Page 13 of Queen's Ransom

“You did?”

“I did.”

The hummingbird in Celia’s belly soared, flying higher and faster on the heat that tripped through her veins.

Chapter Six

Running late, Helena was hustling up the stairs when she nearly collided with Hawes on the second-floor landing. Years of training and coordinated maneuvers, however, made it so neither of them had to think twice about which way to move to avoid the other.

“Sorry I’m late,” she said once the impromptu choreography was over. “I went into the office this morning to get matters sorted for a court call on Monday.” She couldn’t count on any spare time tomorrow, and God only knew what today’s to-do list would look like after this debrief, so she’d had no choice but to hit the office first thing. The to-and-from usually didn’t take long, especially on a Saturday morning when the city was slow to wake, but water falling from the sky doubled travel time, no matter what hour or day. “Traffic’s a bitch with the rain.”

“Same reason I’m late. Took me an extra twenty to get here from headquarters.” Like their father had, Hawes often worked weekends at Madigan Cold Storage; easier to get work done without so many interruptions. He held an arm out toward the stairs for her to go first. “How are you doing?” he asked as they climbed. “Juggling everything?”

Vague, not like Hawes, king of the pointed questions, but she went along with it, assuming he was picking up the leading questions habit from Chris. “Pushed the operative meeting to Tuesday, so that’s off my plate for now. Should be relatively straightforward, in any event. Recap of our contracts and some new recruitment targets. As for the day job, the other side’s summary judgment motion was denied, so the case goes forward. The call on Monday morning is to set discovery and trial dates.” They reached the third-floor landing, and she nodded the direction they were headed. “Which leaves this debrief. I gave Holt my lists before I left. I’m eager to see what he’s found.”

After two steps, she paused and rotated half-around, the silence behind her telling. “You coming?” she asked Hawes, who remained on the landing.

He leaned a shoulder against the wall instead. “That’s all work stuff.” A raised brow and Helena caught his meaning.

Pivoting fully, she rested a hip against the stair rail. “You’re asking about Celia?”

He tilted his head, eyes twinkling with barely concealed mischief. Eyes that were icy blue like hers, like their father’s had been, like their grandmother’s. But the story in Hawes’s eyes had changed. The ghosts that had long haunted them were gone. In their place was a calm and quiet assurance. He’d found where he fit, in the organization and in life, within the family and with Chris. Peace for the Prince of Killers, which left more room for humor and teasing.

She often played the role of imp, a sharp tongue one of her best weapons, but she doubted levity reached her eyes like it did her brother’s. Hers were closer to Hawes’s eyes of old. She was happy with her roles, more settled in them day by day, but they didn’t leave time for much else. Which was no doubt why Hawes was nosing around in her personal life.

But her life had no business being the center of attention. “Don’t you think Celia’s got enough on her plate? I don’t want to make her life more complicated.”

“So you are interested?”

She rolled her eyes and fell back on her old friend snark. “Fuck you and your fed.”

“What?” Hawes said with a far from innocent shrug. “We Madigans thrive on chaos, including romantically.”

“Oooh…” Helena drawled. “Is that what we’re calling last summer?”

Red slashed across his sharp cheekbones, and Hawes hung his head, chuckling. “Turned out all right in the end.” He raked a hand through his hair, then lifted his face. “I’m just saying, don’t let the present chaos stop you from going after the good sort. And she is, Hena. We knew as much already, but having her and the rest of the Perris here…” His voice drifted off on a contagious smile. Helena felt it too. Their family home was alive again for the first time in months. Years, maybe. Full of the good kind of chaos. If they wanted more of that, they had to make sure the bad chaos was brought to an end. And to do so, she needed to put whatever she was feeling for Celia—the memory of last night’s sparring session she’d replayed in her head countless times already—on the back burner and focus on keeping her and her family safe.

She restarted up the steps, tossing more snark over her shoulder. “Since when are you the get-a-life tyrant? Especially you, who went out once in a blue moon to get your dick sucked before Mr. Hair showed up?”

He laughed softly. “I’m trying to keep you from making the same workaholic life choices I made.”

A familiar gruff voice floated out from the computer speakers in the lair above. Proof of life Helena had to see. She hustled up the rest of the steps and into the room, Hawes on her heels. She nodded to Avery and Victoria across the room, to Chris in the command chair next to Holt, then pointed at the police chief onscreen. “He’s worse than I am.”

“At what?” Brax said.

“Being a workaholic.”

The chief looked it too, more than ever. Hazel eyes bloodshot, skin too pale, wrinkles too deep, his hairline receded a little closer to where his aviators sat atop his head, and his normally square shoulders slumped under the standard issue SFPD rain gear. The umbrella wasn’t doing much good either, the rain slanting sideways with the blowing wind.

“Push,” Holt said. “I don’t know who would win that one.”

She ruffled her brother’s overgrown hair, the ends starting to curl. His beard was equally scruffy, and she counted a half dozen used coffee mugs about the lair, two more than when she’d left this morning. “Or maybe you’d win, Little H?”

He swatted at her hand but didn’t take his eyes off the man onscreen.

“You find the car?” Chris asked from Holt’s other side.

“Right where an anonymous tipster said it would be.” Brax reversed the camera view, and there sat the Charger, in the Mission alleyway where Holt had had it towed from before dawn. “Doesn’t look like it’s been touched.”

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