I opened my mouth, then closed it. Jesus. “I—I can’t—”

“It’s an easy question.” He cocked his head, his mouth twisting in disgust. “A question I think you are having trouble answering.”

“What are you talking about? What’s the question exactly? Are you kidding me?”

He held up what was in his hands.

I narrowed my eyes on it. It was the business card that the creep Alfred Morosto had given me as Dauphine and I left the bathroom at Le Club Cinquante Cinq.

“Evan believes that Michello, Arriette’s brother, is working with Alfred Morosto. That somehow Morosto tipped Arriette’s brother off about our plans.”

Oh. Oh.

“I need you to tell me every single thing he said to you that day on the beach, and what you told him, and I want to know what he promised you.”

Chapter Forty-Two

The approaching helicopter was sleek, black, and shiny with minimal markings. There was just a tail number that began with XP, and I guessed it was the helicopter version of a vanity plate. It drew a crowd in the port as it touched down at the end of a long seawall.

I had no idea what kind of string-pulling had happened to allow Xavier to use the port as his own personal airport.

Xavier barked at me to follow as he ducked low. I hadn’t thought I was going with him, but everything suddenly changed. I’d gone from his lover to a traitor in the blink of an eye.

He was reacting out of fear and panic, and I was trying really hard to keep that in mind.

But internally I was seething and hurting, my fists clenching, and my head aching from grinding my teeth.

The wind in my ears and thump of the blades was deafening. I held my hair out of my eyes as best I could as I followed him, running low to the loud beast. If it wasn’t for Dauphine, I would have told him to fuck off when he suddenly demanded I leave all my things and accompany him. But with a chance to get to her sooner, help find her, or at least be there when they did, I was biting back my anger.

He twisted the handle of the door and wrenched it open, gesturing me inside.

I climbed up into the cool dark interior, dipping my chin at a single pilot in a black helmet and headset with reflective glasses who nodded back. There were four black leather passenger seats, two pairs facing each other. I sat on the farthest one, facing toward the cockpit. I didn’t know much about being in one of these things, but if it was anything like a train, I wanted to be facing in the direction I was heading. Nerves slipped through me, upending my stomach.