All Hail

by J Bree

  Lauren.

  That stupid, star-eyed, dreamer of a girl that Lips always felt sorry for is the one who’s missing. I haven’t seen her since I left Hannaford Prep, I haven’t even thought about any of the stupid bitches we were stuck there with since then, but it doesn’t matter. If she’s missing and her father is the Police Chief? Probably something worth knowing about.

  I raise an eyebrow at him and say in my coldest tone, “Of course you do, Drummond. You helped my father bury them.”

  When Illi arrives I’m sitting on the love seat in front of my house, the one Harley insisted we have for him to cuddle up with his Mounty. The pillows have been slashed open, because in true Mounts Bay PD logic I must be keeping drugs and cash in the fucking cushions… that or there’s a ransom note in there for Lauren.

  “What the fuck have those fucking pigs done to the place? Where’s the fucking respect for shit, I’ll gut them Queenie.”

  I huff at him, pissed the hell off, and shrug. “Probably best to not announce our murder plots out in the open. I wouldn’t want to spend the rest of the day getting you out of lock up.”

  He glares over at the cops with a clenched jaw, his arms crossed over his chest and a scowl that speaks of murder. “Nah, they gotta take you in for that shit and I’d be bleeding the whole lot of them out before they got the chance. What’s all this about, anyway?”

  I shrug and glance over my shoulder at where Drummond is standing and yelling at three of his officers because they aren’t finding anything to take me in for. “The Police Chief’s daughter is missing.”

  Illi huffs. “And what the fuck would you know about that? Do you spend a lot of time with pig’s kids without me knowing about it?”

  I would smirk at him but the state of my house has made any joy impossible. “We went to Hannaford together. Drummond used to pant after my father’s check book. I think he’s paranoid that we took Lauren as retaliation… but I don’t give a fuck about stupid little girls who don’t know when to keep their mouths shut.”

  Illi nods and then I watch as he squares himself up, broadening his stance until he looks like he’s gotten even wider. There’re footsteps as Drummond approaches us but I won’t lower myself to look at the pathetic man any more than I already have.

  “I will find her and I will have every last one of you locked up, the keys thrown away, for taking her.”

  Illi rolls his eyes. “I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, but no one give a shit about you. Police Chief who lives in billionaire serial killer pockets? You’re fucking nothing to me or Beaumont. Nothing but a fucking tantrum throwing pig.”

  That has me smirking and I glance over my shoulder at the blustering man still standing there failing to get a word out in his anger. “I’ll be billing the city for all of the damage here. Expect to see me again soon because I’ll have your job for this.”

  Illi scoffs. “I’ll have his fucking throat. Sleep tight, cunt, I know where you sleep.”

  Drummond has the sense to look at least a little worried about that but the officers around us who hear it practically shit themselves. I’ve forgotten what it’s like to look at Johnny Illium and see anything other than the fiercely protective family man who will throw down for his people without hesitation.

  He must be terrifying to these gutless idiots.

  It takes a half-hour before they all finally get in their cars and leave us to my utterly destroyed house. I try to send Illi home, if anyone can clean this place up single-handedly it’s me, but he gets it in his head that they’ve planted something here. The idea of there being surveillance on me literally curls up in my gut and threatens to choke me with bile so I keep my mouth shut while he searches the entire place with a fine-tooth comb.

  I throw out most of the soft furnishings.

  There are dozens of broken chairs and every last one of Blaise’s guitars that he left behind are too damaged to rescue. The orgy-sized bed in their room has been completely gutted with what looks like a machete and Harley’s books are all over the floor. All of that pisses me off but the real thing that lights a fire in the deepest, darkest corners of my soul are the shredded remains of the clothes Lips left behind strewn across her floor.

  They’d had to pack light for the bus and there were shirts she’d stolen from the guys that she didn’t want to risk losing so when I find the pieces of the cashmere sweater of Ash’s that she was not-so-discreetly obsessed with I think I lose my mind a little.

  Okay.

  I definitely don’t lose my mind but I go beyond the shallow anger at my house being messed up because those torn up clothes mean something to Lips. As a kid who struggled to clothe herself, who didn’t have anyone to love her or give her any sort of security, the clothes that her guys gave her mean something and Drummond has stomped all over it.

  I will salt the Earth.

  I will burn the entire department down to the ground and build something back up in its ashes that belongs entirely to me.

  For the first time in months I feel purpose again.

  My job is to stop this shit from happening to us.

  I move back down to the kitchen to find Illi in there with a beer out on the counter and a glass of wine already poured for me.

  “Did you find anything?”

  He shakes his head. “Nothing. I’ll get the Coyote out here to go over it again, I doubt they would give up this opportunity to get eyes in here.”

  I shrug. “I guess I’ll have a quiet night tonight until then. What a shame, I was planning on some naked ritualistic sacrifice.”

  He tips the beer bottle back and gulps it down. “Fuck, that would be something to see. Queenie sacrificing a goat.”

  My nose wrinkles at him and I ignore his chuckle. “Where would I even find a goat? I’m far more comfortable with human sacrifice.”

  I pick up the wine glass and sip it slowly, staring at the crack in my marble countertop and wondering how the hell they even managed to do that.

  Illi finishes the beer and grabs another one.

  I clear my throat. “I need some help.”

  He shrugs without a second thought. “Sure.”

  I quirk an eyebrow at him. “You don’t want to know what it is first? I could ask you anything.”

  He chuckles under his breath and finishes off the second beer like it’s nothing. “You never ask me for help. Lips does, and the guys do, but you never ask me for help so this is something big and it’s going to be complicated as fuck but whatever you need, I’ll do it.”

  I nod because it’s true enough. I check my phone for a second and find missed messages from Atticus about the warrant. He’d gotten a judge to cancel it, which was why Drummond finally left, and he’s looking into why they were really here in the first place.

  I didn’t tell him about Lauren.

  I take a sip of my wine again and then choose my words carefully, aiming for vaguely detailed. “There’s a Gala coming up that I need to go to. I need to update my resources and that will be the best place to scout out some options.”

  Illi shrugs. “And you want me to go with you? Fuck, you’re going to make me wear a suit, aren’t you?”

  A smile tugs at the corner of my lips. “I’ll have a Tom Ford delivered to your place. Do you know all of your measurements? Odie knows how to take them, I’m sure you’ll enjoy the process.”

  He grins at me, radiating smug male energy that would piss me off in anyone other than him because I’m very aware just how much he loves his wife. “I guess I can get on board with that. Anything in particular we’re looking for at this fucking thing?”

  I stare over at the destruction of my house. “I need a good cleaner… maybe a new lawyer so I can make the MBPD weep into their morning coffees every day for the rest of their hopefully long lives.”

  Illi nods and moves to throw both of his empty bottles out but I’m not sure why he’d bother because the contents of my trash can was dumped out into a pile in the corner.

  My sk
in starts to crawl just looking at it.

  It takes me half a minute to order a skip bin to be delivered to my house and when I convince Illi head home for the day I get to work cleaning the mess up. I guess I was due for a design change anyway.

  By the time I have everything cleared out that was destroyed I’m angry and frustrated and not at all in the mood to cook so I order Thai takeout and call Ash to whine.

  I’d messaged him when I found out about the search warrant and I can say for sure that I’m glad he’s not here at the moment.

  “Did that fuck Jackson check your house yet? I don’t want you staying there if there’s pigs watching you.”

  I huff. “He checked his security and there’s no bugs. They did put trackers on all of the cars though so I won’t be driving until they’re gone.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?! I’m coming home. Fuck this, I’m leveling the fucking city for this.”

  I laugh at him but I keep my tone light. “I’m glad it’s your precious cars that sent you over the edge.”

  There’s yelling and laughter in the background and I feel a little guilty about worrying him while he’s supposed to be having a good time. “Don’t come home. Honestly, figuring out plans for kidnapped girls and new drug dealing kingpins is my idea of a good time. I’m safe. You can check in on the cams whenever you need to and I promise that I won’t let anyone touch your cars. I love you. I want you to be happy.”

  He exhales for long enough that I’m sure he’s torn but finally he says, “I love you too, Floss. If anything happens to you again… none of this is worth it if you’re not safe.”

  I swallow roughly as the doorbell rings and I hang up to answer it.

  The takeout delivery guy is young and definitely not from around here because he stares at my house in awe. It’s funny and not something I used to so I try to

  He hands over the bag and turns away, his feet stumbling a little.

  “Oh. Did you… ah, did you know about this photo here? I think someone is pulling a prank on you.”

  My stomach drops as I turn around.

  The guy points at the other door, the side I didn’t open and when I take a step out to look at it, slowly bend down to set the bag of food on the ground so it doesn’t slip through my fingers as I stare at the photo of myself that’s been nailed to my front door.

  My eyes are crossed out in blood.

  Chapter Nine

  It’s annoying to have to call Illi right back to my house but there’s no way I’m sleeping here alone tonight if I have some crazed stalker sending me death threats. I think twice about messaging Atticus about it and instead I call Aodhan to tell him.

  He comes right over.

  I open the door for him and he grins at me, leaning down to kiss my cheek and I take in a deep lungful of his cologne. He smells like he just got out of the shower and my mind starts wondering about what it is that he’s been doing while my life was getting more complicated.

  The smirk he gives me is all sorts of teasing Irish charm. “Do you ever wear normal clothes? Like, shirts and sweatpants? You always look like you’re about to have dinner with a diplomat when shit goes down.”

  My legs should not get weak at the rasp of his voice, I’m better than that, but the sound of it tugs my mind back to that little bubble we were both in… when my mind forgot that the Jackal was the one making the decisions. I shrug. “These are normal clothes for people who aren’t Mounty street urchins. You might want to raise your bar because I’m not lowering mine.”

  I ignore the flutters in my stomach at the low chuckle he gives me, his hand slides slowly down the bare skin of my arm until his finger thread through mine. “You raise a lot of things in me, Queenie, don’t worry about that.”

  There’s another booming knock at the door and Aodhan groans as I pull away from him to let Illi in.

  “This is high school all over again,” Illi snarks out, his hair wet like I got him out of the shower to be here, and Aodhan quirks an eyebrow at him.

  “I can’t imagine you walking the halls of a high school but I’ve got to tell you, it was nothing like this for me.”

  I roll my eyes at them both but I am happy to see them getting along a little better. “He’s talking about my high school experience. It was full of stalkers and serial killers. All we need now are some heads to show up in cardboard boxes.”

  Illi tips his head to the side like he’s considering it. “Look, that might be exactly what we need here. Maybe you should call Lips and set something up with the psycho.”

  I stiffen a little but Aodhan doesn’t make a comment, thank God. Something about Atticus’ reaction to Nate makes me nervous for Aodhan to know about Lips’ brother.

  “That is an option on the board… I knew taking care of the Jackal and Senior wouldn’t be the end of things but I was hoping for a break at least.”

  Illi huffs and runs a hand over his face. “Please don’t tell me you have an actual murder board hung up somewhere in this fucking place that the pigs just got an eyeful of? The Feds will end up on our fucking tails if I have to go kill them all.”

  I could keep it a secret.

  I could but I won’t because while my family is away these two have become my safety net and if I’m now being threatened then they should know about my panic room, custom built and completely undisturbed by the police raid.

  I turn on my heel and walk over to the bottom of my huge and very ornate foyer. The grand staircase is made out of what looks to be solid marble.

  It’s very impressive, something I spent months designing and then almost a full year to be carved out and installed to perfection.

  The opening to the basement is impossible to find but I spent my childhood in the Beaumont mansion, so it’s only right that I know exactly how to hide a basement opening.

  Illi and Aodhan both watch me open it and when I straighten up I’ve never seen Illi look so impressed before.

  I try not to preen.

  “I need one of these. Queenie, who the fuck did you get to do this?”

  I chuckle under my breath and step over the small marble lip, startling a little when Aodhan grabs my elbow with gentle but firm fingers.

  I smile up at him. “I’m okay, I spend most evenings down here.”

  He doesn’t let me go, if anything his fingers tighten and he walks down the stairs into the darkness with me. “Do you come down in those heels? Fuck, what am I saying, of course you do. Staircases mean nothing to the Ice Queen.”

  I chuckle and then fight a blush away from my cheeks when Illi starts huffing under his breath about us both. I’m very glad neither of them can actually see me.

  “Are there lights done here? I’m almost worried you’re about to murder us both down here,” Illi mutters, which is rich coming from him.

  His murder room is also in the basement of his warehouse.

  When I mention this to him, he just laughs, that loud and booming sound that bounces around the stairwell. It does mean a lot to me that he’d even crack those jokes with me though, that there was even the possibility that I could kill the infamous Butcher.

  If anyone could kill him it would be me.

  I’m the least likely to even try out of our family and that means I’d be the most successful in an attempt. That’s the real reason we need to be so careful of who we trust, of who we let into our family because there’s always the possibility that they’ll betray us.

  Like Diarmuid.

  We didn’t even let him in, not really, we just named him as an ally and he used that to get past Atticus’ men to kidnap me. Everything that happened in the Jackal’s lair is his fault.

  Aodhan leans in close to my ear to murmur to me, “You’re shaking, Queenie.”

  Right.

  No more thinking about that, we have a stalker to find.

  That photo might not have been a planned shot but the fact that the person who left it knows where I live? I’ve been careful about keeping my address private so eith
er they have access to police records or one of the Crow’s men have leaked that information.

  I’ll have to mention it to him but I’m not chasing it up now.

  I hit the lights when we get to the bottom of the stairs and Aodhan rubs his free hand over his face, squinting at the sudden brightness. Illi blinks around at everything and I think I’ve actually managed to shock him with my set up.

  One entire wall of the basement is covered with all of my current issues. In the middle, there’s a photo of Grimm Graves. He’s a mean-looking asshole of a man but there’s no mistaking that he’s sired all of the kids in that file that Atticus gave me.

  Let’s hope the unmistakable eyes are the only trait of his they all share.

  There’s pages and pages of his crimes already pasted on that wall. Drugs, kidnapping, rape, murder, extortion, the man has no sort of moral code whatsoever. I have each of the men on the Chaos Demon council up there too, all of them with rap sheets as bad as their president.

  Colt and Chance are currently grouped with the other siblings and their files are thinner than Grimm’s but I’m not convinced that’s only due to age.

  Nate and Poe are not there.

  We know for sure that they’re both family, no matter what Atticus may suspect.

  I expect them both to gravitate to that section of the wall, probably because it’s the most interesting spot in my opinion, but Aodhan heads straight to my intensive investigation on the whereabouts of Diarmuid O’Cronin, his uncle and the man responsible for my kidnapping.

  Illi heads to my list of high society figures that were owned by Senior, every last one of them the scum-of-the-Earth types who would buy at the infamous Bay skin auctions. Thank God the Vulture is dead.

  “I know this guy, why isn’t his name up here or any information?” Illi murmurs, pointing at one of the photos.