Page 20 of Devil's Queen

“I don’t know,” I admit, tears welling in my eyes. “But he seemed so certain, Mama. We can’t ignore this. We must find out what really happened.”

Mama’s eyes soften, the worry lines etched across her face deepening. She steps closer to me, her hand reaching out again, but this time I don’t flinch away. Instead, I let her touch my arm, seeking the comfort only a mother can provide in times of uncertainty. “Opening up that can of worms will do no one any good.”

I look at my mother, her words hanging heavy in the air. She wants to protect me, shield me from the ugly truths that may lie beneath the surface of my father’s death. But I can’t ignore this nagging feeling in my gut, the persistent voice inside me that demands justice for my father.

“Mama, I understand your concerns, but the way Rex talked, it’s like he was trying to warn me that something’s coming our way.”

“How sure are you that he was telling you the truth?”

“Sixty percent?”

“Even you aren’t convinced he’s telling you the truth.” She sighs, her grip on my arm tightening. “Sometimes it’s better not to know. Sometimes the truth brings more pain than relief.”

“But what if he’s right?” I counter, my eyes searching hers for understanding.

“It doesn’t change the end result, baby. He’ll still be gone. Why would you put yourself through that again?” Her expression softens, and she pulls me into a tight embrace. “You’ve always been a stubborn one,” she murmurs against my ear. “If you truly believe pursuing this is the right thing to do, then I’ll stand by you. But promise me you’ll be careful. Promise me you won’t put yourself in harm’s way.”

I nod against her shoulder, feeling a mixture of gratitude and apprehension. It won’t be an easy journey ahead, but I know deep down that I just can’t will this feeling away until I have more answers. Answers that I’ll only get from Rex—the last person on Earth I need to be more involved with. If I’m going to do this, I have to be careful not only for my sake but for Beaux’s too.

“Am I interrupting something?” a voice calls out from the doorway of my office. Mama releases me, straightening her blouse as she does. I shift, noticing Brady, one of my mechanics, leaning in the doorframe.

“No, you’re fine,” I answer, forcing myself to plaster on my business face. “What’s up?”

“Did the special order get picked up this morning?”

“Yeah, why?”

He steps inside with his phone in his hand. An image is on the screen as he extends it to me. “Thought you might want to see this.”

I peer down and read the bold print at the top of the page.

Truck hijacking on Interstate 10 outside of New Orleans. Driver of truck found dead.

My heart sinks into the pit of my stomach when I read further down. There it is in black and white print.

Witnesses reported seeing a black van force the box truck off the roadway. When police arrived at the scene, the driver, a male, was found deceased. The victim’s identification is being withheld until notification can be made to the victim’s family. The truck the victim was driving has not been found. More to come as this story develops.

This can’t be happening. For the love of all that is holy, this is a coincidence.

“Fuck,” I hiss. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” I look up at Brady, my hands trembling as I hand him back his phone. “Where did you find this?” I manage to ask, my voice barely a whisper.

“I was just scrolling through the news on my smoke break, and it caught my eye,” he replies, concern etched across his brow. “I know it’s none of my business, but… is everything okay?”

“No,” I say, my voice steadier this time. “Everything is definitely not okay.”

Just when this day can’t get worse, the devil says hold my beer.

REMY

I calleveryone in for an emergency meeting. It takes less than an hour for all of us to convene in our meeting room at the shop. Maya is sitting next to me with her laptop open. She types and clicks before spinning it around for all of us to see.

“I found this on social media.”

Maya clicks play, and a shaky video starts. The video shows the box truck from this morning as it pulls over to the shoulder with a black van blocking it from the front side. The passenger recording the video shakes while the driver is on the phone with emergency services. They pass the truck as two men approach the cab in all black carrying rifles, their faces obscured with balaclavas. The video cuts out after they pass them.

“That’s it?” I ask.

The room falls silent as the video ends, leaving us all with a sense of unease. Maya pauses for a moment, her eyes scanning the faces of each person in the room. Fear and determination are etched across our expressions. We know this isn’t just an ordinary situation but something we must address immediately.

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