Page 28 of Bared

“Shut up,” Brick snapped.

The guy snorted. He got a few points for that bravery, though Brick retracted them as soon as he spoke again.

“Come now, my friend. We were only after a bit of fun. You understand, oui?”

“Not one fucking bit.” Brick cocked his head and kicked up one side of his mouth. “So there’s my liability disclaimer.”

“Lia…bility?” The bastard’s nostrils flared, adding to the bovine breadth of his features. “Disclaimer? F-F-For wha—”

After Brick cracked his head back, the dickhead went down with a grunt that’d be anticlimactic in other circumstances. After bending over to ensure that he hadn’t actually opened up the guy’s skull—though the universe might’ve actually thanked him for it—Brick settled Bull Face against the wall and wasted no time in sprinting toward the alley’s open end.

Toward the rat’s maze into which Jayd Cimarron had disappeared.

Followed by a predator who, at any second, could piece together her true identity.

“Fuck,” Brick muttered. And ran faster.

When the alley opened onto the bar’s loading dock, he skidded to a stop.

Shit, shit, shit.

Three other passageways branched off the area, as well as the driveway that led out onto the delivery access road. The driveway was only slightly wider than the alleys but still seemed like the most obvious choice of an escape—which was why he knew the princess hadn’t chosen it. She was smarter than that. He knew that already. Regrettably, a predator like Gervais probably did too.

So which way did she pick?

His answer remained a frustrating blank, even as he identified the continuing spurts of Requiemme Farre’s shrieks. Following the sound’s trajectory wasn’t as simple as it seemed. Not in a neighborhood with centuries-old architecture. Montmartre’s plentiful trees and twisting roads were no help. In short, with these acoustics, the women might reach Belgium before he found them.

But that meant Gervais was facing the same odds. With a partner in crime who’d be unconscious for a good while longer.

Brick hoped he wasn’t facing the same jam. As he jogged toward the passageway to the far right and pulled out his cell, he might have even prayed it.

The same way he prayed like hell that Ozias wasn’t using a burner phone and would still pick up on the call Brick placed to his regular Queensland line.

“You know you’re just supposed to show up here, don’t you, mate?”

Yesss. The big guy upstairs was still listening.

“Yeah, well, a funny thing happened on the way to the safe house.” He didn’t bother hiding the jumps of his voice due to his hurried pace. Though he was beyond tempted to race down the lane as fast as a human dart, he didn’t dare risk the chance. Right now, listening was the most important part of this tracking. If he took a wrong turn and had to double back, it might mean handing the women off to Gervais.

Not going to happen.

He pledged it fervently beneath his breath while waiting for Oz to respond. The Aussie didn’t take long.

“Something happened like what?”

“Like I found a certain somebody we’re looking for.”

Before he was finished, he was grimacing. Somebody we’re looking for? Where the hell had that possessive come from? And so naturally? But it was one word and easy enough to fix once he saw the princess safe and sound with Oz and Jagger Fox. This whole episode would just be a footnote in his musings about the trip. He’d all but stumbled into the situation, and he could damn well stumble back out.

But not yet. Especially not as Oz’s guttural croak shook up the line.

“Shut the fucking front door,” his friend blurted.

Brick snorted. “Well, I could, but we can’t waste time.”

“How? Where?”

“A few blocks from you. At the Très Particulier. From what I could lift from ten feet away, she was there waiting on LaBarre.” And being the world’s most gorgeous princess pixie in the doing. “But I learned that part after a couple of player barflies swooped in. Wasn’t a chance to grab her alone. The assholes had her thinking they’d brought Daddy Dearest and had him waiting outside.”