Page 39 of Queen of Madness

“So you’re incapable of doing your job.”

I huff, rounding the hood of the car and yanking the driver’s side door open. “Give me the directions.”

We ride in silence the entire way, and every now and then, when I turn on her cue, I catch a glimpse of her in my periphery. She really is breathtaking. And right now, with the bits of sun poking through the clouds, she’s glowing. She’s at ease, completely relaxed, and somehow looks more like the Boss of a crime family now than she ever has.

It’s borderline frustrating how I can see so many of her layers at once, but not know precisely what I’m looking at.

The farmers’ market is exactly what I’d expected. A sea of colorful tents over acres of grass, and hundreds of women with empty bags in one hand and a child in the other. Various banners and signs rest outside each shop, encouraging business with their current sales. Onyx walks at a leisurely pace, stopping at every tent that she finds interesting, meanwhile my eyes are scanning the area constantly.

I take in everyone’s body language, noting the squeal of delight when a mother examines her baby’s new anklet, or the vendor that laughs too loud at a joke. I see the few husbands that were clearly dragged here against their wills and their wandering lustful gazes when Onyx passes by.

Something oddly close to annoyance forces my brows to narrow at every man, and I don’t hide the disapproving scowl when they realize I’m watching them.

“Do you always have stare downs with every man you encounter? I feel as if we’re starring in an old western movie.” Onyx picks up a large dragon fruit and inspects it. Judging from her lack of a facial expression, I almost think I imagined her speaking. Then the corner of her lip twitches.

“Watching over women has always been second nature. I guess it’s become a normal thing for me to ward men off.”

She nods, placing the fruit tenderly inside her basket. “And here I thought you were a hair jealous.”

“Why would you think that?”

“Because you’re a man.”

“And?”

“The majority of you find yourselves staking claim to something or someoneyou find interest in. And once you lay the invisible flag on it with your initials, you also have the inherent need to have a pissing match with anyone else who nears.”

“Why would you think I’m interested in you?” For the entirety of our conversation, I’ve been watching around us, but now my attention is solely on her.

She drops her basket in front of the sweet-looking vendor and meets my gaze. Her dark eyes are lighter today, the normally hidden chunks of gold shimmering softly. “What women do you protect outside of me?”

The question surprises me and for the briefest second, I think she’s asking something else. I want to string her along, see if I can get some sort of reaction out of her if she’s under the impression I’m with someone. But the notion that I’m already lying in the biggest way forces my honesty. “My mom and kid sister.”

I’m not sure why the sudden heaviness of trepidation weaves into my heart, but it does. The knowledge of everything I’ve ever done in my life to protect the both of them emerging from the dark place I keep it hostage. It’s pulling at the image I project, slowly unraveling it the longer I give it energy.

“I see.” She turns back to the woman and pays her tab before handing me the bag of produce and moving to the next tent. “I used to come to this very same market with my mother. Once a month, the moment they opened. We’d walk to every single tent, and she’d buy way more than she needed.”

The shadow creeping around my consciousness ebbs, the urge to ask more, toseemore under her armor taking hold. “What did she do with all the extra things?”

“We would take it to Embros Hearts. Fill the women’s kitchen with fresh food, give them new outfits to help them feel empowered. To help them love themselves again after feeling unworthy for so long.”

“You and my sister are kindred spirits.” I think on dozens of occasions my sister has done the same things on a smaller scale.

Onyx’s fingers slide over a shawl, her rings somehow not catching in the knitted fabric. “Perhaps I’ll make her acquaintance one day.”

Knowing my sister’s rescue means Onyx’s death isn’t lost on me, but I can’t… I can’t fucking acknowledge it, even mentally, without feeling conflicted. Her life means no less than Fi’s, yet it’s the fact of her being my blood that saves her and condemns Onyx.

Fuck.

It’s been a long time since I’ve felt the weight of guilt, but it’s heavy as hell. “I wouldn’t have imagined the leader of a crime family to be sympathetic.”

This makes her laugh. It’s throaty and sexy and does adverse things to combat where my head is. “Don’t misread me, Kane. I have no qualms gutting fish and wearing their entrails as a necklace. I just have a soft spot for women who are forced to give men something they aren’t entitled to.”

I nod, resuming my watch as she moves on and continues her morning shopping. The whole thing becomes uneventful until we load up the Jeep before heading back. She’s resting her face on her palm, peering out the window when she asks, “Are you and your mother close?”

“I’d say so. I take care of her on my day off.”

“Is she ill?”

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