Page 8 of Into the Woods

Chapter 4

Debts

Christophe

Winifred L’Ourson.

Of all the fucking people I have to come down hard on, or take out and potentially unalive, it has to be Winnie. What are the fucking odds?

I haven’t seen her in, Jesus, has it been ten years? A decade since I stole her first kiss and then turned and walked away, not knowing it was the last time I’d see her like that.

Itshouldhave been the last time I saw her, but it’s not like I’d planned on…well, this. Though, I doubt she thought she’d be standing over her worthless parents’ bodies at twenty-two, staring into the eyes of her worst nightmare, but here we fucking are.

Once upon a time, and a long fucking time ago, I thought I could save her, that I could steal her away and protect her. Give her something better, something akin to security. Thought maybe we could eventually be together and find a way to be happy. Thought I knew my place within my family. ThoughtI could make her mine and we’d ultimately ruleLe Milieutogether.

That pipe dream couldn’t have been further from reality.

Instead, it’s been a decade since I’ve gazed into Winnie’s soft brown eyes, even longer since I’ve seen her friend. Not that the town’s tragic psycho is seen walking around town on any given day. Nope, Tru has been hidden away and protected by Winnie for a long ass time. But I wasn’t interested in where she was or what she was up to. I only kept tabs on Winnie.

“Winifred, tell me,” I say, a bite in my voice. At one time, I may have had grandiose dreams involving her, but things have changed. I’ve changed. “Do you want it easy? Or should we do this hard?” I give her chin a quick shake to make sure I have her full attention. And I absolutely do. Her gasp quick and sharp, her lush lips slightly parted, the fluttering pulse beneath her pale, creamy skin all testify to that fact.

I like this look on her, pliant with maybe just a hint of fear.

The way her blush stains her cheeks.

The innocence she’s exuding.

If I’m honest with myself, I don’t give a shit what her answer is. When it comes to Winnie L’Ourson, I’ll take what I’m due and fucking enjoy doing it.

“I…I don’t know what you’re asking for,” she says, breathlessly, and my dick thickens at that sound. “I have nothing; my parents left me with nothing.” Her sweet pink tongue darts out to swipe at her lips, leaving them glossy and glistening in the feeble sun.

I know she doesn’t have the money to pay off Henri’s debt.

Hell, I was the one who found him and his whore of a wife, pale and floating on their drugged up high, needles still stuck in their veins. Any fight they might have had was tamed, consumed by the drugs coursing through their systems. The same drugs they were supposed to be moving for me. The same fuckingdrugs they owed me money for. Rule number one of dealing is don’t use the product. Follow the fucking rules and don’t get hooked on that shit.

All they needed was a little extra push—literally on the plungers—and they were no longer a problem for me. Their daughter? She’s a different story.

“I-I couldn’t even pay for their funerals.” Her cheeks flame brighter, more from anger than embarrassment at her admission if I had to guess, because we both know exactly who paid for today’s circus. And I plan on collecting that debt, as well.

I keep my accounts current and clear, always. Aside from the expectation set higher up in the family, I pride myself on the fact that I keep my shit clean. Fucking crystal. Until Henri L’Ourson started getting sloppy. He knew he was in trouble when my second in command, Teague Grey, left L’Ourson’s place empty-handed. No cash, no product—not that we maintain any kind of returns policy. That kind of disrespect is not something I’ve ever allowed.

Was I surprised Henri chose to take the easy way out? Not at all.

Was I surprised that he was so inept he didn’t even completethatsimple task? Fuck no.

I stared into his drug-glazed eyes and told him exactly how I would collect his debt, from whom, and then I tucked his offering of a small stack of cash into the breast pocket of my suit.

Henri was lucid enough to show fear, maybe even remorse for the mess he brought to his daughter’s feet. But her mother was too far gone, had been for a long fucking time.

Then I pushed the plunger on each of their syringes, sending them off in a far kinder way than either of them deserved, and told Teague to take anything he could find of value.

There wasn’t much. And now I have a debt to settle and a dangerous game to play.

“Your parents spun the wheel and lost, honeybee. And now someone’s got to pay.” The use of that nickname stills her, but only for a moment.

She tries to shake me off, swatting at my hand. The attempt does nothing but amuse me. Her drive and fire are cute, but the glint of a small medal charm lashed to her wrist with a worn leather band catches my eye. It’s a honeybee,myhoneybee. The charm I gave her in exchange for her first kiss.

“What do you have for me, Winnie? How are you going to pay your parents’ debt?” I ask, sliding my thumb up to caress her bottom lip before I tug at the plump flesh. Goddamn, her perfect fucking mouth. I push my thumb between her lips, pulling her closer to me, shifting her off balance until her palms land solidly on the lapels of my signature Brioni suit jacket.

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