9. Debacle
Chapter 9
Debacle
Christophe
twenty-two years old
Frustrated and annoyed that it took as long as it did to get back there, I was impatient as fuck to finally arrive. I wanted to bypass the house and go straight out to find Winnie, whether that was at her house or in the woods, I didn’t know. I didn’t care. I just knew I had to see her.
Four years was way too long to go without seeing her in person, making sure she was still there and was okay. Or at least as okay as she could’ve been.
“Stop here and let me out,” I told my driver. “I want to walk through the woods, stretch my legs before meeting with Oncle .”
The man was assigned to me by my uncle after my parents died. Uncle Alain said it was to keep me safe, said it was a combined position of driver and bodyguard.
I thought it was overkill and a pain in the ass.
“I’m afraid I can’t do that. My orders are to bring you straight to the estate.”
I didn’t doubt that for a minute, but I wasn’t happy. I’d been gone for what felt like forever and the only tie I’d had to Winnie was my college roommate, Teague, who’d checked in on her when I couldn’t. And I didn’t like the things I’d heard recently.
The car stopped in the circle drive outside my uncle’s estate, and I stepped out without waiting for the driver to get my door. I knew it bothered my uncle when I did shit like that, so in turn, it bothered the fucking driver because Uncle Alain believed strongly in shit rolling downhill.
I strode through the foyer waving off the butler and stalked into the study not waiting for an invitation. Le Milieu , and all of its holdings, was supposed to be mine.
Uncle Alain kept control way beyond what was necessary. At the time, I was thankful he’d stepped in so I could go to college and have that bit of normalcy in the throes of chaos, but I was ready to take my place.
“ Oncle , I?—”
He immediately cut me off. “Christo, sit. I’ll be with you shortly.”
Dismissed.
That was the way he’d been treating me since he stepped into my father’s shoes. Talking down to me, pushing me to the side when he should be teaching me, showing me the ropes. Setting me up to take the role my father had told me would be mine.
He turned away from me mumbling in the wild mix of French and English he liked to use in order to keep me in the dark. I hated it. Had I had longer with my parents, I’d have been able to decipher his words a whole lot easier, but they’d been ripped away from me way before I was ready, and college French somehow didn’t cover the colloquialisms that were rife in Le Milieu .
I lowered my gaze, shutting out as many distractions as possible and concentrated on the rapid-fire exchange. Bits and pieces filtered through, and I silently translated, filing them away: Henri, debt, the girl. Apparently, that specific girl was special, but when it came to my uncle, they were either special or not worth the dirt on the bottom of his shoe.
“Now, Christophe,” he barked, startling me out of my thoughts. “I need you to go to the Honey Pot and collect the cash.”
My brows jumped. “You want me to do that? You have people to handle the drops.” It was an insult, a slap in the face to send me on his shitty errands like that. “I’m here to start the transition, Oncle , not to do grunt work.”
His fist landed with a thud on the surface of his desk, and he sneered at me. “You’re too good to do the little things, you don’t deserve to learn the big.” Again with the condescension.
It wasn’t like I hadn’t been running with the beaux voyous during my breaks from college. I was graduated now, ready for more. But it was day one. I’d do what he wanted first, prove once again, that I was capable, and then work my way in.
I shook my head and stood, buttoning my suit jacket as I stalked for the door. “I’ll do the drop. Get the cash. But after, we talk.”
He graced me with a very French shrug, one that was haughty and dismissive all at once.
Whatever. He wouldn’t be able to avoid me any longer. I was there now, no other obligations, prepared to take my place in the organization. And maybe—hopefully—I’d find Winnie and see for myself that she was okay.
The town car stopped in the side alley next to the club run by Henri and Claudette L’Ourson. The Honey Pot was on the seedy side, offering just about any vice a person could want. Booze, drugs, and women. Card games in the basement, and private rooms in the back that had seen more jizz than a sperm bank.
We owned much nicer clubs, cleaner with higher class, wealthier clientele. But for some reason, Uncle Alain was obsessed with that shit hole. The why had always baffled me.
When I stepped out of the car, the stench of piss and vomit hit me, curling my lip in disgust. One of the first things I’d do when I took full control would be to board that place up, burn it to the ground. I hated that Winnie’s parents were the ones who’d been running it. That they were the ones who made it the sleazy mess that it was. Thank Jesus, they hadn’t dragged her in.
The inside wasn’t any better than the exterior and I made damn sure not to touch anything as I made my way to the office. Not a door, not a wall, nothing.
The office was empty, and while it would’ve been a major power move to make myself comfortable behind the desk, I didn’t want to touch any of those surfaces either. I didn’t want to think about the things that likely happened in that chair and on the desk, the DNA lodged in the crevices and soaked into the seams.
The rumble of pissed-off voices mixed with pounding feet preceded the thin, wiry ghost of a man that was Henri L’Ourson.
“What the fuck are you doing leaving strangers in my office without a man watching?” His voice was as high as he generally was, brimming with misplaced authority and false confidence.
Once he’d paused long enough for it to register just exactly who’d been left unattended in his office, his steps stuttered to a halt. His eyes shifted, darting around the dingy room as if he was looking for another body.
Uncle Alain had given no indication that there would be anyone else here; it was a simple cash exchange. If he’d thought anything odd might have been going down, he’d have sent me with some of his men.
“You’re alone.” It wasn’t a question, but there was surprise behind the statement.
“I just need to collect the deposit, and then I’ll be out of here.” It took serious work not to tell him just how vile his establishment was.
Henri slunk behind the desk, his goon following close behind. Fool left me an easy way out. Not that I planned on needing an escape, but the lack of physical security displayed blew my mind. It was something I’d need to fix sooner as opposed to later.
A fine sheen of sweat glistened at Henri’s temple as he pasted a tense smile on his face. “I… You’re not who I expected. Give me a minute, let me go and uh, make sure we’ve got enou—” He caught himself, but it was obvious he was scraping the bottom of the barrels to make the payment.
Shaking his head, he glanced at the screen of his computer. His eyes went wide and he mumbled an apology before hoofing it out of the office.
Whatever he’d seen spooked him.
Curiosity got me and I rounded the desk. The security camera at the back of the club showed a man talking to my driver. Off to the side stood a girl in her mid-teens awkwardly shifting from one foot to the other. She was nervous, and she should’ve been. Nothing good happened in the alley behind the Honey Pot and she was way too fucking young to be standing there with those two men.
Henri shoved through the back door as the man handed a folded wad of cash toward the girl as he wrapped his meaty hand around her upper arm. It wasn’t a protective gesture but a controlling one. Henri swiped the cash from the girl’s hand and as she spun I got a good look at just how young she was, how pissed she was at him.
I watch as she argued with Henri, hands flying in the air as if she was trying to make a point. What I saw when she turned to fully face the camera had my blood running cold.
Winnie L’Ourson was standing behind the shittiest strip club in town exchanging cash for God knew what. And her father, her fucking father, was facilitating the entire thing.
My molars ground as I watched the three men argue over what I could only hope was a huge misunderstanding and not the sale of a young girl. But I knew better. The only thing that kept me from storming through the club to rectify the situation was seeing Winnie stalk off and climb into the car at the end of the alley, her best friend, Tru, behind the wheel. Tru boldly flipped the men off as she peeled away, hopefully stealing Winnie away to safety.
My driver got back into the car as the man argued with Henri, obviously demanding his money back. He reared back to swing before Henri’s man stepped in and caught the man’s fist twisting it behind his back and shoving him against the trunk of the town car.
I counted the minutes until Henri reentered the office, shoving what looked a lot like that same wad of cash into a duffle before he handed it to me.
“What the fuck was that?” I asked still standing behind the desk.
Henri glanced from the monitor to a spot on the wall behind me. “Just a last minute transaction to pad the deposit. Nothing for you to concern yourself with.”
“Oh, I’m concerned, Henri. You selling underage girls in broad daylight?” Time of day didn’t bother me; the age of the girl was an issue. The specific girl he was trying to sell was a big fucking problem, but I wasn’t ready to lay down my cards just then.
He scoffed as if none of that was reason to be concerned. “My daughter is my business. It’s more than time to bring her into the family business, start earning her keep.”
My vision went hazy with thoughts of murder. “What?”
He shrugged. He fucking shrugged as if she meant nothing to him. “She’s been doing drops for me for a while, but she’s worth some serious money now. It’s about time to bring her in to work with Claudette’s girls.”
“Who was that out in the alley with her?” I needed a name so I could make sure he knew that she was untouchable.
“Paulo? One of the Italian’s men. Likes ’em young but not inexperienced, you know? Likes the illusion that he’s showing them the ropes without the bother of having to truly break them in.” He turned and slunk away down the dark hallway, disappearing before I could put my fist through his face.
I searched the main room, down a handful of hallways and into rooms I’d never had any desire to visit, but Henri was nowhere to be found. Not that he was going to tell me anything good or honor any promise I might have been able to squeeze out of him. He wasn’t an honorable man.
Instead, I returned to the car, tossing the duffle into the backseat and climbing in after. I grabbed my phone and hit Teague’s number.
“I thought you said she was safe,” I barked in lieu of a greeting.
“She is. I just checked in on her last week,” he replied.
“Yeah? Well, I just saw her doing a deal for her old man and that fucker is getting ready to put her out there on the market.”
“Christophe, I swear to God?—”
“Hold on.” I dropped the phone to the seat next to me and directed my driver, “Pull over.”
I pushed out of the car and was on the guy from the alley in a matter of seconds. I’d assumed he’d gotten in a car and took off after Henri dismissed him, but there that fucker was walking down the street like he didn’t have a care in the world.
Blood flew from his lip as he stumbled back from the impact of my fist. Before he had a chance to recover, I had him tucked away around the side of a building, my hand at his throat holding him in place.
“We have a fucking problem, Paulo.” I said it conversationally, like we’d known each other for ages. Like we were equals, when we were decidedly not.
“What problem? We got no problems, man. I don’t got a problem with you,” he said, his words rasping across the palm of my hand.
I looked down at him and squeezed cutting off the rest of his bullshit. “The girl in the alley. That’s where our problem lies, my friend, with the L’Ourson girl. She is absolutely off limits, understand?”
“The little bitch? She owes me?—”
I squeezed again. “She owes you nothing. You have a problem with what went down back there, you take it up with her father. If I hear of you messing with her again, this problem between us is going to come to a head, and I promise, that’s not something you want to be a part of, comprenez-vous ?”
“I just want my money back. I deserve?—”
Yep, I cut him off again, but that time with my fists until he slumped to the pavement. “This is what you deserve, nothing else. And if I find out that you or anyone touches that girl, I will hunt you down and kill you. You put the word out that she’s not to be touched. You make sure the rest of the shit like you knows the score.”
I pulled my pocket square free and wiped the blood from my knuckles.