Juliette was a ‘say it like it is’ French woman, who I allowed to take liberties with me. With her red hair worn in a pixie cut that suited the tall beauty, she was often mistaken for one of the subs rather than my family doctor. The only woman allowed to attend the Brotherhood rituals, she was a spirited Dominatrix and privy to everything Sinclair.
“You,mon chéri, are a hard man and ungenerous when necessary. Yet, you have a soft heart regarding family and those close to you. I’ve seen it firsthand.” She laughed at my raised brow. “You disagree?”
I chuckled. She was right. Unlike most of the men in the Brotherhood, I’d mastered my temper, controlled it, and unleashed on my command alone. Sometimes it worried the others that I didn’t respond in accordance with their dictate. They figured I should be angrier in certain situations only because they’d seen me at my worst. Tricked, lied to, or manipulated were usually the triggers. But I chose calm, most times. A distinct attribute Saint had adopted and proudly so.
“I’m guessing you don’t want to call the police?” she asked the question in a way that suggested she already knew the answer.
“Not until Wilkes gets me something concrete.” I glanced at the girl again. If it weren’t for the marks on her face and around her neck or the bandages covering her forearms, I’d believe the relaxed expression was due to a peaceful sleep and not sedation.
“Come.” Juliette touched my arm. “Share a cup of tea with me. I’ll stay the night while you get some rest. Okay?”
I nodded, letting her guide me out of the room. “John, please ask Molly to sit in here until Juliette returns,” I instructed, referring to one of the housekeeping staff.
“Right away, sir.” For an older man, he was quick on his feet. He disappeared down the stairs before Juliette and I reached the landing.
We’d just reached the bottom of the staircase when my cell phone rang. “Wilkes?” I answered sharply.
“The house was empty, sir. Apart from blood on the kitchen floor and handprints along the wall leading to the door, there’s no one on the grounds.”
“Fuck.” I rubbed my brow. “Anything to tell us who the girl is?”
“Sir,” Wilkes hesitated. I tensed before he added, “we found living quarters in the basement. From what I could see, that girl was held captive here. You need to see this to understand what you’re dealing with.” In the fifteen years, Wilkes worked for me, I trusted him implicitly, more so his deductions when it came to analyzing a situation. He wouldn’t ask me to go around unless he wanted to emphasize his findings.
“Give me thirty minutes.” After I disconnected, I looked at Juliette. “I think you’re right about her being a captive.”
“Wilkes found something?”
I nodded. “How long do you think she’ll stay sedated?” I didn’t want to leave and risk her waking to a panic attack. I’d learned that in circumstances like these, a victim of abuse would naturally latch onto someone they’d built a rapport with, no matter how short the interaction.
“I gave her a heavier dose than normal, so she might be out of it for hours or days. It all depends on her body’s willingness to relax, something I don’t think she’s used to.” Juliette’s concerned expression mirrored mine. “Go. I’ll handle it if she wakes.”
“Thanks, Jules.” I glanced down at my torn shirt. “I need to change first.”
Chapter 13 – Xavier
Forty-five minuteslater, I pulled up behind Wilkes’ black four-by-four, parked, and climbed out. Two of his men jumped out of the vehicle and approached me.
