Black Collar Queen (Black Collar Syndicate Book 2) (10 page)

And just like that, the
commissioner pats Seth on the shoulder, and makes his way on through the crowd.
Seth watches him go for a tense minute, then Vera watches him banish that
tension as he turns to her with a reserved smile. She lifts a sculpted eyebrow,
and says, “What was your area of study, Seth? Ass or tits?”

He flashes a wolfish
smile, but his eyes don't leave hers when he says, “I'm a scholar of beauty as
a total package.”

She's about to return a
comment about his package when they're interrupted by some old bag of a rich
bitch. Vera recognizes the woman as the heiress of a military weapons
contractor, a completely stuck up cunt with more diamonds on than she has
friends in her life. Vera knows her, but the old woman doesn't know Vera, and
so she smiles at the Seth and then his pretty date.

“Seth, you look
ravishing, and who is this? She's a pretty thing.”

She lets Seth kiss her
cheeks in the socially acceptable way, and doesn't wait for an answer. “I was
wondering though, you charming little devil, if you've talked to Bethania
lately?

I've left so many
messages and she won't return my calls. I'm starting to worry about her.”

Seth bristles visibly
and Vera feels the edge that takes him. She can see the flash of anger in his
eyes at the mention of his aunt. Vera doesn't know the details of the
catastrophic event that left Mikie and Nicolette dead and prompted Seth and
Emma to leave to the country, but she can damn well bet from his reaction that
Bethania Morgan had something to do with it.

“I've been extremely
busy, Mrs. Akers, but I'm sure she's fine,” he manages to say without sounding
murderous, but only barely.
 

“Well if you talk to
her, tell her to call me,” says the old woman, and Vera wants to punch her in
the mouth for Seth's sake. She lets a nasty twist play on her lips as Mrs.
Akers meanders away into her delusion.

“What a bitch,” Vera
says.

Seth freezes, throws her
a glance. He hasn't told her any details about his internal family conflict,
but her tone tells him she has some ideas about what happened. She's seen this
look from him before, like he's searching her for something.

A few glasses and a
whole lot more shmoozing later, Seth's phone dings with a text. It's Emma; he
knows it. She's the only one with that sound. Part of him wants to ignore it,
to pretend he is just a rich playboy on a high-profile date with . . . with a
New York Times reporter.
 

He sighs, and slips the
phone from his pocket. He reads the message once. Twice. And then curses, not
quite under his breath. Vera eyes the phone questioningly. His dark eyes are
wide, earnest when he says, “I have to go.”

She can't quite hide
away the disappointment that falls over her features and sags her shoulders. He
frowns, and gently takes her arms in his hands, pulls her closer. For a moment,
she thinks he's going to kiss her, right here in front of everyone, but he
doesn't.
 

He just levels his gaze
at her, and says, “I'm sorry, seriously, but I can't ignore this.” “Family
business, right?” she asks with a hard edge.

He nods. “Trust me,
that's the only thing that could steal me away right now.”

She sighs, but covers
most of her disappointment as he escorts her to the exit. He doesn’t, and
seeing her frustration reflected in his eyes eases some of the sting that they
night is ending early. She’s startled when he pulls her against him in the car,
and even more startled when he seems content to do no more than hold her hand,
his fingers steady on hers.

Most of the ride back to
her house is silent, but just before they pull up to the sidewalk,

Seth says, “Thanks for
being my date. We'll look damn good on the cover of the papers tomorrow.”

He gives her a deflated
smirk, which she returns.
 

“I’m sorry, that I had
to cut it short” he adds.
 

She stares at him for a
moment, and finally, goes for the familiar, says with a smirk,

“Well, I guess you'll
just have to make it up to me that I don't get to fuck you at the end of said
date.”

He shakes his head at
her crudity, something he loves about her, and before he can act, she presses a
heavy kiss to his lips. It's a hot, fast thing that leaves his head spinning as
she slips out of his Bentley.

Chapter 13.
Morgan Estates. New York City October 24
^th

Everyone
Has Gone For The Evening
—the executive suites are empty and still, except for one. She’s
sitting behind her desk, legs crossed beneath her as she nibbles at her lip and
stares at the reports from accounting. She looks young and inexperienced in an
oversized sweatshirt, hair down around her shoulders.
 

Emma frowns at the
numbers. She knows what it should be——what it says. But the numbers aren't
adding up properly. She glances at Dom, sitting on the couch with his laptop
propped on his knees. The bodyguard looks absurd, all big body and huge hands
and tiny computer.
 

“Look at this.”
 

Dom comes behind her,
leaning over to stare at the numbers. It takes a few minutes— longer than it
took her, but still remarkably quick for a man whose primary skill is his use of
a gun.
 

“Someone is skimming,”
he says softly.
 

Emma nods, and the
bodyguard retreats to stand in front of her. The office is quiet— Seth's office
is dark. She shouldn't be here, but couldn't stand a charity event. Couldn’t
stomach watching Seth with Vera, playing socialite. She has always been like
Caleb in her distaste for schmoozing.

“What do you want to
do?”
 

She glances again at the
name on the report.
 

Johnny Hughes. A man who
came up under Mikie.

Rage crystallizes in her
veins. After the coup, Seth didn’t clean house. He wanted to give them the
chance to prove their loyalty. He called them together and gave mercy and a
clean fucking slate.

And this is how they
repaid him.
 

“Emma?” Dom asks,
shifting to draw her attention. She stands and pulls off the sweatshirt. Fluffs
her hair and smooths the white silk top over her gray pencil skirt. Then she
looks at Dom.
 

The smile she gives him
is cold and remote and terrifying. “Let’s go visit the docks.”

He opens his mouth and
Emma lifts her gun. It's not a threat; she likes and trusts him too much to
threaten him. But it is a reminder and his mouth closes again without
protesting. Instead, he follows his boss out of the office.
 

She should calm down as
they glide through traffic. But she sees the man at the family dinner, his
sneering dismissal of Seth and his greedy eyes, and all she can feel is rage.
They are facing threats on every side—Remi’s people are still a threat, and
word is filtering into the city from Cuba. There is even pressure from the
Thais, although Rama’s feelings for her are hardly something the syndicate can
handle.
 

There should not be
division within their own ranks, people willing to lie and steal. Mikie would
never have stood for it, and neither will she. She won’t tolerate threats to
Seth, not right now.

She taps a quick message
to him, and tucks her phone back into her purse. Then she settles against the
seat to wait, watching the city crawl by as they angle toward the docks.
 

Dom blocks her in with
his body as he pulls the door open and she glares up at the bodyguard. “Emma,
it's dangerous. You should not be here without protection.”
 

It's the wrong thing to
say. Her temper, already hot, flares. “Would you tell Seth that?”

Irritation fills Dom's
eyes briefly but he shakes his head. She steps out of the car, and he gives
ground. The alternative is to have her flush against him and that is not a line
he will cross, not with his queen.
 

Emma leans into him, and
he can smell the soft scent of perfume on her skin as she whispers in his ear,
“Do not coddle me, Dom. I won't have it.”
 

Her lips brush against
his ear and he shivers, and then she steps away.
 

The dock office is a
squat, solid structure. She doesn't bother to knock as she enters, just steps
into the dingy room with all the confidence of her position. Inside, Johnny and
four other men are clustered around a table covered in poker chips and playing
cards.

None of them are in
uniform.
 

There's a moment of
quiet, and Emma lets her gaze sweep them before Dom shifts behind her and the
four men scramble to their feet. “Get back to work,” she says, not bothering to
look at them. There is a heartbeat of hesitation and her gaze, coldly furious,
snaps over to the men.

She arches an eyebrow
and they move, almost amusing in their haste to obey.
 

Once the door swings
shut, Emma summons a smile, all easy warmth and loose limbs as she sits
down.
 

“Didn't know we was
getting a visit from the higher-ups,” Johnny says, leaning back and letting his
cards fall.

“Do you mind?” she asks,
voice soft and girlish. Johnny shakes his head. “I realized that we had
neglected you since our return. Mikie was always very attentive to the
operations here.”

“He knew we made the
family a good bit of money, ma'am.”

She smiles. “Yes. I saw
that when I was going over your reports. But I was also curious about a steady
dip in profits.”

Johnny's eyes narrow at
her and she props her elbows on the table, crossing her arms and leaning in.
His gaze skims down over her low neckline and she struggles to maintain her
temper. “The profits being reported each month have been dropping. Since April,
we've lost almost fifty thousand in this operation alone.”

“Business isn't always
steady.”
 

“Mmm; that's true.” She
smile, and Johnny’s tension eases a little. Her expression chills suddenly, the
demure princess gone as she taps the table with one fingernail. “But you messed
up, Johnny. If you want to steal from the syndicate, at least make it look like
we’ve lost business to account for it. As it stands, our warehouses are full
and we have four shifts of security covering half this dock. Profits should be
up, and they aren't.”

Anger flashes across his
face. “Are you suggesting I'm stealing from the family?”
 

Emma sighs, a soft noise
of regret, and reaches into her bag. Johnny tenses, his hand twitching toward
his gun. Dom takes a step forward and Johnny stills.
 

Emma smiles, putting the
folder on the table. “According to our records, the warehouses are at capacity.
You actually brought a proposal in June to expand the operation. That doesn't
explain a dip in business.” She tosses it across the table and Johnny catches
it. “I'm not suggesting anything.” She says coldly, “I know someone is
stealing. I think it's you—but even if it’s not, this is your division and you are
responsible for your men.”
 

Johnny drops the folder
and glares across the table. “Fifty thousand is nothing. That’s why it took you
so fucking long to notice it was missing. I've earned that money. I've given my
life to this family——I've been loyal. I've proven myself and done everything
the family has asked of me. And what? I was given this shit operation. And I
made it profitable—made the family a fortune.”
 

“Which would make me
wonder why you would risk this,” Emma says slowly.

“Because it doesn't
matter. The prince came home and it doesn't matter what I've done, how well
I’ve served. Seth would change everything. He didn't earn his place—he doesn't
even work the streets.”
 

Her temper breaks and
she snaps, “He is Gabe's son. You serve. He was
born
to this.”
 

“And that means less
than me choosing it? I deserve more than a pittance and an untried kid
controlling my life.”

“He is the king,” Emma
says, her voice tight.
 

“He isn't
my
king. I didn't join the syndicate to
follow a kid and his whore.”
 

Dom moves before she can
react, or even process the words. She hears a flat thud and a shout, rising
above the roar in her ears.
 

Johnny bounds to his
feet, swinging at the bodyguard. Dom dodges easily, wheeling in a roundhouse
kick. With a muffled roar, Johnny drops again.
 

“Stop,” she says.
 

Dom stills instantly,
glancing back at her with murder in his eyes. She stands and walks over to
Johnny. He glares up at her. All her feelings are raging, a riot of fury and
dread and disgust. “What the fuck did you just call me?”

“Nothing that you
haven't earned,” Johnny spits. “You must give amazing head, to have risen this
high. Everyone knows you fucked him—killed the Oliver girl because you were
jealous.”

She kicks him in the
face before she can think it through, her temper breaking. “You piece of shit,”
she snarls.
 

“He doesn't deserve it,”
Johnny gasps, and she kicks him again.
 

“
Enough
.”

She goes utterly still,
staring down at Johnny while Seth's voice fills the room. There's a subtle
tension vibrating against her skin, and she feels lost, suddenly, unsure of
herself and her position.
 

Is he right? How could she possibly deserve to
rule?
 

Seth clears his throat
behind her and she turns, leaving the older man bleeding on the floor. His nose
is broken, his mouth a mess of blood and spit.
 

Emma meets Seth's eyes
as she walks toward him. There is worry and fear, but it is tempered by the
fury raging there. She shivers—that look promises murder. He touches her arm,
gently, and she flinches away, Johnny's accusation ringing in her head. He’s
still wearing his tux.
 
From behind her,
there is a wet, broken laugh.
 

Anger flashes in Seth's
eyes. The gun is out and pointed before she can follow the motion. “Seth!” she
gasps, but he ignores her. Walks over to Johnny and crouches.
 

“If Mikie found you
stealing from him, he would kill you. You know that.”

Emma goes still,
suddenly very scared. Seth’s voice is low and even, and that scares her more.
“I won't kill you for that. I would discipline you for it——but I wouldn't kill
you.”
 

Sprawled on the floor,
Johnny relaxes a little as contempt darkens his eyes. Seth shifts, his gun
barrel pressed between the other man's eyes. His eyes bulge, and Seth's voice
lowers, a soft croon. “You'll die for insulting Emma. She is family, and my
equal, and you dare call her a whore?”

Rage fills Johnny's
eyes. “Fuck you, Morgan. You and that slut'll—”
 

The gunfire sounds like
a cannon, echoing through the small building as the man's head snaps back, a
small hole in the forehead. Gore splatters the ground, blood forming a pool.
Emma swallows a scream dying to break free, fighting to maintain a
dispassionate facade.
 

Seth crouches there next
to the dead thief for a long time, until she finally moves to him and touches
his shoulder hesitantly. His grip on her hand is tight, painful desperate.
 

“Cut his tongue out. Let
them all know what will happen if they cross me. Either of us.” Seth's words
are cool and remote, but they make her shiver. Dom murmurs an affirmative and
Seth sighs as he rises, tension easing from him. Frowns at the mess of blood
and brain. “Get his crew in to clean this shit up.”

He doesn't wait for a
response, merely steers Emma out the door, tucking his gun away.

He waits as she climbs
into the Bentley, then settles next to her.
 

Dark eyes meet blue, and
she flinches, looking away. She wants the last hour gone, those vicious words
unsaid.
 

Seth doesn't say
anything as they pull away from the docks. It is only when they stop in front
of her building and she moves away that he catches her hand. “I’m sorry you had
to see that.”
 

She stares at him, at
the dark eyes. There is still anger and danger there, the promise of violence
that scares her a little.
 

“We protect each other.
Always,” he says.
 

She nods, leans over and
kisses his check briefly. Pulls back and sees the shadows in his eyes before he
has a chance to hide them. “You ok?” she asks.
 

His barely-there smile
dies, and he gives her a sad look. “Killing should never be easy,

Emma. If you learn
anything at all, learn that.”
 

Concern makes her pause,
and Seth forces a smile. “Go.”
 

He waits until she is
safely inside her building, with its carefully selected Morgan security, before
he signals to his driver.