no talking her out of it.
“Is he still alive?” I ask, ignoring Luke, who’s still shooting at whoever’s chasing us.
“He is, but he’s bleeding a lot,” she mutters. “I need tools. A needle and some fishing wire, if you have it.”
“A needle and fishing wire?” I snap. “What do you think, I travel around with a full medical kit?”
“Well maybe you should!” she shouts. “I need to stitch him up!”
This surprises me so much that I almost steer us right off the road. “You do?”
She laughs a crazy, insane laugh. “What, like it’s hard?”
Hard or not, it’s not the sort of thing normal people know how to do, and I wonder suddenly where she learned how–and why. Who was she stitching up that she had to figure out how to do it?
And what else does she know that she hasn’t told me?
We get to a tricky part of the city then, though, and I put my focus into getting us out of there alive rather than questioning Brooks. By the time we’re through the twists and turns of the residential neighborhood, I’ve forgotten about Brooks and her ability to stitch people up.
My mind is firmly on our destination.
The men back there saw my face clear as day, so we can’t go back to my house.
That’s the first place they’ll look, and everyone at the house will be better off if they lock things down right now.
I have another location in mind–a safe house outside the city–but that’s not going to do us any good unless we get there, and a glance in the rearview mirror tells me that Dom’s men have somehow multiplied.
There were three cars behind us before and now there are five, and that’s a problem.
Luke is going to run out of bullets soon, and my armory is in the trunk.
Which we don’t have access to.
Shit, this is all going to go to hell quickly if we don’t get away. They’re going to kill us if they can, and if they capture us instead, it’s going to be even worse.
I speed past a car that’s trying to turn, hoping no one hits the guy, and then hit the gas again, but I’m starting to wonder if I need a Plan B. Something that gets us out of this quicker.
I just don’t know what that Plan B might be.
Moments later, a wave of cars appear in front of us, driving toward us so fast that I nearly panic, thinking they’re more of Dom’s men. Then I realize the car in the lead–the one I was always so jealous of when I was a child–and nearly melt in relief.
My father.
My father has sent his second-in-command and some of his army to save us.
There are at least ten cars there, and they’ll all have guns in hand. Maybe rocket launchers. Maybe fucking canons, I don’t know.
My dad never does anything small.
But I don’t have time to think about that right now.
I have to get Brooks out of here before her father finds her.
I blow through the line of cars, looking to my left for long enough to give my father’s lieutenant a quick salute. And then we’re speeding into the night, heading for the safe house and a quiet moment–I hope–to figure out what we’re going to do next.
***
The church is old and broken down, missing half its roof, but no one else knows about it.
And the rain has stopped, so we’re not getting wet.
I carry Beau to the nearest bench and lay him gently on it, pausing long enough to glance at his shoulder. Brooks is right; there is a lot of blood. It does need to be stitched up. But first...
I turn to her, take her in my arm, and seal my mouth over hers, desperate for the reminder that she’s alive and safe, and that I still have her with me. She opens her mouth and lets me in, the kiss long and deep and saying all the things we haven’t been able to say to each other yet.
Thank God you’re alive.
Thank God I found you.
Promise me you’ll stop putting yourself in these situations.
When I pull away, I’m breathing hard and furious. “Your brother can’t be here. He was working with your father.”
“Then you’re going to have to leave, because I’m not leaving him,” she says quietly. “He’s my brother, Lucien. I know he’s on our side. I know it.”
“You can’t possibly know that!”
She puts her hand up and brushes her fingertips slowly down my nose, looking at me like I”m the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen, and shakes her head. “Would you ever in a million years believe that Corinne was on the wrong side?”
I don’t even have to think about it.
“Never,” I whisper.
“Then you know why I know Beau isn’t.”
She’s got me there, and I pull her against me and kiss her again, so overwhelmed with the night–the fight, the chase, my father coming to our rescue–that all I want is her. The comfort and warmth of her body, the history between us, the future that we–
“God, I’ve just had the worst week of my life, and now I have to wake up to this?”
Brooks and I break apart, laughing, and turn to Beau.
“You’ve decided to join us, eh?” I ask, my voice just as dry as his.
He makes a face at me. “Sorry, I sort of got shot.”
Brooks has already dropped to her knees next to him to prod at the wound. “It went through clean, but I need to find some supplies so I can stitch it up. It’s bleeding an awful lot.”
Beau recoils like she just sent a bolt of electricity through him. “You want to stitch it up? Are you crazy? Do you think I’m crazy enough to let you get near me with a fucking needle?”
She crosses her arms, immediately the bratty younger sister. “Would you rather sit there bleeding to death, asshole? For your information, I’ve stitched up lots of wounds!”
Now he looks scandalized. “People let you do that? Were they already dead?”
And that’s enough of that. I cut in between them, physically separating them, and look down at Beau.
“Enough. What do you know, Beau? What can you tell us? Spill, or I’ll let her come at you with a needle.”
That does the trick, because though he looks tired and like he hasn’t eaten in a week, he immediately starts talking. “The girls are being divided into three different groups. Some of them go to the ships, to international destinations. Some of them are kept here, for... auctions?”
Brooks nods at that, and I remember how close she was to being sold at an auction herself.
I don’t like the memory.
“And some of them, the most valuable, are kept,” he finishes. “Those ones... Those ones are in the most danger.”
“Why?” Brooks breathes. “Why keep them if they’re so valuable.”
When he meets my eyes, his are flat and disgusted. “Blackmail. That’s why he has Corinne.”
Now I drop to my knees too, the mention of my sister taking all my strength. “You know where she is?”
He nods. “I was with her all week, trying to protect her. Up until this afternoon. Men came and took her from me, and I fought, but I was too weak to stop them. She’s the most high-profile girl they have, I think.
Dom’s going t try to use her to force your father to back him in the coming war.
He’s trying to take over the whole operation, but he needs help.
He thinks your father... If he has Corinne, he thinks your father will have to support him. ”
Oh my God.
“Do you know who he’s working for?” Brooks asks sharply. “The Russians. Do you know who they are.”
Beau looks at her once, his gaze tired, and I think we have to get him to a hospital soon. He’s losing too much blood, and I’m still not sure I want Brooks stitching him up. When I reach for him, though, he jerks away.
“Not yet,” he says, like he’s able to read my mind. “I have things I have to tell you. Because I know everything.”