Queen of Hearts

Chapter Eleven

JULIAN

Idon’t believe her.

She’s a liar.

A liar who’s crossed the line. I knew she’d try to escape, that’s why I held back, I wanted to see how far she’d go. Clearly, poison is her party trick since this is the second time she’d resorted to it, and I make a mental note to get Elijah to strip her completely naked next time. We’d removed her weapons and her heels, but obviously the woman couldn’t even be trusted with a hair ornament. I silence the small voice in the back of my head that’s impressed with her little show, not many men could incapacitate Creed, let alone a woman who was barely five foot six. Her father would be proud of the fighter he’d created.

Well, maybe not given how easy it was to capture her at her parents’ graveside. I’d sent Eli and two of his most trusted men to where her family home used to sit on the outskirts of Newtown on the edge of the suburbs. It was all gone now, destroyed after that night, except for the family cemetery. My father had been furious when he found out that the priest at St Mary’s had delivered a service for Amara and Vincent Gambino. Even more livid when their bodies had vanished right under his nose. I remember that night vividly, because it had been the night he’d broken my cheek bone.

He had nursed his sixth glass of whiskey, staring into the fireplace as he listened to Riccardo Baroni, another Captain, explaining that Amara and Vincent’s bodies were missing from the morgue. There were no witnesses and only grainy CCTV footage from a camera belonging to a store opposite the building. It showed nothing. My father always was a sore loser, and the fact that an eighteen-year-old girl had somehow managed to evade The Family and take back something he had confiscated, that rankled. He’d pulled out his mother of pearl Damascus switchblade and cut Riccardo’s pinky finger clean off without even blinking. Riccardo had let him; the man had barely cried out as the useless digit landed on the rug with a soft thud. That was the power of Felix Asaro, he made grown men quake in their boots, afraid of worse punishments than just losing a finger. Once Riccardo had been dismissed, that was when he really lost it. He’d smashed the bottle of whiskey against the wall, a shard cutting my cheek as glass and amber liquid flew everywhere in an explosion of rage. I’d flinched, making a surprised noise and that’s when his dark gaze had zeroed in on me. He made me the outlet for his rage, fists relentless as he cursed Rosalyn Gambino over and over again. And I bit my cheeks, clenched my fists, swallowed back the pain and endured it, because it was the least I could do. I deserved it for betraying her.

They never discovered who’d taken the bodies, but I suspected she had them cremated afterwards, since it was harder to steal back ashes and dust. And my father would have tried to steal their corpses back, he was that twisted in his anger and spite. He was determined that Rosie should be left with nothing. He almost succeeded too.

She stands before me, angry and defiant, and it burns. Her hair is mussed, one pin still barely holding her curls back as it starts to unfurl. Bloody face, blue eyes shining, she drives me wild. The way she’d taunted Eli, laughing and flirting as he’d hit her. She was fucked up. Broken beyond repair, and Eli’s words came back to haunt me. Put her out of her misery.

Striding toward her, I hiss but she doesn’t even blink. Stormy blue eyes watch me, pupils wide and it’s like she’s a snake, poised and waiting for the right moment to strike. She doesn’t flinch as I grab her throat and squeeze. I could crush her windpipe, force her to her knees, I could end this right now. The tension between us throbs, aching like a headache that refuses to die. Her lips part as she seems to relax into my grip. I want to snap her pretty little neck almost as much as I want to fuck her, what kind of monster does that make me?

I feel every sensation as she tries to swallow, her skin warm against mine as she tries to suck in air but still, she says nothing. She doesn’t lash out at me, nor does she try to move away. Her hands twitch a little by her sides as she clutches my handkerchief but other than that, she stays still. I squeeze, tightening my grip. Rosalyn Gambino stands, perfectly still like a good little girl, while I choke her and that’s how I know something doesn’t add up. I step back and cross my arms once again. Why is she looking at me like that?

“Are we done already? I was rather enjoying that.” Her breathing is uneven and I’m not sure it’s from my attempt to frighten her, especially not given the wolfish grin she’s giving me.

“Have you no respect?” I spit.

She mimics my pose and I try to ignore the way it makes her tits even more noticeable, even with the blood covering her like a damn Rorschach test. What would my results reveal? That I was beyond help? That this woman had burrowed her way under my skin and I was dying as I tried to claw her out again? I flick my eyes back to her face, ignoring her tits and her clothes. Who the hell visits their parents’ final resting place in a low cut, navy polka dot tea dress with red heels? Why was life just one giant fashion show for her? She looked like some pin-up model, not a mafia princess in hiding. It was like she was waiting for me to find her. Taunting me.

Snorting, she runs a bloody hand through her hair, refastening it with her remaining pin. “For those who deserve it. And you don’t. Not if you think I had anything to do with this.”

“Who the fuck else would do this? Who else wants to hurt me that badly?” I practically scream and I try to ignore the flash of hurt I read on her face. She has no right to be hurt. How dare she? She brought this on herself.

Her lips twist into a snarl as she shouts back, “I don’t kill children, you should know better than that.”

“Do I?” I scoff, running a hand through my hair as I begin pacing around the cellar. Eli is still unconscious and being trapped in here with Rosie is dangerous, I can smell her, that sweet cherry cinnamon scent tinged with blood and sweat. Permeating everything. Invading everything. All my senses were consumed by her. There was no way I could let her go. Not now, not ever. If I did, I’d always be looking over my shoulder and any more deaths by her hands would be on my conscience. I could see it now, the bodies continuing to pile high, until I was buried beneath them, gasping for air. There was no escaping Rosalyn Gambino.

“You send me the hearts of men every year on your birthday, but killing children is too much?” I remind her cruelly, my words cutting and she has the gall to slap me.

Grabbing her wrist, I turn her and pin her against my chest, trapping her in the vice of my arms. It’s to protect my face from another attack, but damn if it doesn’t provoke the pervert inside me. I wonder if she’d be just as pliant on her knees, if the view would be just as sinful. From here I can see straight down her bloody slicked cleavage as her body pressed against mine, and I inhale that dark cherry scent wafting up from her skin. She must bathe in pie filling, the way it lingers around her.

I can feel her anger subside, as she melts into my touch, whispering, “Those men deserved it. They were traitors, they betrayed my family and they left me orphaned. I lost everything.”

I sigh, loosening my grip. “That wasn’t your call. The head of the Family . . .”

“Was corrupt. Twisted by power.” She tries to push against me, but I keep a hold on her and we stand, wrapped up in one another. I’ve let her go too many times; today was the last time she’d get away. When she realizes that I’m not budging she goes still and that sends a wave of apprehension through me, making me more nervous. A calm, clear-headed Rosie is a dangerous one.

Frank Belcastro had been my mentor, and a close friend of my father’s but that didn’t mean I was incapable of recognizing his flaws. He was greedy, desperate for power and in his later years, he’d become gluttonous with it. It had driven him to the brink of insanity, as he’d been convinced that everyone was out to steal from him, believing we were all plotting his downfall. He’d died after a short battle with cancer, it had been brutal and almost soul destroying to watch as he’d gone from being a powerful, vindictive man to a shell, husked out and withering from the inside. I’d sat by his bedside, kept him informed of all Family business and proved my worth as one of his Captains. I did as was expected of me, as my father demanded and that was why no one was surprised when Frank nominated me as his successor. I knew he was twisted by his own greed. I knew he was paranoid. I also knew that Vincent Gambino wasn’t as innocent as Rosie seemed to think. The man was like a god to her, and I wasn’t going to be the one to unearth all of his sins. Not only because she wouldn’t believe me, but because his memory had suffered enough.

Her voice doesn’t falter as she straightens her shoulders, still trapped. “They were grown men who made grown-up choices and had to pay for the decisions they made.”

She isn’t wrong. Actions come with repercussions, especially in organized crime. Did she not see the irony in the situation? Her avenging angel routine, a figurehead fighting for justice and killing those she perceived as having wronged her, those were also grown-up choices and there were only ever two possible outcomes. Her death…or mine.

“Then who would do this?” I don’t know why I should believe her, but I do. Even though she’s a killer, a liar, a vixen determined to end me and yet…I hear the honesty in her words. She has a point; she’s never shied away from the crimes she’s committed. In fact, she sent cards privately claiming her little trophies and publicly she may as well write her name on them in red lipstick. The media loved the Queen of Hearts, always speculating on who the angry, twisted woman might be killing of Newtown’s men. Anyone within The Family recognized the connections between the deaths, and that’s why it was common knowledge who the Queen was amongst our circles. She was the boogeyman we told our children about to keep them in line. That’s why it made no sense for her to deny this crime, these deaths would be nothing to her and yet she was vehement in her innocence.

I can practically hear her rolling her eyes as she says, “Someone who wants both of us gone.”

“What have I got to do with any of this? Your little rebellion is the one being framed.” I frown, I haven’t got any issues with my handle on the Family other than her. She was the one undermining me at every turn, causing people to think I was weak. Belcastro had selected me as his successor and no one else besides Rosie ever dared to challenge my authority to my face.

Her voice is quiet again. “You’re weak Jay, always were.” It’s like she’s trying to let me down softly. “And this act of cruelty is designed to expose that and blame me. We’re both being tried in this Family courtroom.”

She has a point. I know that while I have a hold on the reins, there are whispers that I’m not willing to get my hands dirty enough. People in the shadows are quick to criticize the choices I make and the way I like to explore every option before resorting to violence. Greed, desire and shame are all powerful motivators, I’d learned that quickly over the years and that’s why I put pressure on those points before I drew my gun. Even though the Family elders are respectful in public, I know many of them believe that I have turned my back on the old ways. I mean, that’s how Rosie was able to garner support behind my back. There was something about her ruthless, bloodthirsty nature that gained respect from the old school members. They didn’t seem to understand that the days of suave, charming, slick mafioso’s were gone. Today technology and money motivated the world, and we needed to work smarter on this new playing field.

“So, what now?”

It hasn’t escaped my attention that Rosie has relaxed into my hold, and for some reason we’ve begun to gently sway as if we were lovers embracing and not enemies destined to kill one another.

She sighs, almost melting into me. “I don’t know, but I need to clear my name. Someone is gunning for us and I refuse to have infanticide added to my list of crimes. I won’t have that done in my name.”

If someone wants to bring us both down, if they think they can turn us against each other then we need to find a way to work together. There was already too much uncertainty in the air in Newtown. With The Cartel trying to interfere with White Rabbit distribution and Lev Volkov disappearing from the public eye, making me nervous about our weapons suppliers, the last thing I needed was to be called incompetent for failing to deal with the terror that is the Queen of Hearts. It was like everything was balancing precariously on my shoulders as I tried to walk a tightrope, only one good gust of wind from dropping it all.

“I might have a suggestion but he’s not going to like it,” I murmur as Elijah groaned from the floor behind us as he took his involuntary nap.