Queen of the Underworld

by Lee Savino

  “Sir, it’s almost midnight. You need to rest.” The nurse bent to pick up some clothes that had fallen to the floor and Zeke got a glimpse of his bright red thong peeking out from his turquoise scrubs. Bingo.

  “I’ve been resting all day,” Sturm said, and it was true. The doctors had released him from the ICU and he’d done a photo shoot meant to assure the public their mayor was on the road to health, but that was about it for the day. He’d insisted on coming home to sleep in his own bed, under the care of his private doctor. “I have so much to do…it’s hard for me to relax.”

  The nurse—Paul—straightened slowly and grinned at him.

  Voices outside the room interrupted.

  Zeke frowned and jerked his head. “Go find out what that’s all about.”

  The nurse only had time to open the door before an aide popped in. “Sir, Armand Merche is here to see you.”

  Zeke lifted an eyebrow. What was the young Merche doing here? “Send him in. And, take the night off, Jones. I’m in good hands here.”

  “Yessir.” The aide disappeared and Armand popped into his place, his thick hair wild over his more staid suit.

  “Am I interrupting something?” Armand wore his usual mischievous grin.

  Zeke sighed. “No, no, come on in.” He watched the young nurse leave along with his aide and didn’t bother to hide his disappointment.

  As usual, Armand picked up on it. “Glad to see you’re feeling better. Any luck on nailing the bastard who did this to you?”

  “We have a warrant out for Waters. We traced things back enough to charge him, but for the life of me I can’t think why he’d want me dead.”

  “I can.” Armand sashayed up to the bed, drawing off his suit jacket and tossing it on a chair. Underneath he wore a lavender shirt, its slim cut outlining his lean, attractive torso. He held up a bag of white pills and Zeke immediately snapped to attention.

  “Are those what I think they are?” Sturm held out his hand and Armand dutifully gave him the bag.

  “Ambrosia. Brew, or Bro, they call it on the streets now.”

  “Have you tried them?”

  “I have actually. I thought they were sleeping pills. Took one and…” Armand smiled coyly. “Well, it turned into a pretty good night actually, but that’s neither here nor there.”

  “I see.” Zeke wasn’t in the mood. The fact that Armand had this contraband was a problem. “And how did you come by these?”

  Eschewing the chair, Armand seated himself right on the Zeke’s bed, facing him. “Your own police office. You have a breach.”

  Dammit. Zeke frowned. “Who?”

  “Your charming ex-wife.”

  “Olympia?” Zeke tried to lift off his bed, but then groaned and laid back. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. She used to treat the evidence room as her own personal locker.”

  He tossed the pills down the bed and Armand picked them up again. “Why’d she risk it?” Zeke asked. “Stealing evidence isn’t a great career move for a former D.A., especially if she has designs on running for my office.”

  Armand shrugged, fingering the bag longingly. “I guess she still cares about you. She knew they were Waters’ and returned them to him.”

  “Waters has the pills back? Is he distributing?” The news just got worse and worse.

  “Last I heard he’s in talks with the Titans to distribute.”

  Zeke closed his eyes, feeling a headache coming on. Most of the effects of the poison had worn off, but he felt as exhausted as if he’d run a marathon or two. And now all of this was coming to a head while he was waylaid. “Bypassing Ubeli will mean war.”

  Zeke stared off for a second, thinking about the Titans moving in on New Olympus again. What would that mean for him and his office?

  Armand’s face was carefully blank. “You know my personal stake in the dark lord’s success. Speaking of which, how’d the meeting with the Ubelis go?”

  “Oh, fine.” Zeke pushed his desk back a little. “He sent his pretty little wife alone. I couldn’t produce the drugs, and she got me to agree to do some stupid fundraiser that was the pretext for the meeting. Which reminds me, I have to wriggle out of that.” He leaned forward to make a note.

  “Don’t even think about it.” Armand leaned forward and caught Zeke’s hand with the pen. “You’re putting in an appearance at the fashion show. I’m also helping with it.”

  “She’s got you wrapped around her little finger, too?” Zeke might be tired but it didn’t mean he was off his game. He arched an eyebrow at Armand. “Too bad Ubeli’s got his claws into her. Of course,” he mused, “she said they were separated, and I’m sure, in light of the recent death threat, Ubeli’s gone ‘to the mattresses.’ We should invite her up here so she’s not lonely. Put her on all fours, our own private dog show. Remember how we used to—”

  “I remember,” Armand cut him off, looking cross, and Zeke grinned to himself. So Armand had a soft spot for Mrs. Ubeli. Zeke filed this information away for later.

  “What are you going to do about Waters?”

  Zeke went along with the subject change without comment. “Ball’s in his court. He has his shipment back. When did you say Olympia returned it?”

  “Thursday morning, I believe.”

  “But—” Zeke thought rapidly. “Who ordered the hit on me and Ubeli’s look alike Thursday night? If Waters already had his product back by then?”

  Armand shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

  “What do you know?” Zeke narrowed his eyes.

  Armand laughed. “Only what Olympia tells me. She wanted me to give these pills to you, and let you know Waters has the rest back. Minus a few she took as her cut.”

  Zeke studied Armand, but found no clues on the winsome face. Coming here hadn’t been a social call, or even to check on his health. Armand wanted him to know that it wasn’t Waters who’d ordered the hit. Interesting. What exactly was his stake in all this? “Be sure to thank Olympia. How is she, by the way?”

  “She misses you, but most days she won’t admit it. Just like you.”

  Zeke harrumphed and Armand chuckled. “So cranky. There’s still one part of you that’s honest, though, isn’t there?”

  Armand lifted the portable desk away, taking care not to let any of the papers spill. Zeke’s erection was clearly outlined under the thin sheet and he didn’t try to hide it.

  “Ah, there it is. Although it looks cranky, too.”

  “It misses you.” Zeke stared Armand directly in the eye. Armand hadn’t come here for this, or at least not only for this, but with their history, things usually always ended up here. Armand was a beautiful boy who’d grown into a beautiful man.

  A smile played around Armand’s mouth and his nostrils flared. “I missed him too, which is why I thought I’d pay a little visit. Of course, it’s more fun when there’s a third, so I invited a friend to play. Paul?” Armand raised his voice to call the nurse’s name.

  The curly-headed nurse came back in, this time wearing nothing but his red thong. As Zeke stared, Paul shut the door and Armand stood back, looking mischievous.

  “Mr. Mayor,” Paul posed for a moment before crawling up from the bottom of the bed. “Let’s see if we can get you started on tonight’s physical therapy.”

  Thirty-Two

  Monday morning came, and Cora woke, hearing the ghost echo of the phone ringing. But when she checked it: nothing.

  She padded out of the bedroom to be greeted by Brutus. No Shade stood guard in her apartment, no bodyguard blocked her door.

  She checked her phone again: no messages.

  Anna would be getting out of the hospital soon, and Olivia returning from her trip. It was Monday, the deadline Waters had set for Marcus to return his shipment to him. What was happening? Would Waters make another move against Marcus when he couldn’t deliver? Or would he simply go to the Titans immediately to strike a deal with them? Worry had her pacing, wearing a trail in her hardwood floors.

&
nbsp; An hour later, there was a knock on the door. Cora checked the peephole and opened it. A line of Shades poured through, carrying boxes upon boxes.

  “What on earth—?”

  “From the penthouse, Miss. Mr. Ubeli wanted you to have them.”

  Finding a box with a loose strip of tape, she peeked in and recognized her clothes. Stunned, she ducked around the Shades swarming around her and shut herself in the bathroom.

  She called the number she had for Sharo, and the emergency line she thought was Marcus’s, Sharo’s rang and rang until she hung up, and the emergency line gave her a dial tone.

  Every hope she had drained away at that empty sound. She dialed it again, confirming she hadn’t made a mistake. Nope. No one there. She slammed her phone on the sink.

  So that was it. It was that easy.

  Marcus had cut her out of his life. Cut off her very access to him.

  You didn’t trust me. My own wife.

  All this time, she’d been running, and she hadn’t known what she was running from. It hadn’t been from Marcus, but from this. This was her worst fear made real. But once he knew, he could never forgive her. She’d broken the bond between them and could never go back.

  It’s over.

  It hit her as she exited the bathroom and made her way across her apartment through a sea of brown boxes. She was finally alone.

  “You got what you wanted,” she whispered to herself

  Locking the door after the Shades, she slid down to the floor, tears spilling over faster than Brutus could lick.

  “Cora!”

  Cora’s head flew up as Olivia charged into her office. “Is everything alright?”

  “Fine, move.” Olivia leaned over Cora and grabbed her mouse. She was back from her trip and as much of volcanic force as ever.

  “What’s going on?” Cora leaned back and watched Olivia surf the web at lightning speed, pulling up a popular news blog.

  “Max Mars didn’t show up on set today.” Anna sashayed in, looking lovely and well rested. Two weeks since she’d been released from the hospital, and her bruises had healed. Glowing and glamorous, she looked like the fledgling movie star she was.

  “Here it is,” Olivia navigated to the side news bar, reading the headline, “Max Mars beaten in bar brawl. Unknown assailant, man in black.”

  “Oh my gods,” Anna pushed her way closer to the computer screen and commandeered the mouse to click around the article. “He got totally busted up.”

  “There goes the movie,” Olivia muttered.

  “Not necessarily,” Anna kept reading. “Says here they were careful not to touch his face.”

  Cora thought of her conversation with Marcus in the hospital hall, and allowed herself a private smile.

  Two weeks, and she hadn’t seen Sharo or her husband, or even evidence of a bodyguard following her.

  Her anger had subsided into a dull ache as she watched and waited for the silence to break. Reading about Marcus’s activities and knowing they were his felt like a secret message, an inside joke between lovers. It hurt and gave her hope at the same time.

  “Thank the gods we’ve already shot his topless scenes. He’ll be in pain, but he can work through it,” Anna said.

  Olivia snorted. “He looked like he was in pain through the entire God of War movie. Either that or he was constipated.”

  “No, that’s his acting face,” Anna said. “Oh, look, Cora, there’s a picture of you here.”

  “Really?” Cora leaned forward but suddenly Olivia and Anna were blocking her way.

  “Never mind, I was wrong,” Anna said hurriedly, facing Cora while Olivia clicked furiously, navigating away.

  “Yeah, it’s not that flattering at all,” Olivia muttered.

  “Stop it, guys, let me see.” Cora elbowed Olivia out of the way.

  Anna and Olivia exchanged worried looks.

  “You can’t hide it from me; I’ll just pull it up on my phone.” Cora rolled her eyes at them.

  Reluctantly, both stepped away and Cora clicked back until she saw what made them cringe.

  It was a candid picture of her and Marcus, with a line down the middle. “Known crime boss and his wife split.”

  Another picture of her looking depressed and lonely, walking Brutus on the tree-lined sidewalk outside her apartment. She kept scrolling down, unable to stop herself.

  “Who cheated on who?” she read the histrionic red text, and clicked on the thumbnails to see a picture of her with Philip Waters at Armand’s party. The two of them had been standing close enough to talk, and their pose in the lavish setting did look rather intimate, especially with his hand hovering near her arm protectively.

  She clicked to the next picture and saw Marcus walking with a tall, buxom blonde. His hand was at her elbow, helping her down the red line steps outside the Crown Hotel.

  “What the fuck?” Cora hissed.

  “Damn,” Olivia said. “I never heard you swear before.”

  “You’re rubbing off on her,” Anna said. “Cora, honey, are you okay?”

  “Seen exiting the Crown Hotel last night, Marcus Ubeli and on again off again flame, Lucinda Charles.” Cora read the last words with a shriek.

  “Oh no, he didn’t.” Olivia ducked closer to read the article.

  “Maybe it’s best if we don’t jump to conclusions.” Anna leaned over Cora’s opposite shoulder.

  “I can’t believe this,” Cora shouted. “I’m going to kill that bitch! And put Marcus’s nutsack through the shredder!”

  “There you go, that’s the spirit,” Olivia encouraged.

  “Stop,” Anna reached around Cora to poke Olivia. “Maybe it’s a misunderstanding. An old picture like the one of you and Philip Waters.”

  But Cora was already shaking her head, her whole body trembling as she yanked her phone out of her purse. “He’s wearing the tie I gave him for Christmas. That picture is recent.”

  Cora was so furious she could barely dial the number she knew would reach Sharo. She leapt up and paced while her friends watched, and ended the call with a curse. “Oh no, he does not get to do this to me.”

  “What are you going to do?” Anna said.

  Hesitating, Cora was saved from having to answer by her phone ringing. “Sharo?”

  “What?” She couldn’t read Sharo’s deep voice.

  “I need a meet with Marcus.”

  “Not gonna happen. Shit’s going down; he’s buried deep.”

  “Then why am I looking at a picture of him and fucking Lucinda outside the Crown?”

  A pause. “Fuck.”

  “Yeah, that’s right,” Cora ranted. “I want to speak with him, and I mean now.”

  Another pause, this one longer, like Sharo was speaking to someone close by.

  “Uh oh,” Cora heard Anna say, and turned to see that Olivia had pulled another picture up on screen, this one of Cora standing between Armand and Philip Waters, again from the party two months ago. Ménage a trois? the caption read.

  “Aww, they cropped me out,” Olivia huffed.

  “Sharo?” Cora called, her eyes on the two men flanking her in the picture, one white tux, one black.

  “Yeah.” The underboss’s voice was muffled now.

  “Did you find Armand?” He’d all but disappeared after the orgy. Maybe a good thing considering Marcus had wanted to tear him apart once they’d realized the so-called ‘sleeping pills’ he’d given Cora had actually been Ambrosia.

  “In the wind. We didn’t get to pick him up and he hasn’t returned to his place.”

  “What happened with Waters when the deadline passed?”

  Sharo didn’t answer.

  “And Marcus?” she pressed.

  “He’s…busy.”

  The image of Marcus and that bottle blonde bitch flashed through her mind’s eye. “Fuck that. You tell him,” her vision swam a little as she swayed with anger, “Tell him that, after this, he’ll be lucky if I ever want him back.” And she hung up.

&nbs
p; Her two friends stood at her desk, staring at her.

  Olivia snorted. “Somebody grew a backbone.”

  “Men.” Anna shook her head. “They’re all assholes.”

  “Oh shit,” Cora said, her anger draining from her. “Does this mean it’s really over? What am I going to do?”

  “Get drunk,” Olivia suggested. “Have an orgy.”

  “Been there, got the T-shirt,” Cora muttered, and plopped into her desk chair.

  “You want to go get coffee and talk about it?” Anna asked.

  “No, no, I have stuff to do. The shelter fundraiser is less than two weeks away, and the mayor is scheduled to show up. I have to get cracking.”

  “You sure you don’t want to go out and get wasted?” Olivia sounded hopeful, but Anna was already pulling her towards the door.

  “Come on, Olivia. Leave her alone. We have to finish recording my vocals for your computer game, anyway.”

  “It’s not a game, it’s a software program we’re designing to be capable of recursive self-improvement so it can achieve singularity…”

  “Oooh,” Anna cooed. “talk nerdy to me…”

  As her office door closed on her friends’ banter, Cora pulled up the article on her and Marcus. She stared at the picture of Marcus and Lucinda until it hurt too much to look. Two weeks? Was that really all it took for him to replace her with someone else to warm his bed?

  She started to click away from the site, but her mouse slipped and a picture of Philip Waters from the party popped up instead. In the white tux his midnight skin was all the more striking, and the large onyx ring he wore caught her eye.

  Wait a second. She froze and squinted at the screen. She zoomed in.

  Holy shit.

  She remembered that ring. She remembered it from the long hours of her abduction, but she’d seen it again, hadn’t she? At Olympia’s place on the second most unforgettable night of her life.

  The one that began with an orgy.