The Assassin's Mask: Daynara and Nicholas

Nicholas “Tell me where Leroux is, and I’ll end your suffering!” I growl menacingly. My captive gasps and chokes, blood pouring from his lips and body. His eyes haze as death approaches, “I don’t know,” he raises his mauled hands pleadingly, “P-please…no more. I…last time I saw Lareux, he was…” he spits blood before continuing, “…he was at the Les Amoureux de la Danse.” His chest heaves, and he grimaces with pain, “It was…it was two weeks ago. He likes to watch burlesque shows.” My brow furrows. The Les Amoureux de la Danse is an exotic dance club. I had read in Leroux’s files that he loved to frequent strip clubs. Jaw tight, I lean close and coldly state, “Is there anything else?” He shakes his head, “I don’t know anything else. Please, let me go.” I shake my head, “I commend you for your cooperation. Too bad it will not do you any good.” Without a thought, I slice his throat and emotionlessly watch as he takes his last breath. Taking one last look at my captive's blank gaze, I sigh. It was an unsatisfying death for the salope. I feel he should have put up more of a fight. Taking out a handkerchief from my suit pocket, I thoroughly clean my knife before I put it back in the sheathe. I search his pockets and take his mobile before walking out the door. I adjust my suit jacket as I pass through the restaurant’s empty kitchen. I hate getting dirty. I spotted my quarry earlier when he slipped into the restaurant’s back door to break into the safe. Jean Leroux is one of France’s topmost wanted human traffickers. Leroux had escaped the Confradia’s grasp several months ago after we raided one of his trafficking warehouses. We rescued the victims, but Leroux ran before we could bring him in. Logan assigned me to find Leroux after he learned he had surfaced in France. I’ve been staying at my apartment in France for nearly two months, searching for any leads. Sadly, Leroux has gone deep underground. Because of that, I’ve had to hunt for any of his known associates. I discovered Leroux’s underling, Alain Garnier, several weeks ago and have been keeping surveillance on him since. Too bad the connard took so long to cede any information on Leroux. Being the son of a French model turned diplomat and an American artist, I have been fortunate to experience both cultures. I spent the first fifteen years of my life partially living in Louisiana and Paris until my Maman passed and my Père settled in New Orleans. I was recruited into the CIA when I was eighteen and transitioned into the Confradia when I was twenty-one. It has been a tumultuous experience since. But I prefer not to think about the precious thing I had lost. I slip off my jacket as soon as I walk through the door. My apartment is the epitome of an elegant Haussmann façade with high ceilings and large windows that usher in a relaxed ambiance with natural lighting. The apartment has an open-plan space with a stunning kitchen. The suite has five contemporary bedrooms with white walls, modern black-and-white art, and French oak floors. The long quartz island offsets the white cabinets with its white marble countertop and square encaustic, Montjuic floor tile. I head to my bedroom with its king-sized bed, light oak wardrobe, and walk-in closet with white shelves and cabinets and meticulously hang up my jacket. The apartment has several bathrooms. However, my ensuite is the most stunning part of the apartment. The bathroom has two rustic blue vanities containing old-fashioned white basins, oval brass mirrors, white subway tile, and a stand-alone tub. As someone with Autism Spectrum Disorder, I feel more comfortable when things are where they should be. I adjust the towels and organize my toiletries as I walk through the bathroom. It’s a daily ritual I follow that helps me control my environment. Though it’s not easy to have autism, an identic memory, and many social issues, I’ve never let it become an obstacle. Once I have settled, I go to my office and sit in my comfortable jacquard chair before I activate my laptop. My office is my oasis with its utilitarian white desk, cream sofa, French oak floors, wooden bookshelves, soothing sky-blue walls, and large windows. My director, Logan’s face, appears on the screen a moment later. Logan’s Mediterranean features rival the devils with his dark ebony hair and eyes. He’s classically attractive with an aura of authority, making him an excellent leader. My eyes are dark cobalt, and my dark brown hair creates a fantastic contrast with my tanned skin. Though my psychotic mien threatens most people, my looks draw females to me like bees to honey. Logan’s expression is somewhat unsettled when he asks, “Good evening, Voodoo. Any word on Leroux?” I nod, “Oui. I found one of his associates, Alain Garnier. It took some convincing, but he eventually revealed that Leroux had been frequenting a club called, Amoureux de la Danse. I plan on visiting the club tonight.” Logan nods but remains quiet for a moment, which makes alarm bells go off in my head. I’m not usually good at reading social queues, but I’ve seen enough to know when something is wrong. “Is there a problem, Logan?” I ask. Logan’s jaw ticks as he steadily meets my eyes, “I received a call this morning.” I quirk a brow, “And what has disturbed you so much about this call?” He puffs out a breath, “The call was from Dionysus.” My shoulders tense. However expected the call is, I still feel the tumultuous emotions I keep tightly reigned inside me boil. “What did he want?” I carefully ask, confident that unfinished issues between Dion and I are about to be set in motion again. Logan’s dark eyes gleam with purpose, “It’s about his daughter, Daynara.” My breath hitches and cold seeps through my senses at his words. “What happened to Daynara?” I grit out evenly. It had been years since I had seen the stunning temptress, yet I could never squash the desire her name instilled in me. There were so many things left unsaid between us. So much pain that we experienced at the hands of her Père. Father. “Earlier today, Dion received a threat to Daynara’s life from an unknown source. At first, he thought it was a hoax, but they sent him some convincing pictures. He tried to contact her, but Daynara had been ignoring her Père’s calls. I heard they have a strained relationship.” “What does that have to do with you?” I retort, understanding that the game has begun. Logan arches his brows and continues, “Dion heard I had a man working a case in France and requested that I send him to collect his daughter.” “Daynara is in France?” I asked though another source had already apprised me of the news. “According to Dion, Daynara’s best friend is getting married at the end of the month. The bride and her bridesmaids decided to take a tour through Europe before the bride said her vows. Unfortunately, Dion has no men who can get here in time to ensure Daynara’s safety, which is why he called me.” My heart flutters with anticipation, “Did you tell him I was the man you had in France?” I query, though I know the answer. Logan nods, “He said he had no issue with it.” I scoff, “Oui. I’m sure he doesn’t.” Logan shrugs his broad shoulders, “Well, whatever the case, you’re one of my best men, and you’re already in Paris.” My chest swells at his praise, “I can find her, but I can’t guarantee she’ll be happy to see me.” Logan chuckles under his breath, “There’s no doubt that will be the case,” he looks down at his keyboard and presses a few buttons, “I sent you a file with her tour itinerary, the threatening information Dion received, and her phone tracker. According to the tracker, Daynara is currently dancing at a local nightclub. You should also know that because of the severity of the threat, Daynara will need protection until we get her back to Dion.” I look at the information he shared and clench my jaw. Merde! I didn’t consider that Daynara would have to stay with me until I got her to Dion. “What about Leroux?” I question. Logan narrows his eyes and leans close to the screen, “You’re one of the most thorough assassins under my command. I’m sure you can continue your investigation and protect the woman without issue.” I clench my jaw, stifling a curse, “You know it’s not going to be as easy as you say, Logan. I’m sure Daynara hates me and will not make it easy.” Logan snickers, “I don’t see a problem with that, Voodoo,” he uses my codename, “Perhaps you should use this time to resolve some old issues.” I want to argue, but time is of the essence, and I know that Logan will not waiver in his resolve. “I should go and find her then,” I steadily reply. Logan’s lip quirks, “Good luck.” Once the screen has gone blank, I take a moment to steady my rapidly beating heart. It’s time to confront my past.