Sitting on the chair, Henry took another swig, put the bottle on the floor, and opened the chips. “Mr. Northrop, like the all-powerful Oz, acted a good game, but couldn’t help me, or wouldn’t. He thinks I’m a gold digger. Imagine that.”
“Not impressed by the title?”
“He referred to me as Mr. Chilton. I guess his corporate billions trump my castle and the reproduction of a Lawrence portrait.” He bit into a chip and spit it out. “What the hell is this?”
“Soft-shell-crab-flavored chips.” Sitting on the unmade bed, Simon stretched his legs out and rested them on a pile of laundry.
“Dear God. Warn me when you hand me something inedible. Give me the nuts. They are regular nuts?”
Simon threw Henry the package. “Salted almonds.”
“Alex’s patronizing father doesn’t matter in any of this. She hasn’t been in touch with him since her first year in university. As far as I’m concerned, he’s a nonentity in this search. My priority is Alex. She went to Atlanta to help me and ran right into Luc. I can’t believe I compromised her safety for the bloody painting. And for what? She’s gone. The painting’s gone. Everything’s a mess.” He tried to distance himself from the image of her fighting with Luc on the beach. It could have been someone else, but probably wasn’t. She was right, he was no hero. He’d led her into harm without any protection.
Simon scrubbed a hand through his hair and turned his focus to his beer. “If I’d known the trouble this would cause, I never would have used it.”
“Used it?”
Simon sighed. “When you transferred the painting to Oxford, I assumed you didn’t care for it, so I borrowed it. The restoration company you used is known for creating reproductions. The transaction provided us the opportunity to track the authentic pieces to illegitimate auction houses and online brokers. I would have eventually returned it to your house once we’d finished with it.”
“You switched my picture?” Henry’s knuckles whitened around the beer bottle.
Simon glanced down at the floor and kicked an old sock toward the chair. “I’m trying to get it back.”
Heart racing, Henry shoved back the chair and dived onto his brother. Simon tossed his beer bottle away from the bed and shifted over to avoid Henry’s full assault.
Fists flew. Henry punched Simon in the gut. Simon reacted by kicking him onto the floor, where he landed on his ass and skidded into the wall shoulder-first. The pain rocketed through his body. He should stop, but Simon hadn’t suffered enough yet.
Simon stood by the window. One of his hands clutched his stomach. “Don’t.”
Henry pushed off the wall and lunged at Simon’s torso. He slammed into his older and larger brother, knocking him into the door. He was winded, but ready for more.
Simon, however, raised his hands in an unimpressive surrender. His breathing was heavy and a grimace appeared on his face. “Feel better?”
The pain in Henry’s shoulder flared. “Sod off.”
Simon returned to sitting on the bed. “You’re allowed to be mad at me, but I’m on your side. If you’d stayed calm for one minute, I would have told you Alex’s current location.”
Henry’s head twisted in Simon’s direction, his focus returning to Alex. “Where is she?”
“She’s with Luc at his house on the right bank.”
In Paris?
“How the hell do you know that?” He didn’t know whether to continue his grudge against his brother or give him a hug.
“I have someone on the inside who has seen her.”
Henry’s proximity to her destroyed his patience. His heart raced and his chest tightened.
“Is she all right? Is she there against her will?”
“We have to take this slow and investigate. Breaking down a door without all the facts will not only put her life at risk, but it will blow my cover and that of my partner.”
“If Alex is at risk, she needs help now.”
“As I’d said before, I have someone on the inside monitoring the situation. If she’s at risk, we’ll get her out. If you were leading a group in a rescue mission, would you make a plan or run in like a teenager fueled on testosterone?”
Henry rubbed sweat off his face. Simon was right. Henry had received decorations while in the Royal Navy for his well-planned and -executed missions. Acting without thinking had never been acceptable in the SBS. With a deep breath, he placed his trust in his brother again. “What do you have in mind?”
…
After a night locked in her bedroom, Alex was allowed to enjoy April in Paris in the courtyard. The warm sun provided her with additional fortitude to survive the coming weeks.
Pascal stood guard over her. She’d prefer Serge, but he’d disappeared. He could be anywhere assisting Luc with some other deal or dead from an act of incompetence.
With her hurt leg propped up on a chair and a steaming cup of coffee in front of her, Alex could almost imagine sitting in the rose garden in Ripon annoying Henry. He must hate her for running away with no warning. Yet it was her only option if she was to protect her family. Although the physical connection was gone, emotionally, she was more tied to him than ever. Since the minute she’d stepped into the stairwell in Atlanta, she’d harbored an empty feeling in her gut that no food would ever satisfy and no drink would ever quench. If her brain could convince her heart to sever the emotional connection, she’d be stronger and more able to complete her task.
The door to the house opened. Nicola walked out carrying a cup of coffee. Her hooker outfit of the day included black stilettos and a blue wrap dress that opened enough to showcase her fake breasts. Pascal’s eyes wandered over her body as though stripping her down and taking notes.
Alex pasted on her bitch smile. “Get lucky last night? I sure did. Luc never showed up in my room.”
Nicola sat in the chair opposite Alex, more than an arm’s length away. “I’m surprised you didn’t hear me at least one of the seven or eight times he brought me over the edge. I tend to scream a lot.”