Page 99 of She's My Queen

“You grovel with the best of them.”

“It’s the only way I know how to be the man you need me to be. Sometimes, I’ll make hard decisions that you’ll find wrong but that I find beneficial for our well-being. Other times, I’ll be wrong, period. No excuses. I don’t want to make you sad orupset, and so I will often apologize either by saying I’m sorry or buying you something nice.”

“I might start looking forward to you being wrong.”

“It won’t happen often,” he says.

“Yeah, right.”

I look up at him and open my mouth to tell him I love him, but he beats me to it.

“I love you,” he says.

So worth waiting for. “I love you too.”

EPILOGUE

SEVERIO

Three years later

In the soundproof office on my wife’s yacht, the head of the organized trafficking unit that’s been plaguing eastern Europe and I are holding a video conference.

On the big screen, I watch him sprawling on the white leather couch. He’s wearing a navy-blue jogging suit with a notable number of thick golden chains draped across his chest. His eyes are gray, head completely shaved, and his smile makes me want to carve his face with a jagged knife that leaves scars for life.

The fact that his life won’t be long comforts me, helps me smile and nod at him as he talks about money, properties, and the women he’s likely forced himself on in the past. The man is clearly completely deranged, and I relish seeing how his vanity gets the best of him while he uses me as a sounding board for what he believes is a successful new trade deal we’re negotiating.

He’s unaware I agreed to his meeting because I’m here to watch Drago work in real time.

I’ve earned it. My wife has earned it. My children have too. Except my family is upstairs while I’m down here alone.

This vile man violated every unspoken code we have about not touching family members and has repeatedly made attempts to kidnap my sister and my wife. Which is why Cristina and I boarded her yacht and have been sailing for two years now, always on the move, drawing him nearer, but never too close.

Meanwhile, he’s evaded all my attempts to pin him down and destroy him, primarily because of his membership in another secret Order that operates like mine. They protected him, let him use their resources until they found out it was my family he’s been coming after.

Three days ago, I received coordinates to his yacht. He’s also on the move, which is why I could never pin him down.

But tonight, I have him. “That’s very impressive,” I say. “How do you plan on moving that much merchandise through Europe?”

“I have connections in Turkey, then through Albania, then up the rivers to Russia and back.”

“Those territories are controlled by various groups.” Albanians have their organized criminals. Russians have their syndicates. “Did they all grant you safe passage?” From personal experience, I know that seeking permission for trading illegal goods through various underground channels isn’t his forte. It’s how we ended up where we are today.

He asked Cristina’s father for permission to use Isola Serenella’s marinas, and her dad, along with my uncle, granted it without my knowledge. Since this man is in the other Order, he knew trading along those routes came through my Order, and I had to approve his request. Because I wouldn’t, he asked Cristina’s father, who went to Gio. Gio thought a relationship with this man and his people could help bring me down.

The man spreads his arms along the back of the couch and widens his legs. “Don’t worry about the passage. I’ll take care of it. Be careful that you honor your end of the deal.”

His dominant posturing is funny. I suppress an eye roll. “If this is how you speak to your superiors, it’s no wonder they gave me your location.”

By the time he understands the meaning behind my words, Drago is on the move. The man reaches for the gun on the table beside the white powder he’s been snorting, but stops. His eyes widen, his arms go up, and he says, “I have over fifteen mil in the safe. I’ll give you the code.”

A bullet punches a hole in his forehead, and the man’s head lolls against the back of the couch.

Drago enters the frame. He’s dressed in black and wears a mask. He gives a small nod before the camera shuts off.

Job well done.

I clap softly as I stand and leave my office via the stairs that take me to the main deck of the yacht, where Cristina and the boys are waiting for me.

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