ferries twinkle like captured fireflies in the shroud of coming night. Shepard presses his forearm against the glass, leaning his head against his chilling flesh.
Thinking.
With a disgusted exhale, he walks to his satchel and paws through the contents. Finally retrieving his cell phone, he taps out Roi's encrypted number. A chime sounds like a droning fly with hiccups.
A voice answers. “ Salut. ”
Roi knows it is Shepard.
The silence has weight. Shepard could almost press his hand against it, as if the night's darkness oppressively huddles against the windows.
Roi breaks it. “I have come to retrieve your wife, Shepard. Our lost fruit.”
Shepard's fist tightens at his side. “As have I.”
Neither speaks a word about Roi's duplicity or Shepard's similar goal. They race against each other. One seeking to discipline her—one to save her.
“Ah, I did not think so. I rather thought you would protect Juliette from her just end.”
He is right, of course. Shepard's heart is a trapped animal in his chest, attempting to beat its way out of him. “She is no longer my wife,” he says truthfully.
“Really?” Roi drawls.
“Yes.”
“You do not care that I will fuck her until I erase her pussy from this world? That I will cut off her nose? That I will mail the pieces of what remains to her family in Nigeria?”
Not discipline— murder .
Shepard's stomach performs a sick somersault. “She has forgotten her loyalties, my Roi.” The pause between them feels like eons.
It's seconds.
“Then if you know she deserves this, for her betrayal, her murder, and for shaming la famille , what would you have of me—ask of me?”
Shepard thinks quickly. “I would ask to be there when you end Juliette. She deserves that from me.”
He intuits Roi's thoughts through the phone connection. “That would be excellent. I placed my trust in you. Juliette broke that trust when she took justice in her own hands then fled. You will have to suffer with her as you watch what I must do. I cannot afford for others to think they may do anything against la famille and there is no repercussion.”
You'll never get that far. Out loud, Shepard says, “I accept my part in her deception. Her running—from taking things into her own hands.”
“She cost the organization a lot of money, Shepard. And trust. What man wants to partake in our spoils if their cock will be cut off, non ?”
“They raped a cherry.” He manages to keep all the defensiveness out of his tone. But the words must be said. The delegates were well aware that Colette was a delicacy for later, not crude pussy plunder.
“On your watch,” Roi says so softly it's a whisper between them.
Shepard will never forget that. The girl required surgery. He does not shoulder all the blame. If Roi's associates were not as horrible as he, the girl would have been safe.
“Fine.”
“You will watch justice meted for Juliette?”
Shepard grits his teeth. “I know what my duty is.”
“I was unsure that you still did, my Shepard.”
Shepard does not reply.
Roi tells him the name of the private airport where they will intercept Juliette. How her new lover is a local law enforcement officer. That bit of information surprises Shepard. He caught no whiff of romance between them and had taken Thorn for a thug.
For him to fool Shepard so thoroughly means this one is practiced in acting.
Shepard will save Juliette one last time. Then he will be free. Free of obligations.
Free of Roi.
Liberté .
*
False summer has breathed life into the day.
It is autumn in the Pacific Northwest, but heat-like summer warms Shepard's face. The ankle strap of his small handgun chafes, and he shifts the necessary burden once again.
“You seem anxious, Shepard,” Roi remarks in an amused tone.
His hate for the king is a bitter taste on his tongue, and he assumes a more casual stance, shrugging off his custom-made Italian suit coat. He folds it carefully over the back of one of
Thinking.
With a disgusted exhale, he walks to his satchel and paws through the contents. Finally retrieving his cell phone, he taps out Roi's encrypted number. A chime sounds like a droning fly with hiccups.
A voice answers. “ Salut. ”
Roi knows it is Shepard.
The silence has weight. Shepard could almost press his hand against it, as if the night's darkness oppressively huddles against the windows.
Roi breaks it. “I have come to retrieve your wife, Shepard. Our lost fruit.”
Shepard's fist tightens at his side. “As have I.”
Neither speaks a word about Roi's duplicity or Shepard's similar goal. They race against each other. One seeking to discipline her—one to save her.
“Ah, I did not think so. I rather thought you would protect Juliette from her just end.”
He is right, of course. Shepard's heart is a trapped animal in his chest, attempting to beat its way out of him. “She is no longer my wife,” he says truthfully.
“Really?” Roi drawls.
“Yes.”
“You do not care that I will fuck her until I erase her pussy from this world? That I will cut off her nose? That I will mail the pieces of what remains to her family in Nigeria?”
Not discipline— murder .
Shepard's stomach performs a sick somersault. “She has forgotten her loyalties, my Roi.” The pause between them feels like eons.
It's seconds.
“Then if you know she deserves this, for her betrayal, her murder, and for shaming la famille , what would you have of me—ask of me?”
Shepard thinks quickly. “I would ask to be there when you end Juliette. She deserves that from me.”
He intuits Roi's thoughts through the phone connection. “That would be excellent. I placed my trust in you. Juliette broke that trust when she took justice in her own hands then fled. You will have to suffer with her as you watch what I must do. I cannot afford for others to think they may do anything against la famille and there is no repercussion.”
You'll never get that far. Out loud, Shepard says, “I accept my part in her deception. Her running—from taking things into her own hands.”
“She cost the organization a lot of money, Shepard. And trust. What man wants to partake in our spoils if their cock will be cut off, non ?”
“They raped a cherry.” He manages to keep all the defensiveness out of his tone. But the words must be said. The delegates were well aware that Colette was a delicacy for later, not crude pussy plunder.
“On your watch,” Roi says so softly it's a whisper between them.
Shepard will never forget that. The girl required surgery. He does not shoulder all the blame. If Roi's associates were not as horrible as he, the girl would have been safe.
“Fine.”
“You will watch justice meted for Juliette?”
Shepard grits his teeth. “I know what my duty is.”
“I was unsure that you still did, my Shepard.”
Shepard does not reply.
Roi tells him the name of the private airport where they will intercept Juliette. How her new lover is a local law enforcement officer. That bit of information surprises Shepard. He caught no whiff of romance between them and had taken Thorn for a thug.
For him to fool Shepard so thoroughly means this one is practiced in acting.
Shepard will save Juliette one last time. Then he will be free. Free of obligations.
Free of Roi.
Liberté .
*
False summer has breathed life into the day.
It is autumn in the Pacific Northwest, but heat-like summer warms Shepard's face. The ankle strap of his small handgun chafes, and he shifts the necessary burden once again.
“You seem anxious, Shepard,” Roi remarks in an amused tone.
His hate for the king is a bitter taste on his tongue, and he assumes a more casual stance, shrugging off his custom-made Italian suit coat. He folds it carefully over the back of one of
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