Page 47 of Henri's Little One
“I can take him. All of us in New York train daily as does The Alpha. The Alpha says we are all pretty much equal after him and Rémy. The Alpha believes I can take him easily, but it shouldn’t come to that. He’s killed humans.”
“If it can be proved he’s done that, he can challenge no one, for that he loses his head,” Beta Brisbois exclaimed.
“Just so.” Henri pushed the Call End button on his phone irritated that his Beta would even think he’d accept a challenge he couldn’t win, especially since he had a Mate whose life would also forfeit if he lost. He looked outside. Several men perched on the rooftops with semi-automatic weapons. He was about to call Murphy when his phone rang. He answered, “Giraud.”
“This is Julien. I sent you an insurance policy so you can sleep this week. I know you must have sent for your Alphas, Betas, and Enforcers, but Alaska is nine hours away. Even if you send the Garou jet for them, the turnaround is eighteen hours. For commercial, they are at the mercy of airline schedules and seat availability. Frank Ferone and his men will guard the house every night until all of your men arrive. I only ask that Aline keeps someone in the kitchen to give them coffee and something to eat. They aren’t loup garou, but they are an excellent early-warning system. I told Frank to ring the doorbell when he arrives.”
“Thank you, Julien. My doorbell is ringing. That must be Mr. Ferone. Thank you, again. I didn’t think of that, and I was concerned. Bertrand is ringing me on the house phone. I’ll call you in the morning.” Henri put the phone down. He was about to meet the man who could be The Alpha’s new factotum if Vitas dreamed true.
Henri put on a pair of casual slacks and a golf shirt, and he walked over to the elevator, pushing the button for down. Normally, with someone waiting for him, he would have hurried down the stairs which was faster than the old elevator. Now that he had Vitas, he would need to have it replaced with something safer and more modern. He made a mental note to have Regis look into it in the morning.
He entered the parlor to find Frank Ferone drinking coffee from one of his kitchen mugs rather than the elaborate coffee service Aline usually reserved for guests. He must have impressed her for her to treat him like family. Henri held out his hand. “You must be Frank Ferone. Julien has nothing but good things to say about you. I’m Henri Giraud, my husband Vitas is upstairs, asleep, and has a security problem.” Henri motioned for Frank to sit.
Henri sat in the Winston chair, which, unlike the Victorian furniture in his Alaskan home, a guest could sit in it comfortably.
“Call me, Frankie.” Ferone chuckled. “It seems that almost all of the husbands of Garou’s Board of Directors initially had security problems. Mr. Clavier’s husband had a run in with my stepfather’s nephew, Sal, who is, thankfully, now deceased. A disgruntled employee attacked Mr. Martin’s fiancé in his Manhattan apartment, Mr. Davidoff’s fiancé had to be rescued from a whorehouse. A former customer attacked Mr. Daurensbourg’s husband, and a crooked cop stalked Julien’s Richard. From what I understand, your problem is a mad Russian.”
“When you put it that way, it does look like our security is insufficient. I assure you that most of the time it is top-notch. Some of the gentlemen you mentioned were in trouble before they came to our attention, others because they had our attention. I’ll be upfront with you. Most of the Directors of Garou are multibillionaires with a capital B. That presents a security problem, in itself. We can’t choose who we love or the circumstances in which we find them. With that said, my Vitas drew unwanted attention from a would-be colleague from Russia. This Russian seeks to attack the Board of Directors, specifically Armand La Marche and me, by kidnapping Vitas and holding him hostage in return for certain concessions we cannot make. That is all I can tell you of the matter. It means a great deal to me that you offered to help with so little information.”
Frankie stood. “Julien, and now you, treated my men and me as human beings rather than hoodlums. This means a great deal to us. The reason you need the help doesn’t matter. I know Julien wouldn’t be involved in anything shady, and he vouched for you.”
“I am profoundly grateful,” Henri said with as much grace and humility as he could muster. “My own men are coming in from Alaska, however, even if they were to get on a jet within the hour, it’s still a nine-hour flight from Anchorage, and some of them need to take small planes to get to Anchorage from outlying areas in Alaska and the Yukon. My security will not be in place for twenty-four hours or more. Your help is invaluable. Thank you again.”
“If you need me, I set up a command post in your kitchen. Although I graduated from Columbia, then Harvard, before that I did a stint as a Marine. I’m not bragging, but you’re in good hands until your crew arrives.” Frank Ferone left the room and walked down to the catering kitchen.
His phone rang. Henri picked it up. “Giraud.”
“It’s Julien, did Frankie get there?”
“He did. You’re right, I like him. He used to be a Marine. Rene and Martin served a stint in the Corps in World War II. They served under Armand. Rene rose to a colonel, as did Martin. Armand only allowed himself to rise to three stars. Any further would have attracted unwanted attention.”
“We’ve led interesting lives.”
“If Vitas is right, they’ll be able to compare notes.” Henri chuckled then turned serious. “Wouldn’t it be a comedown for Frank to act as a factotum to Armand?”
“In Armand’s case, his factotum shouldn’t be his driver and manservant. With Armand as head of the council, he has too much business. Pierre can’t possibly keep up. He is getting on in years. He’ll be relieved to be the butler, driver, and valet, despite what you may think. Frankie would be his personal business manager and advisor. Frankie has acted as his stepfather’s clean-up man for years and hates it. He’d be delighted to take over for Pierre, and frankly, Ferone would be glad to be rid of him. Ferone may play ball with Armand, but he doesn’t like gay men. Even if the job still held the title—factotum, he’d jump at it,” Julien pointed out.
“I forgot that Pierre was three hundred and forty-six years of age. He met Meg when he was younger than both of us, and they have lived long and happy lives. He’d never retire, but acting as a butler cum manservant and driver would be the perfect job for an aging Pierre. And he would still be near the action and able to advise Frankie on all things loup garou. I think it could work.” Henri walked up the stairs and stood in front of his suite. “I’m going to be completely selfish and go to bed with my Mate.” Henri yawned.
“That’s why I called Frankie, so you could do just that.” Julien laughed. Henri heard the tinkle of ice.
“Enjoy your nightcap, say goodnight to Richard. You’re newly mated, too. Get thee to bed,” Henri teased.
“Richard and I just finished our drinks, and that’s exactly where we’re headed. We have to work in the morning. Someone needs to hold the fort at Garou while the rest of you tilt at the Russians. Goodnight, Henri.”
“Tell Richard I said, goodnight.”
“I will,” Julien replied.
Henri ended the call with a smile then the smile faded. His little one was still in danger.
§ § §
The phone rang. Henri opened one eye and looked at the clock. It was just past eight. He’d let Bertrand get it. Five minutes later there was a knock on the door. “Yes,” Henri answered with a sigh.
“The Alpha is on the phone and The Alpha Mate needs to speak to Vitas. He wants to take Richard and Vitas to Zachary’s,” Regis relayed.
Henri bristled. He wanted to keep Vitas close in case Chernof made a move.
