Page 17 of Runaway Queen

We’d done the bathroom and teeth; we’d even done our story.

“I just realized that we haven’t filled in that report about the book we read. It’s due tomorrow.” A little pinch of worry had settled between Leo’s eyebrows.

“It’s okay. Your teacher knows you had a doctor’s appointment today.”

“Maybe we can do it in the morning?” Leo wondered.

The things that other kids took for granted, or hated to do, like homework, Leo loved. It made him feel normal, just like the other kids.

I sat on the edge of his bed and stroked his silky hair. “Maybe. Let’s see if we have time. Now, I’m turning out the lights.”

“Okay. Turn off the lights and turn on the stars,” Leo said, his favorite sentence to say, as he snuggled in his comforter.

I turned out the light and looked up. After a moment, the ceiling illuminated with stars. They weren’t the stitched-on ones from my curtains at Casa Nera, and they weren’t the real ones from his father’s lonely childhood. This night sky was Leo’s, and I’d do anything I had to, to make sure he had a better life than either of his parents had ever had. A life with choices.

I lay down beside him and wrapped my arms around him. I should really finish tidying up and go to my room. I should really plan out what was going to happen with the hospital in the next few weeks. There were a lot of tests that had to be done to determine if this donor was a real possibility. Leo was going to have to stay in the hospital to do it. He was more than comfortable with the staff at St. Mary’s. He’d been there three times a week for dialysis for years. I couldn’t afford to take too much time off work. Over the operation and recovery, I’d need to be on hand to help, though, I could count on Chiara’s and Angelo’s help as well. My mind whirled, going over scheduling and the impossible task of balancing a single-parent income with a very sick child. Tomorrow, I had class. Then this weekend would involve getting Leo settled in hospital and taking the damn portrait to Edward Sloane’s house.

I closed my eyes, suddenly more tired than I could bear. For tonight, I let sleep carry me away. I’d figure out how to make it all work tomorrow. I always did.

After all, as a very precious person once told me, it’s better to die than do nothing.

7

NIKOLAI

The days after killing Bob, the accountant, were a blur. I’d lost count of the number of men I’d hurt, cutting a bloody swath through the De Sanctis ranks, trying to get to Renato or Antonio. In the end, it was Ronan Black, the devil’s own attorney, who came through. I had in my shiny new cell phone the banking information for a one-off payment, made from a shell corp belonging to Renato De Sanctis, to a renowned forger, for a new set of identity documents.

Standing now, three days later, with a shovel in my hand, under a starless New Jersey sky, I stood on the cusp of finding out. I had to know, one way or another. I couldn’t wait one more second to know.

“Crap. This isn’t the kind of thing I had in mind for when we were out,” Bran muttered. He was standing in the hole we’d been digging in the moonlight. He leaned on a shovel and sighed. “I still say we use the digger.”

“No, it’s too noisy, and besides, we don’t know how deep to go. We might go too far.”

Bran sighed and wiped a hand over his sweating brow. “This is really fucked up, you know that. I mean, even for you, digging up your ex-girlfriend’s grave is macabre.”

“She wasn’t my girlfriend.” There wasn’t a word for what we were.

“That makes it even worse. And now the memory of her is a death wish. You want to bring the De Sanctis family down on your head?”

“They can’t do shit. Antonio won’t risk pissing off Kirill unless it’s serious.”

“I’d say fucking up half their men is serious.”

“I’ve barely scratched the surface of the damage I’m going to inflict on them. I’m only just warming up. This is a diversion from the main event.” I dug down again. The soil was deeper packed the lower we got, and it was working a serious ache up in my arms. I welcomed the pain. It kept me awake. The persistent feeling of being in a dream had dogged me since I’d killed the accountant.

“This is just a diversion?” Bran snorted, disbelief in his voice.

He knew me too well. This was just a diversion, unless she was really alive. Then, everything changed.

“I love throwing my back out for a diversion,” he muttered.

“Less complaining, more digging.”

We worked on in silence. The noise in my head was a muted roar. My bloodlust had been well and truly sated in the last few days, but even then, since this thread of intrigue had unspooled, nothing seemed to quench my need to break bones and inflict pain. I was restless, full of dark, twisted energy that had nowhere to go. Like a tiger pacing in his cage, tail lashing, temper simmering, I couldn’t fucking wait to resolve this mystery.

A hard thud broke through my thoughts.

Pay dirt.

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