French Connection Vol. 3 (3 page)

“Daria Petrova. Sixteen-year-old runaway from Russia.” Pierre said, leaning close enough that his arm brushed against mine. “Shot in the back of the head.”

“Also a prostitute?” I asked the question even though I was pretty certain of the answer.

“Yes,” he said. “Found beaten, raped and shot two days after North was found.”

“Did she also work in one of Alizee's clubs?” I breathed a sigh of relief as I closed the file, even though I knew I'd never truly get those images out of my head.

“There is no record of her,” he said.

“Which doesn't mean she wasn't working the same place North was,” I reasoned.

Pierre nodded. “Both girls were last seen at the club where North worked and were found in the same alley.”

“You think Alizee had something to do with this,” I said, another statement, no question.

“I do,” he admitted. “I believe North did, said or saw something she wasn’t supposed to and Alizee killed her for it.” He took both of the files and slid them back into the envelope. “I believe Daria saw the murder and was executed.”

“Did you tell your police contact that?” I asked.

He frowned. “I did, but there is no evidence to support my claim. My contact will not present this theory without more than my word.”

“What's the theory they're working with now?”

“They were prostitutes. Their lives were full of danger,” he said. “It is to be expected that they would have a violent and young death.”

“So they're not even going to look for the killer or killers?” I knew similar atrocities happened back home, a person's status prompting the intensity in which an investigation was done. It didn't make it any less wrong.

“They will look,” he said. “But only if they have the time.”

“And you're sure Alizee did this?”

“I’m certain she gave the orders,” he said. “And I wish to see her in jail for it. Someone must speak for these girls.”

I nodded in understanding. I had the same passion for my work. So many of these girls – and boys – were tossed aside like garbage, treated as if they didn't matter. They needed an advocate, someone to step up and say it wasn't okay to treat a human being this way. I felt a surge of warm admiration for Pierre and what he was trying to do.

“This is why I was so adamant that you not speak to Gavin about being at the docks,” Pierre said.

My heart twisted as the pain returned. “I didn't say anything.”

“If Alizee knows we suspect her of wrongdoing, she will go to any lengths to ensure she cannot be connected to these deaths, to cover her tracks. I need hard evidence that will force the authorities to pursue her as a suspect.”

I put aside my own feelings for the greater good. “How can I help?”

He smiled at me. “I was hoping you would offer. I need you to spy on Alizee.”

“Spy on her?” I echoed. “How am I supposed to do that?”

“Go to the meetings with your boyfriend. Try to get close with her, encourage her to confide in you.”

“You think she's going to confess to me just because I make nice?” My nails bit into my palm and I had to force my hand to relax.

“No,” he said. “That would be foolish. I believe she will provide you with information that may lead us to clues that will provide the evidence we need. It may be a confirmation of places she has gone, of people she knows.”

I didn't say anything and he let the silence stand. I could tell he knew how difficult this decision was for me to make, especially after what I'd seen, but it wasn't just that. This whole thing brought back memories of Howard and everything I'd gone through a year ago. I didn't regret the decisions I made then, not for a moment, but it wasn't something I wanted to go through again. Now, I found myself in a similar situation, though I doubted I'd be in as much danger. Alizee might be a murderous bitch, but I’d already survived a lecherous sexual sadist. More importantly, I was an American citizen in a tourist city. If I went missing or turned up dead, Cannes would get negative press as well as international pressure to find the person responsible.

Small comfort since it'd still mean I was dead.

But that wasn't the point. I had to decide if I was willing to put my relationship with Gavin, as well as both of our lives, on the line to stop Alizee.

“Please,” Pierre said softly. “Help me.”

I reached out and put my hand over his. “All right,” I said. I gave him a grim smile. “I'll help you.”

He gave me that dazzling smile that made his dimples appear. “Then let us put that bitch behind bars.”

I nodded as I chuckled. It was dark business we were doing, but at least we were doing something.

Chapter 5

Gavin

Carrie pushing me away when I kissed her had been a surprise, but I'd thought, for a moment, it was because I was wet and cold. Then I saw her face and it wasn't the swim that was making me cold. When she started in about the pain she was in because of the sex we'd had last night, it was like a punch in the gut. And then she'd taken a call from Pierre, that journalist she'd been spending time with while I was at business meetings. I wasn't sure which was stronger, the jealousy that surged through me at how easily she spoke to him after what she'd just said to me, or the pain her words had brought.

When she said she was meeting him, I couldn't stop myself from wondering if he was the reason Carrie was pulling away from me. Was it possible I freaked her out so badly last night that she'd turned to Pierre?

I was barely able to keep my voice steady when I asked the question. Then she said I should have another “business meeting” and stormed out. I stared at the door as it slammed shut. What had she meant by that? Was she angry I had another meeting with Vincent? I don’t understand why she didn’t tell me not to go this morning. I would've been happy to stay. There had to be something she wasn't telling me.

And I needed to know what it was so I could fix it.

That broke my paralysis and I went after her. The elevator doors were already closed by the time I stepped into the hallway, and I knew I'd be too late to catch her if I waited for it to come back up. I headed for the stairs.

I wasn't quite running, but I wasn't walking either. I had to catch her, tell her that whatever I had done, I'd make it right. If she wanted me to break my contract with Vincent, I'd do it. I'd give up the club here and back home if she didn't want me involved with any of it. I'd find another job. Anything to fix this.

I caught a glimpse of Carrie's hair shining in the sun as she pushed open the lobby doors and I hurried after her. I considered calling out to her, but didn't want to have this discussion in public. I heard her say the name of the restaurant where they were going to meet, so I wasn't worried about losing her. I knew she was meeting Pierre. I didn't know the guy, but I didn't like him.

I frowned as I walked, closing the distance. Somehow, I didn't think going off on Pierre would put me into Carrie's better graces. She seemed to like him. I just didn't know how much. I needed to know. I needed to know if what had happened between Carrie and me was because of Pierre. And this was the perfect time and place to find out.

I slowed down until my pace matched hers. I could still see her, but I wasn't getting any closer now. It wasn't about catching up to her now, not yet. I had a different plan. I'd wait until I had a better idea of what I was dealing with.

Carrie went inside and I situated myself so I could see the patio without obstruction. If they ate inside, I wouldn't be able to see anything, but I was counting on Carrie wanting to be in the sunshine. A few minutes later, she came out and found a table.

A voice in my head said I was being unreasonable, that I should just walk over and talk to her. That was the smart thing to do. The right thing. We needed to talk about what had happened.

I tossed the voice away as I noticed a handsome man walking toward Carrie, carrying an envelope in his hand. I watched as they talked, their bodies only inches away from each other. He kept leaning closer to her, their arms brushing. She didn't make an attempt to pull away and I felt sick. She'd pushed me away and now she was letting this man touch her. When she smiled at him and put her hand over his, I turned away.

I couldn't watch. Part of me wanted to leave. Go back to the hotel and face Carrie when she returned.

Movement caught the corner of my eye and I looked up in reflex. Pierre was walking by, carrying the envelope and looking like he'd just achieved some sort of major accomplishment. Anger burned the pain and made it more manageable.

I needed to talk to him. Find out what the hell he was doing with the woman I loved. I stood, ready to follow and confront. I'd taken only a couple steps when my phone rang. I cursed, wanting to ignore it, but it was my business ringtone. It was probably Vincent, since Alizee wasn't likely to speak to me again anytime soon. I could only hope. After what had happened with her, I needed to talk to Vincent and see if things were still on track.

I swore again and pulled out my phone. I was starting to regret having purchased a waterproof one. If my phone had been destroyed when Alizee made me swim to shore, it would've been a good excuse to not take the call. Since I didn't have that excuse, and I was too tired to lie, I answered.

“Yes?” It took all of my self-control not to snap at him.

“What the hell happened this morning, Gavin?” Vincent sounded mildly amused. “Alizee called me, said you weren't anything like she expected.”

I scowled. “Did she tell you to kill the deal?”

“No.” Now he sounded curious. “Why would she have done that?”

I didn't answer. This wasn't something I wanted to talk about over the phone.

“Meet me at La Femme en Bleu,” he said, sensing my hesitation.

“A strip club at two in the afternoon?” I asked. I wasn't sure why that surprised me.

“It's never too early to watch beautiful women dance,” he countered.

I sighed. “I'm on my way.” When I hung up, I looked down the street, but Pierre was gone.

Dammit!

Now I had only two choices. Go talk to Carrie or meet with Vincent. Either way, I was going to have to talk about things I wanted to avoid. Maybe if I talked to Vincent and got that all taken care of, I'd be able to tell Carrie that work wouldn't interfere with us again.

I sighed and hailed a cab. Putting it off wasn't going to make this any easier. During the ride, I thought about how I would explain things to Vincent. Should I try to cushion it? Make it sound like Alizee hadn't been out of line? Leave out what she'd said after I'd turned her down? Or did I lay it all out for him, tell him everything exactly how it went down? No emotion, no inflection. Just the facts.

I still hadn't made up my mind which tact I would take when the cab pulled in front of the club. It was one more thing I didn't know how to handle, which only served to piss me off further. I walked into the club, barely glancing at the scantily-clad women walking by with trays of drinks, and only then because I was trying not to run into them. The doorman pointed me toward a corner booth and that's where I went now, fully expecting to see Vincent with a couple girls hanging all over him. Instead, he was sitting by himself, looking less than interested in the pair of girls on stage who were writhing all over each other. That was a little strange, but not enough to squash the anger I felt about everything that had happened today.

I sat down on the edge of the booth seat.

“So, Gavin, what happened?” Vincent turned toward me, his eyes narrowed. “You don't look very happy.” His gaze went from top to bottom. “Or very dry.”

“I'm not,” I said. “Either one, actually.”

He leaned his arms on the table. “What's going on?”

“Alizee came on to me,” I said and ran my hand through my still-wet hair. “Fuck that. She full-on propositioned me and then kissed me. Threatened to kill the deal if I didn't fuck her.” It all came out a bit harsher than I'd originally intended, but I didn't apologize.

“And?” he asked, his tone mild.

“And nothing,” I snapped. “I’m not going to betray Carrie like that.” I tried not to think about how Carrie might be betraying me.

“Even if it cost you the deal? The club here?” he asked.

I gave him a hard look. “Even if it cost me everything.”

“Good.” He beamed at me.

I stared at him. What the hell was that about? Why did he look so fucking happy? The anger I'd kept in check threatened to crack the surface.

“I'm glad you didn't give in to her,” he said. “If you had, the deal would've been off and I would've been looking for a new partner.”

Now I was really confused. What the fuck was going on? Vincent gave me a smile and I slammed my hand down on the table.

Before I could say anything though, Vincent spoke, “Do you know how I got my start?”

“I don't care,” I said through gritted teeth. “Alizee threatened me, kissed me, then made me swim to shore when I turned her down. I've had a shitty day so far and I want to know why the hell you think this is funny.”

“I'll get there, I promise.” Vincent's expression sobered. “Trust me, Gavin. You're going to want to hear this.”

I wasn't sure I agreed with him, but calmed down enough to nod for him to go on.

“I came from Corsica,” he began. “I was poor, but I worked hard. I am a self-made businessman, a success story, though not our island's biggest one. That,” he said, “is Alizee.”

I remembered how they'd talked in a language I hadn't recognized. “You knew her?”

“In a way,” he admitted. “Everyone on Corsica knows Alizee because she is a member of the biggest crime family on the island. Me, she did not recognize, but that was not a surprise.”

“So you're, what, working with her because of some weird childhood jealousy thing?”

His face hardened and I instantly knew there was something more here, something much stronger than anything I held against Alizee.

“Self-made business man.” There was bitterness in his voice. “Married my childhood sweetheart. Had a beautiful little girl who I gave everything she wanted. Had the perfect life.”

I had a bad feeling I wasn't going to like what came next. As soon as he spoke, I found out I was right.