38. Frankie
38
FRANKIE
S omeone was tying me to a chair.
I jerked and fought him, but since I had a bag over my head, I couldn’t do much good.
Fear was stark and cold inside me, but I was trying to let my anger lead the way.
Trent Weare had carted me away in that damn box. We’d driven for ages, and I’d been fearful that I was going to suffocate to death if he’d left me in there much longer.
Then he let me out and put a cloth bag over my head. After that, he’d carried me like a sack of potatoes to…wherever the hell we were now.
The ropes tightened on my wrists, and I jerked again.
Reath would be going out of his mind. I sank my teeth into my lip. God .
“She’s feisty,” a voice said.
I heard the French accent and stilled.
“Mmm, let’s see the woman who captured the heart of Reath Fury.”
The bag was ripped off.
I blinked, noting I was in a dim space. There were a few lights on at the back of the large room.
The first thing that came into focus was an enormous, garish clown head with a red nose and jester hat.
My pulse spiked, then I realized it was a Mardi Gras float.
I blinked again and looked around. I was in a warehouse, with a cold concrete floor and Mardi Gras decorations and floats stacked all around me. It must be where they stored them.
I swallowed, and a man stepped directly in front of me. My stomach curdled.
Auclair.
“Pretty enough.” He cocked his head. “Nothing special.”
“Oh, and who died and made you the God of deciding who was beautiful?” I shook my head. “And you’re wrong. Reath is just a family friend.”
Auclair smiled and crouched in front of me. I fought off the need to scooch back, not that I could move, anyway.
“Now you’re lying,” he drawled. “Maybe you don’t see the way he looks at you, or maybe you’re too afraid to believe.”
“How is Reath relevant? I know you want the ADAPT project and you’re not getting it.”
Auclair rose. I saw the shadowed forms of several of his goons, along with Weare, in the darkness.
“Things change,” Auclair said. “I want Reath Fury to suffer more than I want to sell your project.”
My heart kicked against my ribs. That didn’t sound good.
“We’re done,” Weare said. “My debt is cleared.”
Auclair swiveled. “Yes, mon ami . You did well.”
Weare shot me an unhappy look and nodded. “Don’t contact me again.”
“Very well.” Then Auclair raised his arm. The gunshot rang out through the warehouse, and I gasped.
Weare’s body dropped to the floor. He didn’t get up.
Auclair turned back to me. He looked calm, not like someone who’d just murdered a man in cold blood.
I tried not to hyperventilate.
“Now, where were we?” He nodded. “Yes, discussing your man Reath.” Auclair’s voice lowered. “He murdered my wife. Did he tell you?”
I swallowed. “I know that your wife was trying to kill innocent people, and Reath stopped her.”
I saw a flash of something cross his face. “No one is truly innocent. He put a bullet in her brain.” Auclair reached out and touched my hair.
I jerked my head to the side, but he grabbed a handful of my hair and yanked. My scalp stung.
“I’d like to return the favor. Put a bullet in your brain.”
The gun barrel ran along my cheekbone and fear closed my throat. I held in a whimper. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
“But I want him to suffer for longer.” Auclair straightened and turned. “Take some pictures.” He barked out some more orders in French.
Two thugs came forward, one holding a cellphone.
Auclair stepped behind me. “Try to look terrified.”
I made an angry sound. Hell, no. I wasn’t giving him the satisfaction.
He gripped my chin and yanked it up.
I glared at the phone as the man snapped some pictures.
“That will do.” Auclair moved to the others, callously stepping over Weare’s body. The four of them had a hushed conversation.
I wasn’t helpless. I kept yanking against the rope. Soon, I felt one rub my skin raw, blood smearing my wrist.
I had to stay focused and bide my time. Look for any chance to escape.
“Move her,” Auclair ordered. “We’ll have Fury running around New Orleans in a panic, knowing that she’s dying.”
Oh, crap . I breathed through my fear. I had to find a way to leave a clue for Reath and help him.
But how?
“I’ll record a message to leave with the pictures.” Auclair laughed. “I wish I could be here when he arrives, guns blazing, looking for her.”
His men all chuckled.
Auclair met my gaze. “I wish I could be here when he finds nothing. By then, you’ll be slowly dying.”
“Where are you taking me?” One of the men started undoing my bindings.
“To the city of the dead,” Auclair said. “So you can join them.”
My heart squeezed. Oh, God, I hoped Reath found me in time.