Page 90 of The Ice Queen in the Corner Office

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Alex

“Where you going?” my father asked. He was in his own living room, in his own chair, staring me down. He might have promised Willow he’d move with her to Catalpa Creek, but I couldn’t picture him anywhere but that neighborhood, anywhere but that chair.

“You don’t have any food here. I’m going to pick up some groceries.” He’d tried to kick me out a few times, but I wasn’t leaving him. I figured the guys who killed Rick would move quick, and I wanted to make sure I was there with him if they came to call. “Say the word and I’ll take you back to Virginia today.”

He grunted and waved me off. Stubborn as ever. I’d spent the morning packing Willow’s stuff in boxes to ship to her in Catalpa Creek. It wouldn’t be worth risking someone following me to take them to her myself. That choice had nothing to do with the fact that I wasn’t ready to see Jill. Had nothing to do with my certainty that if I saw her, I’d beg her to take me back and wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off her.

I left the house and got into my car. I sat there, my hands on the wheel, and I stared out the windshield at the narrow street. All I could see was Rick, running down the sidewalk after me as I rode away on my bike. He’d taught me to ride and had given me his bike, even though he was still young enough to want to ride it himself.

I rubbed my eyes and found my cheeks were damp. Damn it. In my adult life, Rick had been nothing but a pain in my ass, the guy who despised me because I’d found that magic ticket to success that eluded him. He’d never believed me when I’d told him there was no magic ticket, that it took hard work. He’d kept looking for a new scheme, a new trick, a faster way to get rich. I’d wanted nothing to do with him, because the only time he ever showed any interest in my life was when he needed money.

Now, I couldn’t stop wondering if I should have reached out to him. Maybe if I’d made more effort, if I’d remembered the big brother who’d made dinner for us when Mom was gone and Dad was working late, the brother who’d helped me with homework and tucked me into bed, maybe he’d still be alive.

I’d been so focused on getting away, on doing better, I’d left my brother behind. And the truth was, if it weren’t for him, if it weren’t for his example, his persistence when it came to sports, his own focus on getting out of the neighborhood, I’d probably still be there, working at Walmart next to Lee. Because Rick taught me there was something more in the world, had insisted I do better, I’d worked for more.

It had broken him when his own dreams shattered along with his collarbone, and maybe I’d given up on him too easily. Sure, once I was able I’d offered him a job, I’d given him money when I could, but I hadn’t let him into my life, I’d barely even visited for holidays. And now that brother who’d taught me to ride a bike and play ball, the brother who’d made sure I had food to eat and clothes to wear, even when he went without, was gone and I’d never be able to tell him how sorry I was. I’d never be able to thank him for everything he’d done for me, for all he’d given me without ever complaining.

I slammed my hand on the steering wheel and bent over it as a sob tore through me. I sat in my car and I cried for the brother I’d lost before I’d had the chance to ever really get to know him, for the brother whose dreams were ripped from him not because he was less deserving, but because of straight up bad luck. I cried for the future he’d never have and the man who was gone from my life forever. And I cried for myself who’d lost the opportunity to repay the big brother I’d looked up to and imitated for so many years.

“Damn you,” I whispered. “Damn you for getting yourself killed.”

I straightened, wiped my eyes, and pulled in deep breaths until I felt calm and easy, or at least as calm and easy as I could be.

I drove three blocks to a run-down grocery store and parked in a back corner. The place was jammed with shoppers out getting food for the holiday.

I stuffed my hands in the pockets of my jeans and walked quickly, head up, looking around for any trouble, for anyone who might be watching me.

When the black van sped up and stopped next to me, I didn’t feel shock or fear, just acceptance. When the doors opened and two guys jumped out, guys with their faces unmasked, grinning wickedly, I knew they were going to kill me. I had a moment’s pang for Jill before I closed my eyes, and waited for the gun shots, for the bullets to tear through me.

Strong arms wrapped around me and pulled into the van, my crutches clattering to the pavement. Dark cloth fell over my face, obscuring my view, and then I heard the clang of the doors sliding shut.

I did feel fear, then. Abject terror if I was honest. I’d identified my brother’s body for the cops. I’d seen the brutal torture he’d endured before they’d tossed his body in a partially frozen river. He hadn’t looked like my brother anymore.

I pulled in a deep breath as someone shoved me hard against the metal interior of the van and held me down with a knee on my chest. This was going to hurt, and I imagined I’d wish for death before it was over. I just hoped they got Lee or Fin to identify my body, so Dad would never have to know what they’d done to me. I should have told the guys, but I’d thought—

The van screeched, the body on top of me swayed, and all movement stopped. I wasn’t ready, wasn’t ready for the pain and the end.

Hands pulled me up and dragged me from the van. They let me walk, an awkward limp-hobble that sent pain through my injured leg with every step, and guided me with silent men on either side of me, their hands on my arms offering a modicum of support.

I walked on, numb to it all, not bothering to try and pay attention to where we were going. It didn’t matter. I’d never be leaving there.

Anger rose up in me. I’d worked so hard to avoid this kind of end, to do something good, and it didn’t matter. In the end, I’d been dragged down into my brother’s shit, to die on some random concrete floor.

Before I’d gotten angry enough to fight back, they’d shoved me into a chair and yanked the fabric from my face. I gasped in a clean breath and blinked against bright light.

I was in an office. An office that wouldn’t look out of place in a city skyscraper.

A heavy oak desk dominated the center of the room, three computer screens on top of it. In front of the desk were two plush chairs, one of which I was sitting in. On the wall was artwork that looked expensive. Behind the desk, sat a woman in a blazer, her hair straight and shiny, her lips two plush pillows, her eyes wide and brown. I knew that, if she stood, the top of her head would barely reach my shoulder.

“Katie?”

She smiled, but there was no joy in her eyes, very little of the girl I remembered running around with Willow, playing dolls and, later, studying in Willow’s room. She’d been valedictorian of our class, set for college with a sweet scholarship. “I wasn’t sure you’d remember me.”

“Are you working for Hunter?”

Her smile widened. She stood and stepped to the front of the desk, her jeans skinny, her heels three inches. “I’m going to tell you something, Alex, that very few people know, because I had the most unbelievable crush on you when we were kids.” She tapped one manicured finger against her chin. “Sadly, my taste in men has changed. It was beaten out of me, so to speak. I prefer men much more submissive than you, now. But I still remember that first, innocent crush, so I’ll tell you my secret.”

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