Page 32 of Into the Woods

“You good, boss?” Teague stalks into my office and lowers himself into the chair opposite my desk.

When I don’t answer, he tears his gaze from the screen of his phone and glances up at me. On my screen, Winnie pulls the curtains closed and leaves her sitting room. I want to follow her into her room, watch her strip off the day and slide between her sheets, but I don’t need Teague’s eyes on her like that. I’m the only one with access to the camera in her room. I plan on keeping it that way.

I had Teague pull her friend from her bed and take her back to her own suites so my men could work. I didn’t like not being able to see Winnie last night. I stole down to her room in the middle of the night, just for another glimpse of her.

“Boss?”

I push the air from my lungs and glance out the window. “What did Alain say to you when he left tonight?”

A laugh huffs from him, though I’m fairly certain there’s no humor behind it. “He asked me what I knew about the drug issue. Wanted to know what Henri still owed.” I don’t like the sound of that or where this might be going. “He wanted to know what your plans were going forward to clear that account.”

This is exactly what I was afraid of. And once Alain scents blood, there’s no deterring him.

“And?”

Teague’s expression turns hard and he shifts uncomfortably. Resting his elbow on the arm of the chair, he rubs his palm down his face and huffs out a sharp breath. “He asked if there would be two girls up on the auction block, if it was a buy one, get one free deal.” His grip on his phone is tight enough to make his knuckles turn white. I wouldn’t be surprised if the case yields under the pressure.

My pulse races, thundering through my veins. My head pounds at the added pressure. I don’t know what I wanted to hear, but that was not it. “Jesus.”

“Yeah.” Another huff from Teague and then he bites out, “Not happening.”

His obsession with thepetite femme tranquilleisn’t something I understand, but I don’t need to. He feels the way he feels and has held her close since we picked the girls up from the cemetery, but my gut tells me whatever is going on between them is rooted in history far deeper than what the past handful of days could hold.

Silence swirls thick between us.

At no point since pressing the plungers on her parents did I think any old feelings would resurface toward Winnie. I really thought my anger would sustain me. The vulnerability those feelings expose is concerning.

Alain thrives off the suffering of others, doesn’t matter who they are, how long he’s known them or whether they’re relatives. If he smells a hint of fear or the possibility of it, he’s going to pop his proverbial popcorn and sit back to enjoy the show.

I want to believe that I was able to shield Winnie at dinner, but I know better.

He took notice.

Of her.

Of me.

Of the way I kept hold of her.

And now he wants both of the girls. Greedy fucking bastard.

“Christophe,” Teague says, his voice low as if the walls have ears.

They have in the past but, aside from my driver whom Alain insists on remaining in my service, I cleared house. The only men I have on my team and in my employ are those I trust.

I meet his dark gaze.

“She is not to be touched. I won’t stand for it. If that’s going to be a problem, tell me now. I’ll send her away where no one can find her.” He’s unnaturally still, like a big lethal cat waiting to pounce. “Give me time to make the arrangements, and then I’m yours. You know this, yeah? I’ve got your six and will do whatever you need me to, but let me make her safe.”

I flex my jaw, the muscles bouncing with each hard grind of my teeth, and offer him a tight nod. “Do what you have to do. Put your mind at ease, but in two days we have a show to put on.”

Alain won’t wait any longer than that for his cash.

The wheels are already in motion and the invitations have been issued. Plans are well underway and there is no turning back now. Not that that was ever really an option, but time and distance have a habit of fucking with a person’s memories.

And to say I’ve been fucked is like stating that water is wet.

“And you? What are you going to do about his”—he tilts his head from side to side, searching for the right word—“interest?”

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