4. Debts
Chapter 4
Debts
Christophe
Winifred L’Ourson.
Of all the fucking people I have to come down hard on, or take out and potentially unalive, it has to be Winnie. What are the fucking odds?
I haven’t seen her in, Jesus, has it been ten years? A decade since I stole her first kiss and then turned and walked away, not knowing it was the last time I’d see her like that.
It should have been the last time I saw her, but it’s not like I’d planned on…well, this. Though, I doubt she thought she’d be standing over her worthless parents’ bodies at twenty-two, staring into the eyes of her worst nightmare, but here we fucking are.
Once upon a time, and a long fucking time ago, I thought I could save her, that I could steal her away and protect her. Give her something better, something akin to security. Thought maybe we could eventually be together and find a way to be happy. Thought I knew my place within my family. Thought I could make her mine and we’d ultimately rule Le Milieu together.
That pipe dream couldn’t have been further from reality.
Instead, it’s been a decade since I’ve gazed into Winnie’s soft brown eyes, even longer since I’ve seen her friend. Not that the town’s tragic psycho is seen walking around town on any given day. Nope, Tru has been hidden away and protected by Winnie for a long ass time. But I wasn’t interested in where she was or what she was up to. I only kept tabs on Winnie.
“Winifred, tell me,” I say, a bite in my voice. At one time, I may have had grandiose dreams involving her, but things have changed. I’ve changed. “Do you want it easy? Or should we do this hard?” I give her chin a quick shake to make sure I have her full attention. And I absolutely do. Her gasp quick and sharp, her lush lips slightly parted, the fluttering pulse beneath her pale, creamy skin all testify to that fact.
I like this look on her, pliant with maybe just a hint of fear.
The way her blush stains her cheeks.
The innocence she’s exuding.
If I’m honest with myself, I don’t give a shit what her answer is. When it comes to Winnie L’Ourson, I’ll take what I’m due and fucking enjoy doing it.
“I…I don’t know what you’re asking for,” she says, breathlessly, and my dick thickens at that sound. “I have nothing; my parents left me with nothing.” Her sweet pink tongue darts out to swipe at her lips, leaving them glossy and glistening in the feeble sun.
I know she doesn’t have the money to pay off Henri’s debt.
Hell, I was the one who found him and his whore of a wife, pale and floating on their drugged up high, needles still stuck in their veins. Any fight they might have had was tamed, consumed by the drugs coursing through their systems. The same drugs they were supposed to be moving for me. The same fucking drugs they owed me money for. Rule number one of dealing is don’t use the product. Follow the fucking rules and don’t get hooked on that shit.
All they needed was a little extra push—literally on the plungers—and they were no longer a problem for me. Their daughter? She’s a different story.
“I-I couldn’t even pay for their funerals.” Her cheeks flame brighter, more from anger than embarrassment at her admission if I had to guess, because we both know exactly who paid for today’s circus. And I plan on collecting that debt, as well.
I keep my accounts current and clear, always. Aside from the expectation set higher up in the family, I pride myself on the fact that I keep my shit clean. Fucking crystal. Until Henri L’Ourson started getting sloppy. He knew he was in trouble when my second in command, Teague Grey, left L’Ourson’s place empty-handed. No cash, no product—not that we maintain any kind of returns policy. That kind of disrespect is not something I’ve ever allowed.
Was I surprised Henri chose to take the easy way out? Not at all.
Was I surprised that he was so inept he didn’t even complete that simple task? Fuck no.
I stared into his drug-glazed eyes and told him exactly how I would collect his debt, from whom, and then I tucked his offering of a small stack of cash into the breast pocket of my suit.
Henri was lucid enough to show fear, maybe even remorse for the mess he brought to his daughter’s feet. But her mother was too far gone, had been for a long fucking time.
Then I pushed the plunger on each of their syringes, sending them off in a far kinder way than either of them deserved, and told Teague to take anything he could find of value.
There wasn’t much. And now I have a debt to settle and a dangerous game to play.
“Your parents spun the wheel and lost, honeybee. And now someone’s got to pay.” The use of that nickname stills her, but only for a moment.
She tries to shake me off, swatting at my hand. The attempt does nothing but amuse me. Her drive and fire are cute, but the glint of a small medal charm lashed to her wrist with a worn leather band catches my eye. It’s a honeybee, my honeybee. The charm I gave her in exchange for her first kiss.
“What do you have for me, Winnie? How are you going to pay your parents’ debt?” I ask, sliding my thumb up to caress her bottom lip before I tug at the plump flesh. Goddamn, her perfect fucking mouth. I push my thumb between her lips, pulling her closer to me, shifting her off balance until her palms land solidly on the lapels of my signature Brioni suit jacket.
“Suck,” I command, searching her face.
Cold.
Distant.
I remind myself that this is just another transaction, but deep down I know that’s a lie. Nothing with Winnie could ever be boiled down to just a business deal; she’s had my heart firmly in grasp since I found her in the woods that very first time. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.
A thousand thoughts flit across her eyes in the matter of a heartbeat: anger, anxiety, interest. The only thing missing is desire.
Instead, I’m met with a touch of fear and a healthy dose of uncertainty before she finally gives and complies.
Fucking beautiful.
As her lips close around my thumb and her tongue hesitantly flicks at the tip, I twist my lips into a smirk. For the love of fucks, she is magnificent. Sweet and sultry, but all kinds of innocent girl next door. I could have so much fun playing with sweet little Winnie L’Ourson. Too bad she’s supposed to be just a means to an end.
She releases my thumb, leaving a slash of bright red that matches her creamy lips rings my digit, and she scrapes her teeth along the calloused skin.
I fight hard to suppress the shiver that runs down my spine at that show of rebellion and strength. Yeah, I think I’m going to have a little bit of fun with her before I’m done with her. The fight for power will be hot as hell, and I could use the distraction.
“What happened to you? You were so…so…”
I huff a laugh. “You were a child; you had no concept of what I was then. This is who I’ve always been. I was born into this shit.” I slide my hand to the back of her head, fingers twisting in her silky hair. I want to gather those golden locks into my fist and fuck those bee-stung lips until tears run down her face for real, because the tears glimmering in her eyes all day have been fake as fuck.
Even from a distance, I could see the way she fidgeted and shifted her weight, the way her gaze wandered during the service touching on everything but the shiny flower covered caskets holding the only family she had. Each time she glanced at her phone and sighed it was obviously from boredom. Winnie was not at all the mourning, devoted daughter and not a soul who knew the truth of the L’Ourson family would question that.
“You just saw a different version of me.” I invade what’s left of her personal bubble. “You got the watered down, politically correct version. Reality is much darker, scarier than the kid I was when I was with you. But this is it, Winnie. This is who I am. And I have a job to do, expectations now, that would make your head spin. And honeybee, you’re caught up in the middle of it all.
“Now, you’re going to have to pull up some of those fake tears you’ve had on the edge through this circus, and I’m going to console you and get us the fuck out of here so we can discuss the full situation, and how to get your debts cleared?—”
She pushes against me, curling her fingers around my lapels. Whether it’s her intent or not, she’s putting on a pretty good show for the handful of others loitering over the grave. “They are not my debts. My parents?—”
“Debts of the family, Winn. Consider it part of your inheritance. What was theirs is now yours and time is of the essence.” I pull her close, tucking her face tight to my chest, until there’s nothing but a breath of air between us. The scent of her perfume is intoxicating. Sweet and simple.
To anyone else, I’m sure this looks like nothing more than a tender moment—a heartfelt consolation of the grieved—but her proximity has my mind reeling. My head spinning.
I shake off the haze of her and lay out what’s about to happen. “You’re going to hold tight to me as we walk to my car. Then, when we’re tucked safely in the backseat, we’re going to discuss the terms of your repayment. Understand?”
Stress. Anxiety. Fear, or likely all of those combined have her standing rigid against me, her chest rises and falls with each shallow breath. And every single time she inhales and then lets that breath go, her tits brush against my suit jacket and I curse the layers between us.
“Do you understand me, Winnie?” I demand, allowing enough space for me to stare into her eyes.
Winnie reaches back and clings to Tru’s hand, steadying the tremble as fear and anxiety push her timid little friend toward the brink, but her sanity is not my concern.
“Yes.” The reply is small and almost as shaky as the hand she holds. “But Tru—she can’t drive. I have to take care of her. We’ll…we’ll follow you.”
I don’t know if she actually believes the lie spilling from her lips, maybe she really intends to follow through, but my father didn’t raise a fool.
Nope. And her friend is of no consequence to me right now.
“Teague,” I bark, knowing he’s close, waiting for orders. “Bring Winifred’s car and her little friend to the house. Set Miss Cochonette up in a guest suite.” I slide my hand into Winnie’s coat pocket, extracting her car keys. I toss them to Teague and latch onto Winnie’s wrist, tucking it securely around my elbow. “Miss L’Ourson will be coming with me.”
For every step I take, Winnie rushes through three, practically jogging to keep up with me as I approach the blacked-out town car.
I wave off my driver and open the back door, guiding Winnie in and following closely behind.
“Home,” I command sharply before hitting the button to raise the privacy screen. My driver may work for me, but he’s owned by my uncle, and I don’t doubt for a minute that anything of importance discussed in his presence will be reported to Alain Robicheaux at the first available opportunity. That’s a lesson I learned the hard way. I paid for my mistake once, I don’t plan on testing the veracity again.
“Christophe, please.”
The tremor in Winnie’s voice is delicious. I’m not a cruel man, considering my position within Le Milieu . But I’m unexpectedly enjoying everything about this little reunion.
“Not here,” I say for her ears alone.
The remainder of the ride is silent. Tension simmers in the lush comfort of my car, shifting and amping up each time Winnie glances out the rear window. It’s no mystery what she’s looking for, or who.
“Where’s—”
My hand darts out, fingers clenched around her throat as I cut off her question. “I said not here . I do not like having to repeat myself so not another word until I tell you. Understood?”
Her lips part, a response ready to tumble out. I turn and stare at her, my eyes narrowed, and even through the shield of my sunglasses Winnie gets the hint. She licks her lips and presses them closed, the bobbing of her throat as she swallows nervously slides against my palm.
Jesus fuck, it takes sheer will, pulling from deep down inside, to peel my fingers from her creamy skin. The rapidly fading handprint marking a necklace I can’t wait to see on her again.
The house comes into view moments before the car comes to a stop. I don’t bother waiting for the asshole up front to shift into park before I’ve got the door open and am dragging Winnie out with me. I need to make sure we’re alone before she opens her goddamn mouth, because if I have to shut her up again, I might be tempted to shove my dick in her mouth. Fucking plump red lips would look hot as shit wrapped around my favorite appendage.