Lancelot by Silvia Violet
Lancelot
How had I managed to fuck that up so badly?
Because you were thinking with your dick.
But had I been? Or was I, for the first time ever, thinking with my heart?
I wanted Julian, but there was more to that than lust. I’d wanted plenty of gorgeous men, but I’d kept my hands off them when I needed to. Julian compelled me, drew me in. He made me vulnerable. How could I convince him this wasn’t a game?
It had started out that way, but now… I needed him as much as I needed to get into his archive. I would show him that one way or another.
My phone buzzed, and I pulled it from my pocket. Remington. Why was he already checking on me?
“No. I don’t have it, but—”
“Shut up and listen.”
My anger at myself shifted gears and focused on my brother. “I’m fucking trying to do what you asked. You breathing down my neck isn’t going to do a goddamn thing to help.”
“I tried to reach my contact. He’s not responding, and he didn’t show up for work yesterday.”
“Oh fuck.”
“If you can’t get the information today, we’re going to have to break in after the library closes.”
I refrained from reminding him that was what I’d wanted to do since the beginning, especially since I wouldn’t have met Julian if I’d done that. “I’ve got another angle, but no matter what, I will get what we need.”
I hoped to hell Blackjack would come through with the book, and it would convince Julian how serious I was. I didn’t want to leave Julian out of this. If Remy’s contact had been exposed, there was a chance Carlotti knew about the information being passed to us. There was no way in hell I’d leave Julian unprotected when those assholes might come sniffing around.
“Who is your contact, Remington? It’s time I knew.”
“His name is Andy Richard, and he’s a professor at Tulane. We met at a historical society function. He’s assisted me with adding to my collection.”
Remington was using his stiff, detached voice. There was something he didn’t want to say. “And?”
“We got drunk together one night after an auction, and he confessed he’s a member of the Carlotti family, a second cousin to Valentino. He knew who I was.”
“Shit, Remy. I’m surprised you let him live.”
“He wants nothing to do with them. He was able to get out because his connection is distant, but he’s seen some of the worst of what their family does. He saw Carlotti beat a housekeeper to death because she spilled wine on him.”
“Jesus. You didn’t just take his word about breaking ties, did you?”
“Fuck no. I had Blackjack scrutinize everything about him, then I grilled him myself.”
I smiled. “That must have been interesting.”
“He was scared as shit. He said the family occasionally expected him to do something for them, but he wanted to be totally free of them.”
“And he wanted you to help him get his freedom?”
Remington blew out a long breath. “I’ve made it clear to him that I’m not starting a war and endangering my family, but I appreciate the information he’s passed on.”
“Remington, you shouldn’t have—”
“We needed to know who was responsible for this theft.”
He was right. We did, but if this son of a bitch was using my brother to start a war, I’d kill him if he wasn’t dead already. “Does Pop know?”
Silence.
“Remy?”
“No.”
“We’re going to have to tell him if there is proof the Carlottis pulled off the heist.”
“I know. I’ll do it.”
I hated how sad he sounded. “I’ll go with you.”
“You don’t have to—”
“How many times have you stood by me when I’ve done something stupid?”
“Andy was a brilliant historian, and I—”
I didn’t miss that Remy had said was. He must think the man was dead. “You don’t have many chances to make friends who aren’t family. I’ll fix this.”
“What are you—”
“Trust me.” I ended the call and contacted Blackjack.