No one answered the door. I backed up a couple of steps and stared at the over-the-top house, mentally willing Alton not to be a fuckhead. I’d seen him be a real dick a time or two when he was still frequenting the Courtesan, and the man wasn’t known for a pleasant mood. I beat my fist against the door.
“Not that I mind, but why are you holding me?” Winter asked, voice a touch higher than usual. When I glanced at him, his cheeks were pink, but I couldn’t tell if it was because of the cold or something else.
“If anyone opens fire, they’re more likely to hit me than you this way,” I said, keeping my tone even. I gave him a squeeze.
He glanced at me and frowned, and when I winked at him, he grinned and shook his head. “Mr. Bouchard knows me. I doubt he would have snipers take me down.”
“You’ve never seen a Texan get his sleep interrupted,” I murmured.
The door opened and a chubby man, with his dark hair pulled back in a bun and sporting plaid PJs, flashed me a nervous smile. “I’m sorry, but the Bouchards are not available. Please come back tomorrow.” Before I could open my mouth to say two words, the door closed and the sound of the lock engaging rang through the quiet night.
“I’m finished,” Winter mumbled. He covered his eyes with his hands. “Stick a fork in me because I’m done.”
Fury washed through me, and I beat my fist on the door, this time reliving some of my days on the force. I pounded hard enough to wake the dead.
In almost no time at all the door opened again and the man on the other side appeared ready to explode with a red face and wide eyes. “Please stop making so much racket! The Bouchards are in bed. It’s not worth it for me to go bother them. Please go away!” He pouted in my direction.
“This is an emergency,” I ground out.
“What’s going on?” The man’s expression softened a bit.
“We’ll tell Mr. Bouchard the details, and he’ll agree it’s important. Just go get him,” Winter said with his best smile. “Please?”
The door snapped shut again and the large pine wreath hanging in the center swayed and sent the smell of Christmas wafting around us. I wanted to growl because the least the guy could’ve done was invite Winter in out of the cold. I wrapped both arms around him to keep him warm, and he smiled up at me.
“I know you think Van did this, but what if he’s a victim like me? What if he’s in trouble somewhere and that’s why he isn’t answering my texts? He’s been nice.” Winter slipped his thumbnail into his mouth and nibbled on it while he stared at the closed door. “What if he’s hurt?”
“He’s not, but he will be,” I said.
“How do you know?” Winter asked, and now he sounded irritated.
I gritted my teeth. “I just know. It’s a gut instinct. Cops get those.”
“But you aren’t a cop!” He pointed at me with an accusing little finger wiggle. “You’re a bad guy now.”
“I was always a bad guy,” I grumbled, tickling my fingers against his cheek. “Nothing new.”
The door opened again and a man I didn’t know, but who seemed vaguely familiar, stood there. He was young and handsome enough I figured he must be the husband that had gotten Alton Bouchard to stop spending his cash on the good-time boys at the Courtesan. The silky red robe he wore clung to his lightly muscled body in some very suggestive ways that had Winter clearing his throat and staring at his toes. The man brushed back his dark hair and gave us both a confused but friendly smile.
“I’m sorry about that. Alton and I asked not to be bothered tonight. Please come in.” He stood aside and gestured us forward. We stopped to kick off our boots so we wouldn’t drag snow and mud everywhere. Winter’s eyes were huge as he took in the pretentious foyer. The ceiling was so far away we could probably play an easygoing game of baseball without hitting it. A split staircase curved up to the second floor, and that would’ve maybe been normal enough, but the handrails were dark wood that probably had taken twenty trees to make. Whoever had decorated had a palace in mind. Behind the staircase, the rest of the first floor spread out. Arched doorways let us catch glimpses of other rooms, and fancy paintings hung on the royal blue walls.
“Wow,” Winter whispered.
The man in the robe cleared his throat, then grinned when Winter met his gaze. “I apologize, but Alton is handling an emergency in his office. He said he knows Mr. Janvier and asked me to talk to him until he can get downstairs.”
“How did Mr. Bouchard know I was here?” Winter blinked at him in confusion. “The gates at the end of the drive were open and no one was in the tiny building near them.”
The man laughed. “There is a security system in the house and Alton checked.” He shrugged and seemed embarrassed, but after everything I’d seen tonight, I wouldn’t blame anyone who had an entire fortress surrounding their home. It was only blind luck that Winter wasn’t a mangled corpse at the bottom of an elevator shaft.
“Yeah, I’m not confused on how that works,” I said, but Winter still seemed surprised.
“Are you Noah?” Winter gushed and cupped his cheeks. “Are you the one wearing all my designs?” He stared Noah up and down, even though he’d been too embarrassed to look only a minute ago. “I have so many new ideas now that I’ve seen you. Have you ever considered a nose piercing? It would be stunning on you. A small twinkle right here.” Winter touched his own face.
Noah gestured at us to follow him deeper into the house. “Excuse me?” he said with a polite smile. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”
“Oh!” Winter smacked my arm in excitement and grinned. “Mr. Bouchard has bought an unholy amount of jewelry from my shop. I own Beaulieu and complete all the designs. Well, I have a couple of pieces I sent out for mass production, but most of it is done by me.”
Noah beamed at Winter as he led us along a hallway, then into a kitchen as gargantuan as the rest of the house, where he tugged out a stool at a black stone island before gesturing at us to sit. His silky robe flashed in the light. I noticed a string of rubies embedded in a silver chain around his neck that dipped below the fabric.
