To Catch A Rook (All The Queen’s Men #1)

5. Chapter 2 - Hillary

“ F rederick.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose in barely veiled exasperation as the dignified man sweated a damp patch through his stiff suit onto my chenille seat cushion.

“Ms. Lane.” The shrinking man sputtered slightly, but he managed to maintain his composure while he attempted to grovel his way out of his predicament.

Frederick Lawson had been the Lane family lawyer since long before I was born. By his age and the substantial size of his bank account alone, he could be considered a Lane family heirloom.

But he often forgot he wasn’t Daddy’s legal counsel anymore—he was mine. And I didn’t work backroom deals and scheme with renowned mafia kings in the same ways Daddy did.

Well, not to the same degree, anyway.

“Ms. Lane.” Frederick cleared his throat and stiffened his spine in his seat, making him appear an inch taller and ten times ballsier. “I apologize for the lack of communication on my part. The Rodriguez family asked for legal counsel with Charles, and Charles requested I be present to appropriately respond with the—” He faltered, likely realizing he was coming close to insulting me.

“It was very last minute, and I didn’t see it prudent to waste your time with another round of inane questions. Charles Beckwith is, quite frankly, an imbecile.”

He caught my eye and sniffed, employing the dignified air of a man who thought himself to be far less of an imbecile, but they were one and the same at this moment.

Despite his error in judgment, I believed him. Frederick was the biggest stickler for the written word of law I had ever encountered; so much so, he stood by me and defended my legal right to keep my grandmother’s inheritance without giving my father one penny of it, despite my having been groomed to be Daddy’s bottomless bank account. He even dissolved the archaic arranged marriage Daddy and his friend had orchestrated, so I could move on with my life.

He wasn’t a friend—I didn’t even like the man, but he was a formidable ally.

I folded my arms across my silk blouse and leaned back against my desk, my delicate stature hovering above him. “Who requested the meeting? Was Aaron involved, or simply invited?”

Frederick shifted his weight nervously in his chair, but his gaze never wavered. “In truth, Ms. Lane, Mr. Rodriguez appeared very uncomfortable about being present. I can’t speak to who invited whom. Charles”—he curled his lip in a sneer of distaste—“was my only contact with arranging the meeting. At a bar , no less.”

I drew in a deep, cleansing breath, and dipped my head in decision. “Okay. I believe you. But Frederick, no meetings, no phone calls, no discussions of any kind with the Rodriguez family without me.”

His balding head shined back at me as he nodded, spewing muttered assurances I really had no time for. I strode around to the other side of my desk and took a seat, scanning the pile of paperwork Marty had set out for me this morning.

“Moving on—where are we with the Blackthorn file?”

After two hours of strategizing for my next two business acquisitions, I checked my phone for messages, absently scrolling through Kellan’s chain of texts to the one I’d received last night.

Kellan ViKing: Can’t make it tonight. Work stuff.

That was it. A reunion after five months of sporadic texts and missed calls, and that was all he could be bothered to write me by way of explanation.

It was why we could never actually be a real … anything. Kellan was a gorgeous god of raw power and determination, my equal match in most ways, but his tortured soul and dedication to a family that would literally be the death of him was his most unattractive quality.

He couldn’t commit to me so, because of that, I wouldn’t commit to him. Who he was letting off steam with in his own time was his business, and I awarded myself the same luxury.

My thoughts drifted to the handsome Irishman, and I allowed myself one solitary minute to undress him from head to toe in my mind before I got on with my afternoon of meetings.

The re would be plenty of hot men to distract me when I needed to scratch the itch. I had an important commitment tonight, and I had to prepare.

All thoughts of men and their annoying tendencies left my mind as I called down to my driver to take me to my next destination.

Daddy had summoned, and I was in an ass-kicking mood.

“Miss Lane to see you, sir.”

“Ms. Lane, Alaric. Ms. Do I look like a twelve-year-old girl to you?”

I cocked a defiant eyebrow at my father’s insufferable butler, then pushed past him, ignoring his muttered response.

Alaric was the newest of my father’s staff. I couldn’t stand the man; he was dismissive, belittling, and a blatant chauvinist, despite the fact my money was paying for this home and every paid staff member inside of its walls.

Daddy had lost access to his money years ago because of his own poor choices, and all of his assets, including the ownership shares of multiple companies, had transferred to me. With my grandmother’s inheritance, I could have purchased them outright, but the tidy little clause in the fine print handing over his empire to me in case of ‘unethical behavior’ saved me a wealth of money and time.

He should have been in jail, rotting with the other miserable corpses who wore their greed like a badge of honor, but he knew too many powerful men and he got off with house arrest instead.

Which is why I had been summoned to the monstrous lakeside manor today. As I always was when he needed information about something. His paranoia wouldn’t allow him to speak on the phone, and this place, like my office, had to be one of the most secure buildings in the state.

I marched into the room my father liked to spend most of his time. Camden Lane looked up from one of the dusty books in his library and dipped his head in greeting. He was slimmer than most men, his wiry frame taut skin over bones, and his blond hair held more strands of silver than gold.

“Hello, Hillary.”

The words were formal—stiff even. An apt description of my relationship with the man since he no longer controlled my future or my assets.

For most of my life, I had been my father’s marionette mouthpiece until my ex-husband and my best friend handed me the opportunity to walk away. My father had lost everything because of his own actions, but I had hammered the final nail in his coffin.

I should have screwed it shut instead.

“You summoned, Daddy Dearest?” I folded my arms across my chest and maintained a few feet of distance between us.

We didn’t adhere to the false niceties of hugging or outward affection. There were no cameras to pander to, no paparazzi to appease. Just a father and daughter who knew where all the bodies were buried, and the only way to walk away from the graveyard would be to become dead ourselves.

My father sighed, as if my lack of affection was an egregious slight. “Take off your armor, Hillary. I have information that is highly valuable.”

I tilted my head disbelievingly, knowing any information from him would come at a cost. “And your price for this information is?”

His opportunistic ass didn’t miss a beat. “I would like a day of leave. Please arrange it with him as soon as you’re able. There are a few things I must … attend to.”

My brows rose at that admission. There wouldn’t be much he could ‘attend to’ even if I chose to abuse my relationship with Kellan to swing the request for him. He’d be watched like a hawk and would have an FBI escort at the very minimum. As usual, Daddy was playing games to exert what minimal power he had left.

I could deny him the privilege and walk away, but his networks were still vast, and for whatever reason, he still had many loyal associates whispering delicate underground information into his ears.

If I were to grant this request, I could have my own man follow him and report his whereabouts. I might get far more interesting information out of the deal—incriminating information. It paid to be a few moves ahead of my father. He was getting far too comfortable as my parasitic house guest.

I unfolded my arms and leaned against the mahogany desk to my right, maintaining my neutral mask.

“No promises. If your information is as good as you say, I’ll speak to Kellan on your behalf this week. Whatever his stipulations are, you’re going to follow them to the letter of the law, or no deal.”

He met my gaze, holding me in an unyielding stare-off for a lengthy minute, then his tired face broke out into a wide smile.

“Excellent!” He beamed, taking a seat on the austere velvet chemise couch in front of me, patting the seat beside him.

I perched on the end as he reached over and grabbed a thick manila envelope of documents. He took out a single sheet and handed it to me.

“ It’s to do with the Rodriguez merger. If you look in the rest of the file, you’ll find some very damning information.”

His triumphant grin turned malicious, unveiling the true man lurking beneath the skin. A man who yearned to plunder and pillage for ultimate power, destroying all good things in his wake.

I tore my gaze away from his sickening smile and skimmed the dossier with growing interest. Veronica and Vicente had dirty hearts and even dirtier hands.

Which would only be a good thing for me.

“Teams are in place, Ms. Lane.”

The tinny voice crackled through my earphones as I monitored the security screens in front of me.

“Thank you, Joey.”

Josephine, my most trusted vehicle driver, was also a key driver of my operation—the closed-door underground operation that kept many of the key players in this town in check.

I wasn’t a single vigilante like Bruce Wayne in Batman. Only a man would be foolish enough to risk his entire empire in a plastic suit.

I had teams. Men and women, elite soldiers, who pledged allegiance to me for a fat paycheck and an entitled sense of justice in a city where there was none.

Tonight, we were going to deliver a powerful message to the very justice system that had a penchant for evil.

“Proceed.”

My clipped command echoed over the speakers as my strongest Alpha team—two ex-Marines and an ex-CIA operative—barged into the mansion of the Honorable Henry Cowan, Carlisle’s most dishonorable judge.

Bla ck blurred figures swept across my screens, and their body cameras captured the quiet home as they moved into the judge’s home office—the office where he was currently entertaining two underage girls.

I hated the time between the moment I had the right information until the moment we could actually go in for the kill. There had been times where we weren’t fast enough to catch these sick fuckers in the act, and those failures weighed heavily on my heart in their aftermath.

But my information for tonight had been accurate; my hacker had tapped into Cowan’s security feeds, so I knew with certainty the sixteen-year-old twins, still mostly dressed, hadn’t yet been assaulted.

Unfortunately, I hadn’t been able to stop them from snorting the coke put out for them, so my window of opportunity was now.

A shriek filled the speaker, followed by an indignant “what the fuck!” as Anita, Blake, and Sammy moved into the luxurious den of iniquity. Sounds of muffled grunts and scratchy scuffles resounded around my dark room, followed by more shrieks and then, a howl of pain.

I switched back to the hacked security feeds, since the body cameras weren’t grabbing the angle I wanted, and watched Judge Cowan become fully incapacitated in Sammy’s hold, his tiny hard dick dangling in front of his pants-less body.

The twin brunettes whimpered, shivering from the coke and adrenaline behind Anita and Blake’s bulky forms. My soldiers gently ushered the girls out of the room and into the quiet hallway, leading them back to the nondescript vehicle parked discreetly off the property.

It was a primary rule of the missions: Remove the victims from the premises immediately.

Som etimes, they were brought back to their families—to parents desperate for their return and grateful for our interference.

In other cases, the children were hidden from their families—families who bartered their bloodlines for quick cash or hefty favors. My teams took those to a private facility to heal from their trauma and build skills to start a new life away from the people who’d sold their own souls.

And those families … well, we dealt with them very differently.

Sammy held up a speaker to our sexual predator, as instructed.

“Hello, Cowan.” My velvety voice filled the space as the man spewed futile obscenities. “I’m sorry to have interrupted your party.”

He knew my voice; of course he did. No one in the higher echelons of Sequoia society was unfamiliar with my feminine tone.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

This was the ultimate downfall of the ego of a man. Even in the most powerless position with their literal pants down, they didn’t understand when they were truly bested. They couldn’t humble themselves enough to beg for their lives.

Not that I would kill him tonight. That would be too quick a punishment. Blackmail was a far more effective tool for diminishing a man’s fragile image. Why kill him when he could lead me to the entire ring?

Once he stopped being useful, then he would meet his end. But keeping him alive didn’t mean I wouldn’t take a trophy to mark the occasion.

“You know what I’m doing, Your Honor . Balancing the scales of justice, taking out one sexual predator at a time. I know you love taking law-defying risks. Care to place a wager?”

The sizable man twisted in Sammy’s grasp, but he was no match for the muscles upon muscles built by Sammy’s intense training sessions. He gasped from exertion before spitting out an aggravated “fuck you.”

Still no groveling, no sense of shame or defeat. It just wouldn’t do.

“A barter, then.” Cowan couldn’t see the malicious smile that crossed my lips, but it was a beautifully dark and dangerous grin.

I was careful in my boardroom. Ruthless, but fair. Brutal, but respectful. Here, behind the hidden door of my secure panic room, I could unleash my demons on those who deserved it and bend them to my will.

It was the ultimate feeling of power.

“I won’t be taking your life tonight, Your Honor—but make no mistake, that’s what you deserve. Who knows when you’ll be useful in the future. I’m not one to waste an opportunity.”

I checked the body camera feed to confirm other members of my team had made it back to their vehicle and our packages were secured. All the while I ignored the tirade of the terrified man as he called me a cunt and a whore, and all manner of other words meant to cut down a commanding woman.

I was a cunt with purpose. A whore for justice. A bitch for power. And a slut for a good fuck when the need struck. Sticks and stones, you miserable sociopath.

“Unfortunately for you, I require a sacrifice in exchange. Your days as a sexual predator are over. And while I’d like to trust you at your word, you’ll understand why it has no meaning to me.”

“What the f–”

Sammy wrenched the sniveling man down to the hardwood floor, and pinned him in place in a hold I had yet to master. He took out a sharp blade from his leg holster and he ld it menacingly over the pudgy rolls of the judge’s stomach.

“Wait! No!”

Finally, raw fear replaced the indignance in Henry Cowan’s tone, but it didn’t matter. He could have begged for his life at the beginning with an appropriate sense of humility; this would have still been the inevitable outcome.

Sammy waited for my signal, but I held off a minute longer, giving the disgusting excuse for a man one solitary moment to hand me a clue.

“The man you really want is Alvarez! Alvarez supplies the girls!”

Bingo. Alejandro Alvarez, the only mafia fucker who could rival Antonio Carlos, was now moving into Sequoia territory. Until now, I’d had nothing to do with Antonio or Alejandro, but I knew a group of men who did. They dallied on delicate tiptoes with the scum of our society, while I worked to scrub the scum off every surface it touched.

I didn’t care who the motherfucker was. If Alvarez was supplying unwilling girls and women in my state, he was officially on my hit list. Literally.

I pressed the button on the console in front of me to alert our private medical team, then clicked the signal for Sammy to proceed.

The man had long mastered the art of amputation. He sterilized his hands with a tube of medical-grade sanitizer and removed an ice pack from the small sack on his back, slowly and meticulously, all the while keeping Henry Cowan still as stone between his legs.

I admired his raw strength and skill from afar. It was a reminder I needed to up my training sessions later on in the week.

My best soldier made quick work of removing the judge’s penis, and placing it delicately on the waiting ice pack. He placed a black absorbent micro-fiber towel beneath the gaping wound to absorb some of the oozing blood on the floor.

Throughout the procedure, Cowan screamed in visceral agony, his wails and howls obliterating any background noise on my feeds. How convenient he had drugged and seduced young girls in a fully sound-proofed room.

“A medical team is on their way, Cowan. Should you choose to cooperate, they will stop the blood loss and reattach your pathetic excuse of a sex organ. But you’ll probably never come again. Let’s just call this a precious lesson in self-restraint.”

Sammy packed up his things and knelt beside our victim’s squirming form, holding the speaker closer to his ear.

“You’re mine now, Judge . I have all the tapes—enough evidence to ruin your career and put you in maximum security for the rest of your life. When I call, you’d better answer.”

Sammy left the makeshift torture chamber, and once he was out of the house, I cut the security feeds and turned off the body cam footage. My teams knew what to do, and I trusted them to get it done. They didn’t need me anymore tonight.

Tonight’s mission had given me a name; the toxic piece of human filth who sold bodies and stole souls. It was time to dole out the punishment for his crimes.

I’m coming for you, Alvarez.