Chapter Twenty-Seven Brother Mine
West
Six Years Ago
Paris, France
It should have been a momentous occasion, what with Michael’s new bundle of joy.
I never could have imagined my big brother with a kid.
Yet there he sat at the very front of the funeral hall, five-day-old baby fast asleep in his arms, newly widowed and somehow keeping it together.
I admired that about him. If the world was ever on the brink of collapse, he was the only man I knew who could hold down the fort.
But it broke my heart too. I was all too familiar with what it looked like to don a mask.
I hadn’t known his wife, Jacqueline, very well.
Being five years older, Michael left home well before I did.
Who knew what sorts of misadventures he got up to while I was stuck inside, counting the days until I could finally rejoin him.
He would visit often, sent lots of gifts and letters.
And when I finally turned eighteen, he was there to pick me up—alongside his gorgeous blonde girlfriend.
I never knew my brother had that kind of game.
Jacqueline was nice, though. Sweet. Had dreams of being a dancer, but ultimately made the pivot to teaching art.
I always thought she and Michael made an odd match, but that was the kind of shitty opinion you were supposed to keep to yourself.
So long as they were both happy, who was I to judge?
I was there when they eloped. I was there when they found out they were expecting.
They should have had a fairy-tale ending, not… this.
All I knew was that there had been complications.
Michael refused to tell me the details, and I didn’t dare push.
He may not have shed a tear, but I knew his was a silent pain.
The funeral had finished over an hour ago, and the other guests had already given their condolences and left, but Michael hadn’t moved from his spot.
I had no intention of leaving without him.
If he needed time, I wouldn’t be the one to rush him.
As if sensing her father’s grief, Jack—named in honor of her mother—had been nothing but an angel these past few days, rarely crying and sleeping easy.
“I can hold her, if you want,” I offered. “Get some fresh air. You look like you could use it.”
Michael glanced at me, arching a skeptical brow. “You? Hold a baby?”
“What’s the big deal? It’s just like holding a ball.”
“It isn’t.”
“I’m sure I’ll be fine for ten minutes.”
“Mathieu, I would not trust you to hold my daughter even if the floor were padded and you were dressed in a suit of pillows.”
“Your lack of faith in me is hurtful and you will buy me dinner to make up for it.”
Michael huffed. It wasn’t quite a laugh, but I still counted it as a win.
Cracking jokes, making a fool of myself for his sake…
it was the card I liked to play most if it meant I could make him feel even the slightest bit better.
Ease some of his stress. Poor bastard was only twenty-seven and already graying at the temples, though I would attest to being partially responsible.
It was no small test of patience, having me as a little brother.
“We can postpone the job tomorrow,” I said quietly, though in the still silence of the funeral home, it felt like the equivalent of a scream. “We’ll try again next month.”
“No,” he replied. “We’ve worked too hard and too long to get everything in place. This time tomorrow, we’ll be rich enough for as many fresh starts as we want.”
My skin tingled with excitement. Oh, how I had been dreaming of this day. For us, it was never about buying up mansions and showing off fast cars. Ever since we were kids, all we’d wanted was stability. Some peace of mind.
I remembered those long, terrible nights when Mother and Father would argue over the bills.
Which ones could they afford to pay next month?
Would they choose the rent over this week’s groceries?
They both worked two jobs to try to make ends meet, labeled by the more fortunate as “lazy” when they were, in fact, the hardest-working people I knew.
They worked themselves to the bone week after week, their paychecks going out as fast as they’d come in.
I understood the value of a dollar early, dreamed of the doors it could unlock.
I personally never agreed with the old adage that money couldn’t buy happiness.
Like hell it couldn’t. Happiness meant food in your belly, a roof over your head and the clothes on your back; all purchased with—surprise, surprise—money.
It was the whole reason why I started pickpocketing tourists to try to ease some of my parents’ burden.
Where was the harm? These people could clearly afford to travel, to spend freely along the Champs-élysées.
A fenced watch here and there wouldn’t harm anyone.
I didn’t steal for the thrill or because I thought it was cool.
Strict parents made excellent liars, and necessity made excellent thieves.
But we were older now, with far larger aspirations than merely scraping by. Or just surviving in a world that didn’t care if we slipped through the cracks. With this score, we would be set for life. And who better to take from than someone with more than enough to spare?
Michael eventually stood, baby Jack shielded in his arms, as though determined to protect her from all the terrible things in the world. “Let’s go home,” he said.
I followed without hesitation.
Michael assigned me not to one of the luxury suites Berruci owned but to a smaller stash house a few blocks from the Seine.
I moved in on the hour, hidden under the cover of night.
It was raining heavily, but that worked in my favor.
People weren’t keen to go for late night strolls when it was pouring, so the chances of running into any witnesses were as good as zero.
It took me all of thirty seconds to jimmy the lock on the door, and another thirty to climb the stairs two at a time to get to the upper floor. The money sat there on the table in the center of the room, wads of multicolored euros bundled together with paper bands. This was easy.
Maybe a little too easy.
Despite the tantalizing prize before me, I refused to move an inch.
Michael’s reports said I should expect to sneak around at least three guards, but they were nowhere in sight.
Between the flimsy lock, the cash laid out like a comical gallery display and the creeping sensation crawling up my neck, I knew something was wrong. But what?
An alarm blared, high and shrill, cutting through the frigid air. The flash of red-and-blue lights flooded in from outside on the street.
A setup.
Downstairs, the heavy thud of boots rapidly making their way up. There was no escape—or was there?
I dashed across the room, ignoring the table of money.
It was probably booby-trapped with ink packets or marked bills.
Making for the window, I shoved it open and dared to peek outside.
It was only the second floor, but it was a terrifying drop all the same.
I had no choice. I slipped through the opening, clinging to the ledge, my legs dangling beneath me.
I let go, landing awkwardly on my heels only to fall onto my back.
My shirt was soaked against the wet pavement, but at least I managed to keep from hitting my head.
With a groan, I rolled over and pulled myself to my feet.
I couldn’t feel anything other than the frantic beat of my heart.
Without thought and without hesitation, I ran as fast as my legs could carry me, my thoughts in utter disarray.
Were the others okay? How did Berruci know we were coming?
My phone buzzed in my pocket. A call from my brother.
“Are you okay?” I asked the moment I picked up. “The cops showed up. I don’t know what happened. I had to abandon the take and—”
“Cops showed up at my location too,” Michael replied in a rush. “Diana’s been arrested. I can’t get a hold of the others.”
“What the hell just happened?”
“I don’t know. I think we’ve been made.”
“Fuck—”
“Meet me at the rendezvous point. I’m going to get Jack.”
“What? Why?”
“If Berruci knows, he’ll be on us within the hour. We need to leave.”
It was a hastily slapped-together plan, and it showed.
We had a suitcase each. Passports were in our pockets. Michael had an extra duffel bag crammed full of diapers and baby clothes for Jack. There wasn’t any need for a visa to the United States from France, so it was just a matter of buying the tickets and getting the hell out of town.
I held my breath the entire time we were lined up for security. Once we were past the metal scanners, there was no way Berruci would be able to get his hands on us. We would be in the clear. All we had to do was make it through.
I could practically taste freedom, my skin buzzing with electricity. We were getting a fresh start, a new life. Granted, we didn’t have much money to our name, but better to be poor and free than dead and rich. The path before us was full of endless opportunities.
“Step out of line, please,” the security guard said to us just as we were about to slip out of our shoes and put them in the waiting plastic bins.
I tried my most relaxed smile. “Is there a problem?”
“You’ve both been selected for a random search.”
Michael and I exchanged a wary glance. No way. This was just a coincidence, that was all. A really poorly timed coincidence. Everything would go smoothly so long as we cooperated. Making a scene was only going to cause more trouble.
We were led to a sparse room adjacent to the security check with white walls and awful fluorescent panel lights. The security officer confiscated our passports.
“These will be returned to you,” he explained. “It’s our policy.”
“Can you tell us what this is about?” Michael asked. The security officer said nothing and left the room.
“It’s fine,” I said, trying to remain calm. “We’re fine.”
They kept us waiting there. Five minutes.
Ten. Thirty. As we encroached on the hour, my skin started to crawl.
My knee bounced, my fingers tapping against the metal table that was bolted to the floor.
Beside me, Michael was perfectly still, other than patting Jack on the back rhythmically in a soothing pattern.
He could sense, just as I could, that things were most certainly not fine.
Cold, harsh dread washed over me the second Berruci stepped in through the door.
“How?” I asked in disbelief. “How the hell did you—”
“Everyone can be bought for the right price,” he said, taking a seat across from us like he owned the place. For all I knew, maybe he did. Berruci strummed his fingers against the table, letting us stew in our own uncomfortable silence. “You thought you could take from me, did you?”
I swallowed. “We’re—”
“Sorry?” he interjected. “Don’t make me laugh.”
“What do you want?” Michael asked.
Berruci leaned back in his seat. “What else are you supposed to do with rats? You exterminate them.”
The room spun. I was going to be sick. How did this all go so terribly wrong?
“Please,” I murmured. “There has to be something we can do.”
Berruci stroked his chin, his eyes closed as though in thought. “Alright,” he said eventually. “Here’s what’s going to happen, gentlemen. I’m going to let one of you leave.”
I blinked at him stupidly, barely able to understand past the rush of blood in my ears. “One of us?”
“I can’t let you both go without a slap on the wrist. That wouldn’t send a very good message.
” Berruci leaned back in his chair. “I’m going to see this as a business opportunity.
My enterprises have been raking in more money than we can spend, and I need a handful of offshore accounts to spread things around.
Create a messy paper trail. You know the drill.
Since you’re headed to—America, was it?—you may as well do me a favor since you’re so determined to leave. ”
“We can open accounts,” Michael said hastily. “Not a problem.”
Berruci shook his head. “It’s more of a one-man kind of a job.”
I knew for a fact it wasn’t; it never hurt to have several mule accounts at once. Berruci was being obtuse on purpose. Nobody crossed him without facing consequences.
Baby Jack stirred in Michael’s arms, her uncomfortable whimpers breaking into an all-out cry. My brother did his best to soothe her, rocking her back and forth, shushing her gently, but nothing seemed to work.
My heart raced. I wasn’t sure what Berruci had planned for the person who stayed behind, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to let Michael take the fall.
Jack needed him. They could start a new life together in the States.
I wasn’t going to separate a father from his daughter.
I would rather face Berruci’s wrath than let it come to that.
“I’ll stay,” Michael said before I had a chance.
No, I wanted to scream, but my voice died in my throat. “Michael—”
“Perfect,” Berruci said. “I can appreciate a man of action.”
I gripped my brother’s shoulder. “Don’t be an idiot. She needs you.”
Michael hugged Jack closer to his chest. “You two are the most important people left in my life. I’m not going to let anything happen to either of you.”
“Can’t we at least talk about this?”
“There’s nothing to talk about.” Michael moved to place Jack in my arms. “Take the baby.”
I shook my head. “No.”
“Mathieu.” There was a terrible tremble of finality in his tone, as he transferred the baby to me in a rush. “Take care of her. Please.”
I was wrong before: holding a child was nothing like holding a ball. I was terrified, not of her, but that I would accidentally be too rough. She was so small and delicate and precious. How could Michael be sure I wouldn’t fuck this all up?
“There’s a car waiting for us outside,” Berruci said to Michael. “I hope you’re smart enough to come quietly.”
Michael set his jaw. “Yes, sir.” He stood up from the table, bending over to press a kiss to the top of Jack’s head before pressing his forehead to mine. “Stay out of trouble. I love you, little brother.”
“Wait—” I pleaded.
Berruci and Michael left the room together, a metaphorical gun to my brother’s head.
Jack continued to cry hard enough for the both of us.