Page 85 of Reset

“This isnae funny,” Callum grumbled as they headed to the lifts.

“Little bit,” David said.

Of course, Rachel had booked the Royal Suite. It had six bedrooms, six bathrooms, two living rooms, a dining room, an office, and a kitchen. And a view of the Eiffel Tower. It was also full of delicate antique furniture and soft silk furnishings that’d stain easily.

“The office isn’t big enough for all of us, so I’m setting up in the dining room,” Elle announced as she passed. “I’ve been going through Ryan’s history with a fine-tooth comb, and we need to talk about it.”

“Did you find something?” Callum followed her into the dining room and winced when she plonked her laptop down on the polished wood of the antique table.

“No, I found everything. The list of people Ryan has offended is as long as my arm and getting longer every minute I investigate. It’s like looking for a dickhead in a country only populated by dickheads.”

“Colorful,” Callum said drolly.

Julia slipped into the room and sat in the chair nearest the exit before consulting her iPad. “We could start cross-referencing your findings with the information Mr. Prentice gave us. It might help narrow things down.”

“I don’t know.” Elle tightened the blue ponytail she had right on top of her head. It looked like a whale spout. “He didn’t give us much.”

“We have the name of the man he dealt with, his bank account information, and the fact that we’re in Paris. The location has to be relevant, doesn’t it?” Julia checked with Callum.

“Aye.” Callum scratched his stubble-covered chin. “What do we have on the man Prentice handed Ryan and Sarah over to?”

Her computer already open and running, Elle tapped in a command. “Leo Fournier. They call him The Baker.”

“Because he cooks the books?” Megan asked as she strolled into the room carrying a bag full of weapons.

“No,” Elle said. “Because Fournier translates to baker.”

“Well, that’s boring.” Megan held up the bag. “Joe told me to clean the guns. Can he do that?”

“Aye.” And knowing Joe, he’d done it to keep Megan out of trouble. Smart man.

“Bummer.” Megan tipped them out onto the other end of the table.

“Put a bloody cloth down first,” Callum snapped. “What are we? Barbarians?”

“I knew you should never have let him see the bill for the new carpet,” Elle told Julia. “I warned you he’d go mental over every penny we cost him from there on in.”

“If you took care of the things around you, we wouldnae have to spend so much to replace them.” Callum pinched the bridge of his nose. It was worse than talking to his kids.

“You should have left the bloodstained carpet alone,” Rachel said, taking a seat at the head of the table. “More intimidating when you’re questioning someone.”

“Aye, but the cops tend to get suspicious when they find a room covered in blood.”

“That guy had a nosebleed,” Megan protested. “It wasn’t my fault.”

“You punched him in the face, which started the bloody nosebleed.” Callum stared at the ceiling, as though he might find patience in amongst the rococo cornices.

“And here I was worried I’d missed the briefing,” an English voice drawled from the doorway.

“Lake!” Elle bounced out of her seat and hugged the founder of the company.

Lake Benson seemed a little bemused by the show of affection, but his eyes crinkled in what passed for a smile.

“What are you doing here?” Rachel asked.

Lake cocked an eyebrow at her. “Ditto.”

She sighed. “Just what we need, another taciturn macho man.”