Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 94915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
“I should break the rules more often,” she says with a lazy, happy grin on her face.
After we shower, I get her into bed. She’s sleepy and looks fucking adorable as she snuggles into a little ball. I stay with her while she passes out—slightly tempted to fuck her into a gloopy mess again—but when she’s finally down, I slip out of bed.
Jean’s still awake like I knew he would be. He’s staying in his own suite down the hall. I knock and he lets me in, even though it’s a little past three in the morning.
“You should get some rest,” I tell him.
He shrugs and returns to the table. The ledger is open beside a notebook where he’s making copious annotations. “I almost have this cracked. You want some wine?”
I walk over to the bottle on the counter and pour myself a glass. I toss it back, pour another, drink down half, and stare back at him with rage and malice in my heart.
“Henri almost assaulted Brianne earlier tonight.”
He stops what he’s doing and sits back. “Did he really? I knew he was a stupid piece of shit, but—” Jean shakes his head, looking disgusted. “Did she get away all right?”
“Grandpère stepped in. No doubt playing the good cop.” I move toward my friend. “I want men on Brianne at all times. Tell at least one guard to shadow her no matter where she goes or when she’s moving.”
“I’ll make it happen.”
“And I need eyes on Henri.” I give my friend a meaningful look. “This situation has gone on long enough.”
Jean stares back and slowly nods. “Consider it done.”
“Good.” I walk to him and squeeze his shoulder. He takes a breath and steels himself. Of everyone I know, Jean’s the strongest. He knows what’s going to come and what it might mean for us, but he’s loyal and smart, and he knows we’ll get through this together.
Because I can’t stomach this a second longer.
Grandpère has done nothing but undermine me since coming here, and now one of his most trusted advisors is harassing my wife.
It’s unacceptable. It’s unconscionable.
I never should have let it go on this long.
And now it’s time to do something about it.
Chapter 31
Brianne
Julien takes me with him when he goes out to run some errands the next day.
He says it’s because I’ve been cooped up too much, but I suspect he just wants to keep an eye on me.
Which is fine—I really have been going stir-crazy. Kim’s getting moved to her room later today, and in the meantime, he takes me on a series of visits to various delis, bars, and restaurants scattered all over the city.
“Chicago’s split up into pieces,” he explains as we roll slowly through a rundown block of Southside. Men stand on corners, looking bored and intimidating. “Some of these are owned by the Hayes Group, some by the Quinns, and others by the Biancos. I have my corners, Dusan has his, and there are a few other players, though none worth mentioning.”
“I’ve been part of a crime family my whole life, you know. My brother used to work one of these.”
“That’s true, but have you ever actually toured your family’s territory?”
I hesitate, frowning to myself. “That’s not a girl’s place.”
“You’re my wife,” he says, staring ahead. “That means what’s mine is yours, and I think you should see your kingdom.”
His kingdom is basically a bunch of drug houses and corners where his employees sell their stuff at the street level. He rolls up to the curb at a few locations and speaks briefly to several different men, all of whom give me curious but respectful nods. Julien speaks in code, never actually mentioning coke or heroin, but it’s clear what they mean when they say soda pop and snow cones. “Not the most difficult to interpret,” I mutter at him.
Julien grins back as we roll on. “It’s not necessarily about hiding what we’re doing, but about giving us plausible deniability in court. My high-powered, fancy lawyers can use just about anything to sow doubt in the jury’s mind. Even stupid code.”
We drive around for half the day like that. It amazes me how many people Julien knows. Dozens of them approach, and he speaks to them all as though they were friends, and uses their first names without hesitating. I don’t remember my brother ever doing something like this. It feels like a manager checking up on his people.
“Aren’t you worried about the police?” I ask him as we roll down a quiet, empty street. Half the houses on this block are bombed-out and boarded over.
“Not for me, personally, but for my men. When they get pinched, sometimes they talk, and that’s a headache. Mostly they do their time quietly, and I pay for everything I can to make their lives easier. We have ways of dealing with it.”