Page 71 of The Dragon 2
“Our contact says Jean-Pierre just arrived back in Paris yesterday from the States.”
“That’s odd. From what I remember the Butcher hates the States,” I quirked my brows. “What part of the States did he come from?”
“Some place called Belladonna. Apparently, he’s been frequenting a brothel in their red-light district.”
“Name?”
“The Candy Shop.”
That made me pause.
The elevator dinged.
The doors parted and we stepped out into the lobby.
Lots of heads turned but no one met our eyes. Not the concierges behind their marble podiums. Not the other guests lingering near the Baccarat-lit bar. Not even the doormen standing by the grand entrance, pressed into place like obedient pawns.
Our shoes struck polished marble as we moved through the lobby.
Once we made it outside, the evening air hit us.
A black town car idled at the curb.
Our guards were already dispersing, sliding into their assigned vehicles.
Fangs into one.
Claws into another.
Only the three of us would ride in the primary car—Hiro, Reo, and me.
But before I slid in, I spoke. “Reo.”
He turned his head slightly. “Yes, Kenji?”
“Send one of our men to that brothel in Belladonna.”
Reo blinked once. “The Candy Shop?”
“Yes. Have him make contact with the owner directly. I want to know why the Butcher keeps going there. What he’s chasing in that city. Who he’s watching. What is he buying when no one is looking.”
Reo nodded. “Hard contact or soft?”
I thought about it for a breath. “Soft first. Show respect. If this owner tries to bluff or play gamesthenwe let them see the weight behind our names.”
A pause.
Then I added, “and we don’t want lies. We want clarity.”
“Alright,” Reo slipped out his phone and began typing.
Satisfied, I slid into the back seat and the car swallowed me whole.
The door shut.
The engine purred.
“Are you sure about this, Kenji?” Hiro closed his eyes and leaned his head back like he was going to take a quick nap. “The French are good at catching spies. Should we risk it?”
