23. Disaster
Chapter 23
Disaster
Christophe
Voices filter up from the entryway, pulling me from what might be the best sleep I’ve ever had. I pinch my eyes closed and bury my nose in Winnie’s hair, relishing her warm scent, breathing her in.
I want to stay right here, maybe roll her to her back and wake her up with my tongue between her legs. Her moans, the way she gasps my name, are the sweetest sound. I’m sure she’s sore, so a kiss would certainly be more welcome than my dick. For now.
No matter how hard I try to shut out the intrusion, the argument drifting up to my suite is growing louder, more demanding. If whoever the fuck is down there with Teague ends up waking my honeybee, there will be hell to pay.
I ease myself out of the bed, careful not to wake Winnie, and pull on a pair of navy-blue joggers before taking the stairs down to the main level.
It’s fucking mayhem.
“What the fuck happened to not disturbing us? You couldn’t make a full night,” I spit out as my feet hit the cold marble of the entryway. “Who’s going to step up and take care of shit when I steal Winnie for our honeymoon? This better be big.”
Teague’s eyes widen as he blinks back his misplaced surprise. He’s a fool if he thinks I’m not going to make that woman my wife and an even bigger fool if he doesn’t think I’m going to take her away, show her the world that exists outside the hundreds of acres of woods.
She’s never left and it’s time she experiences all that there is in the world.
I will absolutely tie her to me, but I’ll make sure she never wants for anything.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Robicheaux. This is my fault, but I…you said if I ever needed your help… Sir, it’s my mom.” Anguish paints the kid’s face—teen, really. He’s got to be close to sixteen now and his shit show of a mother has been nothing but a drain on him dragging him down with her. Making his life harder than any parent has a right to. Until now, I’ve been too busy to consider the possibility that she might be even worse than Winnie’s parents were.
Feels like a theme. It seems like I’m collecting orphans. But my favorite one is upstairs naked in my bed. All I want is to crawl back between the sheets, wake her up with my tongue, and hear my name on her lips again.
“Where is she, Roux? What’d she do this time?” I ask.
Roux’s shoulders shake as he sucks a deep breath into his lungs. His words rush out on the exhale. “She’s…she’s home now, but it’s bad. Her skin is clammy, it’s gray. She’s fuckin’ gray, Mr. R, gray. Her eyes kept rollin’ back in her head and I-I-I wasn’t sure if she was breathin’. It’s bad, sir. Really fuckin’ bad. I don’t know what to do.”
“You call an ambulance?” Teague questions.
Roux whips his head around, eyes wide and trembling from his head to the beat-to-shit soles of his shoes. “I… But… Last time?—”
Christ, last time Kanga overdosed, the kid did call 9-1-1 and when the ambulance took his mother away, he was thrown into the system. Nothing like a half wild teenage boy getting slapped into foster care. He was placed with the worst of the worst. I could only imagine the shit that happened to him there.
“Relax. Stay right there,” I tell him. “Teague, a word.” I tilt my head toward my office.
The minute I’m through the door, I go straight to my auxiliary closet and pull out a crisp white shirt and black suit. I talk as I dress.
“We need to go get her. Call Hibou and let him know we’re bringing Kanga in for detox. Have a room prepared for the kid and tell someone to fucking feed him, he looks like he’s half starved. His mother obviously hasn’t been worried about making sure he’s got what he needs.” More similarities layer on top of my orphan collection theme.
How many times did I step in for Winnie when she needed something?
When she was hungry and her parents were nowhere to be found.
When her shoes were falling apart, clothes were far too small or threadbare.
I was the one to step in, make shit happen for her. But the motivation there was purely selfish. I wanted to save her from the first time I met her in the woods and as I watched her grow into a woman, I wanted to keep her for my own.
“Will do. And then?”
I shrug my jacket on and turn. “Then we go get the crazy bitch. I’m going to check on Winnie and when we get back, nothing. Not a fucking thing, no interruptions, hear me?”
Maybe he responds, maybe I just don’t give a fuck to listen because I push past him and take the stairs two at a time, eager to get to Winnie even if I just have to walk right back out of the room.
It took no time at all for me to get addicted. To her sounds. To her sexiness. To her sweet, sweet honey.
She makes me lose my mind.
On silent feet, I step into my suite. The last thing I want to do is wake her unnecessarily. She needs her sleep to rest up for all the ways I want to take her, love her. Show her that she owns me. I want to mark this girl so the entire fucking world knows she’s mine.
Hair stands on the back of my neck as I approach the bed. An icy chill skates down my spine pooling in my gut as dread spreads through me.
She’s gone.
My honeybee is fucking gone.
Glass crunches under my shoes as I tear through the rooms—bathroom, sitting room, even the goddamn closet is empty. I hit the switch and bathe my bedroom in the dim glow of lights intended to set a romantic mood or encourage calm. I feel anything but as I take in the rumpled bedding strewn across the floor, and streaks of blood leading out the French doors to the balcony.
She’s not just gone, she’s been taken.
Someone put their hands on her.
Someone touched her.
Saw her naked body.
And the blood.
Whoever fucking has my woman better be the one bleeding because if they deigned to spill a single drop of hers, the fear she’s surely feeling right now, will come back on them ten-fold.
I will burn the fucking world down for her.
“Teague!” My voice echoes down the stairwell all but rattling the windows and setting the light fixtures swinging.
I hit the entryway seconds before Teague enters, hand on his Glock, ready tension rolling off of him. Good. He’s going to need that. I scan the room for Roux and come up empty.
“Where’s the kid?”
“Boss?”
“Where’s the fucking kid, T?”
“I don’t know; he was right here. What’s going on?” He follows me into my office with a quick, fruitless glance into each room on the way.
“Winnie’s gone.”
“You think she might’ve tried to leave again? Decided she didn’t want this?” He waves his hand around and I briefly consider shooting the fucking thing off his wrist.
“She was taken,” I yell, anger fighting for space with the calm I need in order to plan our next move. “The window was smashed and there’s sign of struggle.” I shed the suit I just donned and grab black tactical gear suiting up as Teague finally follows my lead. “There’s a trail of blood.”
“Blood? You think the kid had something to do with it?” He pulls open the weapons panel and starts assembling a broad selection of gear and ammunition. “How many?” Teague asks as he pulls his phone from his pocket.
I pick up the lone, out of place paper sitting in the middle of my pristine desk. The message scrawled across it in sloppy, almost childlike writing makes my blood run cold.
I didn’t have a choice. They’re gonna kill my mom, man. But your girl is at the Parrain’s house. Your driver gave you up.
-R
“Call them all in. We need every single one of our men.”
Teague pauses. “All of them?”
“Every last one. Extraction protocol, tactical ready and give them Alain’s address. He has her.” I go through the motions of checking weapons and strapping up. “I don’t care what it takes, we’re getting her back. I just got her, finally got my fucking honeybee, I’m not letting go.”
“Jesus. And Alain? His men?” My best friend and closest confidant is in go-mode, striding out the door as he waits for final instructions.
“Take them out. Anyone who had a part in this shit gets a fucking bullet to the head. I want pictures, proof of death, whatever.” I stride toward the garage, ice in my veins, ready to find my woman and bring her back to me.
“You don’t want the honor?” Teague calls after me.
I don’t hesitate in my response. “He doesn’t deserve honor. Dead is dead and the sooner his black soul has left his body, the better for all of us.” Maybe I should feel something—some kind of regret, sadness—since he’s been my only family for the past several years, but I can’t. Not now when he has Winnie. He took her from me and for that he has to pay.
Teague’s gaze meets mine and holds for a beat before he gives me a tight nod. His voice echoes through the house as he moves toward the guest suites. “Garrick! Mounting up. You’re here—get shit ready to receive and triage.”
With that, he disappears from my sight, and I take off to find Winnie.
It’s been a long time since I’ve been right with God, but I don’t let that hold me back now. Bygones, and all that.
Please God, keep Winnie safe and free of any further harm.
And rain hell on those who have lain hands on her with malice in their hearts.