19. Remy
They’re already pushing the door of the guest house open by the time I burst through my front door and spot them. I’m sure that Wes is waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike, smart enough to know that they can outdraw him in seconds. Dimitri and Michael are both trained, and while I don’t know the extent of Wes’ resume, I think pretty boy is used to being a shot-caller and not doing the dirty work. And lucky for me he is, because he botched things with Claire’s kidnapping, which allowed me to find her before they could get far.
I cross the yard in less than a minute and burst in behind them. My entrance catches everyone by surprise—a surprise that Wes uses to his advantage. He gets in a quick slice at Michael’s neck, catching him off guard enough that he drops his grip on Wes’ other arm and raises his hands to cover the wound. I don’t even have a chance to see how deep it is because Michael’s thick hands obscure it and blood seeps out over his fingertips, dripping quickly onto the carpet.
I stare at Wes, fury setting me on fire. I left the house quickly enough that I didn’t bring any sort of protection with me, but that knife doesn’t scare me. What scared me was this monster sitting next to my sister at dinner, thinking he’d outplayed me. It’s Rhea they were after when they got Claire, so neither of them is safe. For all I know, he sat through Elaine’s dinner while scheming exactly how he was going to try and hurt them.
I won’t let that happen.
Dimitri has already drawn his gun—he cocks it at Wes’ head and takes a step closer, but Wes isn’t stupid. He’s got one of my knives still pressed against Michael’s throat, though further to the side this time, a vulnerable spot that Michael’s hands can’t conceal. I can see the white ripple of his skin as Wes digs the tip into his flesh enough that a single slip would cause the blade to slice into him again.
It’s just a steak knife—not like he had access to a meat cleaver at dinner. But it’s enough to give him an advantage over Michael, and enough to keep Dimitri from pulling the trigger. I don’t gamble with people’s lives. I take what I need when I need it, never putting anyone in needless jeopardy, but I know Michael would agree that the risk of him breaking free is too great to take when the girls are in the house unprotected.
Wes grins, looking maniacal with the blood dripping down his face. “What’s wrong, brother? You don’t think I’m going to stay your prisoner?” His laugh is a little too loud.
“For a bit longer,” I shrug, closing the distance between him and I with every step I take toward him. “You see, I’m waiting on your father to send the cavalry. Can’t have you run off before the rescue party shows up.”
He only laughs at that, though his eyes shift from me to Michael nervously, trying to assess where to keep the blade. If he leaves it at Michael’s neck, it leaves him vulnerable. But if he points it toward me, he leaves Dimitri with a clear shot to take. Dimitri’s already got him on lock, but Wes is desperate, and that desperation has him acting like a rat in a cage. “My father doesn’t care about me. If you think you can bait him with me, you’re dumber than you look, Boudreaux.”
“You aren’t the bait.” I assure him, coming to a stop just outside of his reach so that he can’t slash out at me.
“No?” He laughs. “Then what am I?”
From the corner of my eye, I see Michael sway a little on his knees. He corrects himself before Wes can notice to try and take advantage of it, which tells me he’s going to be just fine once I have my stupid half-brother tied up again.
Dimitri would have pulled the trigger already if I had given him the greenlight, but a gunshot would inevitably catch Rhea or Elaine’s attention. It would be hard to explain away.
“You’re a doctor, right?” I scoff. “Shouldn’t you be smart?”
“Now, now,” Wes chides. “Don’t be jealous. You could make something of yourself too, if you’d just let go of the things you let tie you down and liberate yourself. It’s better that way.”
The things that tie me down.
He’s talking about Rhea, Claire, human decency. He doesn’t know that I do more than just keep myself separate from the part of our world that he is intimately familiar with. He thinks that all these years I’ve buried my head in the sand and just moved their money where and when they told me to. He still doesn’t know that I’ve actively gone behind them, that I’ve used their own money to bid on some of their victims and bought them a new life. Wes doesn’t know that humanity is wasted on him, but I’m going to make sure he learns before he dies.
“You told me yourself that they’d come for Claire. You’re not the bait. She is.”
That earns his silence while he contemplates my words, trying to gauge whether I’m lying. “I don’t believe you.”
“Don’t you?” I laugh, lunging at him so suddenly that it takes him by surprise. He lashes out in response, the knife finding purchase on my chest. It’s not enough to stop me from grabbing his neck and driving him into the wall, particularly given that he’s outnumbered. Dimitri takes the opportunity to lunge forward, pressing the muzzle of the gun against his forehead, his skin rippling out around it with the pressure Dimitri’s using to drive it into his flesh.
The click as he cocks it has Wes straighten and drop the knife, attempting to regain his dignity. “Okay, I’ll bite. Claire is the bait. What am I?”
“You?” I sigh. His eyes study me intently, like there’s so much more that he’s not saying, and he’s trying to figure out what I’m not saying.
He doesn’t even see my fist until after I land a punch square on his nose, which gives a satisfying crunch as the cartilage bends and fractures under the pressure, causing further damage to the spot Claire got him with the cork earlier. His blood flows like a faucet over his fingertips, splashing thick droplets of blood to the floor to mix in with Michael’s.
He mutters something unintelligible that I can’t distinguish with his mouth choked with blood. I tip my head for Dimitri to attend to Michael, so he eases back and holsters his gun.
I shove my hand over Wes’ mouth and watch the panic flicker to life in his eyes as he chokes on his own blood, unable to breathe through his nose any more than he can through his foul mouth. He isn’t small by any means, but I know as well as he does that he’s outmatched. The element of surprise is the only thing that may allow him to throw us off, but that’s been lost thanks to Claire’s keen eye.
I let him stew in his fear a moment, thinking I’m about to let him suffocate, before I drop my hand and give him the answer he’s been waiting for.
“You, dear brother, are just a distraction.”