Page 4 of The Queen's Denial

“When I was younger, before I got into this life, I left for the army right after graduation. Cas tried to recruit me into his dad’s mafia family, but he knew I didn’t want that at the time. I was young, and I had an out: I wasn’t a super high commodity, being his cousin on his mom’s side who never had a part in the mafia at all. So, he understood why I bounced as soon as I got through high school, which was a hard line for my mom.

It was good too, I guess, because, after the army, I ended up in college, even though I really hated school. The government paid for everything, and Cas insisted I go. He said having a degree would be good for the business, but I think he wanted to keep me out of the real trouble for a while. I finished quickly, but I never stopped craving that rush of danger I felt while deployed.”

He breathes in as I wonder where this is going. After a long moment, he continues: “I was eighteen years old when I joined the military. I had a big head on my shoulders, thinking I could conquer the world with a gun and a rucksack. Throughout my training, I showed some kind of tenacity that my superiors liked, because after a year, I found myself in Special Operations. At one point, I was sent to infiltrate a prominent terrorist group. I was chosen to go in, I think, because of how resilient I was to the torture I was put under by my own handlers. I’ve always had a high pain tolerance. After the torture sessions they put me through, it’s even higher now.”

He looks off at the wall, as if studying the memory in his mind. “One thing you learn when you’re sent into a sting operation is that the people you need to find out about aren’t just ruthless killers. In some ways, they are just regular people like you and me. The group I infiltrated has done fucked up, deplorable shit. But the people that make up that group had families they loved, went to their kid’s soccer games, organized neighborhood food drives. Honestly, I was shocked by how normal they were as I moved through their organization as a young recruit.”

He takes a long, dramatic breath. “Anyway, I met some of the kids. The families were super tight, always sharing everything with each other. And then… well, then it was time for us to blow the entire cell up and get my new friends thrown into max-security prison. And I did it. I turned on all of the people I’d spent a year getting close to.”

Andy stares right at me, a hard look on his face, no regret for what he did whatsoever. “Of course, the fact that they planned to blow up a luxury high-rise in the heart of downtown Chicago made it a whole lot easier.” He looks off at the wall again and gives another dramatic sigh, peeking back at me from the corner of his eye.

“One little girl, though… she ended up an orphan. So, I took her in for a few months.” He gives me the same smirk he always does when he’s telling me something he expects will impress me. “She was sharp. Ten years old. Super sassy. I was only about 10 years older than her, so more like a big brother than anything. I made sure she got adopted by a nice family in the end. I still think about her sometimes. I actually still have the phone I used back then. I don’t turn it on much, but I always have a few texts from her when I do.”

His face contorts slightly into a different kind of rehearsed smile than he usually gives me. Is he serious? I think. Did he really believe that would work? I burst out laughing.

He narrows his eyes on me. “Hey, what’s so funny?”

“Is that a true story? I know why you told it, but please tell me that it was at least true!” I break into a fit of giggles again.

Andy bites his lip to keep his smile at bay. “What do you mean? That was from the heart!”

I roll my eyes. “Okay, Jean Val Jean. That’s very sweet, but I don’t want some affected, warm and gooey story designed to make me swoon into bed with you.”

Andy looks scandalized as he puts a hand on his chest. “You don’t realize how your words injure me, little Chee-Chee.” I roll my eyes; every time Andy is sarcastic with me, he exaggerates the Americanized insertion of the “e” sound in my name.

“Seriously!” I say, wanting to hear a real story about the military now, even though all of this started with me trying to get him to think I was adorable. My insistence is all bluster now, though. I’m quite exhausted and doubt I even have time for more than another quick, feel-good Charlie Brown story.

“Okay, okay,” he says, accepting the challenge. “Grenades are super fucked up. We got one thrown at us once in the Humvee. We weren’t expecting trouble, and then, out of nowhere, a literal tiny bomb dropped from the sky. The driver saw it first and swerved out of the way, so only three of the five of us were killed. I was the only one who walked away. I carried the other guy that was still alive.”

For some reason, despite the subject matter, his voice makes me feel good — less restless. “Did that happen a lot?”

He turns the light off, but I still see his dark gaze burning into me. “What do you consider a lot? I ended up having a pretty close relationship with bombs, so it definitely wasn’t the last time I had a close encounter with one.”

I sigh. I’ve heard sad stories about shootings, torture, and killings a hundred times before, but perhaps sitting here with Andy, I’ve bitten off slightly more than I can chew. “Oh gosh. I’m sorry, Andy.”

He smirks again — that ever-present smirk. “You asked for it.”

I nod my head, trying to keep my eyes open. “You have to tell me more about it.”

But I don’t hear if there’s anything more to this story or how many more he has as I drift off. I guess he’ll have to stick around to tell me some other time.

Chapter 2

Chi

We have to stay again the next night, and I’m almost certain it’s due to Andy’s pull with the doctors and nothing to do with me actually needing medical help anymore. He’s starting to get a little annoying when it comes to my health and safety. My bed would be so much cozier for both of us, but he’s hearing none of it.

“Lights out,” he says, turning off my reading lamp while I’m in the middle of a chapter.

I sigh in frustration and turn the light back on. “Do it again, and I’ll be forced to cut your hand off.” I wouldn’t be at all opposed to making sex with Andy a regular thing once we get out of here, but I’m not going to be able to deal with this overbearing shit. And I know if I fuck him once, I’ll want him again, so he’s going to need to shape up.

“I’m 24-years-old, Andy. I’m a big girl now.”

“A big girl who got her head smashed in just a couple days ago,” he says smugly.

I huff and side-eye him. “You’re not gonna make me feel bad for getting hurt, right? Because although you’re Tough Army Man over here, I’m sure you’ve been hurt a time or two.”

He averts his eyes, considers my words for a moment, and to my surprise, mutters, “Fine. Sorry.”

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