25. Reath
25
REATH
M y cellphone vibrated and my eyes snapped open.
Light from the bathroom filtered in. Frankie was nuzzled against my side like a kitten, snoring softly. I wanted to stroke her soft cheek, but I reached for my phone instead.
I slipped out of the bed, careful not to wake her.
“Colt,” I murmured as I snagged my pajama bottoms and pulled them on. I headed up to the living room and glanced at my watch. It was just after eleven thirty.
“Reath, sorry to call so late. I got a message from a guy I know. He spotted your guy.”
I stiffened. “Where?”
“French Quarter. Having a cocktail with a slim brunette at the Carousel Bar.”
The well-known bar at the Hotel Monteleone.
“I bet he’s staying at the hotel.” Drinking and fucking while his men were probably holed up in some shit hole eating take out and sleeping on sleeping bags. “Colt, can I ask a favor?”
“Anything.”
“Come and stay with Frankie while I get Auclair.” If I cornered him and took him down quickly, this would all be over. Frankie would be safe.
“Let me talk to Macy, then I’m on my way.”
While I waited for Colt, I hurried to my office. I quickly hacked the Hotel Monteleone reservations and found the information I needed. Next, I headed for my bedroom.
I fell into the narrow focus I always got on a mission. I pulled what I needed out of my closet, then stepped into the bathroom and quietly closed the door.
I’d just finished affixing a thin, fake moustache to my face when my phone chimed to let me know Colt had entered the front door. I looked in the mirror, then pulled on a set of dark-framed glasses.
The disguise would do the job. My skills were a little rusty, but I still had it.
I walked out of the bathroom and paused to check on Frankie. She was fast asleep in my bed. I watched her for a minute, making a silent promise that she’d soon be safe from Auclair.
Then I headed out to the living area. Colt was waiting for me.
He glanced up and jolted. “Shit, you look so different. I forgot how good you were at this.”
In addition to the mustache and glasses, I wore a wig—slightly longer and curlier than my natural hair. I’d used makeup to make my cheeks look fuller, and putty and makeup to change the shape of my chin.
Right now, I didn’t look like Reath Fury.
I was wearing an expensive suit, Italian shoes, and had a black briefcase that was filled with the gear I needed. I looked like a wealthy businessman.
“I hacked the Hotel Monteleone reservations. There was no one booked under the name of Auclair, but I checked his old aliases.”
“You found him?”
I nodded. “Bastard booked a suite.” I wondered what his men would think knowing their boss was out with a woman, drinking high-end booze, and sleeping in a luxury king bed.
“Be careful,” Colt said, face serious.
I lifted my chin. “Take care of Frankie.”
It was a short drive to the French Quarter. As usual, the place was hopping. Partygoers filled the sidewalks, laughing and singing. Jazz music pumped from the bars.
I found a parking spot several blocks away and then headed back to the Monteleone. It was the oldest hotel in the French Quarter, with an ornate cream fa?ade. It was famous for all the famous authors who’d stayed there over the hotel’s long history.
As I approached, I adjusted my jacket and tightened my grip on my briefcase.
With a nod to the uniformed doorman, I walked into the hotel. The lobby was grand, with polished floors and chandeliers. There was a large, ornate grandfather clock, and a massive vase of flowers scented the air. I walked past the famous rotating Carousel Bar, and a quick glance told me Auclair was no longer in there.
I kept my stride brisk. Just a busy businessman with things to do. No one paid me any special attention.
I reached the elevator, stepped inside, and pressed the button for the rooftop pool terrace.
When I stepped out, a brisk breeze whipped around me. It was too cool to swim, and the pool was empty. I strode past the blue water and rounded the corner, heading into the shadows.
I had the floor plan of the entire hotel memorized. I glanced over the railing, lining myself up with the suite that I knew Auclair had booked.
I set my briefcase down, then slipped off my jacket and glasses. Then I opened the case.
Methodically, I pulled out a black auto-belay device. It was used for climbing, but this one had a few special additions. I attached the device to the railing and checked that it was secure.
Next, I pulled out my Glock and attached a silencer. I slid the weapon into my waistband. Then I pulled on a thin, black ski mask that just left my eyes uncovered.
I clipped the carabiner attached to the rope on the climbing device to my belt, then carefully climbed over the railing.
The wind caught at my clothes, and I didn’t look down. I pressed the button, then I whizzed down the side of the hotel. Excitement licked at me. This brought back memories of old, dangerous missions. I had no desire to go back to that work, but I had to admit, it had been exciting.
I landed several floors down on a narrow balcony, avoiding a round metal table flanked by two chairs.
I peered through the glass doors.
The room had an upscale, old-world feel to it. There were heavy curtains at the windows, lush carpet, rich wooden furniture, and fabric draped over the head of the large bed.
There was a woman in black lingerie lounging on the bed. She was alone.
She was slender, with black hair cut in an elfin style around her face. She looked a lot like Auclair’s dead wife.
I frowned. Where was Auclair?
The woman lifted a glass of champagne and sipped. I saw the bottle resting in a wine bucket on the nightstand, along with another glass.
“The wine’s getting warm, Hugh,” the woman called out to the closed bathroom door.
My pulse leaped. He was here.
I detached the carabiner and pulled out my set of lock picks. I quickly worked on the door, careful to stay out of view of the woman.
Just as the lock clicked, I saw Auclair saunter out of the bathroom. He was in suit pants with his shirt untucked. He smiled at the woman.
My mouth flattened.
Quickly, I opened the door and raised my arm, my Glock aimed directly at the man who was after Frankie.
The woman on the bed screamed. She tossed the glass, and it hit the carpet and rolled. She scrambled up against the headboard.
Auclair smiled at me. “Ah, I wondered when you would turn up.”
“It’s over, Auclair,” I said.
“That wouldn’t be much fun.” Auclair darted to the side.
I fired.
The bullet clipped his shoulder, and I saw blood spray. He dived at me, and I fired again. The second bullet hit the wall.
Auclair wrapped his arms around my legs and tackled me. My gun flew out of my hand and slid across the carpet. We wrestled, slamming into the bed.
“Oh, fuck,” the woman cried.
I caught a quick glimpse of her sliding off the bed and ducking down.
Auclair rammed an elbow into my jaw, and I punched my fist into his ribs. He was good and well trained. We rolled again, battling to pin each other down. I grabbed his wounded shoulder and squeezed.
He cursed savagely in French.
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. “Turndown service,” a muffled, female voice said.
Shit .
Auclair got a leg up and kicked me in the thigh. I grunted, and he rolled away, just as a uniformed hotel maid pushed a housekeeping cart inside the room.
He leaped to his feet and rammed into her. She cried out and slammed into the wall.
“Stay down,” I yelled at her, coming up in a crouch.
Auclair took two steps toward the door and pulled a knife from his pocket. He aimed it at the maid.
She froze, staring at him wide-eyed.
I didn’t have enough time to go for my gun.
Goddammit .
I launched myself at the maid and tackled her to the floor. The knife whizzed overhead and hit an ornate armchair chair with a whumf .
I lifted my head and saw Auclair racing out the door.
Fuck .
The maid stared up at me, terrified. She looked at me, then the knife, then back at me. The woman by the bed let out a whimper.
It was time to go.
I rose, stalked across the room, and snatched up my gun. Back on the balcony, I clicked on the carabiner and pressed the button.
I whizzed upward.
Back on the rooftop deck, I calmly pulled off the ski mask and set it in my briefcase, along with the climbing device and my gun. Once I had everything back inside, I clicked it shut. I shouldered back into my jacket and pulled the glasses back on.
Calmly, I stepped into the elevator. Back in the lobby, I sauntered out of the Hotel Monteleone like I didn’t have a care in the world.
Inside, I was seething.
I’d had him.
I could have ended all this.
Instead, he’d gotten away.
And I knew Auclair wouldn’t let himself get caught so easily again.