Page 46 of Vicious Kingdom (Dynasty of Queens #3)

T he elevator glided up and up, thirty-eight stories in a black-mirrored tube, and every floor it passed had that distinct little shiver.

There was no reason to feel uneasy. Here, I was safe; Leo wouldn’t let anything happen to me.

I kept my eyes fixed on the numbers, but Leo’s hand never left the small of my back.

His thumb traced back and forth, soft and gentle, and for the briefest seconds—maybe only in the hush of the elevator’s glow—I let myself imagine we were just people, going home together.

It was almost real.

But reality threw a harsh glow over the otherwise mundane setting.

His discovery in the bathroom meant the secrets swirled around us.

I thought I could keep him from seeing my body, from realizing what happened.

Shame radiated through me. The logical thing to do was to tell him everything.

Hell, he might be able to fix the problem!

Years of abuse kept my tongue tied.

How could I admit how bad things were? Leo would look at me differently.

I let my fears and insecurities keep the chasm between us wide. If I admitted the truth, he would look at me differently. A man like him didn’t want a broken, fragile wife.

No, I had to stay strong, brush off the incident. So far, I’d managed to throw Leo off the scent. And I just had to keep the secrets bottled tight, evading the truth until it vanished.

Leo was warm behind me, heat radiating through that immaculate suit. I resisted the urge to lean into him, to let him hold me upright.

I am strong.

His voice low and promising, whispered, “We are almost there, cara mia. Just a few more seconds.”

His lips brushed the top of my ear, and I shuddered, not just from the ache still locked in my muscles but because it was all so normal, and I knew that never lasted.

The elevator doors opened. Our hallway was empty, the lacquered wood floors lit up by inset LEDs that gave the whole space a permanent midnight, even though outside, the city shimmered with an unsleeping glow. I dug the key from my purse, but Leo’s fingers curled around my wrist, stilling me.

I snapped my attention to him.

He was tense. His head angled toward the door to our penthouse suite, nostrils flaring. I’d seen it before—the mobster focused on details I didn’t catch. It was a terrible look, the animal-brain reading a ripple in the atmosphere. Something was off.

He leaned close. “Stay behind me.”

He moved me without force, just a subtle pivot, his body between me and the door.

The other hand was already at his side, fingers to the pistol I knew was under the jacket.

Other girls might see it as a threat. To me, it was just an extension of his arm, a tool, a thing he might need.

I pressed myself against the wall, heart hammering so loud I was certain it would tip off whoever was on the other side.

He inserted the key and twisted the handle, slow enough to be deliberate, fast enough that no one inside would hear the scrape and have time to react. He edged the door open with his foot and the gun came up, ready. My pulse went totally silent; I could hear the blood moving in my skull.

There were five of them. Feds. All in variations of the same blue-black suit, all with the same haircut, the same jawlines, the same dull, patient look I’d seen a hundred times in news footage. They filled our entryway, feet spaced for balance, hands empty but in position.

For a split second, Leo looked bored. The barrel of the gun angled down, just a hair.

“You could have called ahead,” he said, and it almost sounded like a joke, but the temperature in the room said it was not.

“Mr. Baldwin.” The one in the front was heavyset, his badge already out. “We need you to come inside. Quietly.”

“No warrant?” Leo’s voice was silk, but the smile never reached his eyes.

The agent held up a sheet of paper. “Judge signed it earlier tonight. New evidence. You know how it is.” He actually tried to smile.

Leo read the first line, then flicked the gun’s safety on, tucking it back into his holster.

“We’ll take that.” An agent held out his hand.

Leo’s face darkened. A muscle in his jaw ticked. He dropped the clip, jacked the bullet from the chamber, and presented the handgun to the man in an open position.

My heart shuddered. It was utterly simple, disarming this beast.

Leo stepped forward, shoulders broad, and the agents instantly drew tighter together, a human net ready to close. I heard myself make a sound—a little, involuntary gasp, nothing dignified about it.

I have to do something!

Leo turned to me, just for a heartbeat, and in that look I saw a warning to stay calm. He tilted his head, a little old-world gesture, like he wanted to kiss my hand or brush hair from my eyes.

“It’s all right, Annaliese,” he murmured. “They won’t hurt you.”

“We only need you, Mr. Baldwin,” the agent agreed. “Your wife can remain here.”

The desire to rush at the smug, robotic faces rushed through me. I wanted to claw at them. How dare they invade the sanctuary of our home!

“I’d like to call my attorney,” Leo said smoothly.

How he remained so calm, when I knew the explosion pulsed under the surface, was beyond me. He was far more violent than I was, but there he stood, holding back his wrath.

“I’m afraid that’s not how it works. You’ll be permitted to call your attorney. But you’re under house arrest, effective immediately.” The leader took a step forward.

Leo’s jaw locked so tight I thought his teeth might snap. But his voice stayed calm, even gentle.

“You can’t do this!” I found my voice. “He hasn’t been tried and sentenced.”

“He’s a person of interest, and we can’t have him escaping.” The agent’s face was as unreadable as a slab of wet concrete.

“It’s fine,” Leo said, and for a moment, there was a pulse of command in the air that almost made the agent seem powerless.

But then he was handed something. An anklet. A tracking device, sleek as a fitness band but with a lock that looked industrial, final—binding. The agents didn’t bother pretending it was anything else.

“Please lift your pant leg, Mr. Baldwin.”

The scream for him to fight this clawed up my throat.

Leo remained still for a heartbeat, before he bent and rolled up the cuff of his pants.

He wasn’t fighting. He couldn’t! I clenched my jaw tight, angrier than I ever had been.

Leo wasn’t a menace to society. There were real threats out there!

And due to some sick, twisted game of power, these men were focusing on him.

The energy swirling off the mobster was dark and violent.

He held still as the agent approached. The man had to have a death wish to come at him like this.

But Leo didn’t flinch as they clamped the thing around his ankle, but I saw the muscle in his cheek tick once, then go still.

The agent who did it was a little too rough, like he wanted to prove a point; the metal made a cold, wet sound as it closed.

“Charming,” Leo said.

“You’re confined to the premises. Leave, and the response team won’t be so polite.”

Leo shook out his pant leg. His nostrils flared. Whatever this game was, he was a master player. His suit was perfect. For all the world, he looked like a man ready for a business meeting, not a sentencing.

The agents retreated. I heard them debrief in the hallway, the echo of boots on polished wood, then the elevator opening and closing.

After closing and locking the door, I watched Leo from the foyer, but he stayed where he was, head bent, hands unmoving.

When I stepped toward him, he didn’t look up.

My lion…my champion! Ready to defeat my demon but easily caged by his own.

I reached to touch his shoulder. I expected heat, or maybe the shudder of violence under the surface, but his body was so cold and so collected it scared me.

“Leo,” I said.

He looked up, and his eyes were wilder than I’d ever seen them. Wild, but not broken. Just the opposite—there was something in them that scared me more than a gunshot: a glint of calculation, of hunger, like the moment before a predator launches.

I slid closer, pressing myself against him, and wrapped my arms around his shoulders.

“They can’t hold you. They have nothing.” I wanted it to be true, and because I needed him to believe I did.

He let out a slow breath. It was the sound of someone who’d held it for years, waiting for the right moment to exhale. He reached up and laced our fingers together, the chain between us a private thing no one else could see.

“It’s temporary,” he said, and I didn’t know if he was talking to me or himself. “The dealer always gives us a new hand; we are merely players.”

But it felt like forever as we stood there, the metal band gleaming in the foyer light.

The house was so still, after. Even the HVAC seemed to sense the wrongness in the air, shutting itself off in sympathy with our nerves.

I stood in the foyer and watched the doors, expecting them to open again, for some other nightmare to step through.

But all I could hear was my own blood thundering.

“Come,” Leo said. He shook himself, and in that moment, he remade himself into the version that nothing could touch. He led me up the wide staircase. There was no limp in his step, no evidence he’d been branded with a government shackle.

It made me more than a little sad when we passed the master bedroom.

But it was my own damn fault. I’d drawn a line in the sand, choosing to sleep in the guest room night after night, too chicken shit to ask him to come back and share the bed.

Only…I did sneak into his room. It was the only few hours I slept.

Leo steered me to the guest suite. I paused in the middle of the room, suddenly so tired I thought my knees might give out. He didn’t say anything. Just helped by unzipping the back of my dress.