Page 51 of Tarnished Queen

Nikolai kicks the man in the back of the knees and shoves him into the corner.

“I don’t want any trouble,” the man whimpers.

“Then you chose the wrong fucking guy to follow.” Nikolai steps forward and presses the gun under the man’s chin. “Who are you working for?”

The man is trembling. His eyes are squeezed closed and sweat beads up on his forehead. “I’m an independent contractor.”

“A mercenary?”

The man’s forehead creases. “A mercen—? No. No, I’m a detective. A private investigator.”

“Who hired you?” I ask.

Nikolai tenses at the sound of my voice, but he lets the question stand.

“I’m contractually obligated not to say.” He looks genuinely sorry to refuse me. “It’s part of the gig. I’m not supposed to reveal my clients.”

“And your brains aren’t supposed to be on the outside of your skull,” Nikolai chimes in. “I’ll let you choose which obligation seems more important at the moment.”

The investigator moans, dropping his head onto his knees. “Fuck.”

I move up behind him, whispering in his ear. “Nikolai, this guy doesn’t look like a soldier. He’s terrified. Maybe… maybe this is something else.”

Nikolai regrips the gun and jabs it harder under the soft part of the man’s chin. “We’ll never know unless he starts talking. Because I’m going to pull the trigger in five, four, three—”

“Howard Schaffner!” The man screams the name, his eyes still tightly closed.

Nikolai arches a brow and then shakes his head dismissively. “Never heard of him. Three, two—”

“Wait!” I grab the back of Nikolai’s shirt. “Say that name again.”

The man opens his eyes and looks at me. His forehead is dotted with sweat and he is deathly pale. “Howard Schaffner. That’s who hired me. I have his name and a single phone number. That’s it. So if this is some weird thing he is tangled up in, I don’t know anything about it, okay? Let me go and I won’t say a word. I’ll walk out of here and forget your faces. Just don’t kill me.”

Nikolai is still holding the man, but he looks back at me. “You know what he’s talking about?”

“Let him go.”

Nikolai’s eyes roam over my face for a long few seconds, searching for answers. Then he drops the man in a sweaty heap on the floor and steps back.

I swallow hard. “How do you know Howard Schaffner?” I ask.

Even though the gun is hanging by Nikolai’s side, the man keeps his hands up where we can see them. “I don’t know him. I’ve never even met the man; I’ve only talked to him on the phone. He found my number on some site somewhere and he hired me to work for him. Paid me good money for it, too.”

I clench my jaw. Apparently, he’s come into money since the last time I’ve seen him. Good for Howard fucking Schaffner.

“What did he ask you to do?”

“To follow you,” the guy answers, tipping his head to indicate me. “And your sister. Belle and Elise Dowan were the names given to me.”

My stomach drops at the sound of my sister’s name in this stranger’s mouth. Nikolai stiffens, his body shifting even further in front of me so I’m looking at the man just past Nikolai’s bicep. I feel the urge to sink against Nikolai’s skin, to feel the warmth of him against me.

Instead, I stand tall and pull my shoulders back. “How long have you been following us?”

“A few weeks. I started in Oklahoma City. I was able to track the private jet you got on to New York City. But I lost track of you all until I saw your name in a news story about a car accident. I tracked you here, and I’ve been keeping a watch ever since to catch sight of Elise. She is the main target.”

Target. It’s a nasty, violent word. I can’t stop myself from stepping forward. The only thing that keeps me back is Nikolai’s arm curled around my waist.

“My sister is nobody’s goddamn target! You leave her alone.”

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