Queen's Ransom: A Fog City Novel

by Layla Reyne

  Chris pulled into the Madigans’ driveway and shifted in his seat, angling toward her, and Celia had no idea his eyebrow could climb that high. “We?”

  “She’s in this because of me.” Celia pointed at herself, then at him, then at the house where the rest of her family had been sheltered the past week. “Because of our family. And because Dex is a fucking idiot who led them right to something—someone—they could leverage. That’s what you all call it, yes?”

  His brow lowered as one corner of his mouth rose. “You hear more than you let on.”

  “Dex would never do what Helena did for me today, and I’ll be damned if I let that asshole be the reason something happens to her.” She unfastened her seatbelt and flung it off, hand on the door, hand on the next step of her life, and she was ready to pull the handle. Ready to open the door to the chaos and love that could come with it. “I’m not sitting this one out.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Celia was over thirty, and tonight was the first time she’d stepped inside a club. That’s what happened when you had your first kid in high school. She’d never had nights out at the club with friends, never had a wild spring break with college roommates, never danced to thumping music and flashing lights with a would-be partner. Looking down from the mezzanine balcony of Club Sterling, she wasn’t too sure she cared about the club part of what she’d missed. The loud music made her head hurt, the strobe lights didn’t help, and the dance floor below was way too packed for her to ever feel comfortable there.

  “How did this place become neutral ground?” she asked Hawes, who rested against the balcony rail beside her.

  They’d read her in back at the house, explaining the basics of the meet—the location, the parties, the objectives.

  “How much do you want to know?” he said.

  She waved him off. “Forget I asked.” She was here for Helena, and she would be again in the future for Helena and any of her family—Perris and Madigans—when they needed her, but as seldom as possible in this direct a role. Mia was spot on the other night when describing her place in all this. Five minutes inside Club Sterling, five hours of the fucking raven doing barrel rolls in her stomach, and Celia agreed one hundred percent with her daughter. “When this is all over, I just want to be the partner who is the mom-friend of the family and who makes sure all of you are bandaged and fed. The rest of what you do…” She closed her eyes and covered her ears.

  Hawes gently tugged down her hands. “Her partner?”

  “Yeah, if I can get through that hard head of hers.”

  Chuckling, Hawes dropped a peck on the top of her head. “Helena needs you. We all do. I think back on my parents, on my grandparents, and they never had anyone on the outside to ground them. They got lost in this world, and it cost them their lives and freedom.” Celia was so surprised by the regret, the vulnerability, the warmth in his voice, that she reached out to clasp his hand. He squeezed back, more firmly, more genuinely than she expected. “We’re trying to do things differently. Better. You help make us better.”

  If she could do that for the Madigans, it made her feel a little less guilty for all the trouble they’d gone through this week to keep her and her family safe. “Thank you.”

  The moment was interrupted by a click in her ear, startling her at first until she remembered the comm device there.

  “What is it?” Hawes said, and it was equally startling to hear him next to her and directly in her ear.

  “Patching Oak through,” Holt said. Another couple clicks, then Holt reported, “Oak, we’re all on.”

  The lawyer? Celia mouthed to Hawes, who nodded. Made sense as Helena had mentioned a meeting with him on Monday.

  “Two updates,” Oak said. “It was a Bratva soldier that murdered Griffin. The soldier hung himself in his cell this morning.”

  “Fuck,” Hawes cursed. “The other piece?”

  “The connection between Griffin and Lenny. Griffin’s ex-wife is tight with Lenny’s sister. Lenny told his sister he needed some wheels, and the ex mentioned the car sitting in a storage unit she’s justifiably bitter about paying for.”

  “So Lenny helped himself to the car.”

  “Looks like it.” The ambient noise in the background grew louder, Oak entering a restaurant, judging by the clink of silverware and a hostess asking for his party name. He begged her pardon for a minute, then asked them, “You need anything else from me? My husband might murder you himself if I continue to keep him waiting for our anniversary dinner.”

  “We’re set, thanks,” Hawes said. “Have a good dinner, and happy anniversary.”

  Oak clicked off with a “Thanks,” and once Holt confirmed “Clear,” Hawes added, “Find out where they’re dining and pay for the meal. Send over some champagne too.”

  “Already done,” Holt said.

  Celia ducked her chin and smiled, happy her brother had found a good man and a good family to attach to their own. All the good it had led to.

  “Remy entering,” Connor reported.

  “Details on the women?” Hawes said to Holt, back to business.

  “Pulling information now,” Holt replied. “I’ll compile and send through the server. On your device in five.”

  “Remy, nine o’clock,” Victoria said, just as motion at the far end of the mezzanine, on the other side of Hawes, drew Celia’s attention.

  The crowd parted for a tall, striking woman who strode their direction with as much confidence as Helena typically moved but without the same grace. Remy, on first impression, seemed more the blunt-weapon sort, disguised as she was in skin-tight jeans, knee-high leather boots, and a shimmering metallic top under a leather jacket.

  Following Celia’s gaze, Hawes rotated, caught sight of Remy and told Holt, “Gotta go.” He pocketed his phone as Remy sidled up next to him, front pressed against his side, hand on his shoulder. “You’re a new face,” she said, blatantly checking out Celia.

  Celia projected all the confidence she could muster. Not enough to go toe to toe with this woman, but maybe enough to back her off a step. “I’m the one who took her off the market.”

  A slow sly smile spread across Remy’s face. “Your fiancé’s sister?” she asked Hawes.

  “The resemblance?”

  “The cockiness.” Her gaze returned to Celia. “Though I like it much better on you.”

  “Time’s tight, Remy,” Hawes said, and the other woman sighed dramatically.

  She stepped from Hawes’s side to Celia’s and hooked an elbow through hers. “I don’t know if you know this,” she said, starting them walking toward the other end of the mezzanine. “But your brother and his pet mobster are real party poopers.”

  “Sometime when Helena hasn’t been kidnapped,” Celia said, keeping Remy talking and friendly as she remained aware of her surroundings. They were in a hallway off the mezzanine, what appeared to be the club’s executive offices. “I’ll tell you about the old Chris. He wasn’t always a party pooper.”

  Remy howled with laughter, and out of the corner of her eye, Celia caught Hawes’s approving smile. Smiles and laughter died, though, as they entered one of the offices to find Lenny gagged and bound to a chair. Across from Lenny, standing behind the desk, was an older man with salt-and-pepper hair and dark blue eyes. Much like the Madigans, had Celia seen him on the street or in a restaurant, she would have assumed he was any other wealthy San Franciscan, not the head of the Russian mob here in Fog City.

  Hawes approached the desk, his hand extended. “Dimitri.”

  “Hawes,” Dimitri Petrov greeted, his voice lightly accented. “It’s been too long. I’ve been wanting to tell you I commend what you and your siblings have done with your organization. Made all our lives easier.”

  “Thank you.” He eyed Lenny. “And you brought us a present?”

  Lenny squirmed in his chair as if he could sense the combined danger of the three other people in the room. His eyes kept darting back to Celia, beseeching, like he thought she could
do anything to get him out of this pickle. “Don’t look at me.” She motioned around the room. “We’re all here because of your poor life choices.”

  “She’s smart too,” Remy said with a wink.

  “We didn’t pick him up,” Dimitri answered Hawes’s question. “Someone left him on our doorstep with these.” He opened his fist and in his palm were a pair of cufflinks the exact ice-blue shade as Hawes’s and Helena’s eyes.

  He dropped them into Hawes’s hand, and Hawes smiled, a cold satisfied thing. “Did you know him?” Hawes asked as he pocketed the jewelry. “Before tonight?”

  “He is an associate of Adrian’s. Not ours. And I did not nor do I intend to order a hit on your sister.”

  “But one of your soldiers was involved in one,” Hawes said. “And that soldier has her now.”

  “Not one of mine any longer. He used one of my men in prison to kill someone without authorization. Now I’ve lost that man. And when I wouldn’t take his meet, he went to the Ferriellos. Tried to bargain with them.”

  “That’s how they got him?” Hawes said, approaching Lenny.

  “I assume so.”

  “Did he tell you anything helpful? Like where Zima might be holding my sister?”

  Dimitri buttoned his coat as he circled the desk. “Leaving that for you.”

  “Are you willing to help us?” Hawes’s tone was dead even, not letting on which answer he wanted, whether he cared one way or the other. If it were up to Celia, she’d take all the help she could get, but there was way more at play here than she knew or cared to know.

  Dimitri came to a stop in front of Hawes. “I won’t interfere, and you’ll have Remy’s assistance.”

  “And we won’t be seen as attacking you through your former soldier.”

  Dimitri extended a hand. “A truce.”

  Hawes shook his hand. “A reservation.”

  The older man smiled, not hiding his fondness. “Call it what you will.” He drew back his hand and bowed politely as he passed Celia. “Ms. Perri.” He exchanged a few hushed words with Remy by the door, then exited, Remy closing the door behind him.

  Hawes had already moved to his next target, roughly pulling down the gag from Lenny’s mouth.

  “I’m sorry.” Lenny coughed, his pleading eyes darting all around, then back to her. “Cee, I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

  Hawes grabbed his chin and wrenched his face back to him. “You don’t get to talk to her.” His tone was no longer even. It was cold, hard, all the iciness Celia could never put her finger on crystalized into a sharp, deadly dagger. “Not after the shit you pulled.”

  “Who are you?” Lenny stuttered.

  “You’re as clueless as Dex, aren’t you?”

  “This is his fault.” Lenny squirmed in his chair, in Hawes’s hold, trying and failing to free himself. “He told me the shop would be empty that time a day.”

  “You thought you were shooting up an empty shop?” Celia said.

  “Yes! Dex owed me and Frank money. Adrian said he wanted to get in good with Frank, and so did I. He said this would be a good way to do it. I didn’t know he was Russian mob. I swear.”

  “Now you’ve got a bigger problem,” Hawes said.

  Lenny’s voice shook as he whispered, “Who are you?”

  Bending, Hawes got right in Lenny’s face. “They call me the Prince of Killers.”

  Celia dug her teeth into her bottom lip, holding back her gasp. She reminded herself of the kindness Hawes had shown her outside on the mezzanine, over the past week, over the past six months. Reminded herself of all the good he’d brought to her brother’s life, how he’d brought Chris home to them. Told herself he was not only the icy killer he displayed for Lenny.

  “And you could have gotten my sister-in-law and my sister killed. You still might.” He lifted a hand, right at the level of his hairline. “So that puts you near the top of my shit list. That’s not a good place to be, Lenny.”

  The stench of urine tainted the air and a stain spread across the crotch and down the leg of Lenny’s cargo pants.

  Hawes didn’t flinch. Didn’t give up a single intimidating inch. “You’re going to tell me what I need to know, starting with a list of everywhere you and Adrian have been together recently.”

  “And with Dex,” Celia nodded.

  “And with Dex,” Hawes amended, and when Lenny tried again to shirk back, stuttering and protesting, Hawes roared in his face. “Now, Lenny!”

  Celia wouldn’t have been surprised if Lenny shit his pants right then too. But at least he began to spit out the list of places among his snotting and crying. Over the comm, Holt repeated back each location, followed by rapid-fire typing.

  “That’s it,” Lenny said after he’d given them a half dozen locations. “That’s all I know.” He tried and failed to wipe his nose on his shoulder, unable to shake loose Hawes’s hold. “Do I get to go now?”

  “Brax in five,” Holt said.

  Celia bit her lip again, this time in amusement, at Lenny getting his due, fucking finally, and because she was that damn impressed with her extended family. Hawes hadn’t had to tell Holt what to do next. The three of them, four counting Chris, read each other’s moves so seamlessly. On Friday it had made her head spin; now it was a comfort, a security blanket against the chill that was obviously the other side of their business.

  Hawes released Lenny, straightened, and stepped back. “’Fraid not Lenny. The chief of police will be here to arrest you shortly.”

  “But I cooperated!”

  Hawes roughly yanked up the gag, muffling Lenny once more. “You shot at my sister-in-law and my sister. You attacked my family. Be grateful you’re walking out of here alive.”

  Hawes headed for the door, paying no attention to Lenny’s garbled pleas, as if he weren’t there at all. Celia followed his lead, leaving another part of her past behind.

  Remy spoke briefly to the man standing outside the door, then caught up to where Celia stood waiting with Hawes. “You sure you still want your brother to marry him?” she asked as she draped an arm over Celia’s shoulders.

  Celia cast Hawes a warm smile, figuring all that chill had to be a heavy burden. “More than ever.”

  The ice cracked and the man she knew as Chris’s fiancé returned to the surface. “Like I said, better.” He squeezed Celia’s shoulder as he stepped past them, speaking to Holt over the comm. “You got a location?”

  Remy’s smile was equally genuine, the first Celia had seen on the other woman all night. She was quite attractive when she set the blunt-weapon persona aside. “Helena’s a lucky woman.”

  “So am I.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “Dimitri not answering your calls?”

  Adrian spun from the window he’d been staring out of for the last ten minutes, and the glow of the orange sodium lamp outside reflected in his dark eyes. “What did you do?”

  She’d shrug if she could, but the one zip tie binding her arms behind her back and the other binding her to a bolted-down prep table in the vacant catering space Adrian had brought them to didn’t allow her much movement. And she didn’t want to drop the courthouse pen she had just extracted from her sleeve. “I didn’t do anything,” she said, keeping Adrian focused on her words and not on the movement behind her back. “But let’s talk about what you were trying to do. Win points with Dimitri? And if that didn’t work, with Frank?”

  “You’re a threat to the Bratva. If I removed the queen, then maybe the Madigans wouldn’t be coming after us. I thought Dimitri would see that.”

  Confirmation the Bratva hadn’t turned on them and that Frank was effectively an afterthought, not directing this either. “We weren’t coming after the Bratva,” she said. “Unlike you, we’re not stupid. That’s why we negotiated with Remy and Dimitri.”

  “You limited us.”

  “Ohhh,” she drawled. “You mean you want the ability to kill indiscriminately with no consequences? Sorry, dude, that’s not allowed.”
She got the cap off the pen, held it in reserve in her one hand, and with the other positioned the pen to press down on the tab of the zip tie holding her to the table, attacking that one first. “We don’t care what you do amongst yourselves,” she said, continuing to talk and distract while she worked. “But if you harm innocents, we have a problem. Dimitri understands that.”

  “We didn’t have these problems before your brother and you took over.”

  She smirked. “That’s evolution, baby.”

  At the other end of the prep table, similarly bound, a regrettably awake Dex cursed. “I can’t believe Celia is involved with you.”

  “She told you that?”

  “Said she was moving on. Well, not with my kids and you. I’m gonna tell the judge and get them back.”

  Helena rolled her eyes. “Oh please. You have a rap sheet. None of us do. And you’re a fucking idiot. I’m guessing you led them to us in the first place.”

  “I didn’t!” He strained against the zip ties, rattling the table and almost making Helena lose the pen. “They came to me, asking all sorts of questions about the shop and you and Celia.”

  “So you did know who I was at the station Sunday?”

  His eyes grew wide. “No!” At least he had the good sense to be frightened of her, even cuffed. “I didn’t know that was you they were talking about. Not at first.”

  He really was fucking dumb, but not her priority right now. She turned her attention back to the man by the window. “Is that right, Adrian? What’d you tell him?”

  “Someone’s always watching,” he said, sparing her a half glance. “Like at that party in November.”

  Helena froze. Mia and Lily’s party. She made a mental note to have Holt check the waitstaff from that night. “Well, they’re gonna keep seeing me and Celia together. Her brother’s marrying mine, and if I’m lucky, she’ll marry me one day too.”

  “Fuck that,” Dex spat. “You can’t have her.”