Page 29 of Corrupted Queen

Clara shakes her head, tears bubbling in her eyes. “I’m sorry! I told you that you shouldn’t be here.”

“Shut up,” Killian snaps. “Let me deal with this.”

He bolts forward, arms outstretched to grab me. His eyes glow with menace. I wheel backward until my tailbone slams into the kitchen counter, sending pain shooting up my spine. I don’t have time to think, to process—I just grab the first thing I see and swing it toward him. This turns out to be a saucepan still half full of moldy pasta, and bits of cheesy noodles fling everywhere as the pot connects with Killian’s skull.

He staggers back, cursing and calling me every name in the book. I don’t wait to let him recover. I leap through the apartment to the bathroom and lock myself inside, heart hammering as I try to think.

Why is Clara’s boyfriend trying to hurt me? More importantly, what the fuck am I going to do about it? I wish I’d thought to bring my knife. I’m glad I didn’t bring Harry.

I wish Gabriel was here.

Killian bangs his fist against the door and it shakes. I push my back against it and sink to the floor, screwing my eyes closed.

“Come out!” he roars. “I will break this fucking door down!”

I pull my phone from my back pocket with shaky hands.

11

Gabriel

I circle the bound man, jaw tight. His moss-green eyes follow me, bloody lips smirking. He is unrepentant, even knowing that first he will face my justice, and then Patrick Walsh’s. These rebels all have one thing in common. They’re unstable. Volatile. Their only goal seems to be to cause destruction, and so far I have been unable to determine how they are organizing. That will make them hard to root out.

“James,” I say, exasperation thick in my voice. “It’ll be easier if you tell me what I want to know now. You’ll be treated as a traitor when I hand you over to Walsh. For now you have the privilege of being treated only as the man who gunned down the front of a pizzeria. Which doesn’t mean I’ll be nice to you, but you’ll be in a good deal more pain once Patrick gets his hands on you.”

James spits on the ground. “Fuck you.”

I reel back and punch him across the face and I feel the bones in his nose crunch against my fist. James lets out a low, pained moan and his head falls forward. A drop of bloody drool dribbles into his lap.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. I ignore it. My businesses are still recovering from my war with Andrew Walsh, and I assured all those under my protection that things would settle down now there was peace. These Irish rebels are ruining everything.

“These are coordinated attacks,” I say, digging my fingers into James’ hair and yanking his face up. “Tell me where your orders are coming from.”

My phone buzzes again, this time with a text. I consider ignoring it again, but remember that I haven’t gotten word from David that Alexis has returned safely yet. I nod to Mirko Bernadino, one of my capos, who takes over the interrogation as I step to the side. Mirko has been conducting some of the meetings with Patrick Walsh’s men, though the alliance has sat uncomfortably with him from the start. I hope that giving him an outlet to dish out violence on a legitimate enemy will ease some of his frustrations.

I pull my phone out as Mirko continues the questioning. The missed call was from Alexis, and so is the accompanying text.

Help. At Clara’s place.

Fuck.

“I have to go,” I tell Mirko, already storming up the stairs with my phone to my ear. “Finish dealing with him and ship him off to Patrick.”

“Yes, sir.”

Alexis’ phone rings and rings, but she doesn’t answer. My throat tightens and I call David next, who picks up right away.

“Something is going on inside the apartment,” I tell him. “Get in there now. I’m sending backup.”

“Yes—”

I hang up, cutting him off, and call Dom Rozzi, another of my capos. He answers immediately and I order him to send whichever of his men are closest to the area over to Clara’s house. Then I try Alexis again. Still no answer.

I pull my gun from my shoulder holster as I storm across the foyer and out the front door, checking that it is loaded. At the front door, I tell one of the guards there to double the security on Harry’s room, just in case.

My thoughts spin in a wicked tornado as I get into the Porsche I normally reserve for leisure and rev the engine, peeling out of the parking spot and down the driveway, sending up a cloud of dust in my wake.

Clara wouldn’t attack her best friend, would she? And if she did, based on what I’ve heard I doubt she would provide much of a challenge for Alexis. According to my men, she’s small and weak, her addiction eating away at her.

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