Betrayal
Raphael Mirabaud
I should have told him earlier.
It should have come from me.
When Wulfram von Hannover walked into the hotel room in France carrying Alina, Raphael could tell that something about his demeanor had changed.
Somethingbig.
Wulfram set Alina on the carpeting, and the toddler sprinted to Raphael, squealing,“Daddy-daddy-daddy!”the whole way.
Raphael caught the child as she leaped at him, flying through the air after she’d launched off her toes. She was getting to be rather athletic.
His daughter might take after him more than he’d thought. That was pleasing to think about.
The child sobbed on his neck, crying a damp spot onto his shirt. Her hair smelled like lemons, flowers, and dust. He rubbed Alina’s back and murmured reassurances,telling her it was going to be all right now.
The warmth and sweetness of her baby wiggles soothed him. When he’d been on his knees in that warehouse, guns pointed at his skull and gravel grinding into his shins, he’d thought about the last time he’d held Alina. He’d said goodbye to her quickly that morning when he’d left for work at Geneva Trust, not knowing that it might be for the last time.He’d kissed her forehead and let Flicka pull her off of him, the three of them laughing.
Raphael squeezed Alina’s chubby torso and limbs to his chest, breathing in her baby scent and trying to feel every second of her heart fluttering against his chest.
Past Alina’s neck, Wulfram leaned his shoulder against the wall, his legs crossed at his ankles and his arms woven tightly over his chest. Hestared at the floor.
Raphael asked him, “Is Flicka okay?”
“Yes.”
Just that one word.
Wulfram wasn’t a chatty guy, but he seemed more taciturn than usual.
“Did something happen?” Raphael asked.
“No. Everything went according to the plan, except I threatened Pierre with financial ruin unless Flicka walks intoSchloss MarienburgorSchloss Southwesternwithin the next twenty-four hours. I toldhim I’d bankrupt him personally and Monaco, too.”
Wulf didn’t look up the whole time he spoke to Raphael.
“Good,” Raphael said, studying Wulf. “That’s brilliant. Pierre and Quentin might think that’s the attack and ignore our incursion until it’s too late.”
Wulf shrugged.
“We’ll get her out tonight,” Raphael said, trying to reassure him.
Wulf nodded and tightened his arms across his chest.
Raphael asked, “What’s wrong?”
When Wulf looked up, his face was as serene as ever, but rage filled his blue eyes. “I remember the Archangel raids.”
Oh, God.“Wulfram—”
“It was my senior year of high school. Pierre and I watched the news after Flicka had gone to bed. She wouldn’t remember much about them. We watched the reports on the major criminals, the Ilyins and the Mirabauds. The newspapersand magazines had long articles. It’s funny how no one put it together:Archangelraids andRaphaelMirabaud.”
Raphael said, “I can explain—”
“Raphael Mirabaud was the worst of them, involved in drug running, weapons smuggling, and human trafficking. The news said he was assumed to be dead after the raids, but they never found a body. He was even declared dead, legally.”
