Page 19 of Queens and Monsters

“What exactly are you asking?”

“Mí padreis currently in negotiations for your hand.”

His phone vibrated again on the table.

Rei reached for his phone and turned it off.

Before I could respond, Em appeared before our table. If I didn’t know him, his expression and the way his jaw was clenched and tendons pulled tight in his neck would frighten me.

I knew him, and they did.

“Qué pas??”Rei asked.

Emiliano’s gaze narrowed. “Is something going on between you two?” He pulled his money clip from his jean pocket, peeled off a hundred-dollar bill, and slapped it on the table. “Tell me in the car.Vamonos. We’re going.”

The next part of the conversation occurred inSpanish as I scrambled for my sweatshirt and hurried from the booth. Em was the one to place his hand in the small of my back. Tension emanated from both men as they led me through the tables toward the front door.

Out on the street, large snowflakes landed on my hair and eyelashes. I wrapped my sweatshirt around me and asked, “What is it?”

“Myshkin’s men,” Rei answered.

Myshkin. I’d heard that name, but I didn’t know where or when.

“Kansas City bratva,” Em said as he rushed me toward the car.

I was almost inside the back seat when the gunshots echoed like firecrackers, and the windows shattered at our side.

Chapter

Six

Reinaldo

“Fuck,” I roared as bullets soared our direction through the falling snow. The windows of the limestone building splintered, raining shards down on the sidewalk. Kneeling behind the rental car, I scanned the other side of the street. Darkness filled the lanes of a drive-thru bank. My gun was out of the holster and cocked in less than three seconds.

Em shoved Jasmine into the back seat, telling her to lie down before screaming at me.“Entra en la mierda del coche.”

Get in the car.

It went against my instinct to run. I was a fighter and a winner. I didn’t walk away from a battle. Scanning the darkness in the direction I knew that the shots originated from, I aimed my gun. There was a flash or areflection a millisecond before a bullet hit the car. I emptied a magazine, unsure what or if I hit someone.

“Dame la llave,” Em yelled.

As I started to load another magazine, my gaze caught Jasmine, lying on the car floor in a fetal position. Her eyes were closed, dark makeup ran under her eyes, and she was trembling. Snowflakes still clung to her long hair, the white standing out against the red.

“Fuck.” This might be a usual day for me and Em, but it wasn’t for her.

I patted the key fob in my pocket before jumping in the front seat. My pistol was reloaded by the time Em started the car and hit the accelerator, driving us away from the battle I longed to finish.

Cursing in two languages, Em and I watched our mirrors and checked the side streets for more Russians. Once we were at least a quarter mile from the club, I turned. Jasmine was no longer on the floor. She looked as if she might be praying. Her face was buried in her hands on the seat, and her knees were on the floorboard. I reached for her shoulder. “Are you hurt?”

She shook her head and pulled away from my touch.

“Fuck.” I laid my head back against the seat.

The capo would know about this. He might already know. That’s what his soldiers were for, to update him on the happenings in his city. Probably before we returned, he’d get word of cartel and Russian gunshots.

I wiped my face with my hands and shot Em an oh-fuck glance.

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