by Penelope Sky
The Skull King
Skull #1
Penelope Sky
Hartwick Publishing
The Skull King
Copyright © 2019 by Penelope Sky
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Prologue
Balto
Two Years Ago
The Mediterranean style mansion was several miles outside of Florence. Tucked away behind lush landscaping and a limestone wall, it was carefully hidden in plain sight. The iron gates with his family seal integrated into the metal were left wide open.
Tensions ran high.
This was the deal of the century.
Lucian was getting what he wanted.
As was I.
But we were exchanging two extremely valuable things, commodities men would sacrifice anything to get their hands on. Neither one of us wanted to give up what we had, but we also needed what the other offered.
Instead of meeting in a neutral, third-party location, I agreed to meet him at his estate. He might assume he had the upper hand, but I never went into a meeting without being prepared for battle.
Lucian sat across from me, a man nearly ten years older than me, with greasy black hair, sparse eyebrows of the same color, and lips so thin they looked like pencil marks. It made him appear constantly displeased. A gold cross hung around his neck, visible in the V neck of the shirt he wore. It was a hot summer day, humid as fuck, and it was no time to wear a suit.
I didn’t even own a suit.
Fuck that shit. I didn’t need a designer suit worth thousands to prove my worth. I could be buck naked, and people would know exactly who I was. They would know exactly what I was capable of.
He took one more drag of his cigar then put it out in the ashtray. “You first.”
I’d already agreed to have the meeting on his property, but that was because I was fearless, not cooperative. His limestone wall and armed men would be helpless if I decided to turn on him. I had every single man on this property targeted by a sniper, not to mention the man I’d brought with me to this rendezvous. I always came prepared—and I outsmarted my opponent before he even realized his lack of cleverness.
I pulled the box from my pocket and set it on the table in between us. We sat on the back patio of his home, a large area hidden from the sun by a thick overhang. There was a hammock to our left, a large patio seating arrangement to our right, and a huge pool with several naked girls splashing around.
I saw tits all the time, so I didn’t look.
The second Lucian spotted the box, his eyes widened with greed. His eyes needed several seconds just to acknowledge the ordinary box before he even reached for it. Like it was a bomb that could go off any second, he handled it with the utmost care.
“It’s just a diamond, Lucian. It’s not gonna break.”
His gaze flicked up, and that oily look in his eyes deepened into a callous expression. As an Italian, he had thick hair on his chest that contrasted against the gold jewelry he wore. He was a slimy man, a man who couldn’t get those women into his pool unless he paid them. “Sir Francis Drake took these from the Sentinelese off the coast of India hundreds of years ago. Only three in existence, these are no ordinary diamonds—but skull diamonds. So I will take my fucking time.” He lifted the box and popped the lid.
Inside the velvet lining sat the large diamond, carved perfectly in the likeness of a skull. Lucian wasn’t the kind of man that needed money, but he liked to collect expensive things nonetheless.
He stared at it for minutes, not to determine if it was genuine, but to appreciate its allure. “Beautiful.” He shut the lid then slipped the box into his pants pocket.
“Your turn.” I had all three diamonds, and the only reason I was giving up one was because Lucian had something I wanted. While he was a greasy man without a spine, he was brilliant. He knew how to construct special kinds of bombs, from small ones that were completely undetected, to large bombs that could destroy an entire city. They weren’t ordinary, instead specially designed so they couldn’t be defused once activated. They could be remotely detonated. And most interestingly, he created bombs that could be ingested. They could survive the lining of the stomach for twelve hours before the acid disintegrated them. But even those could be remotely detonated, exploding a man from the inside. The Skull Kings were a ruthless band of thieves and tyrants, but even we didn’t have access to that kind of fun. It would be an excellent torture technique, and it would also make it easier to conquer those who hadn’t been conquered before. Lucian was the only one with those explosives—and he was very selective about who he shared them with. It would give me an advantage my enemies would never have.
Lucian rose to his feet, not to retrieve his end of the bargain, but to dismiss the conversation.
My heart rate didn’t change. My adrenaline didn’t kick in. The move was anticlimactic because I expected this. Little was known about Lucian, including the validity of his word, so I didn’t arrive with high expectations. A man’s reputation always preceded him, and if he didn’t have a reputation, good or bad, that was never a good sign.
“We’re finished here, Balto. I got what I want—but you won’t get what you want.” A man of short stature, Lucian was only intimidating because of his obsession with explosives. There was no way to know where he kept them—or if there was a detonator in his pocket.
I didn’t rise from my seat, not finished with the meeting. “I don’t care how a man earns his living. I don’t care if he kills for a paycheck or he sells bread at a bakery. A man’s worth is dependent on his word. When the money, guns, and women are gone, that’s all we have left. Lucian, think about what you’re doing. Think about what kind of man you want to be.” My black T-shirt was thin enough to allow the slight breeze to breathe across my skin. My jeans felt a little loose because I wasn’t packing a weapon. I’d agreed to leave my pistol off the premises.
Lucian cocked his head slightly as his oily eyebrows rose up his face. “I want to be the man who outsmarted the Skull King. Now leave my property—and have a good day.” He extended his hand to the edge of the patio where the front of the house was located. My men waited there for me, prepared for anything.
I still didn’t rise. “My reputation precedes me—and I earned it. I strongly suggest you sit back down and finish this deal as planned.”
“Are you threatening me? You’re surrounded and outnumbered.”
“Am I?” I asked, maintaining the same calmness because that would only annoy him. The second a man got angry, he lost. And I was doing laps around this loser.
His eyes narrowed farther.
I waited for him to make the right decision and sit back down. He had no idea what was waiting for him at the front of the house if he didn’t uphold his end of the deal. Maybe he’d taken the most valuable diamond in the world, but he was about to lose something that couldn’t be replaced.
He chose wrong. “Leave. Now.”
I knew he wouldn’t shoot me because that would start a war he would spend the next decade fighting. But he’d crossed me because this exchange was personal rather than professional. I rose to my feet and left the table, walking beside him as we returned to the front of the house. My three cars were in the driveway, windows tinted and bulletproof.
We approached the gravel walkway as his armed men stood at attention, watching me closely in anticipation of a sudden movement.
“Leave,” Lucian said. “Before I tell my men to open fire.”
I walked to the middle car and opened the back d
oor. Handcuffed and bound, a man sat in the back seat with the same oily black hair. His face didn’t have a single bruise because he’d been treated well while in my captivity. But all of that was about to change.
I yanked him out of the car.
He started to scream against the gag that swallowed his words.
Lucian stepped forward, visibly pained to see his brother be yanked out of the car and pushed to his knees on the gravel. “Let him go.”
I grabbed a pistol from one of my men and pointed it at the back of his brother’s head.
“Fire!” Lucian ordered.
Before his men could do anything, each one was hit by a sniper. They crumpled, dead around him.
His brother shook as he rested on his knees, his back rising and falling as he breathed through the tears that grew in his eyes.
Lucian held up his hand. “Alright. I’ll give you what you—”
I squeezed the trigger.
His body fell forward, and he was dead before his face smacked into the gravel. His body fell with an audible thud, and his blood soaked the rocks surrounding him.
Lucian’s previously cool persona was long gone. He stared in horror at his only brother’s body, so much pain written on the surface of his black eyes. Instead of retaliating, he just soaked up the despair, taking in every single drop like a dry sponge.
“You paid for that diamond with your brother’s life—hope it was worth it.”
1
Balto
I sat at the bar with a full glass of scotch in front of me. Quiet conversations from the other tables hardly reached my ears because people kept their private business to themselves. It was almost midnight on a Wednesday, so all the honest and hardworking people were in bed asleep. Anyone drinking at this hour was a criminal.
Myself included.
I stared into the amber liquid that dulled the headache at the back of my skull. Booze was the cure to all illnesses. It killed pain, depression, and horrible memories. It gave men a reason to keep living when there was nothing else to live for. We looked forward to the next glass before we even finished the previous one.
Myself included.
I could drink at the Underground with my men or I could drink in the privacy of my luxurious home, but I chose to come here because it was my favorite spot. It was quiet, but not too quiet. It was lonely, but not too lonely.
I’d been too preoccupied with my drink to notice the woman who joined me at the bar. She sat perpendicular to me and toward the far edge. She faced a different wall, but her side profile was easily visible in the dim lighting. A martini rested in her hand, along with a pick holding two green olives. She stirred her glass then took a drink.
My scotch was forgotten now that my eyes were hypnotized by the beautiful woman drinking gin like water. Her lips were painted crimson red with lipstick, and the color smeared against the glass the second her plump lips came into contact with it. She had jet-black hair that was in loose curls around her face. It was long, stretching past her shoulders with a distinct shine that made it appear soft. Thick lashes sat just above and below her brilliant green eyes. The contours of her face were the most interesting, simply because her proportions were abnormally perfect. With high cheekbones, thick lips, and a feminine jawline that contrasted against her slender neck, she was a fucking beauty. Her olive skin was the perfect match for that black dress. The slender straps sat on her shoulders, keeping her tits pushed together with noticeable cleavage. Beautiful women like that didn’t sit inside bars like this, unless they were a prostitute.
But she was far too beautiful to be a whore.
I wished she were a whore. I’d pay any price to fuck her in the alleyway behind the bar.
She lifted her glass to her lips and took a drink.
That was when I noticed the enormous rock on her left hand. A single, sparkly diamond that was almost too expensive to wear. I knew diamonds well, and I could tell that particular diamond was flawless. A ring like that would cost millions—at least. So she had a rich husband who wanted the entire world to know she was taken.
Message received.
I was a man with no morals. I broke every single rule in the book, and there was no line I was afraid to cross. Vows meant nothing to me, and I’d bedded married women before. It wasn’t my problem if their husbands didn’t satisfy them. It wasn’t my problem that they preferred me for the night over the man who put that ring on their finger. I didn’t think less of them for wanting something different since monogamy was unrealistic and cruel. But I wouldn’t go out of my way to hit on a married woman—even one as beautiful as her.
I finished my glass then asked the bartender for another. When I looked up, I spotted the woman looking at me. Her green eyes were even more beautiful when they were focused on me. Like two jewels in a treasure chest, they shone brighter than the wedding ring on her finger. She swirled the liquid in her glass then brought the cocktail pick to her lips so she could suck one of the olives into her mouth. She chewed it, keeping her gaze on me, and then took another sip.
Was that for my benefit?
She continued to sit there alone, sexy as fuck, and her eyes kept moving in my direction. They drifted across my face, my shoulders, and my muscular chest. Sometimes she looked away, but her gaze always came back to me.
I took that as an invitation.
I grabbed my drink and moved into the stool beside her, smelling her the second I got close. Her perfume was potent, and if it were mixed with her sweat, it would probably be the most intoxicating smell on the planet. Now that I had a better view of her, I could see her crossed legs stretch out from under her short dress. Her sculpted calves led to tight thighs. She wore sky-high heels, and her waist was so slender, it was surprising how big her rack was.
My cock was so hard it wanted to burst through my zipper.
I got a better look at her face now that I was this close to her, and I found her to be even more alluring. The dim lighting made her more hypnotic, but she was definitely stunning. Even with the lights turned all the way up, there wouldn’t be a single flaw on this gorgeous woman. As any other man would, I pictured her on her back, her legs spread wide, my cock ramming her deep and hard while I watched her tits shake.
I drank from my glass as I studied her features, unable to believe a woman like this was real. I’d been with beautiful women before, all over the world. Sometimes I paid for sex, and sometimes I got lucky. But none of them had her special quality, a quality that made her seem unreal.
She held my gaze without the slightest hint of being flustered. She sat with her back perfectly straight and stirred her glass as she looked at me, just as confident as I was. She didn’t fill the silence with unnecessary conversation.
I spoke first. “What’s a beautiful woman like you doing in a place like this? Dressed like that?”
“Dressed like what, exactly?” She held her drink as her gaze became subtly threatening, like she wouldn’t refrain from punching me in the balls if I said something she didn’t like.
“Like you’re trying to torture every man who looks at you—including me.”
“I’ve always been a bit of a sadist.” She drank from her glass until it was empty, then finished off the last olive.
What I wouldn’t give to be that olive.
“I’m meeting someone.” She motioned for the bartender to make her another drink.
“Your husband?”
“No.” The corner of her mouth rose in a smile as if the suggestion were ridiculous.
“A lover?”
“No.”
“Me?” I asked, hoping the suggestion was right.
“You wish,” she said with a chuckle.
“You were the one eye-fucking me. And let me say, I’ve been eye-fucked a lot in my life—but never that intensely.”
When the bartender handed her the fresh drink, she took a quick sip then turned back to me. “Well, you’re pretty eye-fuckable.” She set her glass down and looked at me again, n
ot the least bit ashamed at what she’d said.
I’d been with a lot of women. Talked with a lot of women. But I’d never had a more interesting conversation. “How about just fuckable?” I lived a few blocks from here. We could walk to my place, get sweaty in my sheets, and then she could go back to her wealthy husband.
She rested her fingers on the stem of the glass, her nails painted black like the color of her dress. Everything about her was sexy, from the warm color of her skin to the shape of her fingernails. “As you noticed, I’m married.”
“But not happily married.”
“What makes you say that?”
I looked her over, seeing the dullness in her eyes. A woman like that wouldn’t be out alone if she had someone decent waiting for her. Maybe she married the guy for money. Maybe she was only a trophy wife to him. Maybe it was all just bullshit. “Everything.”
She turned her gaze back to her drink and stirred it again. “No, I’m not happily married.”
“Then come home with me.” I didn’t even ask for her name, but I didn’t see the point. One night of passion with a stranger didn’t require a name. We could get lost in each other and not think about the following morning. She could forget about her worthless husband, and I could forget about all the bullshit going on in my life.
“It’s tempting, but I can’t.” She stopped stirring her drink then turned back to me, showing the same level of confidence as before. There was a hint of sadness in her eyes, like it pained her to turn down the offer. “You’re too beautiful to die.”
“And who would kill me?”
“My husband.”
It didn’t matter who her husband was. I wasn’t the least bit scared of some asshole with a thick wallet. I was the most notorious criminal in this city. He’d be so terrified that he would watch me fuck his wife. “I’ll take my chances.”
“My husband is a very powerful man.”
