Defiant Queen (Mount Trilogy #2)

I rock back on the skyscraper heels, my mind spinning at his answer, and sputter out a retort. “Because you probably have something on all of them, and they’d do whatever you say. Isn’t that how life works for the infamous Lachlan Mount?”

He unlaces his fingers, presses both palms to the desk, and rises out of his chair just enough to bring us eye level. “You’re exactly fucking right about that.” His voice is deep and rough, as though daring me to challenge him again.

I open my mouth to snap something back, but he keeps speaking.

“Don’t question me when I tell you that if I married you today, you’d be legally mine.”

It’s not the implication that he killed my husband or had him killed sometime between last night and this morning that sends me stumbling back a step. No, it’s the very thought of Mount dragging me before a judge or priest to marry him that scares the living hell out of me.

I find my balance and my backbone, squaring my shoulders. “Good thing we both know that will never happen.”

That familiar smug smile tugs at the edges of his mouth. “Never say never, Keira.”

I tear my gaze away from his and spin around, needing to get out of the room as fast as humanly possible on these skyscraper heels. When I reach the doorway, he speaks again.

“Your clothes for work are in my closet. Keep the plug in for another hour, and don’t stay at the distillery too late. I’ve got plans for you tonight.”





Mount





Keira slams the office door behind her, and the grin I’ve been fighting spreads across my face. No closing the door with a quiet and meek click from my Irish hellion.

I reach for my cell phone and scroll through the messages I’ve missed and my secure emails, but I can’t concentrate on a single fucking word. My gaze keeps dropping to the floor where she knelt before me, and then shifts to the surface of the desk I bent her across.

Keira’s scent still hangs in the air, and my concentration is well and truly fucked. I shove out of my chair with a disgusted grunt before crossing the room to engage the lock on the door—which I still find laughable she tried to pick with a hairpin—before turning to the left to trigger the hidden exit.

As soon as I step into the interior hallway, the tension riding me lessens a few degrees. I force myself to head for my other office since my library is out of the question because of her.

I’m almost to the entrance when I spot J heading in the same direction.

“Is everything okay, boss? You haven’t been answering your messages.”

“What do you want?”

“There are some very angry Mexicans who demand you call them immediately. The situation from last night has turned into a mess.”

I use my thumbprint to disengage the lock. When the interior door to my office slides open, we both step into the room. “I don’t need to explain shit to them, and they don’t get to make demands. This is my city.”

J takes a seat across from the desk. “How long do you think you can keep them under your thumb? The cartels aren’t going to let you maintain control forever.”

“Let me maintain control? Is that what you think is going on here?”

“They’re gaining even more power. No one else has kept them in line like you, but what if the balance shifts?”

I curl my hands into fists and plant them on my desk. “The balance isn’t shifting. I keep them in line because no one else has the leverage on them that I do. The fact that they don’t make a move without my say-so isn’t a fucking accident. You know that.”

J has been with my crew long enough to know more about the secrets I keep and the resulting blackmail than anyone, except possibly V.

“I’m just saying, we need to be smart. Maybe not pissing them off by hanging up on them after you killed a lieutenant might be a good plan next time.”

“And you think kowtowing to them would do more to show that I don’t give a flying fuck what power they think they have? This is my city. I make the rules.”

J leans back in the chair. “Don’t take this the wrong way, boss—”

“You know I kill most people who start a sentence like that.”

“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t be the loyal friend I am if I didn’t tell you that you’ve been distracted lately.”

The distraction being referred to is Keira, and it pisses me off that J dares to bring her up. “Tread lightly.”

With both palms in the air, J attempts to placate me. “I’m not saying it’s bad, I’m just saying . . . she’s got a hold on you. I’m worried she’s fucking with your head. The others, it was like they didn’t exist once you moved on, but this one seems different. If I see it, who else sees it? You’ve stayed on top because people don’t just fear and respect you, but because you’ve made sure you have no weakness to exploit.”

I narrow my eyes on my second-in-command. “I still don’t have a fucking weakness to exploit, and this subject is closed.”

J nods, respect in the movement. “Yes, sir. When you have some free time, there are several decisions waiting for you to sign off on. Let me know when you want to go through them.”

The implication that I’m not staying on top of my business because of Keira infuriates me. “Right now. Let’s knock it all out. Neither of us is leaving this room until every single outstanding item has been covered. You think I’m distracted? You’re fucking wrong. Nothing has changed.”

Even as I say the words, I know I’m lying.

Everything has changed.





Keira





I still have exactly one outfit from which to choose, but the only difference this time? It’s in Mount’s closet. I suppose I could attempt to turn one of his custom-tailored shirts into some kind of fashion statement, using a fancy tie for a belt.

The thought crosses my mind for all of two seconds before I take the black-and-white striped dress from the hanger and slip into it. Once again, it’s designer, expensive as hell, and fits like a dream. Oh, and the accompanying lingerie actually includes a thong and a beautiful lace bra this time, so that’s a plus.

When I open the door to Mount’s suite, V is waiting outside. He silently delivers me to work—sans hood—and I keep the plug in for the prescribed hour before sneaking into my bathroom to remove it. Then I bury myself in work and deal with one thing after another until I can almost forget this morning.

Almost.

I’m a widow.

It shouldn’t be a startling realization considering I’ve believed that for months, but knowing that it’s only now true is a completely different situation.

I should feel sorrow, or something, for the fact that Mount “took care of” Brett sometime after he left last night and before I woke up this morning. But, truthfully, all I feel is relief.

How terrible of a person does that make me?

I can’t even blame it on Mount’s influence, because after my first encounter with him in this office, I remember thinking that if Brett were still alive, I’d kill him myself for putting me in this situation. And last night, when he was describing how he’d kill my family, I wanted to rip the gun from his hand and unload every bullet into his chest, except for maybe saving a single shot to put right between his eyes.

I brace my elbows on my desk and drop my head into the cradle of my hands.