C.E. Murphy - Heart of Stone

“Like great outfits,” Margrit said with a tentative grin.

Grace turned a wry smile back at her. “All the cool kids dress in leather. Besides, it wears well, love.”

“We have no quarrel,” Alban said, making it a question.

Grace’s eyebrows, much darker than her hair, shot up. “I’ve never seen you before. I’ve got nothing against you, though…” She looked him up and down, ending with an appreciative leer. “Now that you mention it, I wouldn’t mind having a bit of something against you, at that.”

Margrit felt her shoulders rise again, the hairs on her neck bristle. She put her hands in her pockets and bit the inside of her cheek, dropping her gaze to the floor. Grace noticed the reaction and threw her head back in a startlingly rich laugh. “Prancing on claimed territory, am I? No offense meant, love. Just having a bit of a flirt.”

Margrit mumbled a disclaimer, then lifted her eyes again, avoiding Alban’s gaze. She could feel him watching her, curious, perhaps even hopeful. Just like a man, she thought. Maybe a little more sensitive than the average human male.

She tensed her biceps and forearms to shake away the thoughts. “On the one hand, it’s good you haven’t got a problem with Alban. On the other-” she hissed out a breath through her teeth “-it means Janx played me. I’m getting tired of that.”

Grace gave another laugh, this one short and incredulous. “You’ve dealt enough with Janx to get tired of him playing with you? You’ve got the luck of the Irish in you, girl.”

“Probably somewhere.” Margrit pushed her hands through her hair, ending up pulling her ponytail out as she turned, aimlessly examining the room and the young people in it. “Lost New York. All the places that got built over and forgotten about, but maintained some infrastructure.”

“What about it?”

“It’s your territory, isn’t it?” Margrit turned back to Grace. “Does Janx know you operate down here? Below the streets?”

She shrugged one shoulder eloquently. “Not so’s I’ve told him, no, but there’s not much Janx doesn’t know, especially what with him owning half the police force.”

A thin slice of cold cut its way along Margrit’s nervous system, Tony’s stolid expression leaping to her mind. Why had he pointed her at Janx? Why had he known the name-worse, perhaps, the voice? Could it be-

She cut off that line of thought, aching with unhappiness. They’d been together on and off for over three years. Anthony Pulcella was a good man and a good cop, if unlikely to stick it out through the rough times. But that was her fault every bit as much as his, and it certainly didn’t point to him being bought and paid for. His anger over her involvement with a murder suspect was justified, even if there was simple human jealousy compounding the problem. Margrit didn’t believe she could be that wrong about him, not after all the time they’d spent together.

“You’re a lawyer, Grit,” she muttered, not meaning the words for anyone but herself. “You’re supposed to be a good judge of character. Stop with the second-guessing.”

“Oh, hell.” Margrit looked up to see a combination of disgust and frustration in Grace’s eyes. “That’s where I’ve seen you. Knight. Margrit bleeding Knight, wandering right into my bloody den. Bloody hell.”

Margrit blinked. “You know me?”

“Of course I do.” Course came out with more of an accent than Grace had used before, dragged out into caarse . “You’re the lawyer knocking down my building.”

Margrit’s jaw dropped. “Me? I’m trying to keep a buil- your building?”

“Not mine.” Grace took a few long-legged strides away, covering as much territory at a walk as Margrit would have running. “Of course it’s not bloody mine, for all I wish it was. For five years, six, we’ve had a bloody base right beneath it, as close to a center of operations as I’ve got. We can get all over the city from there, fast. That building coming down is like dropping a bloody bomb on my work. These are good kids.” Defeat sharpened her tone. “Most of them are, whether they’re mine or not. It’s just the choices they’ve got are so damn bad. If I have to start over again-”

“Then you will,” Margrit said. “Because you know it makes a difference.”

Grace let out an explosive sigh. “And that’s why you do it, too, isn’t it, love?”

Margrit shared a rueful smile with the blond woman. “Some days, yeah.” She tucked hair behind her ear, chin lifting in thought. “Does Janx know about your place? Beneath the Daisani building?”

“Like I said, love, there’s not much he wants to know that he can’t find out. We try to keep quiet, but maybe somebody noticed us. We’ve used that space a long time.” Grace hooked her thumbs in her belt, rocking back on her heels as she studied Margrit. “If he knows…”

“I’ll find out,” Margrit said flatly.

Grace laughed again, more quietly, as if she knew without looking that some of the kids were sleeping. “And how’ll you do that, I’m wondering?”

“He owes me a favor, if nothing else. Maybe I can get the truth out of him.”

“He owes you? ” Grace kept her voice low, mindful of the nearby teens, but the tone changed to reflect disbelief. “How’d you manage that? ”

“By promising three unconditional favors in return.” Margrit made a face.

Grace rocked back. “That was a bad idea.”

“You don’t say.” Bad idea or not, thinking about it sent tingles of adrenaline through her system. “It’ll turn out all right. I hope.”

“I hope God himself will come down and give me the kiss of angels,” Grace said. “Hoping won’t make it happen.”

Margrit smiled curiously. “Kiss of angels. I’ve never heard that expression before. Sounds like a blessing.”

“Or a curse,” Alban murmured.

Margrit and Grace gave him equally sharp looks, Grace ending hers with, “You’re a quiet one, aren’t you? And I would be, too, if I were you. Look, I’m no enemy of yours and I hope you’re none of mine, but if you’ve brought Janx down on my head…” She shifted her weight, her hand drifting to her waistband. Alban rumbled deep in his throat, and Grace swaggered forward, challenging him.

“For God’s sake.” Margrit stepped between them, scowling up at Grace. “You wouldn’t really have shot me.”

Grace’s lips curled. “That’d be telling, love.”

“Janx scares you,” Margrit said, keeping her voice low even as Grace stiffened in offense. “He scares you, and I’m not surprised. He could ruin you. That’s enough to frighten anyone, even if they’re running a more legit business than yours. I will figure out what’s going on here and make it stop.” Determination hardened her voice and she found herself curling her hands into fists. “People are trying to bulldoze me every way I turn, and I am not going to let them do it. Even if I didn’t like what you’re doing here, you’re de facto on my side right now, so I’ll be your advocate.” A smirk fell across her face at the unintentional play on words. Grace snorted in approval, falling back a step.

“I will find a way to stop this.” Margrit shoved her fingers through her hair again, relaxing marginally as some of the tension ebbed. She was making that promise a lot recently, she reflected, and then sighed as she glanced around at the labyrinth of doors and tunnels leading from the basement chamber. “I’ll find a way to stop it,” she repeated. “As soon as somebody tells me how to get out of this room.”

Margrit was only half certain Grace had made the exit route more complex than necessary. Half certain; for all she could tell, every twist and bend they’d taken had been part of the shortest route to the street. They’d surfaced closer to Trinity than she’d expected, Grace leaving them with a nod. Margrit watched the platinum-blond woman disappear through a storm gate, then shook her head. “I hardly even thought she existed.”