“Right,” I say at the thought, my brain suddenly deciding it’s time to get down to business.“What the fuck are we going to do about this?”
Lucien leans in, his body warm and reassuring, and I have to fight the urge to press myself up against him.I’ve known this man since I was twelve and he’s saved me more times than I can count.When I started visiting the city after my mother escaped to New York, Lucien was one of the only solid friends I had here.If I called, he came for me, and never complained or made me feel bad about it.
If I needed a friend, he was the one I went to.
At one point, I was going to call this man husband.
Now...
Now we’re not in a position to even think about that.
When I look up at him, though, knowing that my heart is in my eyes, full of unspoken fear and insecurity, he’s looking at me with such tenderness, such concern, that I actually catch my breath.He puts a hand up to my cheek and brushes it softly, his fingertips rough with wear but so warm, so gentle, that I catch my breath.For a moment, the world around us fades away and all I can see is Lucien Boudreaux, all sharp lines and dark shadows, his lips too lush for someone so crafty, his cheeks too dimpled for someone so corrupt.
God, I want to slow down for long enough to actually talk to this man.Hear what he has to say about the world around us.His plans for the future.Whether he still likes raspberry pie more than anything else in the world.
But at that moment, the world jerks sideways again and the van around us screams in agony.A crunching, grinding presence slides down the side of the van on my side and Lucien yanks me away as the van crumples, the metal screeching with pain.We roll to the other wall and tuck in around the wheel well, Lucien’s arms around me and his larger body moving to shield me from the shattering glass.I don’t know what’s happened, but I suspect someone else has hit the van–though I don’t know whether they’ve done it on purpose or on accident.The driver has been swerving and steering like a drunk, and there’s every chance that he ran a red light and just got hit.
My brain is screaming, though, that it might be something else.Kate and Camille are still out there, and though some of Lucien’s men were taken at the port in the battle with my father, surely he still has men free.
Maybe they’ve found us.Maybe they’ve come for us and figured out how to get us back.
My heart is jumping at the thought, pounding against my ribs like it’s trying to fight its way out of my body, and my mind is flying with hope.If our friends have found us, they might get us out of this alive and take us back to Lucien’s before my father can do anything about it.He’s not in this van with us, and if they kill his men, he’ll never know.
I’m moving before we come to a shuddering stop, spinning up onto my knees as I get ready for whatever’s coming.I don’t have any weapons on me–my father took those when he found us–but those idiots handcuffed my hands in front of my body, and that leaves me quite capable of breaking out of here.
If there’s no one left to shoot me.
“Lucien!”I shout, shuffling for the back doors of the van.
“Right behind you,” he says, his voice far closer than I’d expected.
I realize suddenly that I can actually feel him against me, his warmth seeping through the back of my shirt, and for a moment, I let myself believe that everything might be okay.Lucien and I have never met an enemy we couldn’t take down together, and if we’re given the chance to escape, we’ll snatch at it with both hands.
When the back doors fly open and I see Luke Boudreaux, Lucien’s younger cousin, I nearly cry with relief.Oh God, Luke is here.
Luke is here.
We’re saved.They’re going to get us out and take us home, where we’ll have time to sit and plot our revenge.Figure out how to take my father down and get those girls back.Get them to safety.
We’re going to be okay.
I barely finish the thought before Luke’s giving me one look that stretches for what feels like years, his eyes so sad that I actually draw back.Then he’s reaching right past me, grabbing Lucien’s shoulders, and yanking.Lucien is a big man but Luke is bigger, and Lucien goes flying past me, pulled out of the van so quickly that my mind is several steps behind.By the time I realize what’s happening, he’s gone and the doors are slamming behind him.
And I’m screaming in both rage and fear, because not only did Luke just leave me here, he also took my best friend with him, out that door and into the night beyond, like this was all a coordinated attack.
Outside, gunfire breaks out and people are shouting in both Creole and Italian–strange–as well as a language I don’t recognize.It’s guttural and terrifying, as if they’ve been possessed by demons, and it’s painted against the backdrop of gunfire, in colors I don’t understand, which makes it even more frightening.
What the fuck is going on here?Why did they take Lucien?Who has him?Luke was there, but why would he leave me behind?Why did they crash into this van and then break in, but leave me here by myself?
I drop to all fours and start scrambling for the doors, suddenly realizing that my father’s men are distracted.They’re busy shooting at whoever’s outside, and though I don’t love the idea of running out into the middle of a gunfight without so much as a shield, it’s better than staying in here by myself.
I’ll deal with Luke and whoever else decided to leave me behind later.Right now, all I need is my freedom.
I reach the doors and grab at the handles, trying desperately to get them open, but they’re stuck, like someone has locked them from the outside.
Did Luke fucking lock me in here?
I upgrade my level of hatred for him by several notches and whirl, thinking that I’ll try the side door to the van, but freeze when I realize I’m no longer alone.
