The library queen

Chapter 10 Velvet Mask

Alvin Garden swirled the red wine around in his goblet, his eyes dead. Kent Addison stood dead center on the rug, sweat beads rolling down his forehead into his collar.

"Joseph is off his leash, Kent," Garden said, his voice dropping into a lethal, "You told me you had him handled."

"He threw his badge in my face," Addison muttered, wiping his wet brow. "He’s got no power anymore. He’s a regular civilian."

"A civilian with a badge is a pain in the ass. A civilian with a sniper rifle and combat training is an executioner aiming at my throat," Garden snarled, "The Holmes family wants the cops out of tomorrow's drop. You promised me silence."

"I’ve got three squad cars watching his front door around the clock, Alvin."

"You’re putting a band-aid on a gunshot wound, Kent. Put the dog down before he bites you."

Addison shifted his weight. "He’s too loud, Alvin. If a popular detective just vanishes, the feds start asking questions."

"People get mugged in dark alleys every damn day," Garden said, leaning into his space. "A stray bullet. A crackhead with a knife. You run the whole precinct, Chief. Make it look messy. Make it look real. Or should I hire someone who can actually do his job?"

Addison swallowed hard, his face pale. "I'll get my guys on it."

"Good. Tomorrow we squeeze Renn Savier’s shipping docks for everything he’s got. Clear the streets."

"The perimeter will be dead quiet."

Garden picked up his wine, a cold, mocking smirk touching his lips. "Hilda’s already locked the Swiss trust accounts from the inside. Renn is blind. Matt Holmes is bringing his crew to tear up the docks. The king is done."

"Matt Holmes is a loose cannon," Addison warned. "The kid is a total psycho."

"Oscar knows how to muzzle his son, and I know how to muzzle you," Garden shot back, crossing his arms. "Get out of my sight, Kent. Fix your cop problem before I make you part of it."

Addison turned on his heel and scrambled out.

The throbbing bass from the lounge downstairs shook the floorboards. Moreau Bernard shoved the heavy door shut, slamming the brass deadbolt into place.

Lucia Bob was lounging on the red leather sofa. Moreau ripped his tie off, his face tight with rage as he poured a heavy splash of whiskey into a glass.

Lucia glided over, resting her hands against his chest. "You're tense, baby. What happened?"

Moreau downed the whiskey in one shot. "Renn has lost his goddamn mind," Moreau spat, slamming the empty glass onto the bar. "He actually went ahead and married that nobody. A broke librarian with zero background? I watch him drop his crown for a stray dog, and it makes me sick."

"Renn backs her up, Moreau."

"Renn is senile!" Moreau sneered, a cruel smirk touching his lips. "He’s letting some random b***h look into our core network. He trusts an outsider more than the guys who took bullets for him for ten years! The elders want her dead, Jeffrey is screaming for blood, and Renn is hiding her in his basement. The family is cracking in half."

"We’ve got the Cayman money," Lucia murmured. "Let’s take the cash, buy two tickets to Europe, and leave this war behind."

"Hell no. I’m not running like a rat," Moreau growled, turning to the window. "I want this city, Lucia. It’s mine. I’m taking the throne."

Lucia stepped back, eyes widening. "What did you do?"

"I gave that little b***h the rigged dock logs," Moreau laughed, a nasty, lethal sound. "I triggered the Zurich crash yesterday. I leaked the accounts myself."

"You lost the family thirty million bucks?!"

"I needed chaos." Moreau snapped, spinning around to face her, "Renn is cornered. He’s panicking, looking outside the house for enemies. He thinks I’m the only one left he can trust. He’s leaning on me like a crippled child."

"Renn kills traitors, Moreau. He'll crush you if he finds out."

"Renn fights people who attack his front gate. He doesn't see the guy who already holds the keys to his bedroom," Moreau whispered, his eyes turning to pure fire. "I’m striking from the inside tomorrow night, Lucia. I’m putting a bullet in the King’s head."

The heavy oak doors of the dining hall swung open. Moreau walked in, carrying a silver tray with three crystal decanters of high-end whiskey.

Jeffrey sat at the head of the long table, rubbing his scarred knuckles. "The harbor is bleeding cash, Moreau," Jeffrey growled, slamming his fist down. "The old guard wants answers, now. Renn is slacking."

Moreau set the tray down on the polished wood, pouring a heavy splash of amber liquid. He slid the glass across the table, his lips curling into a lazy, mocking smirk. "Drink up, Jeff. It’s just a little rain. You think Renn’s scared of a budget deficit? He’s got his nose in the books. He’ll fix it."

Jeffrey snatched the glass, sneering. "Renn's letting a damn librarian run our core ledger. He’s gone soft."

Moreau laughed, clapping a heavy hand onto Jeffrey’s shoulder, squeezing it until the old man winced. "Relax, fossil. The girl’s got a freaky memory, alright? We’re just using her to clear the red tape. Drink your booze, let me handle the gates. Or are you too old to watch a pawn work?"

Jeffrey downed the liquor in one shot, his face purple.

Moreau turned around and spotted Maya standing near the stone archway, holding a thick stack of leather-bound ledgers. She didn't hide behind them. She held them like a weapon.

Moreau sauntered over, his boots clicking sharply against the marble before he stopped right in her face, dropping his voice to a smooth purr. "Working late, Maya? You look white as a sheet, babe. Tell Sam to fix you a plate before you drop dead on my floor."

Maya didn't flinch. She stepped directly into his space, a cold smirk touching her lips. "The numbers don't add up, Moreau. Someone’s been skimming from the north terminal, and they left a pathetic digital footprint. I’m formatting the account by midnight."

Moreau’s lazy grin vanished for a fraction of a second, his eyes darkening. He recovered fast, leaning in just an inch too close. "The numbers ain't going anywhere tonight, Renn wants a pretty bride, not a smart corpse. Look after yourself."

"I look after the board, Moreau," Maya whispered back, her voice dropping into a lethal. "You should look after your exit strategy."

Moreau gave her a mocking little bow, but his jaw was tight as he slipped past her into the hallway.

Downtown at the Velvet Lounge, neon purple light washed over the VIP suite. Moreau shoved the door shut, slammed the brass deadbolt into place, and ripped his silk tie off, throwing his jacket onto a glass table.

Lucia Bob rose from a corner chair, her crimson silk dress catching the neon glow. She crossed the room fast, wrapping her arms around his waist. "You smell like smoke and that creepy stone house. Did the old men bite?"

Moreau scoffed, pouring a massive drink of bourbon. "Those old bastards are shaking in their boots, Lucia. They're losing their minds over a few missing millions."

"But that’s Renn’s money."

"Renn’s sitting on that throne because I built the f*****g stairs for him!" Moreau roared, slamming his glass onto the counter, whiskey splashing everywhere. "I take the bullets, Lucia! I bury the bodies! I clean up every single piece of s**t he leaves behind while he sits up there wearing a crown!"

He turned back, his rough, scarred hands cupping her face. "Let’s see how long his empire survives me."