Mafia King: A Mafia Royals Novella

by Rachel Van Dyken

  She would kill him dead one day.

  And he’d only have himself and his sad little penis song to blame.

  “Hey!” a man yelled from the beach. Flashlights blinded us as more yelling ensued. “You can’t swim after nine!”

  “Lameeeeee!” Junior yelled. “Where’s my gun?”

  “I have a knife,” Valerian said helpfully while Violet sighed as if she were disappointed. “What? I do. How else can I protect you?”

  “Your fists,” King said stoically. “GOD, STOP YELLING!” he roared toward shore. “It’s like they don’t understand that it’s been weeks since any of us have killed someone.”

  Valerian snorted. “Speak for yourself.”

  “Showoff,” Maksim muttered.

  “Lots of blood?” Junior just had to ask while everyone leisurely made it toward the shore, ignoring the flashlights and yelling.

  “Meh.” Valerian shrugged. “Ask Ash. He’s the one who went in for the final kill. Damn knife got lodged between a few ribs.”

  “My favorite knife,” Ash swore. “Damn rats.”

  I grinned, loving it when they talked dirty because…hello, how else were we supposed to live this sort of life without having a nervous breakdown?

  Normalize it.

  Justify it.

  I didn’t say it was right. Or good.

  It was, however, necessary.

  “Get out before we call the cops!”

  “I am the cops!” Tank yelled, earning laughter from everyone.

  I mean, he wasn’t wrong.

  “Above the law, bitches.” Ash fist-bumped Tank. “Badge up, bro. We’ve got your back.”

  “FBI, FBI!” Maksim chanted, followed by Junior and King.

  I was surrounded by idiots.

  “Get out!” the security guard yelled again, and another one joined him.

  “Playing by the rules sucks,” I said, mainly to myself. “Hey, does this resort still have that super cheesy club?”

  “YES!” Junior pointed at me. “That’s the enthusiasm we need tonight!”

  We all rushed toward the shore in a naked blur, grabbing clothes, shoes, and running as Ash yelled out, “Twenty minutes!”

  The security guards started reprimanding us, but all it took was one look from Tank as he literally pulled out his badge from his trouser pocket, and both security guards shrugged, nodded, and walked away.

  Tank grinned and waved. “Gracias.”

  I held my dress to the front of my body while Maksim moved next to me in a drunken blur.

  “I’m too drunk...” Maksim stumbled in the sand. “But, hell yeah, twenty minutes… Wait, where are we going?”

  “I got him.” King laughed.

  Valerian helped King get Maksim to his feet, and off they went while I semi-covered my body even more and shivered toward my hotel room.

  “Hop on.” Tank stopped next to me.

  I looked down.

  He sighed. “Yeah, I meant my back.”

  I shrugged. “But you understand my confusion, right?”

  He gritted his teeth. “You’re not helping, Tiny.”

  “That’s one thing you are not…” I nodded. “Tiny.”

  “Get on before I get off from that pout,” he barked.

  My knees buckled a bit. “W-what?”

  His eyes gleamed. “Ah, so she does have a weakness.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “Sex.”

  “Pleaseeeeee.” I forced a laugh. “That’s so far from the truth that—”

  I was pinned next to the beach snack shack in a flash, heat vibrating from every part of Tank. “Oh?”

  “We’re going to be late.”

  “Mmmm…” He leaned in. “Scared?”

  “No.” I gave him a shove. “I just don’t like getting poked in the face with dangerous weapons.”

  He smirked. “I’m not that tall.”

  “You were an inch deep in my belly button. It got weird. We can both wash our eyes with bleach later.”

  “Nice try, Tiny. Nice try.” Tank started to turn around.

  I used the opportunity to jump onto his back and hook my feet around his waist. “Question, if I orgasm by rubbing across your back, would that be weird?”

  “Answer, if all it takes is my back to give you an orgasm—damn, girl, you’ve been doing it wrong this entire time.”

  I gasped and jumped off his back.

  And then I was silent as we walked back toward our bungalow.

  He didn’t turn around when we got through the front door.

  But I did hear the shower turn on.

  I was too stunned by his playfulness.

  By the fact that he wasn’t backing down despite my attitude, my teasing.

  It was like Tank had decided something.

  I just wished I knew what.

  Furthermore, I wished it didn’t make me think that he might actually have feelings for me that went beyond annoyance.

  I took a deep breath and went into my room.

  First, a shower.

  Second?

  A dress that would get me answers. I was the mafia, I could crack—even Tank.

  A smile formed across my lips.

  He felt like teasing?

  I’d be the biggest tease he’d ever seen.

  Chapter Seven

  Tank

  She was killing me slowly with all that dancing, her arms up over her head as she swayed in the middle of the club dance floor. Cheesy techno lights pulsed in time with the beat of the music as the screen behind her showed a music video of some catchy song I’d never heard before.

  Most of the girls danced with her.

  Ash came and sat on the barstool next to me, whiskey in hand. “I’ve never been more stressed out than in this moment.”

  I snorted out a laugh. “Because you just now realized that every single one of your cousins is drop-dead gorgeous, along with your own family, and any guy watching this would probably rub one off on the spot?”

  “Stop watching Annie,” he barked with a smile.

  “Please.” I rolled my eyes. “I like living, and you know I was never…we never…fuck, stop making this awkward, you dick.”

  Valerian snorted out a laugh on the other side of me, only to have Ash peer around and go, “My sister. Slept with my sister. Get me another drink, bitch.”

  “I’m a boss. I don’t have to—”

  Ash growled.

  “But sure, yeah, okay. Good idea.” Valerian shot to his feet and walked over to the end of the bar where two bartenders were working.

  “Never gonna let it go,” I murmured.

  “Never.” Ash’s eyes moved back to Annie as she drunkenly leaned against Serena and laughed. “Damn…be right back.”

  “Sure, you won’t.” I took another sip of my scotch and shook my head.

  My drink was nearly gone. I should have had Valerian get me another, but I needed to stretch my legs anyway.

  I was so damn tired.

  Not just physically but emotionally. Mentally. I hated that I was keeping things from Kartini almost as much as I hated that it was nearly impossible not to want her despite her un-canny ability to make me want to pull my hair out and then strangle her.

  My lips twitched as I walked up to the bar and set down my glass. I had to admit, it was pretty cool that besides the staff, we were the only guests there.

  “What will you have?” The dark-haired woman turned around and grinned.

  I glared, then looked down at her name tag. “Jennie?”

  She shrugged. “Scotch? Arsenic?”

  I gritted my teeth so hard I felt my jaw pop. “The hell are you doing here?”

  “We all have our jobs, Tank.” Giana batted her eyelashes. “And I’m here to finish mine.”

  “The hell you will.” I jumped to my feet.

  She just shrugged. “You have your orders. I have mine.”

  “Bullshit. They wouldn’t send both of us.”

  “They would i
f they had their suspicions you would get cold feet…again. Besides, when you look out there, what do you see?”

  I glanced over my shoulder.

  “I see criminals. Enemies. The problem with you, Tank? You’re so pathetically starved for love that you see friends.”

  “Touch any of them, and I’ll slit your throat,” I promised.

  She poured me a drink and slid it toward me. “Touch me, and it will be the last time you do it, Tank.”

  “I’m calling Thompsons…”

  She held out her cell and pointed the screen toward me. “No need. He’s already asked for my ETA. Seems like you’ve been played, little man. One has to wonder why the FBI can’t trust you anymore…then again,”—she looked around the room—“I guess you have your answer.”

  Confusion warred with rage. “He said it was my last job.”

  Nothing but the pulsing music, and then she grinned. “Exactly.”

  Son of a bitch!

  They were playing me.

  They all were.

  But I trusted Thompsons. He was the closest thing I had to a father-figure, a stepdad in his own right. He’d found me. He’d helped me learn how to project my rage at the age of fifteen when I’d had nobody. Both of my parents were killed, and Thompsons knew that I would need to channel the anger I felt at losing them so young. I ended up becoming one of the youngest FBI recruits in the history of the Bureau. Then again, the government needed someone who was close in age to the bosses’ kids—which meant I got to be the lucky volunteer.

  I balled my fists and slammed the countertop so hard, my drink toppled over. Then, I stomped over to Valerian. “You drunk?”

  “You okay?”

  “No.” I gulped. “I have to go talk to Sergio. You got eyes on Kartini?”

  He shook his drink. “Club soda. One of us has to stay sober.”

  I sighed in relief. “You got any men watching?”

  He just grinned. “Around seventeen associates are surrounding the club right now. I want them to have fun.” He sighed. “They deserve it before they’re forced to turn into…” His voice trailed off, and I knew he was referring to himself.

  Nearly overnight, he’d gone from a manwhore college student to the youngest boss of the Petrov Family in history.

  The weight of his family name was nearly heavier than Ash, Junior, and King’s combined. Then again, the Russians weren’t experiencing much peace at the moment, not with Valerian constantly having to prove himself over and over again.

  I didn’t even want to know how many people he’d killed in the past week.

  I was sure it was daunting.

  I slapped him on the shoulder. “I appreciate you.”

  He put his hand on my other shoulder and squeezed. “A word of advice?”

  I nodded. He leaned forward and said in a low voice, “Trust no one.”

  “Not even you?”

  “You’d be dead if you couldn’t trust me,” he said ruthlessly. “One day, you’ll have to decide if you’re willing to burn the world for one person or if your job means so much to you—your past—that you’re willing to fuck up your future. That’s your crown. That’s your baggage. That’s your cross to bear.”

  A chill ran down my spine as his eyes locked onto mine in warning.

  “Thanks, Valerian.”

  “Anytime.” He moved gracefully past me then, and my rage returned full-force as I thought of anyone hurting my family.

  Mine.

  I had no clue when they’d become mine, when I had started claiming them, when it had turned from a very lucrative job where I was backed into a corner with a gun pointed at my face to justifying crime, murder, and bloodshed.

  And all in the name of family—Family.

  My thoughts were dark as I walked back down the club stairs and into the main pathway that led to the bungalows the adults and younger children were staying in.

  Sergio had texted me his number for updates.

  And while I hated interrupting his vacation, I had to know.

  I knocked on number seven and didn’t even flinch when two men appeared behind me as if I would make a run for it.

  “Must you guys always sneak up on me?” I sighed. “It’s not like you don’t know me…”

  Dom flashed me a sloppy grin. “I just like seeing you flinch.”

  Ax chuckled next to him.

  “What? Are you guys gonna high-five now?”

  “Should we?” Ax asked.

  “I love a good high-five.” Dom nodded.

  I groaned and turned back just as the door jerked open. Sergio wore black silk pajama bottoms low on his hips, and his long, still-black hair fell across his massive shoulders. “This’d better be good.”

  “You look like Johnny Depp before the pirates.” I laughed.

  He growled.

  My smile fell. “It was a compliment!”

  He peered around me. “Are you two laughing?”

  “Never.” Ax choked on a laugh while Dom cleared his throat a million times.

  Sergio sighed and then opened the door wider. “Come in.” He jerked his head toward the two made men. “You two make another round.”

  “On it,” Dom said quickly as the door shut behind me.

  Sergio’s bungalow was twice the size of the one I was staying in with Kartini. With floor-to-ceiling doors that opened out to the beach, white furniture, a roaring fireplace near a flat-screen TV, and a spiraled wooden staircase that I was sure led to the several bedrooms.

  “The wife sleeping?”

  His glare said that they’d been doing something other than sleeping and that I’d interrupted.

  I winced. “Sorry, bad timing.”

  “When is it ever good timing to have an FBI agent in your bungalow?” He walked over to the bar. “Wine?”

  “No. I’ll be quick.”

  “You may need it.”

  “Then I want whiskey.”

  His chuckle was dark as his muscles moved and stretched. The man may be in his fifties, but he was jacked.

  Tattoos covered his chest, swirling down his massive arms as he held out a glass with one ice cube and two shots poured into it. “Speak.”

  “How long?”

  “Pardon?” He sat in the leather chair across from me. “You’ll have to be more specific. I can’t read minds.”

  “How long, Sergio?” I repeated. “Have you known?”

  His expression was impassive, and then he said, “Why else would I have you guard her?”

  I shook my head. “You knew they planned to kidnap her? And take her out by any means necessary to get you guys to talk?”

  He leaned back in his chair. “Serena’s a fighter, she would have probably beheaded one of them and laughed. Izzy’s not far behind. The rest of the girls are younger—they wouldn’t dare. But Kartini? Perfect little Kartini…she’s the perfect target, don’t you think? Related to basically every boss, Nixon’s niece, my daughter, Chase’s niece. Tex’s niece by marriage…Dante’s cousin…”

  I squeezed my eyes shut. “I couldn’t do it.”

  “Of course, you couldn’t. I knew they would one day ask it of you—that they wouldn’t be happy with you infiltrating the Families for the sake of feeding them information. Knew they’d get greedy—and my daughter nearly died because of it.”

  I froze. “I didn’t touch her.”

  “You didn’t…” He nodded. “You also failed to protect her.”

  I groaned and tipped back my drink. “Who did?”

  “That’s what I’d like to know. Were they FBI? Were they just in the right place at the right time? Did they have orders like you? Was it just horribly executed and not related? The trail begins and stops at the FBI. My only question is this…what do they have to gain by hurting my daughter, Tank?”

  I knew the answer.

  I knew it before it was even asked for me to kidnap her, bloody her up, make it look bad—and do it all at this wedding for all to see.

  I swallowed the
dryness in my throat. “War.”

  “Ah.” Sergio lifted his glass into the air. “Nothing the FBI loves more than when the Families are fighting amongst themselves…”

  “Shit.” I ran my hands through my hair, mussing it. “So that’s why I’m here watching her now? And you knew the FBI would send in agents, didn’t you?”

  “I assumed so, yes. They no longer trust you. You’re straddling a line that no longer allows you to touch both sides safely. One day, you’ll have to choose, and that day I’m afraid is coming sooner rather than later… Protect her, Tank—with your life. And then we talk.”

  “And if it’s my life that’s taken in order to keep her safe?”

  He was quiet, then he whispered, “Then I’ll give you a king’s burial and pray for your soul.”

  “Thought so.” I stood. “Sergio?”

  He looked up.

  “Did she have anything to do with the killings that day? At the beach?”

  “That…” His eyes were wild. “Is not my story to tell. I trust that the day Kartini feels she can talk to you about it is the day you’ll have to make your choice, Tank.”

  That’s what I was worried about.

  “Thanks for the drink.” I left my glass and showed myself out. My mood was dark as I traced my steps back to the club.

  The music was too loud.

  The night too long.

  Kartini danced around Annie now, swaying her hips left and right.

  And I snapped.

  Something fucking snapped as I stomped toward the dance floor, picked her up, and threw her over my shoulder.

  Most of the guys just gave me knowing grins.

  All but Valerian, who narrowed his eyes as if to warn me.

  “Put me down!” Tiny batted her fists against my back as I carried her down the stairs toward our bungalow. “Tank, I’m serious! This is ridiculous.”

  I slapped her on the ass and then groaned. “What the hell did I say about underwear?”

  “Forgot it all at home.” She burst out laughing as I gave her body another shake. “Hey!”

  “Bedtime,” I rasped.

  “What, I have a curfew now? God, you’re so depressingly oldddddd.” She kicked her feet as her heels nearly fell to the ground. “Hey, let’s go get a tattoo.”

  “And that’s why you’re going to bed.”