Page 65 of A Labor of Hate
“Somebody tried to kidnap him?”Colt asked, shaking his head as he processed.“So, he could be paranoid and cautious of us for entirely different reasons than we deserve?”
“Yep.”I shivered as the next gust of wind tore through the yard.For the seventh time since finding my clothes soiled in my spa locker, I cursed my rotten luck.“Since he doesn’t write any of his recipes down, kidnapping him was apparently the way to get them.”
Colt’s brow furrowed, his lips pressing into a frown.Then, he eased into a sitting position and did the unthinkable.
He started stripping.
Only his outer layer, the button-up dress shirt over his white V-neck undershirt.Still, such a simple and unexpected action took my train of thought and threw it off a cliff, where it exploded into smithereens at the bottom.I’d never expected Colt to voluntarily part with one of his meticulously cared-for shirtsever, but especially not now.In the middle of debriefing him.Outside.With rain on the horizon.
“Here.”He held it out for me, his brow still creased and leaving no room for argument.When I didn’t reach for it, he huffed in agitation.“You’re freezing in your ‘height of fashion,’ Lex.”
Another flurry buffeted me, and I snatched up his shirt gratefully.It was only temporary, anyway.Just long enough to keep my teeth from chattering until we’d finished discussing all the things we didn’t want to risk the listening devices in the house picking up.
The shirt was surprisingly soft.Still warm from his body heat, too.It smelled like laundry detergent and his intoxicating cologne, and it barely buttoned over my tummy.
I wanted to keep it forever.
He watched in silence until I’d fastened the last button.A muscle in his jaw flickered, and he sucked in a breath.In for four.Hold for two.Out for eight.
Was he afraid I'd wrinkle it or something?Irreparably ruin it?
“Thank you,” I mumbled, picking at imaginary lint on the sleeve so I wouldn’t have to look at him.“I’ll wash it after this.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he ground out, his voice a touch strained until he cleared his throat.“You said Gauthier doesn’t write his recipes down?”
I struggled to my feet, my body protesting the abuse it had sustained today, and my leg having gone numb from laying on my side.“Nope.I’m not even sure how he teaches his chefs how to make the food after they’ve signed the NDA.”
Colt followed my lead, still standing close for ease of communication.He hadn’t moved any closer to the house yet, so I didn’t, either.“So, what you’re saying is, taking Gauthier out will also take his drugs off the market for the foreseeable future?If there were any successful copycats, they would’ve leaked their product by now.”
“Right.Take him out of commission, and all his recipes and tweaks go with him.”
“Which is all the more reason for him to be cautious, and why his customers don’t mind lending muscle toward his protection.”
I hugged my elbows and huffed.Goosebumps pimpled my skin, the growing unease in my belly sharp and unignorable.This storm was going to be a doozy.“Exactly.If anyone tried to get through any of them to go after Gauthier, they’d unleash the power of at least one, if not all of the gangs that loaned the guards.And Gauthier and his customers want everyone to know that.It’s a suicide mission.”
Colt nodded somberly.“And yet, here we are.”
Right.Wewere the ones currently on the suicide mission.Either we got Gauthier and went ghost afterward, or we died in the process.Simple.
I hesitated, thinking of my various conversations with Vivienne throughout the day.“I… have a hunch.A gut feeling, maybe.And I know that isn’t super helpful since I can’t prove anything, but I think Charles started messing with drugs for the extra income.Apparently they’ve been trying to conceive for a long time, and fertility treatments are super expensive.Even for someone with two successful restaurants.”
A few fat drops of rain splattered on the ground.Colt cocked his head to the side.“So you think he’s only doing it to pay off a debt?”
“Maybe.”I shrugged.A drop fell on my shoulder.“At least, initially.Now, he might be in so deep with all the big players that to get out is suicide, too.And with their miracle baby finally on the way, he’ll do anything to stay alive.”
“That’s pretty optimistic, don’t you think?”Colt finally budged, gravitating toward the back door and closer to the protection of the roof’s meager overhang.He paused, watching me carefully as I followed him to the concrete slab at the base of the stairs.“Are you sure you’re not trying to find some way to cast Charles as a better guy than he really is because of your friendship with Vivienne?”
My heart sank even as my hackles raised.He hadn’t the foggiest idea of the inner conflict I’d been warring against all day.He wasn’t close to Charles.He hadn’t gotten to know him like I had Vivienne.As much as I’d bolstered my resolve to do what needed to be done, thinking of double-crossing Vivienne turned my stomach.
“It’s just a feeling,” I defended, choosing not to answer his overly perceptive question.“He’s still the one responsible for the drugs that killed my brother.That won’t change, whether he’s being coerced into doing it or not.”
“And what about Vivienne?”
My blood ran cold.Raindrops fell faster around us, peppering our clothes and skin.“What about her?”
“Are you going to be able to do what’s needed to take Charles down?”
In one sentence, he’d captured the doubts that had been chewing at me, eating through me like acid with each minute spent in her company.When the time came, would I really be able to do it?Would I be able to sell my soul to the Greater Good?
