Corrupted Queen - Nicole Fox Page 0,48

the door and Alexis scurries past him. Just like that, it’s back to business.

16

Alexis

“I really wish you would play something a little less shite in the background,” Debbie complains.

A poppy tune fills the room with electronic beats and a raspy voice promising all manner of earthly delights. I find myself bopping my head to it from where I sit in the chair by the window.

“I like it,” I defend. “Besides, nobody is going to suspect that I’m having a covert conversation under the cover of this song. If I put on some jazz or classical music, that would be another story. I’d be outed right away.”

Debbie sighs. “Whatever you say. I suppose as long as you’ve got good news for me, it doesn’t matter what kind of drivel you play in the background.”

I stare out the window, where the sky has darkened to a cobalt blue, with streaks of pink painted over the few lingering clouds. It’s a gorgeous evening, though some of the chill sneaks in the open window and snakes around my bare ankles.

“Not a lot,” I say sheepishly. “It’s hard when there are guards around twenty-four-seven. I know that Gabriel has been attending a lot of meetings, but that doesn’t exactly incriminate him. I’ve reached out to a couple of people on the outside via email and I’m hoping to get statements from them soon.”

This isn’t exactly true. The other night I spotted Gabriel walking down the hall to the dining room cum boardroom with a group of unfamiliar men, including one who shared a remarkable resemblance to Andrew Walsh. I couldn’t pass up this golden opportunity and so I followed them and performed my riskiest eavesdropping session yet.

I couldn’t hear much of their conversation, but what I did catch solidified some of my assumptions. The Irish are not working with the Italians—it’s almost as though they are working for them. Neither side likes this arrangement from what I can tell.

What they are working on, however, remains a mystery. It could be the purple heroin trade. It could be a hirable inventory of bouncy castles and inflatable adventure courses.

If Debbie scents the lie, she doesn’t let on.

“You’re in the lion’s den,” Debbie says, in a tone close to exasperation. “You should be able to get more than that by now.”

“I know. I’m working on it.”

Why didn’t I tell her about the meeting with the Irish? Why don’t I tell her now? I open my mouth to say something but the words won’t come out, and I don’t understand why, but the only reason I would withhold information is to protect Gabriel until I have enough proof that he’s actually flooding the streets with a dangerous super-drug.

“Figure it out, hen. This is your big chance.”

“I will.”

She hums. “There’s something else I wanted to talk to you about.”

I don’t like the edge of uncertainty in her tone.

“What is it?” I ask.

“I saw Gabriel’s most recent interview,” she says. “I know him telling the cameras about his family was probably just a publicity stunt on his end, but it worried me nonetheless. I want to make sure that you’re keeping your priorities straight.”

Given the fact that I have just omitted a crucial piece of information in our conversation, I’m not so sure they are. But I can’t exactly say that, can I?

“My priorities are straight as an arrow,” I say. “Don’t worry about me.”

“I do, hen. I do.”

We end the call and I unfold from the recliner, stretching my arms over my head. Harry is sitting on the floor playing with his stuffed flamingo, bouncing her along to the beat of the music. He looks so happy, so carefree, his cheek dimpled at the corner, his eyes squinted with laughter.

He is my priority. More than anyone or anything else. As long as I am doing right by Harry, I am doing the right thing. Only problem? What the right thing is for Harry is up for debate. Does he need his father, despite the complications? Or would he be better living a simple, Gabriel-free life? I want to unearth the truth, because only in doing so will I be able to answer that question.

I pick Harry up and we dance around the room for a few minutes. I try to put the question out of my mind, filing it away for later. Now I just want to enjoy my time with my son.

After a few minutes I set Harry down again. I flick the music off and settle onto my