Page 57 of Queen of Blades

“I don’t intend to sully our relationship,” Joseph said as he leaned over the table and plucked a plantain from the plate. “But Ms. Myers has found herself under our protection, and I do have a meeting scheduled with Dario later this evening, where I plan to pay the bounty and end the permissions.”

Sebastián’s expression went blank. No one did any business in Oklahoma without Dario’s blessing. It was why Sebastián went to the families with this in the first place. If Dario revoked his approval, no one could go after Harper unless they wanted a war with Dario. No one won a war against him. He had the backing of the old country, plus an army from his network of syndicates.

Joseph sat back and crunched on the twice-fried plantain.

“Why not just pay the bounty on your son’s head?” Sebastián gestured to Paul. “Is he not more valuable to you than some lawyer from North Carolina who is notfamily?”

“Paul can handle himself just fine. Ms. Myers is an old friend,” Joseph said.

Sebastián’s jaw shifted as he seemed to consider what was just said. He tapped his fingers softly on the table. Paul could almost see the wheels turning as he thought about what Joseph had presented. Things were about to get messy for the Colombian, and he needed an out.

“Say I give you this name,” he began as he met Joseph’s eyes. “What is in it for me?”

“A marker,” Paul interjected.

Now Joseph turned, and if looks could kill, Paul would be in a pool of his own blood. Offering a marker, a no-questions-asked favor, for something as little as a name was ridiculous. There was no dollar amount that could equal a marker. It was the most valuable thing anyone in a syndicate could offer—and never should be put on the table so flippantly. Paul was well aware, but he wanted to end this stupid game. Each minute that passed while they chatted with this guy was another minute someone hunted Harper. It was more danger for her. Paul couldn’t have that.

Lifting his brows and laughing softly, Sebastián sat back in his chair again. “Is this a serious offer?” His question was meant for the head of their syndicate, the Dixie Mafia.

Eddie shook his head ever so subtly at Paul. It was too much, but Eddie didn’t understand. This was Harper. Paul would walk through fire, take a thousand bullets, lay his life on the line for her a million times. What was a marker when he’d give so much more?

Pursing his lips, Joseph inhaled audibly before turning back to the Colombian. “It is. Paul will grant you one favor with my blessing.”

Grinning, Sebastián interlaced his fingers over his stomach. “Diesel.”

31

Harper

Thetelevisioninthesafe house wasn’t connected to cable, satellite, or anything like that. There was a stash of DVDs and a player in the entertainment unit, but none of the titles interested Harper.

She was delighted to find that the large screen was set up to display the feeds of the security cameras throughout the property. So, instead of hiding in the small closet of a room where the small screens were mounted, she could sit on the comfortable couch and enjoy the scenery while she devoured a bowl of strawberries. It was like watching a nature documentary without any of the voice-over commentary. If she didn’t think too hard about it, she could pretend she was on vacation and had voluntarily unplugged from society.

As the images of open fields, trees, and squirrels doing squirrel things flashed on the large screen, her mind wandered. She flinched as the memory of her father getting shot replayed through her mind. Her eyes welled with tears, and her heart broke again. She really wanted to talk to Remi or Colt. Hell, she’d settle for Weston or her mother at this point. Mourning the loss of her dad with her family would make all of this that much easier.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t possible. A price on her head and any motherfucker with bills to pay looking to cash in made it too dangerous to be around them. She didn’t need to bring that heat to their door. Their entire world had just been turned upside down; she didn’t need to add to it. Which meant she had to grieve alone.

After she popped a fresh strawberry into her mouth, something flickered on the screen. Movement. Something different. It changed before she could get a good look. Was her mind playing tricks on her? Had a fox or something darted across the screen?

As she debated the possibilities, the sound of tires crunching up the dirt drive drew her attention. Her heart stopped. Quickly, she dashed to the security room and scanned the monitors. Dammit. Paul hadn’t told her what Sam drove. How was she supposed to know if it was him or not?

Crossing her arms, she wrapped herself in a hug and intently watched the sedan with the tinted windows approach the house. It had to be Sam. Paul told her no one else knew about the place. No one knew she was here.

If she repeated that, maybe her heart would get out of her throat. Her anxiety might be lower if she convinced herself it was Sam.

But if it was Paul’s cousin, then why was he taking forever to get out of the car? Maybe he was on a phone call. He was a part of the organization, so yeah, it would make sense that he could be talking to someone.

Pacing, she brought her thumb to her mouth and chewed on her stubby nail. It was a habit she really needed to break, but not today. Maybe when—if—things calmed down, she could work on that.

“Get out of the car,” she said to the screen as though the person in the sedan could hear her. “Come on, Sam. Stop playing around.”

Eventually, after what felt like seven hours, the doors of the sedan opened.

Wait. Two doors. That wasn’t right.

Harper dropped her hand and stepped closer to the monitor. A thick, bald-headed man wearing a Metallica T-shirt and dark jeans stepped out of the driver’s side. A young, mousy-looking guy wearing a maroon Henley and ripped jeans got out of the passenger side. Where was the suit? What happened to his style? Neither of them looked like the guy Paul had shown her.

“Fuck,” she hissed and darted toward the bedroom.

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