Queen's Ransom: A Fog City Novel

by Layla Reyne

  Remy shook her head.

  Helena swiped her finger across the screen to a picture of Dex. “What about him?”

  She shook her head again.

  “And you’d know?” Hawes asked.

  “Seeing as I’ve been feeding the ATF the Bratva’s recruitment targets the past year, yeah, I’d fucking know.”

  “How do we know you’re not lying?”

  “You don’t.” Remy reached for her forgotten shot and tossed it back. “But seeing as Adrian tried to kill someone important to me, I’d be happy to recruit you to my cause.”

  The pieces slotted into place. “The ATF thinks they’re using you, but you’re using them.”

  “No one fucks with what’s mine.” Remy looked positively smug, but behind the arrogance, something haunted lingered. Something they could use to their advantage.

  “If we need a meet with your boss,” Helena said, “can you make it happen?”

  “You better be damn sure before you make that request.”

  “If we do,” Hawes said, his voice and patience thinning, “we will be.”

  “And no one fucks with what’s mine either,” Helena said, feeding Remy a little more of the truth in return for the truths she’d shared.

  Remy poured herself and Helena another shot. “We understand each other,” she said in Russian.

  “We do,” Helena replied in the same.

  Remy’s answering laugh was full and throaty. “Kiska, if I’d only known.” She leaned closer, pushing back the hair Helena had tossed to get her attention earlier. “I would have tried harder to get you into my bed,” she purred, unfurling a Russian accent Helena had never heard her use before. “Would have loved to hear you panting in my mother tongue.”

  A shadow fell over the table. “Just so you know,” Chris said, “I’ve got a vested interest in this too. I won’t hesitate to cause you trouble with the ATF if you double-cross us.”

  Remy’s pleasant demeanor vanished. “I thought he wasn’t listening.”

  “I wasn’t,” Chris replied. “But I knew what the plan was, and from where I stood, it looked like mission accomplished.”

  Some of Remy’s fury mellowed in favor of annoyance. “You ruin all the fun.” She shifted her glare to Hawes. “Are you sure you want to be stuck with him the rest of your life?”

  Hawes drew Chris closer by a belt loop and grabbed his ass cheek. “I’m sure.”

  Remy smirked. “I bet you are.” She slid out of the booth, taking the coaster with her. She tossed it on the floor and drove her stiletto into the center of it. “Just in case it was recording. I’ll be in touch.”

  Helena waited for her to clear the door before speaking to Chris. “She’s playing the ATF for her own purposes. Your call whether to alert Tran.” SAC Tran was Chris’s former ATF boss who’d helped them last year. “I’d rather we not yet.” Her gaze flicked to where Remy had disappeared into the dark night. “We may still need her.”

  “We’ll monitor,” Chris said. “You think she could be trying to start something?”

  “Start it, no,” Helena said. “Take advantage of the situation? She wouldn’t object.”

  Hawes finally claimed his shot and tossed it back. “And shit just went sideways.”

  Helena didn’t bother with her glass, drinking straight from the bottle instead. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  Chapter Ten

  Head inside one of the bakery’s three full-sized commercial-grade refrigerators, Celia stared at the shelves of plastic containers—quarts, pints, half-pints—and wondered how her cousin or Mia found anything. More than half the containers looked like they were filled with some sort of ricotta or mascarpone goodness. She closed the middle fridge and checked the one on the right. More of the same. The one on the left, nothing but liquids and eggs.

  “Ang!” Celia shouted. “Where exactly is the cannoli filling you want?”

  “Middle fridge,” Angelica shouted back. “Second shelf. That’s all the fillings. Grab the amaretto one too.”

  She let the heavy doors of the right—wrong—fridge swing closed and returned to the middle unit, staring again at the second shelf full of unmarked containers. “That’s not helpful. Which one?”

  “Why not all of them?”

  Startling at the different, much closer voice, Celia spun on her heel to find Helena standing on the other side of the prep table. How the hell had she come in without making a sound? And how the hell did someone manage to look so good “dressed down” in jeans and an athletic hoodie? The snug teal top made her blue eyes pop and her blond hair shine where it curled over her shoulder in a loose ponytail. “I mean, we’re tasting everything else in the place.”

  Celia closed the fridge and leaned back against it, letting the ambient chill cool her rapidly heating blood. “I’m sorry if this turned into more of a production than you all wanted.” Between the sheer number of people—Chris and all of their immediate family, Angelica and her kids, all the Madigans and several of their colleagues—extra guards, if Celia had to guess, though she could tell they were also friends—and the sheer amount of food—at least a dozen cake samples and a full-scale Venetian dessert table—the bakery was packed. From the outside, the place did not look closed, and Angelica, with Victoria on her heel, was constantly greeting eager patrons at the door to tell them so. “We don’t know how to do things halfway.”

  Helena rounded the near end of the prep table and her dark wash jeans did nothing to hide the subtle, attractive curves of her strong, petite frame. “My niece’s hands are covered in jelly and frosting, so is Hawes’s suit and Holt’s flannel, and I think there’s some in Chris’s hair too. I’d say it’s been an almost perfect day.”

  “Almost?”

  “This is the first time we’ve talked.” She pushed up her sleeves and rested against the table. “I’m sorry for that. Things were a little crazy yesterday.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t reply to your text,” Celia said. Things had been hectic for Helena, but she’d taken the time to check in. Celia felt bad for not responding. “Lily was fussy, so I was helping Holt out.” And she hadn’t wanted to see anymore texts from Dex. None had been there this morning when she’d deleted the first. “How’d the meeting go last night?”

  Helena curled her fingers around the edge of the table behind her. “More questions than answers. The usual.”

  “I’m sorry things got so complicated.” She gestured at the rest of the bakery outside the kitchen doors. “And that this got complicated too.”

  “Jam-covered complications were exactly what we all needed today.”

  Celia laughed. “I’m glad we could help, then. We’re going to be family soon. That’s what family does.”

  Helena hung her head, chuckling too, though there was a sadness in it that made Celia’s chest ache. “Give us some time to get used to it.”

  “You’ve got three weeks.”

  Helena’s laugh that followed was lighter, and the tightness in Celia’s chest eased with it. Helena straightened and pushed off the table. “I meant to tell you, good job on the car.”

  “Working on a car”—she wiggled her fingers—“felt good. Chris and I haven’t done that together in a long time. I’m glad I could help.”

  Helena stepped forward and caught her fingers. “Thank you. I just wish—” In a rare moment of hesitation and second-guessing, Helena cut herself off and began to move back.

  Celia curled her fingers around Helena’s and held her close. “I get that there are lines, Helena, but—”

  “Anywhere close to us is dangerous, Cee. I’m dangerous.”

  “I know, you told me as much last night.” She stepped closer. “But your brother is marrying mine in three weeks, and your family is sitting in my family’s bakery, covered in jelly and frosting. I think we’re past that.”

  Helena’s answering laugh was different than the previous two, and one Celia didn’t think she’d ever heard from her. Soft, genuine, and a tad sh
y. She was surprised Helena had a shy bone in her body. “I like hearing you laugh.”

  Blue eyes peeked through burnished-gold lashes. “I like you.”

  Celia laced their fingers together more tightly. “Did you really tell someone you were off the market?”

  Helena’s wide-eyed gaze lifted the rest of the way. “You heard that?”

  “No, Holt had on his headphones.” She smiled. “He told me after.”

  “Fuck.” More of that quiet soft laughter as Helena rested her forehead on Celia’s shoulder. “They’re ganging up on me now.”

  The sound and warmth, the intimate closeness of the touch, made Celia’s stomach flip. “I like you too, Helena.” She angled her face, feeling the strands of soft gold on her cheek and inhaling lavender-scented shampoo. “But full disclosure, I don’t know what I’m doing here. Dex is the only…”

  Helena drew back far enough to meet her gaze, and the rosy blush on her cheeks, highlighting her faint freckles, was another softness Celia had never imagined on such a sharp woman. “Doesn’t matter how many or what gender when you like someone,” Helena said. “And they like you back.”

  That was all the invitation, all the confirmation, all the borrowed confidence Celia needed to erase the distance between them. Mouth angled over Helena’s, she moved her lips against Helena’s slightly chapped ones, the soft and rough dichotomy the epitome of the woman she was kissing. Same as the cozy hoodie that covered hard muscle where Celia’s hand landed on her hip, same as the sharp cheekbone under smooth skin where Celia’s other hand cupped Helena’s cheek. And as Celia teased open Helena’s lips and dove inside, her taste was no different. Sharp, rich espresso contrasted with the sweetness of jam and frosting. Contradictions Celia could happily taste and touch all day. Could drown in as a whimper rolled up Helena’s throat and escaped her lips, ghosting over Celia’s tongue.

  “Ma!” Mia shouted. “You get lost in there?”

  Startled apart, Helena dropped her forehead on Celia’s shoulder again and her body shook with gentle laughter.

  “How do I tell them apart?” Celia called back. “Are there labels?”

  “On the bottom.”

  “Got it. Be out in a few.”

  She nosed Helena’s temple. “Who puts labels on the bottom?”

  “Your daughter, apparently.” Helena lifted her head, dragging her nose along Celia’s jawbone and making her shiver. “She’s smart, like you. I’m sure there’s a reason.”

  “Should we go ask her?”

  Helena grumbled an incoherent protest and dropped a light kiss on her chin. She stepped back and out of Celia’s arms, but not so far as to break the connection they’d finally made.

  Celia tangled their fingers again. “Thank you for that.”

  “Feeling’s mutual.” She lifted Celia’s hand and kissed her knuckles. “Training tonight? I’ve got about ten pounds of cake to work off.” And judging by the fire in her eyes, it wasn’t only the cake she had a mind to work out.

  “Sounds like a plan.” Celia squeezed her hand, then released it, turning back to the fridge. “Help me carry these?” She didn’t bother looking for the labels, just grabbed those she recognized as cannoli filling.

  “All of them?” Helena said, eying the half dozen containers Celia lined up on the prep table.

  “Doesn’t matter how many or what flavor when you like them all, right?” She grinned. “Besides, Lily should get a feel for all the weapons at her disposal.”

  Helena laughed out loud, free and amused. “You Perris are good for this family.”

  “You Madigans are good for ours.”

  The doors swung open, and Celia spun to tell her daughter they were on their way, then stopped short at seeing her brother there instead with his work face on. “We’re going to have to cut this short.”

  All the softness in the woman beside her vanished, Helena instantly on alert. “What’s going on?”

  “Brax just called. SFPD picked up Dex an hour ago. B&E and possession of a controlled substance.”

  Just as Celia predicted. Dex always came back. But the warm, firm hand on her back reassured her this time would be different.

  Chapter Eleven

  If Celia never saw the inside of SFPD headquarters again, it would be too soon. And yet, she was back in Brax’s office, and once again, it was because of her deadbeat ex-husband. But true to Helena’s word, Celia wasn’t alone this time. The chief’s office was packed. Victoria stood guard at the door, Helena sat beside her in the other visitor chair, and Hawes and Chris stood at either end of the chief’s desk, following along as Jax, whose Mohawk was dyed a wintery blue, briefed them on the forensics report. Holt had wanted to join them in Hawes’s place, but Lily had gotten fussy again after the busy day, and Celia suspected Helena wanted to corner Brax about the distance he was keeping from Holt and Lily. Tough, seeing as the chief’s chair was the only one still empty.

  “Anything else inside the Charger?” Chris asked.

  “Nothing.” Jax moved the crystal nameplate that oddly read Captain instead of Chief out of the way and spread a slew of pictures across the chief’s desk. “Car was spick and span.”

  “It was that way when we found it too,” Hawes said.

  “Gloves,” Helena said. “The inside of the car was shadowed Friday, but I could see the trigger, and I’m pretty certain the finger on it was gloved. I’d assume the driver was too.”

  Celia’s stomach sank. She hadn’t realized Helena had exposed herself that much.

  “What about the parts?” Hawes said.

  Jax’s green eyes glanced up, directly at Celia, and Celia’s stomach sank further. “Dex?”

  They nodded and laid out a new set of pictures. Parts Celia had handled with Chris yesterday. “Prints on the parts traced back to Dex and Lenny Proctor.”

  “This and the receipts…” Chris rapped his knuckles on the desk. “That’s the Lenny and Dex we know. Too stupid to cover their tracks.”

  “But why did they take all those other precautions,” Celia said, “and not clean the parts or properly fry the electronics?” She kept coming back to the ECU.

  Helena laid a hand on her knee. “That’s what we’re trying to figure out.”

  The door swung open behind them, the slatted blinds on the inset window rattling. Brax made it one step in before he lifted his head and stalled midstride, clearly surprised to find his office packed full.

  His gaze darted to Chris. “You said you’d bring Celia down.”

  “Well, hello to you too, stranger,” Helena drawled.

  Brax’s bloodshot gaze shot to her, searing, before he cast it aside. He quickly turned and closed the door, and from behind, his suit coat looked a size too big, hanging loose off his shoulders. Celia didn’t think he’d bought it off the rack that way. He rotated back around and trudged to his desk. “You can’t all be here.”

  “The person in custody concerns my family,” Chris said.

  “Which concerns our family,” Hawes added.

  “And I’m the family lawyer,” Helena concluded. “Victoria is here because Celia and I were shot at two days ago, as you know. You really want to go ten rounds on this, Brax?”

  Brax sank into his chair, and before Helena could start the next round, Celia laid a hand over hers where it still rested on her knee, hoping Helena would read the back-off message for what it was. If Holt looked a wreck, Brax looked like a ten-car pileup in rush hour on the freeway.

  “Thanks for accommodating us, Chief,” Celia said as calmly and as friendly as she could, aiming to de-escalate the rising tension in the room. “It’s been a rough few days, and I feel safer with everyone here. If it doesn’t work for you, though—”

  He waved a dismissive hand. “It’s fine, Ms. Perri.”

  “Celia, please, or Cee.” She smiled. “We’re family, yeah?”

  He ran a shaking hand over his head and plastered on a tired smile. “Thanks for coming down.”

  “You picked up
Dex?”

  “Got a call from Holt,” Brax said. “Dex was at the shop, trying to pick a lock to get in.”

  “I changed the locks.”

  “We changed them again yesterday,” Victoria said.

  She’d have to see about getting those new keys. Tomorrow Celia’s problem. As for today… “Chris said there was a possession charge too?”

  “Cocaine,” Brax replied. “Enough I can hold him. Longer if I can use this”—he jutted his chin at the evidence spread across his desk—“to make a trafficking charge stick.”

  “You’ll get whatever evidence you need,” Hawes said, his voice full of that frosty chill Celia couldn’t put her finger on.

  Brax glanced his direction, lips pressed together in a hard, thin line, before he shifted his focus back to Celia. “He said to call you for bail.”

  She laughed, not the least bit amused.

  But it did draw a small genuine smile out of Brax. “That’s what I thought.”

  “Thank you for calling, though.”

  “Arraignment?” Helena said from beside her.

  The corners of his lips fell, and he plucked a gold-wrapped candy from the crystal bowl on the corner of his desk. “We’ll book him tomorrow, pending charges, and hold him until the arraignment on Wednesday, unless somebody else posts his bail.”

  “Not likely,” Chris said.

  “But if someone does,” Helena said, “give us a heads up.”

  “I’ll do what I can.”

  “We need to talk to him.”

  “Interrogation Room One, but that box is half the size of this one.” Brax lifted two fingers. “Two of you only.”

  Helena shifted toward her. “Your call whether you want to go in there with me.”

  Did she want to go into that room and tell her useless husband off? Tell him to leave her and their family out of whatever mess he’d gotten into? By all means. And for the first time in fifteen years, she believed she could walk into that room and do it. But did she think she’d be half as effective as Helena and Chris doing so? Not a chance. And this was too important to chance, too important to let her anger risk the safety of her loved ones. “You and Chris talk to him.” She stood, and the rest of the room rose with her. “I’m going to go ahead and get back to Mom and the kids.”