Queen Never Cry novel · Chapter 11 of 32

Chapter 11: The Hug

"It's a trap," Garret said for the third time.

He stood in the doorway of his loft with his arms crossed.

"Hester said the same."

"Then why are you putting on lipstick?"

"Because I'm going anyway." I capped the tube. "She's going to hug me, or smile at me, or cry on me.

"And something will be in my pocket at the end of it."

"You know that?"

"I spent twenty-six months beside a woman who lifted wallets on the Red Line for thirty years."

I turned from the mirror.

"She taught me to feel a hand in a coat from across a room."

He uncrossed his arms.

"I'll park a block away with the engine running," he said.

"You'll park at the end of the drive."

"I'll park wherever you tell me, as long as it's close."

I kissed him once, short and fast, to see how it felt to leave someone behind who meant it.

It felt dangerous.

The Roarke house stood on Sheridan Road in Lake Forest, behind iron gates and a double row of lanterns.

It was a stone mansion with a slate roof and eleven chimneys.

Desmond had bought it eighteen months ago for four million dollars, a number I was fairly sure I could trace.

A maid opened the door.

Inside, the hall smelled of roses and beeswax and money.

On a staircase wide enough for a parade, a girl in flannel pajamas sat on the third step with her chin on her knees.

"Mama!"

I crossed the black-and-white floor at a run.

She flew into my arms and the key bumped my chest.

"You came, you came, I knew you'd come, Daddy said you wouldn't."

"I told you I would."

"Can you stay for bedtime?"

"I'll try."

"Posy," said a bright voice at the top of the stairs. "Come away, darling, Mama needs to eat."

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