Dark King (Advantage Play Book 2)

by Kelsie Rae

Digging my teeth into my lower lip, I watch as the trees whirl by in a blur. I don’t think D understands what that slack would mean for me, but I try to look at it from Kingston’s perspective.

  Hearing about Kingston’s mom breaks my heart. I can’t even imagine the guilt that would accompany his sister’s disappearance with a history like his. And D might have a point about Kingston feeling guilty for Burlone’s little goon’s visit with me too. I know it isn’t his fault. But I also know that Kingston doesn’t excuse situations like that without taking responsibility for every minor detail, regardless of his part in it. He knew the risks as much as I did, and we both underestimated our enemy. If Kingston was hurt and there was a possibility that my actions played a factor in his pain, you better damn well believe I’d be beating myself up for it. And I can only imagine he’s doing the same for me.

  After a few moments, I whisper, “Yeah. I can try to cut him some slack.”

  “Thank you.”

  My eyes widen in surprise as the sentiment leaves his lips. I’m slowly learning how hard please and thank you’s are you to come by with these two men.

  After soaking it up for a few seconds, I murmur, “Speaking of thanks…I want to thank you, again, for coming to my rescue last night.”

  Maybe I’m imagining things, but I swear I can see his olive skin turn a shade redder under his stubbled cheeks. “Don’t mention it.”

  We pull up to the side of the building near the decrepit parking lot of my apartment building, and D puts the car in park.

  As I grab the door handle, I say, “I’ll be out in ten.”

  “Nope. No deal. I’m coming in.”

  I roll my eyes before giving D a pointed stare. “Seriously? It’s not like the bad guy is still hiding in the shadows. It’d be highly unoriginal if he tried the same thing twice.”

  His mouth quirking at my terrible joke, D opens the driver’s side door and explains, “Consider me your very own shadow any time you’re out of the estate. Wherever you go, I go. You argue? I tie you in your room. Capiche?”

  “You mean King’s room?”

  “Yeah. Hell, I could kill two birds with one stone and say it’s his birthday present.”

  Snorting, I open the door and toss over my shoulder, “Whatever.”

  Packing is fast. I don’t own much, and I’m a little surprised how few things I really need. Within ten minutes, I have a small duffle bag thrown over my shoulder as we make our way back to the car.

  When I start walking across the parking lot in the opposite direction of D’s sedan, he calls out, “Where are you going?”

  “I need to talk to someone real fast.”

  Within seconds, he’s already caught up and matches his pace with my own, striding up next to me. “And who’s that?”

  “My friend,” I offer. Or one of them, anyway. I still need to figure out how to reach Gigi and tell her what’s going on while demanding an explanation from her too.

  Looking around the empty parking lot, his brows furrow, but he doesn’t comment as I approach the heap of human curled into a ball near the dumpster. I squat down and shake him softly.

  “Hey, Eddie.”

  Eddie startles before his weathered face makes an appearance, peeking up at me. “Hey, Ace. Where you been? I was worried ‘bout you. Stayed up all night waitin’, but ya never came home. I’m sure sorry I dozed off. I just couldn’t keep my eyes open for a second longer.”

  The remorse in his voice makes me smile.

  “It’s fine, Eddie. You need your rest. I just wanted to tell you that I’m going to go away for a little while, okay?”

  Eddie glances around me, noticing the giant bear a few feet away with his arms crossed over his chest.

  “Who’s that?” Eddie asks, suspiciously. “And what happened to yer face?”

  He might be a crazy old man, but I kind of love the protective part of him that insists on looking out for me. Resting my hand against his hunched shoulder, I try to calm him down before he tries to go all Rambo on a man twice his size.

  “That’s my friend. His name is Diece. Don’t worry, Eddie; he’s a good guy.”

  “He looks familiar. Have I seen ya ‘round here?” he calls to D.

  D takes a step closer to keep Eddie from shouting, then answers, “I don’t think so.”

  With squinty eyes, Eddie continues his assessment. “Nah, I think I’ve seen you around. Wasn’t you here the other day lookin’ for Ace?”

  “No.” D’s gaze bounces between Eddie and me as he voices his response with a sudden bite I’m not used to.

  “I coulda sworn—”

  “It wasn’t me. But if you see him lurking around again, give me a call.” D hands him a business card and a few quarters before turning toward his car and calling, “Come on, Ace. We gotta go.”

  I watch his back as he retreats before waving at Eddie. “He’s right. I’d better get going. I’ll see you later, okay?”

  “Sure thing, Ace. Sure thing.”

  Chapter Four

  Ace

  Jogging to catch up to Diece’s massive strides, I’m almost out of breath by the time I reach him.

  His demeanor is ice cold as he opens the passenger door and directs me inside. Once both our seat belts are buckled and we’re on the road, I turn to face him while paying attention to every minor movement.

  “Who was lurking around my apartment?”

  “I don’t know,” he grits out, the lie clear on his tongue.

  “Lie,” I call him out, even though he’s not privy to Kingston’s and my game.

  Quirking a brow, he glares at me before returning his attention to the road.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I said, that’s a lie,” I reply simply. “You do know, and now, it’s time for you to divulge the truth.”

  I watch as his forearms bulge with pent-up frustration, his knuckles turning white as they grip the steering wheel with both hands on ten and two like a good little driver.

  “Talk, D,” I push.

  With flared nostrils, he distracts me by asking a question of his own. “Did the guy who hurt you have any tattoos?”

  I take a second to think about the question, feeling a little whiplashed from the topic change but feeling generous enough to let him get away with it. “Um, yeah. A giant X on the inside of his forearm. Why?”

  The words are barely out of my mouth before D slams his hand against the steering wheel and yells, “Fuck!”

  I wince, confused by his response. “I take it you’re familiar with him?”

  “Something like that,” he mumbles under his breath.

  The silence in the car is deafening as I tilt my head and study a man I barely know, yet somehow trust. And that’s when I finally piece together the conversation with Eddie and D’s unusual reaction. Same eyes. Same mouth. Same strong jaw.

  Holy crap.

  “Eddie’s right,” I murmur. “You do look like him.”

  Again, D glances toward me then back to the road but doesn’t say a word.

  “So, who is he?” I press.

  “He’s no one.”

  “Lie. Tell me the truth, D.”

  The silence that follows is more telling than anything he could say, but I don’t let him off the hook by changing the subject. Instead, I continue to stare a hole in the side of his head, channeling my inner Kingston in an attempt to turn up the heat and make him crack under the pressure. I’m sick of always being kept in the dark. It isn’t fair they get to weed out all my secrets, and I’m left trying to piece things together on my own.

  After a few seconds, I watch his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallows thickly. “He’s my brother.”

  My mind reels as I try to make sense of the screwed up truth. “How is that even possible?”

  Like for real. How the hell is that possible? I thought family lineage was kind of a big deal in the mafia. Maybe I’m crazy, but I could’ve sworn that brothers couldn’t be on opposite teams. I almost snort as the thought
crosses my mind because let’s be honest, it’s not like they’re playing kickball during recess. Well, unless it involves drugs, racketeering, smuggling, and more. Still…Diece having a brother? And said brother beating the crap out of me last night? What the hell? There’s got to be a good story there.

  “It’s a long story,” he hedges, looking uncomfortable.

  Called it!

  “Yeah, I don’t give a crap if it’s a long story or not. I’ve got all day, D. Now, spill. How the hell did you each end up working for different families?”

  Exasperated, he gives in to my prodding. “Technically, he’s my half-brother. My dad and mom got divorced before I barely turned two, then she ran off, and he got stuck with me. He had a habit of visiting…prostitutes.” He forces the word out as if it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. “And got one of them pregnant. She ended up owing Burlone a shit-ton of money, so she gave him her only son then disappeared. Some people suspect that he killed her or sold her through the skin trade, but no one knows for sure.”

  The car goes quiet as I try to wrap my head around the information he just divulged. Damn, that sounds like a pretty crappy upbringing. I almost feel sorry for the guy.

  “Why would Burlone want a kid to take care of?” I probe, confused.

  He shrugs but gives me the best answer he can. “Rumor has it that he can’t have kids and was wanting an heir. He took two boys in within a few months of each other, and they’ve been fighting for his attention ever since.”

  “But how do you know he’s your brother? Other than the uncanny resemblance?”

  “Because my dad found out before Dex’s mom disappeared. She came to the Romano estate begging for money, but he sent her away. In the passenger seat, he saw Dex, did the math, saw the resemblance, and the rest is history. He even approached Burlone a year or two later asking for his son back, but Burlone refused.” The sadness in his voice is potent, making my heart hurt for him and the brother he never knew.

  “You have a brother,” I mumble before reaching over and squeezing his forearm in an attempt to be supportive.

  Looking over at me, he confirms, “Yeah. I have a brother.”

  “Does he know about you? About his past?”

  With a shake of his head, a somber Diece goes quiet. Patiently, I wait for him to gather himself as we turn down Kingston’s street.

  “Honestly? I have no idea. Part of me wishes he knew so that we could meet. I could take him under my wing. I could teach him everything I know. The other part knows how much it would kill him to know his mom gave him up to pay off her debt and that his dad turned him away without knowing the repercussions. That’s pretty fucked up, ya know?”

  I nod, taking a second to step into his shoes and feel his pain, which only makes my cheek and nose throb. Looking in the side mirror, I assess the damage and grimace. My entire face is purple and blue.

  “Does he usually hit women?”

  Slowly, D looks over at me, taking in my busted lip, swollen nose, and raccoon eyes, just like I had. His gaze shines with pity as he softly shakes his head. “I don’t think so. Last I checked, he would collect Burlone’s debts and rough up a few people on occasion, but he didn’t hurt innocent women.”

  I don’t know why, but D’s answer seems to relieve the tension in my chest. Maybe there’s hope for him after all.

  “Do you think he knows that Burlone’s into human trafficking?”

  Gritting his teeth, he admits, “It’d be impossible for him to not know. It’s Burlone’s entire business. He leaves the drugs and guns to other families. But women? Those are all him.”

  I can excuse a lot of things, but knowingly being part of something as sinister as human trafficking is inexcusable. Diece must have all the redeeming qualities in the family because his brother seems to have misplaced his humanity.

  “Then you’re better off without him.” I turn back in my seat as we pull into the driveway.

  D leans his head back against the headrest and lets out a soft sigh.

  “Yeah…but is he better off without me?”

  Chapter Five

  Ace

  I raise my hand and tap my knuckles against King’s open office door. His head is down, and his eyebrows are pulled low as if he’s concentrating really hard. As soon as he hears my soft knock, his head snaps up, and his gaze connects with mine.

  “Hey.” My voice is rusty from lack of use.

  “Hey,” he replies just as softly.

  “Can I come in?”

  He nods.

  Stepping inside, I head to the opposite side of his desk and sit on the very edge of the chair in an attempt to get as close to Kingston as I can while not knowing how close he wants me to be.

  Warily, he watches me, making my heart break.

  “I’m sorry,” I start. “I’m so sorry I said those things. It wasn’t okay to compare you to Burlone, and it was a hit below the belt. You’re nothing like him, Kingston. I know you just want me to be safe, and you’re feeling spooked right now. I was a brat, and I don’t know how to make it better.”

  My apology hangs in the air for a few brief seconds before he stands and walks around his desk. With him at his full height, and me sitting with my back ramrod straight, I feel smaller than an ant.

  Peeking up at him, I wait for him to decide whether or not he’ll accept my apology, praying that he does. Whatever is going on between us isn’t just surface-level crap. I care about him––a lot. And I can’t believe I was so callous to screw it up.

  “Truth,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry I didn’t give you a choice. I’ll try to take your past into consideration and talk things through with you instead of giving you orders as if you’re one of my men, okay?”

  A soft smile tugs at my lips as I watch an unbendable man bend. For me.

  “Truth.”

  As I push myself up from my chair, he reaches for my waist and drags me closer until I’m standing between his legs while he leans against the desk. With my hands resting on his broad chest, I soak up his innocent touch when he smiles. It’s soft but real, reminding me of a ray of sunshine peeking through the clouds after a storm. I return it with one of my own, trying to hide my awe that the man in front of me could give me a smile like that. One that holds an edge of promise to it that makes my heart beat a little faster. The warmth in his eyes is a balm to my soul, and it scares me with how much I’m starting to rely on it. His warmth. His touch. His heart. I slowly rub my hands along his pecs and up to his shoulders. His soul. I need all of him, and I pray that I’m not the only one getting lost in this relationship.

  Lacing his fingers through my messy waves, he accepts my apology with a panty-melting kiss that makes my knees weak. The realization that I really like this man is staggering but glaringly accurate as I open my mouth to him and show him how sorry I really am.

  The thought of losing him brings tears to my eyes, but I push them away. I’m being dramatic. We weren’t even really in a fight or anything. Hell, I can barely call it a disagreement, but the situation still brought feelings to the surface I hadn’t addressed before. Ones that made me question what I’d do if he didn’t care. If he didn’t want me around. If he didn’t show a gentleness around me that he usually reserves for…no one.

  After he pulls away, he drags his hands down to my waist and laces his fingers at the small of my back to keep me close. I’m grateful when he changes the subject and brings a lightness to our conversation that lets me hide from the ins and outs of our relationship a little longer.

  “How was getting your stuff?” he asks.

  “It was okay. D told me something, though.”

  He quirks his brow. “And what’s that?”

  “That he has a brother. Or a…half-brother, I guess?”

  I still can’t fully understand what that means.

  “Wow.” The surprise is clear on Kingston’s face as he takes a second to digest the information.

  I laugh softly. “Wow? What’s that supposed to mean?
”

  “I’m just surprised he told you that. Only a small handful of people know about D’s little brother. And by small, I mean small. He must like you.”

  Looking back on our conversation in the car, I feel a sense of peace and camaraderie that is rare in friendships. One I plan on cultivating with Diece if he’ll let me.

  “I hope so. I really like him too.”

  “Not too much, I hope,” he grumbles.

  With a flirtatious smile, I press my luck. “Is someone jealous?”

  His bright green eyes turn darker, and a playful Kingston leans forward then bites my neck, sending tingles straight to my toes.

  “Maybe,” he returns. With our fronts plastered together, Kingston starts planting slow, open-mouthed kisses along my neck and jaw, leading back to my mouth where he slips his tongue between my lips. He tastes so damn good, it’s not even funny, and I suck him deeper into my mouth, savoring his unique taste like aged whiskey.

  “Mmm,” I moan, tilting my head up as he breaks our mouths apart and continues his assault on my body. “I think I like jealous Kingston.”

  With a soft, deliberate roll of his hips, I can feel his excitement on my stomach, and I hold my breath in response, squeezing my eyes closed and soaking up the elusive moment I was afraid I’d never have again after my screw up from earlier.

  “I think he likes you too,” Kingston breathes huskily.

  Throwing my head back, I let out a breathy laugh before Kingston grabs the back of my head with one hand and kisses me like it’s his dying wish. My amusement from seconds ago is replaced with heated lust as I let my instincts take over. The feel of his rough hands tangling in my hair. The sweet taste on my tongue. The powerful muscles pressed against my chest––the need oozing from every pore on Kingston’s body.

  It makes me feel powerful. Wanted. Needed.

  And those damn feelings from before are back with full-force, refusing to be ignored.

  With one hand still tangled in my locks and holding me in place, his other hand slides down my back and grabs my ass, squeezing the muscle until I’m sure it’ll form bruises in the shape of his fingertips. But the physical contact only leaves me wanting more. And when his fingers graze the apex of my thighs, I gasp on contact.