Until Death (Queenmakers #2)

Prologue

CATRIONA

“Is that black car following us?” I’d twist around to get a better look at the driver of the car behind me, but I don’t want to be too obvious.

If I could get away with evasive maneuvers, I’d try, but the last thing I need is for SENATOR GALLAGHER’S DAUGHTER ARRESTED ON TRAFFIC VIOLATIONS to scroll across tonight’s breaking news.

Said senator would be less than pleased.

“Stop being so paranoid, Cat. No one’s following us,” my younger sister, Elizabeth, says as she flips down the passenger visor to reapply nude gloss to her pouty lips. “I know it’s a shock, but not everyone is obsessed with you.”

I frown, certain that a car has been on our tail since we left my house, then glance in the rearview mirror. My best friend, Yasmine, meets my eyes, then rolls hers. She shrugs and glances covertly behind us, her tight black curls floating in the jets of air from the blasting heater.

“She’s right. I don’t think they are. They just turned at the light,” Yasmine says.

“Thank you,” I say, as my fingers tap out an anxious rhythm on the steering wheel. Yasmine sends me a quizzical look, probably wondering what the hell is wrong with me, but she doesn’t press when I give a subtle shake of my head.

Thankfully, she’s a forgiving and discreet soul who not only kept her mouth shut about my current obsession but also didn’t say a word when I showed up the fateful morning after my truly idiotic plan went disturbingly awry.

And by awry, I mean I landed in the bed of a man with a dubious background, experienced the phenomenon of multiple orgasms, and left before he could wake up and realize I’d escaped.

I seriously doubt any explanation I’d given would’ve stopped him from putting those big hands around my pretty little neck.

This time, probably not in a way I’d like.

I push thoughts of Aiden O’Connor from my mind. It’s over. I’m never going to see him again, and I got what I wanted. There’s nothing else to think about. Absolutely nothing at all. No reason he’d want to track me down.

Punish me.

Nope.

“Hello?” Elizabeth asks in her singsong voice.

She snaps her fingers for emphasis. Twisting in her seat, she flicks a look at us both.

“Why did you two even make me come today if we’re going to spend it driving around in circles?

I’m starving, and you promised you’d take me out for lunch since I couldn’t hang out with Rue and Iris. ”

“What?” I ask, wiping my hands on the skirt of my baby-pink long-sleeved sweater dress and blinking at the street signs even though I’ve lived in New Orleans my whole life. “I wanted you to come. I’ve barely seen you, and it’s your freshman year at Tulane.”

She works up a fleeting smile. I can’t tell if it’s genuine or if she’s just trying to placate me so she can get this lunch over with. “I’m sorry, you’re right. I don’t mean to make you feel bad. We’ve both been busy.”

I swallow back my automatic rebuttal and cover my guilt. I should have been home. Should have made a point to carve out time for her. I never seem to have enough time for her. Is that why she always seems resentful now?

“You realize that is the third left turn you’ve made, right?

” Yasmine interjects before I can panic-wallow.

“Who Dat is on Burgundy Street. Perhaps both of you should eat lunch before this turns into World War III. You get hangry if you skip meals. So let’s focus on the road signs and use our nice words, okay? ”

I swallow hard, and this time when I study the rearview mirror, I’m looking past Yasmine’s concerned face to the black car I could’ve sworn has been tailing us since we left campus.

Maybe Elizabeth is right, and I’ve just grown more paranoid.

Hard not to after what happened the night before Halloween.

And God knows Elizabeth won’t want to hear anything once I mention our old house or its connection to our mother’s death.

She never wants to talk about her anymore.

So I swallow back all the secrets I’ve been keeping, triple-check that there’s no black car in traffic behind me, and white-knuckle it the rest of the way to the café.

During our meal, I think I’ve convinced them my paranoia was nothing—until Yasmine tugs on my elbow as we’re walking out of the restaurant a couple of hours later.

Elizabeth weaves down the sidewalk with her phone pressed to her ear, blithely chattering to someone on the other end.

She spent most of the meal swiping through her phone and glaring at everyone.

The ever-present tendrils of guilt in my stomach twine even tighter.

How many more secrets will there be between us?

“Seriously, I wasn’t going to ask questions because you came back in one piece, but you’ve been off ever since, and it’s been months. You don’t need to tell me what happened, but I need to know that you’re okay.”

Yasmine has been my friend since I transferred to St. John’s Prep in third grade.

We both shared an obsession with 2000s Usher, abhorred seafood (which is practically illegal in Louisiana), and agreed that purple was overrated, but we could share pink as our favorite color.

I’ve never kept a secret from her in my life—let alone one so big I want to burst.

“I’m probably just being paranoid, like she said,” I reply, tugging on her arm. “It’s nothing. Too much time spent watching the news.”

She resists my attempt to get her to move. “You hate the news, so I know you’re lying. Tell me why you’ve been acting like the FBI is tracking you.”

“It’s probably not the FBI.”

Her mouth falls open. “What the hell did you get into that night, Catriona? I thought you said everything was fine.” She lowers her voice. “No one saw you… did they?”

“What do you mean by no one?”

“The more you talk, the more bullshit I smell. Hurry before Elizabeth realizes we’re walking at a glacial pace and harasses us some more. I swear that girl has an attitude problem no number of beignets will fix.”

To be fair, Yasmine had tried to talk me out of my plan that night.

But once I got the idea in my head, there was nothing she could do.

Because all I care about is learning the truth about my mother’s death.

The police say it was an accident… but I’m not so sure.

I was convinced I could find clues at our old house, where she was found.

The only problem? The Irish businessman—or at least, that’s what everyone believes he is—who bought it.

My plan to crash the charity masquerade celebrating the opening of his hotel and casino had been dumb, not that I’d admit it to Yasmine, who would probably say I told you so.

No one was more surprised than I was when I caught his attention.

I nearly dropped my champagne glass when we’d locked eyes across the room.

If this had been a love story and not a tragedy, it would’ve made great TV.

I was supposed to go to the party, sneak away when no one was watching to find my mother’s phone, and be in and out of the house before anyone noticed me. What I was not supposed to do was spend the night with him.

Then, sneak out before he woke up.

“I slept with him,” I say, bracing myself for Yasmine’s reaction.

She laughs—and I freeze in the middle of the sidewalk, because that’s not the response I’d been expecting. Recriminations, maybe. But not laughter.

“Good one, girl. Please. You would have told me before now. I asked you a thousand times if something happened, and you told me, of course not.” She does a double take when she realizes I’m not next to her.

There’s a pause when her smile dies, and her brows draw together.

“Catriona, c’mon. Tell me you didn’t keep that from me. Be for real.”

I can’t force the lie out of my throat.

Her laughter trails off, and her brown eyes grow serious. “Catriona?” Her voice wobbles.

Guilt swirls in my stomach. I’ve never kept anything from her for this long.

For one, I’d been terrified to say anything at first, certain that Aiden was going to track me down.

And then, because I didn’t know what to say.

How do I explain to her the things I saw?

What I did? If anyone would understand, it would be her, but I didn’t even know how to explain it to myself.

“It’s why I’ve been a little paranoid. I couldn’t deal with everything that happened, and I ghosted him after.”

“Ghosted him?” She turns in a tight circle, hands shoved in her curls, laughing uproariously.

“And I thought sneaking into the masquerade was crazy, but I swear to God you’ve gone off the rails since your—” She cuts herself off before she can finish the sentence.

We both freeze for a second before she continues.

“I can’t believe you slept with him.” Another pause, and I school my face, trying to hide my fears.

“Why would he be following you? Is there something else you’re not telling me? ”

I should tell her. The me before that night would have spilled my guts in a heartbeat.

Before I’d witnessed a murder, slept with the killer, and decided I should keep my mouth shut.

The person who’d entered law school intent upon sticking to her laurels feels a million miles away from the person I am now.

One willing to break laws to mete out justice.

It’s because I love her that I don’t tell her.

Yasmine is a good person from a good family.

I’ve spent as much time in their house as I have in my own.

The Baptistes don’t deserve to be tainted by this.

Especially not Yasmine, who has stuck with me through everything.

She has enough going on with medical school; she doesn’t need to bear this burden on top of everything else.

So I swallow back the truth that wants to spill free and shake my head. “No. I never told him my name. There’s no way he knows who I am. I didn’t talk to anyone else. Besides, I honestly think he’s forgotten about me. I’m sure it’s just anxiety.”

She believes that lie a lot easier.

But I still watch my rearview the entire way home to make sure.

He didn’t come looking for me. It’s been months. The night we spent together must already be a distant memory for him. He probably doesn’t even think about me.

I couldn’t have been more wrong.