Page 80 of Corrupted Queen

But no, Gabriel is here, and he’s barking orders to his men as another SUV pulls up behind and unloads more of them. He has at least eight men with him, which seems like a lot for a business transaction. Whoever he’s meeting, he doesn’t trust them.

I pull out the parabolic microphone and shove the headphones over my ears, turning the mic on. Debbie said the range is about three hundred feet, but it will pick up all noise within that range, so I will need to listen carefully.

“I want you to keep our exit clear,” Gabriel instructs one of his men. His voice comes through loud and crisp. “Make sure none of them get behind us.”

The man nods and leaves. I zoom the camera in on Gabriel’s face, watching as unease flickers across his features when he thinks nobody is watching. He is trying not to let the stress show. Why should he be so worried? This only inflames my curiosity more.

Finally, two other vehicles arrive and park across from Gabriel’s, suited men spilling out onto the cement. I look between them, immediately picking out the boss. He is wearing a flashy cobalt suit, and his gold watch winks in the sunlight. He saunters over to Gabriel, pulling off his aviator sunglasses, and offering a dazzling, too-white smile. The man is in his mid-thirties, with tanned skin and sharp brown eyes. His face is clean-shaven, black hair slicked back from his forehead. He would be handsome if not for a pink, puckered scar cutting a diagonal swathe across his face, from lip to eyebrow.

I snap a photo, listening as the two men greet each other.

“It’s a pleasure to see you, Gabriel,” the man says in a thick accent. Spanish, or South American, maybe? His voice is cool, calm, like a slow-flowing river winding down a mountain.

Gabriel takes his hand and shakes it. “You too, Miguel.”

“I hear our goods have been selling well.” Miguel gestures to the ship. “I am pleased that already, you are prepared to restock your inventory.”

Gabriel frowns. “I hardly think it necessary for you to come out and personally supervise the shipments.”

“The Cartel likes to keep a close eye on its interests,” Miguel says, straightening his suit as though fluffing his feathers. “And the trade of purple heroin in New York City is slowly becoming the jewel in our crown. Soon we can expand the enterprise.” He grins. “Expand the profits.”

I don’t believe it. There’s my evidence right there, the nail in Gabriel’s coffin. I don’t know who this Miguel guy is, but he represents the supplier of purple heroin. And Gabriel is, without a doubt, the distributor. Then the Irish have been dealing it. And now Gabriel and this mysterious Cartel are setting their sights on untapped markets, drawing more poor souls down into the muck of their filthy enterprise.

All of the puzzle pieces click into place to form a horrible picture, one that it is now my duty to reveal to the city.

The crane squeals to life, roaring through my headphones in a barrage of shrieking metal and ear-splitting beeps. I have to suppress a cry of pain as I rip the headphones from my ears. Shit. With the crane running, there’s no way I can hear the rest of the meeting.

Gabriel and Miguel are still talking, and it looks tense. I glower at the lumbering metal cockblock and snap some photos of the pair instead.

I suppose I heard enough—enough to know that Gabriel is not the man I thought him to be. I knew he was dangerous and violent and involved in all sorts of criminal activities, but I at least thought he had honor. The man I cared about would not continue piping a toxic substance like purple heroin into the city.

I feel woozy as I continue spying on the meeting. I suspected Gabriel’s involvement, even had enough evidence to confirm it, but for some reason I didn’t truly believe it until seeing him here today, shaking hands with this slick stranger who smiles too much. And now I just want to curl up in a ball and cry. I want to grieve the life I nearly had with Gabriel, the love we nearly cultivated together. Our family.

But I have work to do. And so I shove all my emotions to a dark place in my mind and I push forward with cold, steely resolve. I make notes on everything I heard, descriptions of the size of the boat, the containers being unloaded. I make sure I get a photo of everyone at the meet, condemning each of them with a click of my camera.

The meeting ends within the hour, and both Gabriel and Miguel take off in opposite directions in their SUVs, each leaving a couple of representatives to supervise the rest of the unloading. My phone begins to buzz and I pull it from my pocket. It’s Gabriel. He must have heard that I slipped the guards, and I realize if I don’t head back to the mansion soon, he’ll send a whole horde of cavalry after me, and the last thing I need is for them to discover me with all of this equipment.

I don’t answer the call, but I text him.

I’m fine. I’ll be home soon.

Even as I type it, I feel a sting knowing that I no longer have a home with him. Not the mansion, not the handsome Victorian with the leafy backyard. Not anywhere.

Gabriel replies.Answer the phone!

He calls again, and I ignore it again. He can worry as much as he likes. Maybe then he’ll develop an understanding for what it’s like knowing your loved one’s out there, beyond the realm of your control, one dose of purple poison away from becoming just another statistic.

After the rest of the containers have been unloaded, the representatives from each faction march to their separate cars and leave. They have both been glaring at each other this entire time, almost comically so, and I bet they’re happy not to have to puff their chests out and look tough anymore.

I let myself down from the container and haul all of Debbie’s equipment back to the car, pocketing the memory card from the camera. A sense of calm flows over me as I drive it to the arranged drop-off spot. No, not calm. Resignment. I am resigned to what I am about to do, all the ripples it will cause, and how it will permanently board up a future that I never realized I would mourn so much.

After I drop off the car, I wander through the city, dreading the thought of returning to all the delights of the mansion, each of them bought and paid for with the suffering of people like Clara. Gabriel keeps calling, so I turn my phone off.

I don’t stray for too long. I need to get back to Harry, and the memory card lies heavy in my pocket. I just need enough time to breathe, to prepare for what I’m about to do. To gather my nerve.

I take a taxi back to the house as it starts to get dark. They must have radioed Gabriel from the gatehouse because he’s waiting on the front step when we pull up in front of the house. I pay the driver and get out, taking long strides up to the front door. Pretending that I don’t feel Gabriel’s gaze on me like laser beams.

“Where were you?” Gabriel asks.

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