Chapter 10 Luca
LUCA
I’d dragged my feet on this for a few days. I wasn’t too busy to get it done. I just didn’t want to.
Carvel rode in the back seat with me. “What’s this about?”
“The Oath is trying to break the pact. I’m gonna stop it before it happens.”
“Who’s their target?” he asked.
“An innocent woman.”
“You sure she’s innocent?” he asked, smoking a cigar with the window rolled halfway down. “They aren’t your average Joe hit men. You hire them when you want someone to be killed not once—but a million times.”
I never asked her for the details because I didn’t need them.
In my limited interactions with her, I could tell she was an innocent accomplice to someone else’s crime.
One look in her eyes showed the hardness that had been built against adversity and trauma.
I could tell she wasn’t a beggar, and the only reason she begged for sanctuary like a refugee was because she’d reached her breaking point.
She had no one to call. Nowhere to turn.
No chance in hell she was in this position because she put herself there. “She’s innocent.”
He looked at me, and instead of blowing smoke out the window, he chose to let it drift across my face. “Is she innocent, or is her pussy innocent—”
“Want me to break your nose again?”
He chuckled and looked out the window. “Never stick out your neck for a woman…rule number one.”
“It’s our job, Carvel.”
“Our job is to maintain the Republic. Not start shit with the Oath for a single woman. Don’t bullshit me and act like this is purely altruistic. If this were anyone else, you would look the other way—and you know you would.”
My arm rested on the door, and I looked out the window. “Get out if you want.”
He shook his head slightly and took a drag of his cigar.
I watched the buildings and the lampposts pass as we approached the rear of the Louvre, deserted on a cold night. The pyramid was lit up in its glory and surrounded by the buildings that had once housed Emperor Napoleon himself.
The SUV came to a stop, and we both hopped out.
Carvel stomped on his cigar in the road before he stepped onto the sidewalk. “How do you want to play this?”
“Just back me up if I need it.”
We crossed the open space and approached the pyramid protected from approach by a small fence. The people who were there were enjoying a smoke on one of the park benches. A few homeless people were searching the garbage cans. It was three in the morning, late even for Parisians.
Vein was there, standing with his hands in the pockets of his heavy coat, a cigar between his lips.
He had large round glasses on the bridge of his nose, looking more like a guy who worked in finance than a professional killer.
“You’ve never asked me to do your dirty work before, Luca.
” The smoke came from his nostrils as the cigar continued to remain wedged between his lips.
His eyes shifted to Carvel. “Another French Emperor…” His eyes came back to me.
“Must be a big target. President Martin, perhaps?” He pulled the cigar from his lips, and the smoke continued to drift as he spoke.
“He’s a cunt, so good fucking riddance.”
I didn’t do small talk, so I skipped it. “You’re going to drop the hit on Aliénor.”
He paused after I made my demand, like it took him a full second to accept what I said. He knew her by name alone, based on the way his expression sharpened in understanding. “You know that’s not how it works—”
“Kill her, and you violate the Fifth Republic. And then I’ll fucking kill all of you.”
The cigar was held at his side, burning out in the cold.
His eyes looked bigger in the glasses, like two microscope lenses.
He must wear glasses when he was behind the scope.
“I’ve been doing this a long time, Luca.
We honor every hit, even if the person who ordered it is dead. It’s our reputation—”
“You heard what I said, Vein.”
“The deal was made before the Fifth Republic was even instated—”
“And if you fulfill the oath now, you’ll be in violation of it,” I said. “I understand your reputation is vital to your business, but you’re going to make an exception. If that’s a problem, I can take care of the man who ordered the hit for you.”
“You know I can’t give his name.”
“Then tell him you killed the girl, and it’s done.”
He dropped the cigar on the ground and stomped on it just the way Carvel had stomped on his. This time, when he exhaled a breath, it was warm vapor from his lungs. “Luca, you know I can’t—”
My gun was out and pointed at his head before he could finish the sentence.
Carvel glanced at me but didn’t dare question me.
Vein didn’t raise his arms, but he stiffened like he knew this wasn’t a bluff. “I came unarmed because I thought there was trust between us.”
“I’m about to blow that trust out of your brain unless you do what I say. Don’t do what I say, and I’m still going to blow out your brains. So think clearly, Vein. One exception—one time.”
He didn’t take a step back, but he drew a slow breath. “You win, Luca.”
I dropped the gun and nodded to Carvel.
“As a thank you for your cooperation…” Carvel pulled out his phone and made the transfer. “Funds have been deposited into your account. Aliénor is dead. You shot her in the shower, stuffed her body in an oil drum, and sent her on a cargo ship to Shanghai. We’re done here.”
It was sometime after ten in the morning when I arrived home.
Andre greeted me with a nod, his silent cue to prepare my dinner before I went to bed.
I took the elevator to the third floor then showered in my bedroom.
I did a quick towel-dry and put on my boxers and sweatpants.
The black-out curtains were closed over the windows to block out the light, a false premise of night.
I downed a quick shot of whiskey to remove the taste of toothpaste from my tongue and headed down the hallway to her bedroom.
My heart didn’t race at our approaching meeting, but I felt a tightness in my chest, a small surge of excitement but also nerves.
I felt numb to everyone around me, except for Bastien and Fleur and a few others—and she seemed to be one of those exceptions.
If I saw a sexy woman across the bar, I got in the mood, but I didn’t feel anything particularly exciting for her.
It was different with Aliénor.
I had no idea why.
I walked into her bedroom without knocking because every inch of this hotel-turned-villa was mine. I didn’t need to announce myself before I entered any room, especially when she was barely a guest. I wasn’t sure what she was.
The dining table had her used plates on the surface from her breakfast, probably because Andre would pick them up after he delivered my dinner to my bedroom.
Aliénor was seated on the couch with her laptop on her thighs, hair and makeup done, her green eyes glowing like jewels as the morning light flooded her bedroom.
A glimmer of emotion swept across her eyes rapidly, passing quicker than a songbird in the garden.
She closed her laptop and gently set it on the coffee table and gave me her full attention.
Her eyes were locked on mine, like she refused to look anywhere else.
I sank into the armchair across from her, elbows on the armrests, feet planted apart.
She spoke first. “How was your night?”
She’d never asked me anything like that before. It felt…domestic. No woman had ever asked me that before, probably because they weren’t invited over for an extended time. I had regulars, but I didn’t do sleepovers. Aliénor had been in my house longer than any woman ever had. “Fine.”
She waited for more, and when I didn’t oblige, she gave a slow nod. “Do you work every night?”
“My schedule is all over the place.”
“But you work every single day?”
“Not every single day, but most days.”
She nodded again like she understood. “Before we met, I was working as a waitress at Septime and then a bartender at another place. Never had a day off. Guess we have that in common.”
A food service job was a walk around the Louvre compared to what I did, but I kept my mouth shut.
“I don’t understand you.”
My eyes were already on hers, but they hardened just a little more.
“I know you when we fuck, but when we talk, I don’t know you at all.”
My eyes wanted to flick away, but they remained steady. I knew exactly what she meant. It wasn’t the first time I’d heard that criticism. “Never been good at it.”
“Don’t you have to talk to people at work?”
“Not really.”
“That’s not possible.”
“Telling people what to do and getting shit done is different from what we are doing now. Finding something to say just to fill the dead space between us.”
“I’m not filling dead space,” she said, her tone rising a smidge. “I want to know you.”
“Why?”
Her eyes shifted back and forth between mine. “Because I like you.”
“You like me?” I asked, slightly incredulous.
“Why wouldn’t I?”
I smirked slightly, thinking about the indignant shit I’d been called in the past—and rightfully so.
I’d never cared about anyone but myself.
Even when I was straightforward with my intentions toward women, I was still cruel when they grew attached.
I handled their fragile feelings like rocks instead of glass.
“Why wouldn’t I?” she repeated.
My stare had drifted elsewhere at some point, and I brought it back to her. “The Oath will no longer hunt you. You’re free.”
Her focused stare quickly morphed into one of confusion. Both eyebrows rose, and the color of her eyes seemed to deepen with the change. “What do you mean?”
“I handled it,” I said. “That’s what I mean.”
She blinked not once but twice, tilting her head slightly like she was in disbelief. “I’ve been dealing with this shit for eight years, and you just make it go away overnight?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve been on the run for eight long fucking years, and now it’s just over?”