“Look what the cat dragged in.”
Catriona offered a tight smile. “Hello, Dez.”
“Hello, Catriona.”
“Alain here?”
Dez leaned forward and peered down the hall. She looked back at Catriona, her brow knit.
Catriona’s smile grew. “He’s taking a nap in the stairwell.”
Dez huffed, but she took a step back to allow them entry.
Broch heard the boy blubbering the moment they entered the room. Tyler sat tied to a chair in the corner, farthest from the floor to ceiling windows overlooking the Strip. His eyes were puffy and red.
Upon seeing them enter, Tyler straightened and gasped.
“Cat! You have to help me. They’re crazy. Look what they did to me.”
“It’s Ms. Phoenix to you after this stunt,” said Catriona as she and Broch moved to Tyler.
One leg of the boy’s shorts had been pushed up against his pelvis and tucked under. Blood trails ran down the sides of his thighs. The word bum had been carved into his leg with a very fine blade. Broch spotted the likely instrument sitting on a stone counter nearby.
He glanced at Catriona and she grimaced.
A man’s voice started behind them. “Cahtriona, dear. Sean said you were on your way. I left word at ze desk to let you up.”
“Sae we could hae taken the elevator,” muttered Broch.
Dez remained in the open doorway. She caught Alain’s eye. “You okay with them? I’m going to check on Philip.”
Alain waved her on and returned his attention to his visitors. “How can I help you?”
She held out a hand in Tyler’s direction. “You have something of ours.”
“Not at ze moment, he isn’t.”
Catriona reached into her pocket to retrieve a folded square of paper. “I brought a check. What does he owe you?”
Tyler sobbed, his chin dropping to his chest. “Thank you. Ohmygod. Thank you. I’ll pay you back.”
Alain waved a hand at Tyler to shut up as he eyeballed Broch. “Who’s your friend, Catriona?”
“This is Brochan.”
Alain nodded slowly. Broch could almost see the gears in the wee man’s head grinding, and he didn’t like it. He did like Alain’s suit, though he feared that much cream would look strange on a frame as large as his own. The Frenchmen looked like a neat, wee cloud. He also smelled of bergamot, which reminded Broch of a cereal he liked. His stomach growled and he regretted not eating on the plane.
Alain pointed at him, swinging his finger to point from head to toe. “My wife would love him.”
“He’s not for sale and he doesn’t gamble.”
“Lately,” mumbled Broch. To be completely honest, he gambled quite a bit back in Scotland with his rich friend Gavin. It was the best way to make some quick money.
Catriona bypassed his confession and held up the check for Alain to see. “How much?” She headed into the kitchen and opened a drawer. “All I need is a pen. I think I remember how to use one...”
In response to Catriona’s query, Alain swatted the air, the same gesture he’d used to dismiss Dez. Broch couldn’t remember a moment the man wasn’t waving at someone. It was as if he were plagued by a cloud of invisible gadflies.
“Put your check away. You’ve given me an idea.”
Catriona ceased searching through the kitchen drawers. “I don’t like the sound of that. I’d rather just write you a check.”
“I won’t take your money.”
“Come on…”
Alain shook his head. “You are a resourceful girl. Do me a favor and I’ll release ze boy. After, you can require he pay you for your services or not. Zat is up to you.”
Staring at the floor, Catriona pinched the bridge of her nose. “Fine. What’s the favor?”
“Bring my wife back to me.”
Catriona looked up. “Mo? Where is she?”
Alain looked away and raised his chin to strike a dramatic pose. He fell short of holding the back of his wrist to his forehead.
“She has left me.”
“Why? What did you do?”
“Nothing!”
“Right. So you don’t know where she is?”
“I know where she ees. I need someone to convince her to come back to me.”
“How am I supposed to do that?”
“You’ll figure eet out eef you want ze boy back.”
Catriona looked at Tyler. “I need the boy back by Monday.”
Alain sniffed. “Zen I would hurry.”
The door opened and Broch stepped out of the way as Dez entered, butt-first, dragging the unconscious body of her partner behind her. She pulled him into the room and dropped his arms to the ground. Puffing, she leaned against the wall to catch her breath.
Alain peered at his fallen soldier and then back at Broch. “You did ziss?”
Broch bobbed his head in Catriona’s direction. “Ah’m nae sure. Ask her, she micht hae dane it all oan her own.”
Catriona closed her eyes and tilted her face to the ceiling. “I swear, listening to you two destroy the English language is giving me a headache.” She pointed at Alain. “Tell me where I can find Mo.”
“She’s at hair design studio.”
“She’s getting her hair done?”
With a huff, Alain pulled a pad of paper and pen from a drawer in the sofa’s end table.
“There’s the pen,” grumbled Catriona.
Alain jotted down an address before thrusting the paper at Catriona. “Hair design studio.”
“Oh. Her design studio. Got it. Seriously Alain, you’ve been here for like twenty years. Lose the accent. You’re worse than Arnold Schwarzenegger. At least Broch just got here.”
She snatched the paper from Alain’s hands and motioned to Broch.
“Let’s go.”
Tyler wailed, his eyes wild. “No. Wait! What about me?”
Catriona stopped to glare at Alain. “No more body graffiti.”
Alain closed his eyes and stuck his nose in the air. “One for every day he doesn’t pay.”
Catriona shook her head. “Uh-uh. No more cutting. He has one more mark on him when I
