Queen of the Underworld

by Lee Savino

  It was only now is she looked closer that she realized that his hands and feet were tied together. But even if she could untie him, there was no way she could carry him. Her options were either: go back inside and interrupt her friends who were…otherwise engaged, or possibly get kidnapped by Spike Hair again.

  Shit.

  Or she could run and hope whoever had knocked her bodyguard out wouldn’t come back and finish the job.

  “I’m getting help,” she whispered to Slim as if it would make a difference. “We’ll come back for you.”

  Crap, how long had she been crouching here exposed? Time to get moving again. Barefoot, she escaped across the grass and ran straight into the foliage beside the back fence, oblivious to the briars scraping her.

  A childhood in the country had taught her how to climb a tree. Which she did now, grabbing onto a low branch and swinging herself up until her legs got purchase. She climbed higher and higher, all the while waiting for one of Waters’ soldiers to yank her down at any moment.

  She was quick enough, though, to get up high and drop to the other side of the fence that divided Olympia’s house from her neighbor. Scraped up and limping a little from the shock of landing on her bare feet, Cora dashed around their house and slipped out to the street beyond.

  After a few blocks running on the pavement, she slowed and reality set in. Shit. She had no money, scraped palms, no shoes, and no phone. Her bodyguard was hurt, maybe even dead if Spike Hair decided to come back and finish the job…all because of her frivolous desire to go to a party.

  She kept trying to pretend that if she just closed her eyes and wished it all away, the reality of who she was would disappear. But it didn’t work like that. She’d been foolish and childish and now people might get hurt because of her.

  Holding back tears, Cora tried to think and take stock of her surroundings. Self-flagellation wouldn’t do anyone any good right now. Armand, Anna, Olympia, Waters’ man—she put them all out of her head so she could figure out what to do next. She was on Park Avenue, not the best place to be in New Olympus after midnight, but not the worst.

  There was a place close by that she knew well—the Crown Hotel, where Marcus had his penthouse.

  Gathering her bearings, she slipped down back alleyways, moving as quickly as she could while still watching for broken glass that might cut her feet.

  When the brilliant gold facade of the grand hotel appeared, she nearly sobbed. Even in the late hour, the door was busy with returning guests.

  The senior doorman, Alphonse, recognized her. “Mrs, Ubeli, what—” His eyes widened at the sight of her bare feet and scraped arms. “Come,” he said, wrapping her in his coat and ushering her quickly inside.

  Wincing as the fabric brushed her raw arms, Cora padded to the elevator, her head down, grateful for his help.

  “I don’t have my keycard on me,” she said, feeling desperate.

  “It’s no trouble, Mrs. Ubeli. Your husband will want to see you right away.”

  “He’s here?” Cora asked. “I lost my cell phone. I was at a party and…it got wild.”

  “Ah,” the doorman said in a kind tone. “No matter. You’re home safe now.” He used his own keycard to get her to the penthouse floor, and dropped her off, only leaving when she insisted she was fine. The penthouse lights blinked on as soon as she entered.

  She hadn’t been here since… She shook her head, taking it all in. The place was clean and perfect, but with maids that came through daily, that was no surprise. It looked the same, and nostalgia hit her hard.

  Using the hotel phone, Cora called the number she knew—Marcus’s cell. It went to voicemail; she left a message in a quavering voice. “Hey, it’s me. Something went wrong at the party where I was tonight. I should never have gone. It was stupid, but I didn’t think… Anyway, one of Waters’ men was there. Slim is hurt…I didn’t know how to help him, so I left him and ran and now I’m at the penthouse. I lost my cellphone,” she ended awkwardly. “Call me.”

  After going to the bathroom and washing her dirty feet, she pulled off the little black dress and looked in the mirror. The sexy makeup she’d put on earlier seemed like a joke now. She wiped it off and threw her dress in the trash. She stared at herself in the mirror, cataloging her week so far.

  Kidnapped, drugged, betrayed. She’d moved into a new apartment and gotten a bodyguard almost killed.

  She glared at herself. “You wanted your own life, huh?”

  She closed her eyes and breathed out a long breath through her teeth. It was time to stop running and grow up. For real this time.

  She needed to talk to Marcus and sort things out. He deserved to know everything. She didn’t know what that meant for their relationship or what she even wanted it to mean… And she needed to confront Armand.

  Those pills he’d given her… What was happening to those people at the party looked an awful lot like what had happened to her the night she’d sleepwalked. Armand had lied to her. Told her they were sleeping pills when they were actually… How could he have done that to her? And then on top of it all, invited her to a party like that? He had to have known what it would turn into, with them passing out the pills like candy. And he’d certainly been enthusiastically participating.

  Cora scrubbed at her eyes and headed for the closet. Her clothes lay just as she’d left them. Marcus hadn’t moved a thing. She opened one of his drawers and drew out one of his undershirts, lifting it to her face and inhaling. The familiar smell of his detergent made her feel calm and desperate at the same time.

  She stepped further into the closet and ran her hands over his suit jackets. He was always so strong. She could use some strong right now.

  Finally she pulled on a pair of her jeans, wincing slightly at the scrapes on her legs. She tugged a simple plain white tee over her head and went out to check the clock again.

  Almost 2:00 a.m. No calls.

  Waiting, she watched the clock until she was convinced she saw the second hand hesitate. Surely Marcus would have gotten her message by now? Or wherever he was hiding out, did he not even have a cell phone? What about Sharo? Where was he?

  But Alphonse said Marcus was here. Or had she just assumed? A big part of her had secretly hoped that this was his safe house—that he put out the word that he was going into hiding but he’d snuck back to the hotel to wait it out here.

  She frowned, looking around. During their marriage Marcus did like to work out before bed, usually opting for the private penthouse pool. Maybe he was here and had gone upstairs for a quick swim?

  Okay, so maybe she was grasping at straws now, but she had to check. Anything was better than sitting here doing nothing.

  Walking gingerly on bare, scraped feet, she left the penthouse and took the stairs to the top floor.

  The top floor of the Crown Hotel had a spa and gym dedicated to the more elite guests, plus an open-air patio and a few small, shallow sunning pools outside, along with the Olympic sized indoor one. Cora padded through the workout area, completely dark at this time of night, and through the women’s dressing room. The lights turned on as she passed through.

  She played out the conversation she would have with Marcus in her head. He’d be angry, she knew. Two narrow misses was enough for her for one week. Her insistence that she be left alone to live her own life sounded stupid now.

  Plus, would it really be so bad to be holed up alone with him? All week she’d been so lost and lonely without him.

  The pool lay under a huge glass canopy, a dark pit that drew her eyes. One moment she was staring at its tar-like depths and then the lights blinked on and—

  “Marcus!” she screamed. “No!

  A man floated face down in the blue water, fully clothed in a dark suit like the ones hanging in her husband’s closet.

  Cora ran to the edge of the pool. “Marcus!” His dark hair waved gently around his submerged head and his limbs were spread wide, completely limp.

  Cora didn’t stop to think. She l
eapt into the water and swam towards her husband with everything she had.

  It was only as she drew close that she saw the blood clouding the water around him.

  “Marcus!” she screamed as she grabbed him and flipped him over in the water. She let out another shriek, jerking backwards.

  The man was dead. His head was bashed in.

  But it wasn’t her husband. It wasn’t Marcus.

  “Cora,” Sharo called and she spun around in the water. “Get out of there,” he said. “Come on. Hurry.”

  Cora swam towards the shallow end, tears clogging her vision. “Where’s Marcus? Is he safe?”

  Sharo met her at the edge of the pool, grabbing her elbow and all but dragging her out of the water. “I just got off the phone with Mr. Ubeli. He’s safe. But that man is dead. And you can’t be found here.” Sharo’s voice was so deep she had trouble deciphering what he said.

  Cora shook her head as she stared into his black eyes, uncomprehending. Marcus was safe. But a man was dead. Everything was happening too fast. “Who is he?”

  “I don’t know.” Sharo made an impatient sound as he bent and swept one arm under her knees, scooping her up. “We gotta get out of here.”

  The gory sight at the pool receded until Cora saw it only in her mind’s eye. She pressed her face into Sharo’s warm shoulder. She was getting him all wet, ruining his suit, but she couldn’t care.

  Back in the penthouse, Sharo swung her down. She winced when her damaged feet hit the floor, but didn’t sit when Sharo motioned she should. She was drenched and dripping all over the carpet.

  Sharo already had a burner phone to his ear. “I got her,” he said without greeting.

  “Is that Marcus? I want to talk to him.” Cora could feel her brain sizzling, the events of the night burned so deeply into her memory.

  Sharo answered her with a shake of his head.

  Cora went to stand in front of him, her body shadowed by his bulk. He hung up and glared down at her, imposing in black slacks and a black shirt stretched tight across his awesome muscular form.

  “You don’t move from my sight until Marcus gets here.”

  “What about the body?” Her voice came out almost an octave higher than normal, but she felt near the edge of her rope. “What are we going to do?”

  “Nothing.”

  “We can’t just do nothing. We have to call the cops.”

  “And get fingered for murder? Not today.” Sharo ran his hand over his bald head, looking down at her. “What were you even doing up there?”

  “Looking for Marcus.” She wrinkled her forehead, staring up at him. He was two hundred and fifty pounds of black muscle, and so scary most people wouldn’t even look at him. Cora wanted to smack him. “I didn’t know it was going to be dangerous.”

  “Bet the body in the pool helped wake you up to that fact,” he said sarcastically and she saw red.

  “It’s not funny!”

  “Course it’s not fucking funny.” Sharo loomed closer into her space. “You could’ve surprised the killer, taken a bullet. You’re lucky to be alive.”

  “That man—who is he?”

  “Don’t know, probably some poor suit who got drunk downstairs tonight.”

  Cora sucked in her breath.

  “Our enemies don’t care about the body count.” He saw her pale face and paused, weighing his next statement. “It’s a message to Marcus from his enemies. They can’t find him, so they get a guy with build and hair color that looks like Ubeli. We find the body; we get the message.”

  Biting her bottom lip so she wouldn’t scream, Cora barely dared to ask, “What message?”

  “Death threat. Target: Ubeli. Now, go change outta those wet clothes before you catch your death and the boss kills me for not taking care of you right.”

  Cora nodded, swaying on her feet.

  “Gods, woman, sit.” He took her shoulders and guided her down onto a leather settee. She should protest. The chlorinated water might mess up the leather—

  But before Cora could say anything, Sharo left the room. He came back carrying another of Marcus’s undershirts and a pair of his boxers.

  With the gentleness of a mother, Sharo turned Cora’s back to him and peeled off her shirt, replacing it with Marcus’s. Next, he braced her while she stood and tugged off her jeans. He looked away while she kicked them off and tugged on the pair of black boxers.

  He pulled her elbow so she sat back down. He sat next to her and, without a word, swung her feet into his lap to inspect them. After a second he grunted in annoyance and stood again, gathering her into his arms.

  “What—?” She caught sight of his grim face and shut up.

  He set her on the sink in the bathroom, and fished around for first aid supplies. He found the first aid kit and lifted her foot to start treating her cuts.

  Halfway through, his phone beeped and he checked the message. “Fats broke up the party.”

  “He did? Is Slim okay?”

  Sharo blinked at her. “You mean Jorge?”

  “Fat’s partner? I call him Slim,” she said.

  Shaking his head, Sharo went back to cleaning her cuts. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” she bit her lip to keep from crying out as the antiseptic he applied started to sting.

  “It means you’re a fucking pain in the ass, but we’ll put up with it.” Sharo finished with a soothing ointment and started bandaging. He went to work on the angry red marks she got from climbing that tree in a panic.

  “Gods, woman.” he muttered, turning her calves this way and that before treating the scratches. Cora sat still, trying not to wince.

  “I didn’t know it was going to be an orgy,” she said in a small voice.

  “Right.”

  “I didn’t,” she insisted. “And obviously I didn’t know Waters’ man was going to be there, either. I wouldn’t have gone if I’d knew it would be dangerous!” She started to push up from the counter and Sharo grabbed her waist to hold her in place, keeping her from standing up as he got in her face.

  “Like you didn’t go to the enemy’s strip club for kicks?”

  Not fair. That was completely different. “A girl was missing! I wanted to help!” she shouted back, not caring that his large, angry face was only a few inches away.

  “You need to pull your head outta your ass. You put yourself in danger, and left to keep doing it. For all you know AJ is still out there, waiting for his chance.”

  “Oh please, I know AJ’s dead,” she said before she could stop herself. “I mean, I hears…” her voice trailed off at the blank, scary look on Sharo’s face.

  “What do you know?” he asked quietly. No anger, no intimidation. Just scary quiet.

  Cora’s heart was racing, finally realizing the danger. “I watched Marcus kill him. I was hiding, I saw the whole thing. Marcus beat him to death.”

  “That’s why you ran.” Sharo looked almost satisfied. “Couldn’t take it.”

  “He killed a man in cold blood.” She gripped the edge of the countertop.

  Sharo’s black eyes studied her face. “Fucker deserved it.”

  “I grew up in a world where people call the cops. Where they let them handle things.”

  “Yeah, for what? Scum like AJ gets a fair trial, parole? Back on the streets.”

  “Yes, if that’s the way the system works.”

  “Yeah, the system works sometimes. But when it doesn’t, we fix it.”

  “You can’t play god, Sharo.”

  “We can’t walk away. Not now.”

  “Oh, yes, because you’re better than the Titans,” Cora said scornfully. “Because you follow some stupid Code—”

  Sharo’s hand moved so quickly she only caught it out of the corner of her eye.

  She flinched, but he didn’t strike her. Instead, he stuck a thick finger in her face.

  “Don’t ever disrespect the Code,” he said, and her stomach dropped at his tone. She could
feel the angry tension in his body, but when he lifted her again in his arms and carried her, his arms were gentle.

  He set her down on the bed. “Get some rest.”

  “Sharo, where’s Marcus? When can I see him?”

  “He’s in hiding. Not even I know where he is. Total blackout until we flush Waters out.”

  “He didn’t leave me a message?”

  “He won’t send anything to a phone that can be traced. But if you want a message, I’ll give it to you—stay here, stay quiet.” Sharo looked her over, obviously noting the dark circles under her eyes. “And get some sleep.”

  “Great, orders. Definitely Marcus.” The penthouse was silent besides the two of them. “You don’t have to babysit me, personally. I’m sure you have better things to do. Or did you draw the unlucky straw?”

  “No,” Sharo said. “The lucky one. And your safety is top priority right now.”

  Cora’s head went back a beat. “Me?”

  Sharo chuckled, shocking her again. She’d expect the floor to open up at her feet before she’d ever witness Sharo laughing.

  The big man sensed her confusion. “Family always takes priority. Old Man Ubeli thought the same way. Protect the core.” He walked closer slowly, until he towered over her. She still hadn’t moved. “The world can tilt on its axis but when you’re home, you’re upright again.”

  Cora waited, perfectly still, for the giant to finish what had to be the longest speech of his life.

  “Marcus and I made our choice long ago, when we lost all the family we’d ever had. Someone threatens you, we’ll fight, bleed and die before we see it carried out.”

  He gripped her chin gently. “You’ve got nothing to be afraid of, Cora. Marcus and I are tough because we have to be. We were made for this moment.”

  His finger slid under her jaw, tipping it up until she met his eyes. “Trust me.”

  Twenty-Three

  Cora lay in her and Marcus’s bed, cheek to the pillow, body curled in the blankets.

  She didn’t sleep, just lay staring at the ceiling, where the smooth paint turned into a pool with a body floating in it.

  What would she have done if it had been Marcus? Her chest clenched even at the thought. Reliving those moments in her head when she’d been so certain it was him, that she’d lost him, that it was all over…