by Piper Stone
“I assume you have propane in that tank under your grill?”
“Yes, that I’m certain of.”
“Good.” I gave him a daring look, trying not to allow my gaze to fall to the bulge in his jeans. My mouth watered from the memory of sucking him. Tasting him.
Get a grip. He’s your enemy.
My little voice was a good reminder to stay in my lane.
Alejandro. I would keep the soldier’s name in the back of my mind. At some point, I would go to the police, although I wasn’t certain which city or state. He and his glorious family likely owned everyone from Texas to Florida. After he left the room, I set about searching through the various cabinets. Everything was pristine, obviously unused. After pulling out a cutting board, I plopped the hamburger on top, finding an entire cabinet of spices. What I would give to have a kitchen like this to cook in. The dishes I would create would be amazing.
I thought about his soldiers located outside and grimaced, yanking another two pounds of ground beef from the refrigerator. Before I closed the door, I marveled at the amount of food that would likely get thrown away. I’d been lucky to spent fifty dollars a week on groceries and the amount of food he owned was likely topping a thousand. I didn’t want to look in the freezer for fear of sticker shock.
After finding a five-pound bag of potatoes, I set about chopping them into French fries. If the man was used to having a gourmet meal, I would enjoy watching him eating something that was considered a feast in my little world.
He returned only a few minutes later with the bottle of wine in his hand, refilling my glass. While he remained quiet, that was more unnerving than if he was peppering me with questions. A lump remained in my throat, my mind foggy from his presence alone. But I refused to give into the temptation or the fear.
After getting everything ready, I found a pan large enough to hold the oil for the fries, pouring some of the liquid into a small bowl. When I grabbed a paper towel and a tong, that’s when he finally spoke.
“What are you doing?”
“Seasoning the grill. Since you’ve never used it, I need to rub oil on the grates.”
He narrowed his eyes, sweeping his gaze across the platter of hamburgers. “You’re hungry.”
“Not that hungry. I thought I’d actually make some food for your minions. Or do you starve them?”
I wasn’t certain whether he was angry or just frustrated. “That’s… very nice of you to do. You don’t have to. I pay them very well for their duties.”
“Uh-huh. Maybe treating them like family since they’ll take a bullet for you isn’t a bad idea.” I whisked around him, taking several shallow breaths as I headed for the patio. Everything about the man was disconcerting. I knew at some point a fuse would blow. I concentrated on what I needed to do. Turning on the grill. Waiting until it heated. Sliding the oil-soaked towel across the surface.
And all the while, he watched everything I did.
There was such electricity sparking between us that I had difficulty breathing. I couldn’t stand to look at him. Everything about him was far too desirable.
“Would you like some music?”
His question seemed so odd to me. I doubted he even turned on his expensive stereo or watched television, although I’d counted six up to this point and I doubted I’d seen every room in the house.
“Sure.”
“What would you like?”
“Why don’t you choose?” I gave him a look of defiance before I walked past him, returning to the kitchen. The items I’d requested were already waiting for me, the soldier able to follow rules. I couldn’t imagine their lives. Working for a crime syndicate couldn’t have any kind of life expectancy.
As I continued preparations, I thought about the man in the car. My vision was twenty-twenty. I could tell he had a bullet in his brain. I’d realized that if we’d been just a few inches to the left, the assassin would have killed both of us. And I was forced to comprehend that Vincenzo had likely saved my life. What I didn’t really understand was why. I could offer him nothing, but he would soon figure that out.
When Vincenzo didn’t return to watch over me, I was able to relax. I was also surprised at the music he’d selected. Country music of all things. Really? Nothing could have surprised me more than hearing Trace Atkins’ voice. Maybe the man had more surprises than I realized.
When I was ready to grill, I took the platter of meat and cheese outside. I faced another surprise. He’d actually lit a candle, placing it on one of the tables. Maybe the man had some romance buried deep inside his rugged terrain. I realized I couldn’t seem to stop shaking as I grilled the hamburgers, placing pieces of cheese on top as if this was an every night occurrence.
He’d yet to return, but I heard his angry voice. Who the hell was he grilling now? His anger was explosive, the same kind of rage that I remembered and could no longer tolerate. When everything was ready, I waited in the kitchen for a few seconds before making two margaritas. I wasn’t certain why I bothered. This wasn’t a night of romance. Maybe I was testing him on every level, pushing his buttons until he exploded, finally divulging his full intentions.
Or maybe I was just in need of a nice night.
I laughed as I reached for plates, hissing when I pulled one into the light. The single porcelain piece cost more than my entire collection of kitchenware. I’d seen paper plates. That was going to have to do.
“Can I help?”
His voice sent skittering sensations down the length of my body. “You can call in your minions whenever you want. I’ll take everything for us outside.” I avoided looking at him, my legs stiff as I tried to walk outside.
When he hadn’t arrived in a few seconds, I sat down. I certainly wasn’t going to allow the food to get cold. Fuck him. If he didn’t want to eat, so be it.
I’d already taken a bite of my cheeseburger when he sat down in front of me, swirling the margarita then pulling it to his lips. His hesitation made me laugh.
“I assure you that I didn’t find rat poisoning under the counter.”
Vincenzo sighed then licked some of the salt off the rim before taking a man-sized gulp, studying me as if I was some kind of alien.
“Dig in. Cheeseburgers are best when they’re piping hot and sloppy.” I took another bite, dragging my tongue across my lips as the mayonnaise dripped down my chin.
A smile crossed his face as he studied the feast in front of him.
“I assume you know what a cheeseburger is?”
He cocked his head, giving me a stern look. “I haven’t been living in a vacuum, Acadia.”
“Good to hear. I was wondering. Homemade fries with Lawry’s Seasoned Salt. The only way to eat them. Oh, and they were double fried.” I was jabbering again. Damn it. That had to stop.
He looked at my plate then squeezed some ketchup onto it, obviously just realizing I’d used paper instead of fine china. I noticed the grin crossing his face. I also couldn’t take my eyes off the mayonnaise he hadn’t noticed now stained his sculpted chin.” For a few seconds, some delicious and filthy images rushed into my mind.
Hell, no. I wasn’t going to do this.
After taking a single bite of my burger, I noticed he’d eaten more than half. “I take it you’re enjoying?”
There was something entirely different about his expression as well as his demeanor. He was relaxed, actually enjoying himself. I didn’t think that was possible. “This is probably the best meal I’ve had in a long time.”
“Sure it is,” I said then grabbed two fries, stuffing them into my mouth.
“No, I’m not kidding. I should use the grill more often.”
“Yes, you should.”
We remained quiet but I couldn’t take my eyes off the damn drips of mayo on his face. Finally, I eased my burger onto the plate, grabbing my napkin. When I stood, he bristled and I was the one to give him a hard look. “Give me a break. You have mayo on your chin.” When he lifted his head, the lights over the pergola high
lighted his chiseled cheeks and strong jaw. I was instantly pulled into a vacuum of desire, forcing myself to inch closer, leaning over then wiping his face.
He grabbed my wrist, his breathing ragged. I could tell by the look in his eyes what he wanted to do to me. At that moment, I wasn’t certain I would mind. Swallowing, I purposely looked away. “I’m glad you like it.”
While he allowed me to sit down, I could tell he’d turned his full attention on me, his eyes piercing mine every time I looked at them.
“How did you get involved with music?” Vincenzo asked, the tone of his voice sincere, as if he gave a shit.
“I’ve always loved music. I think I came out of the womb singing. My mama told me that I was a little ham, always trying to grab attention. One Christmas, she gave me a keyboard. You know, one of the cheap ones. I had no idea she’d saved up for almost six months to be able to purchase it for me. After that, she couldn’t get me to stop singing.” I realized tears had formed in my eyes. I damn well wasn’t going to allow a man like Vincenzo King to see my sadness. I took another bite of my cheeseburger, struggling to keep from sobbing.
“You’re an excellent vocalist.”
Laughing, I wiped my mouth before being able to look him in the eyes. “That had to take a back seat to earning a living.”
“Which was?”
“What do you care? My guess is that you’ve never worked a hard day in your life.” I could tell he bristled from my comment. Who cares? He’d lived an amazing life surrounded by all the goodies that money could buy.
He took a deep breath, his hard, cold stare piercing through so many layers of my armor. “You’re right. I’ve never worked a day job or at a fast food restaurant, but I assure you that I was required to earn a living. I was simply making conversation.”
I could only imagine what he was required to do. Maybe I didn’t want to know. “Fine. If you must know. I worked in a food truck not once but twice.” I realized I was laughing after issuing the words.
“Why is that funny?”
“Because that’s where I learned to grill the perfect hamburger. At least I think it’s perfect.” I didn’t want to look at him, to be drawn into his gorgeous eyes, but I did. There was something so enigmatic about him, the draw I felt not just about chemistry, a level of passion that I couldn’t understand or explain. A crazy little part of me wanted to get to know more about him. That sounded stupid even thinking about it.
“You did a good job. Best cheeseburger I’ve ever had.”
Why were his words thrilling on any level? They were, a series of butterflies erupting in my tummy. I purposely looked away again, finding it hard to continue eating.
“Tell me about your past,” he said quietly, shoving four fries into his mouth.
I almost laughed. I couldn’t imagine that he’d ever eat with such vigor. I didn’t want to answer the question, but I knew there was no way of avoiding it. “You mean the part where I grew up in a trailer park, my mama forced to work three jobs to try and pay the bills? Or would you prefer to hear about my stepfather, a piece of shit asshole who enjoyed beating my mother while her young daughter watched but couldn’t do anything?” I took a sip of my drink, able to hear his ragged breathing.
“What. The. Fuck,” he huffed.
“Yeah, my stepfather was a drunk who couldn’t keep a job, but he took out his woes on my beautiful mama until she was no longer pretty from his beatings. I will say,” I said then took a purposeful bite of my burger, “I enjoyed the day I threw him out at knifepoint after punching him a few times. I wanted him to have a reminder that he couldn’t hurt us any longer.”
The quiet between us was deafening.
“You are kidding me.”
“Does it look like I am? Sadly, my mama died only two years later. I was seventeen but lied so I wouldn’t be taken into child services. I left good ole Pennsylvania after that, refusing to look back. I was gonna be a star. It’s funny how nothing ever works out the way you want it to.” I’d suddenly lost my appetite, tossing the rest of my burger on the plate. “I know you don’t care. You don’t have to. Your life as a king has been grand, devoid of strife.”
I sat back in my seat, flustered from saying the ugly words. I hadn’t told anyone the story in as long as I could remember. I wasn’t feeling sorry for myself, but something about the experience over the last couple of days had brought back all the old fears and feelings. I watched as his entire expression changed, darkening.
“You’re right, Acadia. My family had money and I had all the precious things any kid could ever want. I also had the best education, an allowance that allowed me to fuel my need for toys, and if I asked for anything, it was right there for me. But do you want to know something funny?” He was the one who took a dramatic pause, enjoying his final bites of his cheeseburger before lifting his glass. There was something so sad about the way he looked at the liquid, as if the man was searching his soul.
“Okay. I spilled my guts so why don’t you do the same?” I asked in such a soft voice that I wasn’t certain he heard me.
“When I was younger, I didn’t give a shit about the trinkets, although as you would imagine, I expected them. I also wasn’t the best student, landing my ass in trouble more times than I could count, flunking out of two schools. It wasn’t that I didn’t like school or couldn’t learn. It’s that I wanted my father’s attention. Sure, my mother doted on me, but that wasn’t enough. I wanted the great Sylvester King to give a shit about his middle child. The sad truth was that other than being admonished for my bad behavior, he didn’t give a shit. He was far too busy to care about anything or anyone.”
While his words weren’t necessarily all that compelling, and I certainly didn’t feel sorry for him in the way he likely hoped I would, I did feel such a sense of sadness coming from the depths of his being. No wonder the man was haunted. “I’m sorry. I never knew my real father. My mother refused to talk about him, and after a few years I stopped asking.”
He sighed then sat back in his chair, tossing his napkin. “We all have crosses to bear, Acadia. I can’t imagine what you went through. If your stepfather is still alive, I’d like to meet him in a dark alley. He’d never be able to hurt anyone ever again.”
“You can’t solve everything with violence and murder, Vincenzo. That’s not… life. That’s horrible. While I’m still angry, I did my best to try and provide a decent life for my mother until her death. I like to think she was happier, although I heard her crying most nights even after I tossed the asshole out the door. I don’t know. Maybe she was pining away for the kind of love we’re all looking for. Well, at least I’m looking for.” I laughed nervously, turning my attention toward the pool. I’d never imagined I’d be sitting in a glorified mansion, staring out at something so pristine and beautiful.
But all for the wrong reasons.
“You’re right in that violence doesn’t solve everything, but it’s often necessary in order to provide protection for people I care about as well as for my business.”
“Your family’s business.”
“Yes, a business that I do respect my father for providing and building over the years. He sweat blood and tears in order to do so. I try to remember that.”
“My God. You make it sound ordinary, like your father is a doctor or lawyer.”
“What do you think we do, Acadia?”
“You run drugs. That’s what you do.”
He laughed, taking another gulp of his drink. “I will admit that a certain portion of our business would be considered illegal; however, a significant percentage of what we do is entirely legal, including our diamond brokerage firm. We own two popular clubs, one in New Orleans and one in Key West. We handle export of valuable goods for various lucrative clients and all that is on the up and up. What you’ve witnessed in Galveston is just a small portion of what we do.”
“If you’re trying to convince me you’re a good guy, I’m not certain I can buy it.”
“I’m
not trying to convince you of anything. The simple truth is that I don’t need to. Let me ask you. What do you think the Los Pirados do to earn money? Sure, some of them have jobs, but not substantial enough to allow them to live the kind of lifestyles they’ve chosen for themselves. They sell drugs. From what I’ve heard, before the King family came along, they did so to minors. That’s not something we will ever allow.”
“Does that make you better than them? Hmmm… I have to think about that. And for the last time, I’m not a part of them. I never have been, and I never will be.”
“Then why was Pedro so damn insistent on getting you back? Was it possible that you were actually two men’s main squeeze, providing services for them on a regular basis?”
I’d never been talked to in such an egregious, horrible manner. I reacted, unable to keep my rage at bay, tossing the rest of my drink in his face. “How dare you! How fucking dare you say that to me. The man who took me from my home, forced me into a compromising position by threatening my life and you dare to accuse me of fucking those pieces of shit? Fuck you.” I jerked up from the table, the force of my actions bumping the table, sending the plates flying in his direction. What the hell did I care? He could clean up the mess.
And why the hell did Pedro care about me? Sure, he’d made a nice offer, his call coming out of the blue. I hadn’t kept in touch with him. He was much older, only around during the first year and a half my mama had been married to the cold, heartless freak. The fact he knew my cell phone number should have been the first dead giveaway not to trust him. But I had few options, just about to live on the street since I couldn’t find a singing gig. I’d moved to Maryland, thinking that was far enough away from the memories.
I’d been wrong.
Then Pedro’s call had been a beacon of hope. Come to Texas. I know some people. What a line he’d used on me. Maybe he’d wanted to mold me into becoming a drug runner. That wouldn’t have surprised me in the least. Hell, the man had pushed Angel at me as if the asshole was a godsend instead of a gambling idiot.
Why did I feel like I was being used as a pawn? Was Pedro capable of coming up against the King family? From what I’d seen, there was no way. What I had learned just before Vincenzo had slithered into my life was that Pedro had been worried about something, enough so that he forbade me from stepping on the club’s property for the time being.
