Corrupted Queen - Nicole Fox Page 0,32

and wine bottles and perch on the sofa next to her.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Clara replies, eyes flicking toward her closed bedroom door.

I lay a hand on her shoulder. “Clara, we’re friends through the good times and the bad.”

“You shouldn’t be here,” she repeats, shaking her head. Her eyes swim with tears, and when she lifts her hand to wipe them away the baggy sleeve of her sweatshirt draws back, and I catch sight of a sickly green bruise on her wrist.

I reach out tentatively, but she eyes my curious fingers and yanks up the sleeve of the sweater.

“I fell,” she sniffs, looking toward her bedroom door again.

“Is Killian here?” I ask.

As if I needed only utter his name to summon him, the door to her room slams back from its hinges and I get my first look at Killian. My first thought is that he shares an alarming resemblance to the junkie I interviewed in Newark a few weeks ago—purple bags like bruises under his eyes, pale skin, a sort of twitchy way of moving that makes me nervous. He’s wiry, though his white wifebeater hangs off him in a way that makes me think he used to be bigger.

“You’re Alexis,” Killian hisses, eyes sparking. He flexes his shoulders, causing the many tattoos on his skin to bunch and twist.

I look to Clara, whose lip is quivering. She is staring at him with an expression I can only describe as pleading.

“Where’s the kid?” Killian asks, stalking closer. I notice several red pinpricks at the crook of his arm. He’s an addict, probably purple heroin.

“I didn’t bring Harry,” I say cautiously.

Killian shrugs. “You win some, you lose some.”

“Clara?” My eyes go to her as I back away from Killian.

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,”