Chapter 13 Saint
Saint
We washed as much blood from ourselves as we could on the boat and made sure every fucker on there was dead.
Lex found a storage closet with waiting staff uniforms, so we stole the clothes to cover our soiled garments. Vani looked so comical in a pair of the waiter’s pants that I’d almost laughed, but one glance at her ashen face dampened my humor.
The captain had moored the boat on a small slipway before all the chaos kicked off, so we got the fuck off there and hailed a cab. Now, we’re back at the fancy apartment, and we’re packing. Or rather, the other three are, and I’m about to call my father.
We’d taken care of Lex first. He didn’t have any bullet wounds, just a graze, but it will leave him with a scar. His arms were worse, and Vani carefully wiped them clean with alcohol wipes and applied gauze.
I’m worried sick about Vani. She’s had two blows to the head, but she insists she is fine.
She says she’s not woozy or sick and doesn’t want to go to the hospital.
After weighing the pros and cons of getting her medical care here, or getting her out of the country, we all decided the latter was the smarter move.
Unless someone is losing consciousness, has a violent headache, being sick, or is confused or dizzy, there’s no need to seek emergency care.
So here I am. About to call Daddy Dearest.
He’s going to fucking kill me. He’d told me and Lex not to return to Paris, and while I knew he had a long-standing war with another organized crime faction, I honestly thought most of it was so we’d be out of his hair, leaving him to play house with his latest fucking floozy.
I hope Vani is okay emotionally. She was a shaking mess when we got back here. She told us what that fucker did to her in the bathroom, but also what she did to him. My God, she’s a fucking tough cookie. She didn’t fall far from the apple tree, or whatever the saying is.
Pride lights me up inside. My little psycho. She understands me the way no one else does, except for my twin, and I think it’s because part of her is as insane as I am. She just hides it way better.
I grab the glass of vodka I’d poured earlier, take a big swig, the alcohol burning a path down my throat, and swipe the phone screen.
I can’t put this off any longer. Who knows who might be after us, and when the police find that crime scene, our prints will be all over it.
We need our father to cover that up for us, too.
And we need a private plane, like right now.
“Oui, Saint?”
His tone is disapproving before I’ve even begun to speak. Fuck it. I just need to tell him the unvarnished truth. If he refuses to help, we can afford to hire a private jet, I’d just rather use the family one. Fewer questions asked that way.
In French, I explain what has just happened.
“Wait, you’re in Paris?”
“Yes.”
“What the fuck?” he roars. “I told you not to come here. Why would you do something so dumb? Do you have security?”
I start to feel really stupid and ashamed. My father has a way of doing that to me. “No. I didn’t think anyone would know.”
How did they know?
“You didn’t take the private jet.” It’s not a question.
“No. We flew first class. I wanted to do this without telling you.”
“Why? So you didn’t have to come see me? Huh?”
It’s true, but I don’t admit that.
Instead, I tell a half truth. “I wanted to pay for it. It’s for a girl.”
“Oh, young love, huh?” He laughs bitterly. “Well, son, I hope you’ve learned two lessons. One is that flying commercial means you can be tracked, and two, showing off is the fastest way to getting killed.”
“Flying commercial is only dangerous if someone is actively looking for you.”
“You don’t think my enemies monitor flight manifests?”
I frown. “Father, that would take a fucking army of workers to monitor all the daily flights in and out of Paris to see if you or any of your family are on them.”
He sighs, and, when he speaks again, he sounds weary. “Son, you have no idea how dangerous our enemy is. I sent you and your brother away for that reason and that reason alone, not whatever ideas you have concocted.”
Fuck. Have we got him wrong? Maybe he’d be open to our relationship if we laid it all out for him.
He huffs out another frustrated breath. “You need to get out of this city, right now.”
“I know. Can we have the plane?”
“Yes, it will be fueled and ready within the hour. But not from Charles De Gaulle airport. You’ll need a car. It’s an hour’s drive west to a private airstrip. I’ll send one of my men to drive you, and two armed guards.”
Suddenly, for the first time in a very, very long time, I miss him.
Or maybe I miss the nostalgic memory of him from childhood.
The scent of cigars and rum. My father loves rum and drinks it neat when all the other mafia heads are sipping at whisky or brandy.
The way his short beard would prick my cheek when he kissed me goodnight.
All of that was before. Before he slept with so many women I lost count and palmed us off on nannies to raise us. Not only raise us, but to break in our virginity, too. My heart palpitates at the memory, and I push it away, preferring not to think about it.
I’m remembering all the reasons I hate him.
“Thank you,” I say, my voice sounding thick and foreign.
“Next time you do something this fucking stupid, you’re on your own. You and your brother would do well to remember I have other heirs now.”
And… there he is. The fucker I remember from more recent times.
“Yes, Father.”
“Call me when you’re back on American soil. Don’t come here again unless I send for you.”
I hang up. “Fuck you, Father. You piece of shit. You fucking cunt.”
“Wow, sounds like the call went well?”
I turn to see Lex in the doorway. “It did, actually. He’s sending a car, some men, and there will be a plane waiting at an airstrip, but he is a cunt.”
Lex sighs. “This was stupid of us. We should never have come.”
“Yeah, but we always believed him saying we were in danger was just his way of getting rid of us. He never told us how severe the threat was, or that there’s a bounty on our heads just for being his sons.
” Grief rips at the stitching of my already shattered heart.
“We can’t come back to France, Lex. Not unless the threat lessens.
We’re stuck over there, in that Godforsaken land. ”
Lex laughs at my dramatics. “America isn’t so bad, Saint. And we have Vani now. What do we have here? Really?”
“Food. Art. Fashion.”
“So? Go to fucking New York for the fashion, or to the French Quarter in New Orleans for the food and art. You can get everything you need in America. Come on. This is not like you.”
“It’s our home,” I say simply. “And we can’t come back, not for a long time.”
“Maybe. Or maybe our father will kill them all, or they’ll kill him? One way or another, we will be free to return one day, but you know what?”
I shake my head, because no, I don’t know.
“I don’t miss it all that much these days. I like the college. I like the stunning place it’s set. I like being with Vani. Scratch that, I love being with Vani. Zane is our brother now, too. The whole world is ours to take when we know what we want. We don’t need Paris, and we don’t need him.”
I smile, but it’s forced. Maybe he doesn’t understand, but this city will always have my heart. However, for Vani, I will make any sacrifice, and she must be kept safe, so leave, we must. I won’t be coming back until I know it’s secure.
The woman in question appears in the doorway, wearing her cashmere loungewear.
I offer her a reluctant smile. “I’m so sorry, Vani. I fucked up.”
She surprises me by rushing to me and hugging me tight. “Saint, you gave me the best gift ever.”
“But… you’ve been assaulted. Beaten. This has been hell.”
“Well, either the shock of it all is protecting me, or I have way more of my dad in me than I thought, because truly, I’m okay. You can’t say it hasn’t been a trip to remember.”
Lex and I stare at her for a long beat, then the three of us crack up. I laugh so hard, tears roll down my cheeks. Zane arrives at the foot of the stairs with his bags and looks at us all perplexed, which just sets us off again.
Finally, our laughter dies down, and we sit in the kitchen at the large breakfast bar, all nursing a drink of one sort or another. We sit like that until my father’s name lights up my phone. It’s a message telling me the car is outside.