Page 34 of Broken Queen
I flicked the hair off of my shoulder. “Not at all. Actually, on the contrary. Could you move him to my quarters after he’s done?” I asked. “Have Rochelle draw up a plan for remodeling my bedroom.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I left the building, then went to my wardrobe. It was as big as a studio apartment, with several sofas and chairs, but it could use a little freshening up, and I didn’t mind the idea of having Hazard around more. In fact, I liked the idea of keeping him around. His impulsiveness kept me on my toes, and his indulgent personality kept my legs spread.
I laid down on one of the tufted benches. My wardrobe was one of the few places on the estate that was safe from prying ears. I dialed one of my favorite contacts for when I needed to do a little digging.
“Gordon’s Research Specialists,” a male voice said.
“Gordie,” I said.
“Miss Bloom.” He shuffled around on the other end, like he was standing up to greet the queen as she waltzed into his business. “What’s it gonna be today?”
“What can you tell me about Gabby Boucher?” I asked.
“Let me check.” Clicks filtered through the speaker. He grunted. “Worked three jobs for most of her adult life. According to this, she actually searched for the Syndicate.”
That was interesting. Most of the time, the members approached the women once they knew they were desperate for a change.
“Let’s see,” Gordie continued. “So she signed the Syndicate’s arranged marriage contract to get her brother out of some trouble. Married Ernest Dumas. She was on birth control though. Was sending money orders to her brother.”
“Tell me about her brother.”
More clicks, then a grunt. “Uh, in and out of jail. Looks like he was into drugs. Clean now. But a bad history. Gambling. Violence. All around, a P.O.S.,” he mumbled.
That sounded about right, though I had to give Hazard more credit than being an all around piece of shit.
“And what about his financial situation? You mentioned his sister sending money orders?”
“Hold on.” He typed quickly, then his chair squeaked. “Let’s see. Uh, okay. So he made monthly five-thousand dollar deposits for a few years to an account under his sister’s name.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Must have been saving up for her.”
I smacked my lips. A man like Hazard was supposed to spend that money, simply for the hell of it.
Loyalty won over his impulses, then. At least sometimes.
“What about his other accounts?”
“None that I can find right now. Must have done cash based businesses,” he said. “Ah. Says here that he did some black market deals. Dabbled in contract killing too.”
Everything slid into place. Gabby was a good older sister who took care of her younger brother. She reminded me of my mother, in a way. My mother hadn’t wanted to be a Marked Bloom Wife, but as the only woman who could give my father a child, that’s the way it had to be, and she always protected me. When she was alive, anyway.
As soon as Gabby had accepted the arrangement at the Marked Blooms Syndicate, she had likely started sending Hazard those payments. It would have been easier to dismiss Hazard if he had kept the money for himself, but no, he had saved it for his sister. Did he think she needed the money? Or did he not want to touch it, since it was hers? He was full of spontaneity; why wouldn’t he spend that money on some crazy spur-of-the-moment idea?
I didn’t like it when people did ‘nice’ things. Hazard wasn’t supposed to have a soft spot for women or have actual respect for his sister. It put a sour taste in my mouth.
Because I couldn’t dismiss him.
Whatever it was, I was going to use Hazard to get Ernest out of my way. I didn’t want to mistake liking Hazard for trusting him; I knew better than that. This was a world so much bigger than me, and until I climbed my way to the top, anyone could try to stop me, even Hazard.
And I wasn’t going to let that happen.
As Gordie and I made small talk, a figure crowded the doorway, round and ominous. I clicked off the phone, finding my father. He braced himself, each hand on the doorframe, trapping me inside. My stomach sank and I closed my thighs together, placing my hands in my lap.
“Where’s your husband?” my father asked. “I’ve been trying to reach him for a few days now. It’s like he’s disappeared off of the face of the earth.”
