Chapter 25
Lincoln
“You’re leaving again? Already?” Pierre scolds me, having followed me down to the basement as soon he got out of bed.
I nod, sheathing my hunting knife and stuffing it into my bag. “You should have seen her, Pierre. I can’t even imagine what
those sick fucks did to her.”
He frowns. “The girl you rescued?”
I’ve rescued hundreds of these girls and women over the years, so why am I still haunted by this last one? Is it because Leah
saved my life, or because the carnage we survived created a connection between us—the kind I don’t usually establish with
the women I rescue—and because of that, she shared a small piece of herself with me. Or maybe I’m haunted by what I did last
night to the woman upstairs in my guest room. A line I promised myself I would never cross. But I’m not going to admit that
to Pierre. “Her name is Leah, and yes.”
He folds his arms across his chest. “The same as they have done to them all, I imagine, mon ami. Why does this one have you so rattled? So desperate to leave again? Have you found out where another is being kept?”
“No.” I swallow down my anger because he doesn’t deserve it.
“But I . . . Fuck!” I roar the word and he flinches.
“I should have saved every last fucking one of them, Pierre. What about all the women that are still out there, suffering and in pain? I should have shut down that fucking auction instead of . . .”
“Instead of what, sir?”
My anger explodes out of me. “Instead of fucking participating in it.”
He shakes his head. “And how exactly would you have done that? You are one man, Lincoln. Two with Edgar, but even together,
and even with his contacts, you are not enough to take down a Brotherhood army. You would have only gotten yourself killed,
and then what would have happened to Imogen? She would have been sold like cattle and there would be nobody to save her.”
Imogen? Her name alone fills me with shame and desire, and the thought of what would have happened to her had I not intervened
almost makes my legs buckle. If I hadn’t bought her, she’d be somewhere out there now, broken and abused just like Leah. An
indescribable rage burns through every fiber of my being.
Pierre rests his hands on either side of my face. “You cannot save them all, mon ami.”
“But I should, Pierre.”
He nods. “I know, and I also know you well enough to know that you do all you can. It is not enough, but it never will be.
There can never be enough good done to undo all their wrongs. But that does not mean you stop trying, or that you stop fighting
for the ones you can save, does it?”
I drop my head, knowing he’s right, but unable to rectify that truth with how inadequate I feel.
“So stay here and continue with the search the best way you can.”
I wrench my head from his gentle grip. “No. I have to go.” We both have our demons, and he knows better than anyone how I
like to exorcise mine.
“So once again, I’m left to babysit the child?” he grumbles. “It’s not enough that I’m your butler, now I’m a glorified babysitter too?”
He drops into the chair with a sigh, cursing in French under his breath.
“She’s not a child,” I snap before walking into my armory room to select some weapons for my trip.
Pierre hurries after me. “You have had sex with her, haven’t you?” he scoffs in amusement. “That is why you are running away.”
I hate that he knows me so well. “I didn’t have sex with her,” I growl through gritted teeth.
“Then what? Something happened? Because you only got home last night, and I don’t need my sight to be able to see the tension
between the two of you, Lincoln.”
I ignore him and select a set of titanium knuckle-dusters from a rack.
“Lincoln!”
“Something happened, okay!” I snarl. “I touched her but we didn’t have sex.”
He frowns. “So?”
“So what? You fucking know, Pierre.”
“Vie de merde!” He slaps his forehead and storms back out into the control room.
My stupidity makes me follow him. “What does that mean?”
“Fuck my life,” he replies deadpan.
I growl. “I know what your French curses mean, Pierre. Why are you saying it?”
“Because you are exhausting, mon ami. You constantly beat yourself up over something you have no control over. And you refuse to allow yourself any kind of happiness
because you are sure you do not deserve it. If you and the girl like each other, which is blatantly obvious to even a blind
man!” He waves his hand in front of his eyes. “Then what is the problem?”
“She’s—” I don’t even finish the sentence. He knows who she is.
“You have not been a part of her life since she was a small child. She is a woman now, and not the little girl you once knew.”
“I fucking bought her, Pierre.”
“Oui!” He nods. “But you did so to save her from a life of pain and degradation. She is more free here than she’s likely ever been
in her life. And she is falling in love with you.”
I grind my jaw. “If that’s true, then she’s falling in love with an illusion.”
He shakes his head. “Imbécile!”
“I’m trying to do the right thing,” I bark. How can he not fucking see that?
“By running away when things get too uncomfortable for you to handle? But it is okay, non? Because Pierre is here to pick up the pieces . . . to babysit . . . to buttle . . .” He sinks back in his chair again and
drops his head into his hands.
I’ve been too blinded to my own misery to see how difficult it might have been for him to have her here, reminding him of
all he lost. His daughter, Francesca, would be twenty-eight now. Not that much older than Imogen. He should have watched her
graduate college, maybe be preparing to walk her down the aisle, or bouncing some grandbabies on his knee. Instead he’s stuck
here in this place with me, and now he’s guiding Imogen through this whole fucked-up mess in the best way he knows how. While
he has always been fully on board with my mission against the Brotherhood, he never agreed to do any of that other stuff.
I perch on the desk beside him and place a comforting hand on his shoulder. “You’re not my butler, a babysitter, or my servant,
Pierre. I have never asked you to be any of those things.”
“How else would I keep myself from going crazy?” he mutters.
“You are my friend though, and I’m sorry if her being here brings up any bad memories for you.”
He lifts his head and wipes a tear from his eyes. “The problem is she reminds me of too many good memories.” He offers a faint
smile. “She is a very smart and sweet girl. Resilient too.”
“She is all that.” And so much fucking more. “I’m sorry that I put this on you. I know you never signed up for this.”
“I signed up for all of it. Whatever it takes, remember?” He holds up his gnarled hands. “I only wish I could be more use.”
I stare at his hands. Once the instruments of an incredibly skilled surgeon. The Brotherhood took that from him when they
crushed every bone in them after he saved someone they thought he shouldn’t. Then they made him watch while they raped and
murdered his wife and child before they took his eyes, ensuring it would be the last thing he ever saw. I found him shortly
after and he swore a lifetime of service to my cause—revenge.
I only wish he could have seen what I did to the sick fucks who hurt his family. He heard though. He listened to their screams
for days, begging me to prolong their agony for as long as they could stand. I was happy to oblige. “I would probably starve
without your cooking. And besides, you have more than paid your debt to me, Pierre.”
He sniffs. “Well, that is debatable. I will forever be in your debt. And I actually like the babysitting part. We’ve been
working our way through the Marvel movies, and she is also becoming a Bruce Springsteen fan.”
That makes me smile. I like that they both have each other for company. And watching their bond develop while painful in some
ways, because it is richer and deeper than the one I have with her, is still beautiful to witness. I enjoy seeing the two
people I care most about in the whole world finding comfort and happiness in each other. “I figured as much, old man. I’ve
never seen you so happy.”
He scoffs. “I wouldn’t say happy exactly. But she gives me a reason to smile.”
Yeah, me too. And I took advantage of her in the worst fucking way.
Sensing my emotion the way he so easily can, he sighs. “The guilt will kill you one day.” He stands and places a comforting
hand on my arm. “It is time to let it go.”
He walks out of the room, leaving me to wallow. Although I can acknowledge the truth in his words, I can’t let it go. Not
any of it. Not until the Brotherhood are wiped from existence. And to do that I need to find their King.
It’s a little after 6:00 a.m. when I’m ready to leave, and if she’s awake, she’s not out of bed yet. I step into the garden,
and even out here, all I’m reminded of is her. Especially out here. The place she enjoys spending so much time and the place
where she shines with happiness. The scent of wildflowers and jasmine will always remind me of her smile.
Carefully, I place the parcel on the table, tied with a purple ribbon and I imagine the delight and surprise on her face when
she opens it. It’s almost enough to make me stay.
Almost.