Queen’s Move
Book Two of The Queens
Nikita Slater
Copyright © 2019 Nikita Slater
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Epilogue
Thank you for reading!
Acknowledgments
Sneak peek: Excerpt from Born a Queen: The Queens Series
Bonus: Excerpt from Scarred Queen: The Queens Series
Bonus: Excerpt from Alejandro’s Prey: The Queens Series
Also by Nikita Slater
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“I need a gangsta
To love me better
Than all the others do
To always forgive me
Ride or die with me
That’s just what gangsters do.”
Gangsta, Kehlani (Suicide Squad)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LAYgZEMMWxo
Prologue
Tony Montana had eyes like the devil, wild, hot, angry. He was absolutely wrecked. High on his own product, high on life and himself. His dark hair was a disheveled mess, the end of his crooked nose ringed in the white powder he hadn’t bothered to wipe away. His cheekbones were sharper than ever, emaciated from too much cocaine use and too little food. Not that Vee could cast stones, she was high more often than not herself. But she used so she could disappear. To make her bullshit existence feel a little less awful. And the man in front of her was to blame for at least a decade of that misery.
Had she ever loved him? She tried to remember. Think back to her wedding day, the good days, before the constant fighting and abuse. Nothing came though. If she ever loved him it was long gone now. Just a fleeting softness as she remembered his infectious grin when he was trying to win her over. Something he hadn’t shown her in years.
“Get out,” Vee said coldly.
She wasn’t talking to Tony. No, she was talking to the woman on her knees, beneath his desk, trying to suck off a flaccid dick. Vee knew from experience that cocaine did nothing for Tony in the bedroom anymore, so to speak. Back in the old days, when he still enjoyed life, the drug used to lift him up, make him feel invincible, crave Vee’s affection. Back then, sex and drugs were the only thing they had in common. Now it was just one of those. And Vee was about done with all of it.
Nobody moved, Tony’s eyes flicked to Vee and then glazed over again, unfocused. He was sprawled back in his chair, head tilted back against the leather. He lifted a ringed hand, waving it toward the door, telling her to go.
She was long past able to feel hurt over his constant rejections and mistreatments. She was pretty much numb these days. Tony never took her seriously anyway. She used to be his doll, his lovely trophy wife, now she was so much less. The hag that spent his money and screamed at him on a semi-regular basis. Not even the beatings could stop her tongue. She still had some pride, as unrecognizable as it was.
She wasn’t going to have a single problem taking out the master of all her sufferings. She was following the Bolivian cartel’s orders. It was time to bring Miami back under control, and she was going to be the woman to do it.
“I said, get the fuck out,” Vee snarled, pacing forward. She lifted the gun she’d been clutching when she sought her husband out in his office and slammed it down on his desk. The whore jumped, banging her head on the edge of the desk as she finally surfaced, peeked over to stare at Vee. “Right fucking now, unless you think this pig is worth dying for. Then, by all means, stay where you are. I’ll happily do you next.”
When the woman didn’t move fast enough Vee pointed the gun at her face. She blinked, crawled quickly out from under the desk and ran shrieking from the office, straight out the French doors and into the huge, immaculate back yard. Vee wanted to laugh at the topless bitch, but again, hypocritical. Vee’d done similar and worse, selling her looks, prostituting herself for protection. The only difference being she was pretty enough, tough enough and bitchy enough to demand a ring for her effort.
Tony ignored the gun completely. She’d handled them before and he knew better than to think his delicate blond wife was going to be any kind of threat. “Fucking unbelievable,” he grumbled, Cuban accent strong in his befuddled state. He sat up a little straighter and finally looking at her. “What the fuck you doin’ coming in here like that and scaring off my bitch? Now you need to get over here and finish me off.”
Vee laughed coldly. “We both know you aren’t even hard. Don’t act like you could’ve gotten off, even with a pretty piece of fluff like her.”
His eyes sharpened and his brow lowered. “Maybe if I didn’t have such a frigid bitch for a wife I’d bang you once in awhile. Maybe if I did that you’d quit acting like a sullen fucking piece of work, moping around the mansion all day, shopping or whatever the shit you do.”
He was definitely not going to make this hard.
“I want a divorce, Tony,” she demanded, tapping her gun against the wood.
He laughed, banging his hand on top of the desk. Maybe if he was fast enough, cared enough, he could’ve reached out and grabbed her weapon. But Tony Montana was too much of a macho man to believe his wife would actually threaten him.
“Even if we could get a divorce, we won’t. That ain’t how it works in our world and you know it as good as I do. You know too much to ever be released from our marriage. No, Vee, we’re stuck together. Until death do us part.” He snickered at his own cleverness, no doubt planning her death so he could replace her with the inflated bimbo running across the back yard.
“I was hoping you’d see it that way.” Vee smiled for the first time in a long time. “I was thinking a more permanent solution might be necessary anyway.”
She braced her legs, lifted the gun and pointed it at him. The shit-eating smirk drifted off his lips as his face twisted into an ugly, hate-filled mask. “Put the fucking gun down, Vee. I’m not going to tell you again.”
She shrugged. “You don’t need to.”
“Don’t you fucking dare,” he snarled, raising up from his chair and slamming his fists down onto the desk. “I’m going to beat the l
ife out of-”
He didn’t get to finish his sentence. Vee shot him once, clean in middle of his forehead, and once more through the heart after he was flung back into his chair. She didn’t want to risk him surviving, going comatose and becoming even more annoying than he already was. Better just to make it a clean hit.
She wasn’t worried about Tony’s protection detail. They were either being eliminated or surrendering to the Bolivian’s second-in-command, Alejandro. Vee’s only job was to cut off the head of the snake. A symbolic action that would help solidify her leadership as the new Queen of Miami’s mafia.
Looking dispassionately at her dead husband’s body, she felt strong, she felt powerful… she felt relieved. Her legs folded underneath her and she collapsed to the floor, one hand still clutching the gun while the other gripped the edge of the desk. She folded in on herself, allowing herself this one single moment to just feel. To finally feel.
Chapter One
One year later
Vee woke with a start, gun in hand. She expected to see her dead husband standing over her, ready to exact bloody retribution. Chest heaving, eyes wide in the darkness of her bedroom, she once more struggled to banish his ghost as her dream washed away in the reality of late morning. She shoved white blond hair off her forehead and scrambled for the vibrating phone that had woken her up. She kept it on or near her pillow when she slept. It must have fallen into the folds of her blankets when she’d gotten trapped in the hell of her nightmare.
Luckily the iPhone didn’t stop vibrating so she was able to locate it quickly and check the caller ID. Casey Reyes. Vee closed her eyes and put a hand to her forehead. Normally she would love getting a call from this woman, but today was going to be an exception.
Vee swung her legs over the side of the bed and answered, her voice husky, “Hello Casey.”
“Vee! My god, are you okay?” Casey asked, her voice higher pitched than usual, concern reverberating through her tone.
Vee’s lips pulled into a tight smile. At least one of the Bolivians cared enough to check on her health before they sent a hit squad over the fiasco that was last night. “I’m okay,” she answered, looking down at the bandage covering her arm and wincing a little. Now that she was up and moving, the slash wound was definitely making itself known. “Fuckers in this town are savages, Casey. No respect for a lady just trying to do a little business.”
There was silence for a moment and then Casey said quietly, “Tell me about it.”
Vee sighed and made her way to the washroom for a quick pee. She hoped Casey wouldn’t be able to hear, but seriously, if girl was going to wake her up after a night like last night and then demand answers, then she was going to have to deal with a little nature. Vee pulled her panties and satin pyjama pants down and got to business in both senses of the word. “Same old. It’s the Mexicans acting up again, taking a swipe at my authority in my town. Bastards simply refuse to settle into the new way of life around here. I’m running this city with an iron fist, yet those guys will not bow down to a woman.”
“This is the third time, Vee. The third time they’ve questioned your authority and the third lost shipment,” Casey said, her voice catching with worry. “I know you’re tough as nails, but what if they get in a lucky shot? I don’t want to lose you, babe.”
Vee finished up and washed her hands before making her way to the kitchen. She set the kettle on the stove to boil. A little old-fashioned, but then, she was an old-fashioned girl at heart and coffee was no longer an option.
“I’ll be fine,” Vee replied, wandering to the window of her condo and gazing at the ocean stretching out as far as she could see. The sight never failed to soothe. “Everyone else is falling into line. It’s just some of these Latin guys refuse to see a woman as equal. I can handle the bullshit. I handled last night.”
“Were you able to put them down decisively this time?”
Vee squeezed the phone tight and pictured the pig that had slashed her. Her guy had held him down while she put a bullet in his head. Her smile turned feral. “I got a few.”
Casey sighed irritably. “But not the cause of all this trouble.”
“No,” Vee acknowledged and turned back to the stove to pull the hissing kettle off the heat. She poured hot water over the herbs in her tea strainer and enjoyed the simple pleasure of peach berry aroma teasing her senses. “I can’t get to him from up here and my hold on the city is too tenuous for me to leave and go hunting.”
“I understand,” Casey said.
And Vee knew that Casey Reyes did understand. Women in their world, the mafia world, held precarious positions. Though she was a wife, Casey was also a partner and a powerhouse in her own right. Her husband built her up and set her up at his side as his queen. Then Casey had convinced him to set Vee up as their Miami contact and distributer on the East Coast. The catch? Vee’s husband had to go.
Not a big deal. He was a useless, waste of space fuck with no good head for business. She’d been running most of his operation in the shadows for years anyway. But convincing Tony’s contacts to trust her after she’d done the bloody deed? Now that had taken some work. She was ruthless though, and with an army at her back she’d taken control of the city. The only problem had come in the form of the Mexican cartel.
“But your husband doesn’t understand,” Vee said, her voice hard. She tapped the tea strainer against the edge of the cup to catch the extra drops and tossed it in the sink.
Casey sighed. “He’s sending someone.”
Fuck.
Vee’s arm throbbed viciously as she thought of the type of guy Reyes would send to her city and she nearly dropped her cup. She rested her elbow on the edge of the counter and counted slowly to ten, taking deep breaths to steady herself. Casey remained silent, giving her time. God bless this girl. They really did understand each other, despite nearly a decade difference in age.
Vee opened her eyes and made her way back to the calming picturesque view, clearly visible from the balcony window. The sparkling ocean, sometimes lazy and drifting, sometimes angry and choppy, always soothed her riotous emotions. The reason she lived here, in a secret location, rather than the mansion she’d shared with her husband. Most still believed she lived there. She preferred it that way. She blew on the tea, took a tentative sip and grimaced. God, how she missed coffee. But she no longer used mind-altering substances of any kind. Not even caffeine.
“Alejandro,” she finally said, trying to keep her voice cool and steady.
She didn’t want the Bolivian’s second-in-command in her city. He was brutal, bossy and Latin to his core. He would come in and get right in her business, tear her operation apart looking for flaws. He would find none. But he would piss her off in the process. She would have to keep her head and allow it if she wanted to stay on Reyes’ good side. Then she would have to team up with the big Bolivian and allow his help with getting Mexico in line.
The thought of needing anyone’s help made her grit her teeth. It was time’s like this that she wished she’d been born a man. She was better at this job than any man she’d ever met, yet because she was a woman she had to constantly fight and claw her way through the vicious underbelly of Miami. And just when she thought she’d landed in a sweet spot, the goddamn Mexican cartel managed to back her into a corner… again.
“Not Alejandro,” Casey told her.
“Who then?” Vee demanded, surprised.
Casey paused, clearly not wanting to say. Damn, this was bad. If not Alejandro, then who were the Bolivians sending to secure their American investment? She could feel sweat beginning to form in her palms.
“Just tell me,” she said tonelessly.
“Sotza.”
Vee’s heart stopped. Blindly she set her teacup down and reached for the sofa, falling onto it in a heap. Fuck. She was so fucked.
“The Gentleman Butcher,” she breathed, not even realizing she spoke the words out loud.
“I wouldn’t recommend you call him that to his
face, Vee,” Casey said drily. “He doesn’t have much tolerance for nicknames.”
Vee’s head spun and she had to put her face on her knees so she wouldn’t pass out. She forced her whirling mind to focus. She needed a clear brain for this new development. Life had just become very, very dangerous.
“This is bad, Casey,” she finally said.
“I know,” the other woman acknowledged. “I tried to talk him out of it.”
Him being Reyes. They both knew that despite Casey’s position at his side, when Reyes made a decision he was immoveable. He clearly didn’t like the way the Mexicans kept handing Vee her ass and he was going to make sure it didn’t happen again. But sending The Butcher to her city…
“He hasn’t stepped foot on this continent since…” she trailed off realizing the effect her words could have on her friend.
“Since my mother died,” Casey finished for her. “He’s over it, Vee. He’s been over it for a long time and he’s ready to stamp territory again. He’s quiet but deadly. You need to be so, so careful, hon.”
Vee laughed a little hysterically. “Don’t I know it! He was cutting a bloody path through everything South of the border when I was still in pigtails. The stories I’ve heard… they make even my blood run cold and I don’t scare easily.”
Queen’s Move: Book Two of The Queens Page 1