Remy smiled at him. “Was that so hard? I don’t think it was.” He threw the broken flute. Heard it shatter when it hit the wall. “Nice doing business with you.” Remy stepped away, and his hand slicked back his wet hair. Whistling, he turned for the door.
“Does she know what you are?” Preston called after him.
Remy paused next to the bleeding goon who was still on the floor. “It’s gonna need stitches. Probably should put some pressure on that.” Whistling, he continued on his way.
“She thought I was scary, butyou’rethe real psycho!”
Ah, now they were getting somewhere. Remy looked back. “And don’t you ever forget it.”
The sprinklers shut off. Waiters and waitresses ran back into the restaurant.
Remy casually walked out.
***
“Boss?”
Preston glared at the bastard who wasstrollingaway and whistling.
“Mr. Guidry? I-I think I do need a doctor.”
He ignored the idiot on the floor. Useless. Utterlyuseless.Preston swiped at the water that soaked his face and his hair.
The hostess—a woman he’d fucked a few times—ran up to him. “Are you all right? You should have left with the others. There—there could have been a fire!”
There had been no fire. He strongly suspectedRembrandthad set the scene. He’d made it so no witnesses would be there to see his threats.
She reached for him, trying to dot up some of the water on his face with a napkin. A wet napkin.
He swatted her hand away. Rembrandt was gone. Jacqueline was gone. His useless guard clutched his hand and kept moaning about doctors. This scene had gone straight to hell.
Luckily, things could still be salvaged.
Luckily.
Because despite what Jacqueline and her new associate believed, he was not someone who could be so easily threatenedorplayed. No, he was the one who played the games. He was the mastermind.
He knew exactly what Rembrandt’s next target would be.My home.So he would just make completely sure that he had an appropriate greeting party awaiting the man. Once Rembrandt was removed from the equation, Preston would make Jacquelineopen the safe for him. He hadn’t worked this hard, for this long, to get his treasure, only to have the prize stolen by some two-bit thief.
Oh, hell, no. He’d see Rembrandt dead first.
Actually, I’ll see him dead very, very soon.
Chapter Thirteen
Remy stalked toward the limo that waited near the corner. The driver opened the back door, and Remy slid inside. Instantly, his gaze went to Jacqueline. When he saw her, he couldn’t help but tense.
She smiled at him and surged forward. “You’re okay!” Her arms wrapped around him as her body collided with his.
He was soaking wet, but not like he could complain about that situation. He squeezed her tighter. Wanted to haul her onto his lap, take her mouth, and never let go. But…
“Ahem.”
Constantine.
Constantine was the reason they were currently making their getaway in the limo. Remy had hoped for something less in-your-face, but when you put Constantine in charge of getaway vehicles, you often just had to go with whatever crazy ride he came up with. In this instance, it was a limo. One that hopefully sported bulletproof glass because Remy understood he’d just made a new enemy. An enemy who would not hesitate to take him out.
“I thought we talked about you keeping control,” Constantine chided. “What happened to that goal? Did you decide that being violent was too much fun?”