Page 3 of Queen of Madness

Through all the things we’ve been through, she’s never done anything she’s felt guilty for or scared of. Mostly because... because they’ve never affected us. Not in a way that matters, at least. My heart sinks, a viscous realization taking hold.

Fiona’s mouth opens but I have to strain to hear her words. “There were women inside, Zeke, and I—”

“Let them out.”

A new voice has me up and in front of my sister before I can take my next breath. My eyes narrow, finding the source in a second, and my muscles tense beneath my black Henley.

Leaning in the threshold of the roof exit is a man, half hidden in the long shadows of the setting sun, his head tilted as if he’s relaxed. Of course, he’s relaxed. Any man eavesdropping on the roof of a thirty-story building has a reason to be at ease, and my guess is, he’s the problem I’ll have to fix.

He kicks off the exit and stalks toward us, a lazy smirk on his face. He’s bald, round and tall, but not quite level with my six-foot-three. He shoves both hands in his pockets as he stops a few yards in front of me, rocking on the balls of his feet. “Ezekiel Kane. Twenty-five years old, graduated high school with a three-point-eight GPA. Something of a tech genius according to your professors at the community college you attended for a couple years, yet you work under-the-table jobs for quick cash. Mostly doing things that involve being the muscle.”

I bare my teeth as I scan over the man again, noting the designer watch on his left wrist, and a faint scar that stretches from his right temple and disappears into his days’ old stubble. He’s a big boy, but I know I’d be able to toss him over the ledge, ruining those poor people’s days after all.

Before I can respond, though, he chuckles, glancing past me briefly at the edge of the building as if he can read my thoughts. “Size fourteen shoe, blood type O negative, and currently residing at 3512 Westport Lane with your mother.”

“What do you want?” I bite, done with whatever point he’s trying to make.

“A few million dollars if you have it. But last I checked, there’s only a couple thousand in your account, and you’ll need that to pay for your mom’s medicine.”

As if I can afford it. I clench my teeth, listening to the faint crack of my molar. The pain surges across my jaw, but I keep my expression hard in warning. “I get it. You know a lot about me. You should tell me a little bit about yourself before I throw your ass over the top of this building.”

His smirk grows, pissing me off more. I run my tongue over my teeth and take a step forward, but a soft hand tugs at my pinkie, effectively stopping me.

“You’re a smart kid. I’m sure you’ve put enough pieces together by now to know it wouldn’t be in your best interest. Your mom would be dead before my body was cold.”

The threat acts as ice water surging through my veins, forcing me to plant my feet into the ground. I swallow roughly, opening and closing my fists. “Your point. Find it.”

The man sighs as if threatening my mother’s life is boring to him. “The name’s Sam. I work for the Murphy family. Your sweet sister here let loose some of our merchandise, and to be frank, she owes us a nice thirteen million.”

Murphy family.

Merchandise.

Thirteen million.

What I wouldn’t give to take her ass to Petco to steal more fish.

“But as luck would have it, the big man is willing to forgive and forget.”

Without having even processed the first bit of information, the second takes me a full minute to digest. First up, it’s no secret who the Murphy family is—they own a third of west Washington. It’s common knowledge they deal with pretty much everything a typical Irish Mafia would, including women, which Sam here referred to as fuckingmerchandise.

My tooth sends another shot of pain ricocheting through my jaw, forcing me to unclench it. He knows I don’t have money, and I’m willing to bet my mom’s meds, he’s not letting us walk out of here scot-free. But instead of playing into his game and asking, I wait.

Sam checks his watch and I see the moment he loses interest in keeping us in the dark. “Unless you want your sister on our payroll, or your mom in a casket, we need you to come work for us.”

A small gasp makes me tighten my hand around Fi’s. I want to turn around and reassure her, but I decide taking my eyes off this sleaze bag for even one second isn’t a good idea. “And do what?”

He sighs, removing a small handkerchief from his pocket and dabs his shining head. “By working for Onyx Embros.”

Onyx Embros. She’s nothing more than a ghost, an urban legend, but her trail of dead bodies is proof enough she’s alive. She’s head of the opposing family that owns the other third of Washington, and no one even knows what she looks like. No one that’s alive anyway.

Why the fuck does he want me to work for the opposing family?

My gaze flashes to my sister, whose eyes are wide and red with fresh tears. She didn’t deserve the life she was born into. Not the poverty, the glass ceiling, nor the brother who can’t get her away from this fucked-up city. I’ve watched her fire burn through even the darkest of times, her light being the only thing that got us to the other side.

But now, she looks extinguished—a silent beg working through her hazel orbs telling me to find another way. It’s because she knows as well as I do that working for Onyx Embros is equivalent to signing my death certificate.

That knowledge doesn’t stop me from giving her a small lopsided grin, though. The same one I give her every time she pulls one of her stunts and I have to step in to fix any trouble she may have caused.

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