Page 8 of Lethal Queen

This seems excessive.

You really need a text every two minutes?

Still safe, by the way.

She’s fine, you neurotic fucker.

I nodded at the latest message and tucked my phone away, double checking I had the right hospital room number before I slipped inside. I’d already screwed the silencer onto my gun of choice, so there was nothing to slow me down. I would have used Vasya’s gun for poetic justice, but she needed it with her.

Lionel was asleep or unconscious, it was difficult to tell which. According to my brother, he’d passed out from the pain of being carried into the back of an ambulance. It made no difference.

“You always served my family well,” I told the pale-faced, unconscious man, hardening my heart, “but my wife is scared of her own shadow and I willnottolerate her fear. You had a job and you failed. Catastrophically.”

His eyelids twitched but the heart rate didn’t speed up on his monitor and he didn’t open his eyes. Good. I meant what I said; he served my family well, had been almost a part of it after years of service.

It didn’t stop me aiming the gun at his head and pulling the trigger, but sadness spilled through my chest like I was the one bleeding.

I swallowed the lump in my throat, tucked the gun back inside my jacket pocket, and used a tissue from his bedside table to wipe my hands clean, a holdover until I could find a bathroom to wash off every speck of blood.

Our tech guy already cut the cameras before I walked in; I was in no danger of being caught. A medical emergency had drawn everyone to a room far from Lionel’s, so I crossed no one’s path as I strode through the warm, honey-wood hallways lined with plush seats and appealing artwork. The locker room was easy enough to find, and equally easy to locate was a black coat in my rough size. I swapped my bloody Prada coat for a clean, supermarket brand one, and ducked out of a disabled exit around the back of the hospital.

I parked a few minutes away, but the cold bite of the wind helped clear my head and cast off that sadness in my chest. Vasilisa was almost killed;no onewas allowed to survive that. Lionel was warned to be alert for all her enemies and given a profile on each one; his own sloppiness got him killed. I should have known better than to employ someone outside our immediate family as my wife’s guard.

I wouldn’t make that mistake again.

I drove in silence, letting the warmth of the heated seat soothe the chill that had hooked so quickly into my bones. In the no-frills bathroom of McDonald’s at Edgware Road, I scrubbed off every trace of blood. I would have used one of the family’s properties, but I might as well kill two birds with one stone—metaphorically.

When I was certain I was completely clean, I texted an instruction to our tech guy to clean these cameras too, still feeling glacial inside. I braved the chaos of the self-service machines to order two boxes of chicken nuggets, three different flavours of milkshake, and a chicken sandwich that didn’t looktoounappealing. It was at times like this that I realised just how big a food snob I really was. But whatever made my wife happy made me happy.

It took more time for my order to arrive than it would for me to be served in a two Michelin star restaurant, but I had nothing but sympathy for the tortured cooks. I’d rather kill for a living than work a shift in this riot of screaming and heat.

With food safely in the car, I made one more stop at a pharmacy before I could finally drive home to Vasilisa. I hated being away from her for so long, but having Jonathan’s updates helped. So did knowing she was still asleep and hadn’t woken up crying out for me.

My panic and rage only settled when I was in the lift going up to the apartment, and I knew I’d be at her side where I belonged in less than a minute. A physical weight fell off my shoulders when I punched in the code and let myself inside, spotting Jonathan down the hallway with his eyes on his phone. My own mobile vibrated in my pocket a moment before he glanced up and strode towards me.

“Did you get my latest love note?” he asked, in far too high spirits. “I just sent it.”

I took out my phone and read the three texts that had arrived since I parked the car.

She’s still sleeping.

Do you genuinely believe anything would change in two minutes?

There’s something very wrong with you, Saint.

My mouth curled up at the edge. “Thanks. And I know. But in my defence, someone shot at my wife today; would you be sane right now?”

“No,” Jonathan agreed, peering at me with piercing eyes, searching for cracks and weaknesses. “You seem weirdly calm.”

“I’m far from calm,” I disagreed, setting down the paper bag and drinks on the coffee table. “Thanks for watching over her.”

He shrugged his big shoulders. “Happy to do it. First time I’ve seen you smile in forever lately; I’d hate you to go back to the grumpy bastard I used to know.”

I gave him a flat look and raised an eyebrow just to drive the point home. “Pot, kettle.”

He grunted and rolled his eyes.

I sighed. “I need you to guard Vasya from now on, so pass on everything you’ve been working on to Eli, Vincent, and Cameo.”

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