Not all right.
Before the resolve was complete in her senses, she skittered her gaze to the side. A few seconds were all she needed to consolidate her plan, because it was a damn good one. She visualized every stage of the scene, almost as if the universe wanted her to have an exclusive sneak peek before it materialized.
Her arm flicking out. Her fingers stretching.
Those fingers curling around the neck of an empty wine bottle—a quality Cabernet, with droplets still gleaming inside—before she lifted it in a high sweep. Then lowered it for a violent crash.
Then the satisfaction setting in. The grim joy of watching the smashed glass across Gervais’s head, sending shards across his face and into his closest eye.
“Putain!” he shrieked, doubling over and grabbing his face. “What the—”
“G?” Remy demanded. “What the fuck?”
“I’m fine,” Gervais snarled, raising his head with a ferocious jerk. “Stay where you are. I’ve just got a feisty little bitch here.” As he smirked, blood puddled in several crevices in his jaw. “But she’ll obey if yours does—and luckily, I like to fight as hard as I fuck.” After sweeping another empty wine container out of the trash, he smashed the bottle against the dumpster’s lip. “Do not fret. I can take it, darling. What about you?”
More than anything, Jayd longed to stab the asshole with an equally insolent smile. Instead, a scream crawled up her throat. She forced it down in time but could do nothing about the thunder of her carotid. If she still had all her hair, its length might have hidden the telltale throb at the side of her neck. But if she still had all her hair, these two monsters would likely have recognized her by now.
“Mon ami.” Remy, despite being built like the bull to Gervais’s pony, actually produced the more reasonable tone. “Can you keep it in your pants another minute, damn it, and listen to me?”
“No, goddammit.” Gervais twisted an ugly scowl. “You went first the last time.”
“Fuck you. I said listen to me—just like you should have been listening to these two for the last fifteen minutes.”
“Huh?” Gervais grunted.
“Inside, mine called yours ‘highness.’ And their accents…not completely American. Especially this one’s.” During that, he rammed a hand beneath Requiemme’s sweater. He massaged her breast as if analyzing a melon in the market. “Hmm. Just as I thought. Expensive lace.”
“And you’re going where with this exactly, Inspector Clouseau?” Gervais charged.
“That maybe they’re good for more than just some thrills.”
“Which means what?”
“That they’re used to being kept in style. That wherever that money exists, there is bound to be more.”
Jayd seethed so hard, she worked her tongue around the gag enough to form mangled words. “Bein’ keppp?” she spat. “Becaw we cannaw kee ourfelves as such?”
“Hawness!” Emme exclaimed. “By dah Cweatah’s toes!”
“Ah!” Remy flashed a triumphant leer. “You get it now?”
If Gervais had a response revving, Jayd squandered no moments in cutting his ignition short. She did not even tarry with a rebuke for Emme, nor the comfort of knowing her maid was probably already flogging herself for the slip.
Instead, she focused. Intensely. Right to the center of her body. She funneled her attention on bucking out and then up, determined to be the mongoose that unseated this snake.
As soon as Gervais swore again, caught aback by her burst of violence, she twisted to the side and away from the dumpster. For heartbreaking seconds, her equilibrium swam. She mistook the eddies of a puddle as the thin line of sky over the alley. As she righted herself and continued to stumble, shouts ricocheted up and down the looming, dirty brick walls.
“Putain!” Gervais’s shriek split the air again.
“Christ,” Remy gritted. “What now?”
“My nuts! Shit. I can’t move!”
“Well, don’t let her go! She’s obviously the highness in all this.”
“Did you hear me now? I can’t move!”
“Highness!” Requiemme’s scream was an urgent slice on the air. That could only mean one thing. She had yanked her gag free. And if she had done that—
“Highness! Run!”
Too late.
Remy had let Emme go to chase and capture Jayd. And succeeded.
She flailed, but the man really had to be half bull. He was barely breathing hard to secure her, while binding his arm around her at the perfect angle to push at her lungs. She only had enough air left to get out a defined shriek.
“Emme! Get out of here. Now!”
“No. No,” Emme sobbed. “Not without y—”
A new scream on the air. Jayd was certain she watched as it shook some plaster loose between the bricks, but she could not be certain. She was sure that it did not belong to Requiemme. It definitely had not burst from her either.
Then who…?
Really?
She slammed back against a wall, bringing knuckles to her forehead in shock. Was she truly watching this happen?
It seemed so.
Unbelievably, the screech belonged to Remy. She confirmed that because he erupted with it again while being hauled to the opposite wall by his back collar.
And his new handler?
Absolutely not Gervais.
This human was too big. Too mighty. Too daunting. A T-Rex to Remy’s bull. A beast who persisted in shoveling the naughty puppy treatment at the man. Remy only had time for a dazed grunt before the man hurled him against the bricks like he’d peed on a Persian rug. The bastard’s broken form crumpled along the wall before collapsing into a puddle of strange yellow liquid. No more snorts or growls from him now. Instead, the bastard spilled a string of slurry French pleas, plunging both hands over his crotch. Understandable, if the man feared what fate the force of nature might deal to his family jewels.
Not that his opponent noticed. Or cared.
Jayd was conscious of her mouth dropping open as the interloper paced over and twisted a hand into Remy’s greasy hair. Remy whimpered as T-Rex forced him back to his feet.
Their new position turned them directly beneath one of the wan alley lights. In the tube of that ghostly glow, the force of nature smiled down at Remy. Though the look was feral, it only strengthened the man’s rugged beauty. A crescent of brilliant white teeth. Deep creases that ran at right angles to his formidable jaw. A gaze of deep cobalt brilliance, glittering with primordial-grade power. He was raw. Savage. Mesmerizing.
And why was she noticing all that about him?
She had no traceable idea.
Maybe considering his attributes above his shoulders was easier than watching what he did with the body below them.
How his massive shoulders rippled as he re-secured his grip on Remy. How his equally huge thighs flexed as he employed them for the action. How every speck of him was so ideally served by his formfitting dark-blue Henley and black denim bottoms.
No, she told herself. No more.
But what else was there to focus on? The man was all the way across the alley but might as well have been right there in her personal space. She breathed in and received his incredible scent—yes, even from here—all cloves and cedar and suede. Even Gervais’s swearing and stampings were insignificant in the shadows of this forceful giant.