Page 40 of Vengeful King

I visit Andre first. He’s in his restaurant, cleaning up the place before lunch opening. He doesn’t look up when I come in through the back, but he does tie up his apron. I ask him what he knows; it’s not much.

“But I heard about the wedding,” he says. “Surprising. Is it going through?”

“We’ll see.”

I leave him and head to sixth street. There’s a man on the sidewalk there, leaning against a wall, his hair tangled and overgrown. He sees me coming and doesn’t straighten; his clothes are dirty and worn. I can smell him before I get close.

He doesn’t have much either, so I pass on a few bills and tell him to let me know if something happens.

I visit the others, people all over the city, all without information for me. I even go to the law firm where our family friend Amara works, though I doubt I’ll hear anything from her.

She’s on her way to a deposition, brown hair pulled back into a ponytail, lithe in her heels. She’s joked that one day, we’ll date the same woman. She’s a good friend, an even better lawyer—and one who’s helped us out of more than one tight spot.

“I’ve heard about the wedding,” she says. “No cousins to sell off?”

“It’s my responsibility.”

“Never did understand that,” she murmurs, flipping her files into her other arm as she gets into her car.

“Understand what? Responsibility?”

She looks up at me, her face serious. “Marrying for the family.”

I never thought she would. But as she drives off, I think about how many people have heard of the potential wedding. How many people know what’s going on in the family.

Whoever came after me must have wanted me to be taken out quickly. Maybe they knew about the wedding, maybe not. I don’t know.

No one I speak to knows Katrina, either—at least not by description. So who is she? Is her real name even Katrina? It must be, given what her ex said, or maybe she lied to him, too.

Every lead is a dead end, and even after hours of searching, I don’t know much. I don’t knowanything. It’s frustrating as fuck.

When I get home, I storm inside and slam the door behind me, then lean against it and run a hand through my hair.

Even that small motion angers me. I stopped doing it publicly years ago; I thought it looked weak. It was a hard habit to break. But I couldn’t afford to show any weakness. I’ve always tried to project strength, especially after my father died.

And that’s more important than ever now.

I haven’t told my brothers about Katrina yet, but I know I need to. They have to hear it from me, and there’s not much time. I want to have something to tell them first, but that possibility is looking slim.

After running around town, I’m no closer to the truth. I don’t know who could have done this, who could have sent Katrina after me. I have no clue who’s been making moves behind the scenes and chances are, I won’t find out without digging more. Harder.

But time is running out. The wedding is in the distance, getting closer every day. Katrina is in the basement, waiting, and every moment that passes is another minute my invisible enemy could use to plan against me.

I don’t have the luxury of waiting around for her to decide to talk. I have to act now.

I have to deal with this woman.

CHAPTER15

Katrina

I feel like I’ve been locked in this room forever.

My head is throbbing, but the headache is receding as I peer through the darkness. My eyes have adjusted enough that I can see that I'm in some kind of basement. The floors and walls are concrete, the chair I'm tied to made of heavy wood.

As I’m scanning the barren space for the hundredth time, searching for any way out, the door at the top of the stairs opens suddenly.

I hold my breath, my entire body tensing.

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