Dark King (Advantage Play Book 2)

by Kelsie Rae

  “Then let’s get started, oh wise one. Consider me your star pupil.”

  Deck in hand, she deals the cards between us and goes over a few more strategy techniques. A couple of hours later, my brain is swimming with new information, and I feel like I need a tumbler of whiskey to soothe the headache that’s starting to pound behind my eyes.

  “Alright, King. That was a good hand to end on. Next time, we’ll play with chips and bring a few of your guys in here to help mix things up. Do you have any questions?”

  “Just one.” I drop my chin to the tattered cards in Ace’s hand. “What’s with the cards?”

  She shrugs, trying to act innocent. “What do you mean?”

  “They’re Allegretti cards. The same ones they play with at Sin.”

  “Yup. They sure are,” Ace acknowledges, her eyes bouncing around the room like a pinball.

  “And why do you play with Allegretti cards? Looks like they’re pretty worn.” I’m not sure why I’m pushing this, but it seems curiosity is getting the best of me.

  Her fumbling fingers screw up the shuffle, scattering a few cards along the table before she sets the rest down. Part of me wants to back peddle and let her out of the impromptu interrogation, but the other part of me needs to know. I need to see the real her. All of her.

  “Tell me, Wild Card,” I push, keeping my tone gentle.

  With a look that guts me, she says, “They’re his.” Her voice cracks at the mere mention of him, and I don’t need to ask who it is she’s talking about––just why she cares.

  Placing my hand against her knee underneath the table, I probe, “And?”

  “And they were left on my kitchen table the night I woke up to find my mom missing.”

  Shit.

  “I learned how to play on these cards. I would spend night after night in my foster homes, flipping them over and using the moonlight to master card counting.” With a soft laugh, she adds, “I used to have dreams where all I would see were the faces of the kings and queens in my head, only to wake up and start all over. These are the cards that I’ve carried in my bag for forever. They’re the only connection I have to my past that helps me remember the nightmares were real.” Her eyes are glassy as she looks at me. “It’s kind of screwed up that I carry them around, isn’t it? I mean…who in their right mind would want to remember that shit?”

  Squeezing her knee, I really look at the situation from her perspective. She was so helpless. So young. Yet she did what needed to be done, and I couldn’t be more proud to call her mine.

  I let go of her knee and raise her chin to make sure I have her full attention.

  “I think you keep them to remind yourself of all the things you’ve overcome. You’re a survivor, but you’re a fighter too. Facing Burlone and beating his ass was the only revenge you could inflict on him, and the cards were your weapon.”

  With a nod, a speechless Ace stays motionless beside me as I realize she’s the strongest person I know. Instead of running from her past, she embraced it and swore not to let it break her. I know a lot of men who would’ve crumbled under easier circumstances. But not her.

  Releasing her chin, I tuck a stray piece of her soft, brown hair behind her ear and cup her jaw. “You’re strong. And smart. And so fucking gorgeous. I’m glad you’ve kept these cards, and I’m glad you’ve told me about your past. I’m in awe of you, Wild Card.”

  Sealing my declaration with a kiss, she returns it with so much passion and fire I’m surprised we don’t both combust from its heat. When she pushes away from the table and tugs me toward my bedroom, she whispers, “Truth.”

  And I couldn’t agree more.

  Chapter Ten

  Ace

  “Any chance you’d let me go to the grocery store today?” I ask, hating how desperate I sound as I hover near the entrance to Kingston’s office.

  Looking up from his computer, King states, “We have food. Go check the cupboards and the fridge.”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “No. I have too much going on to take you, and it’s not safe for you to go by yourself.”

  To say I’ve been going stir crazy since the night I got beaten up is a massive understatement. I don’t know how much longer I can take it. It doesn’t matter how opulent his home is, staring at the same four walls is slowly driving me mad.

  Walking toward him, I bypass the chair across from his desk and sit on his lap before wrapping my arms around his neck. His eyes widen in surprise, but he doesn’t ask me to stand up, so I’m going to take it as a win.

  “I need some normalcy. Please, please, please?” I beg, sticking my lower lip out for good measure. With a soft laugh, an amused Kingston leans forward and sucks my lip into his mouth before giving it a playful bite. Giggling, I shove him away and wait for my answer.

  “Fine. Go buy your groceries, but take D with you.”

  My shoulders slump at his attempt to compromise. “I feel like D is getting sick of playing my babysitter. I’m pretty sure he has better things to do than tag along on my errands, Kingston.”

  “He does have better things to do. But you want to go out, and I’m too busy to take you. D is the only guy I trust. If you go, then he goes. Once things calm down, it’ll be me escorting you to the grocery store, but for now, Diece will have to do.”

  Caving to his demands, I give him another kiss. This one is softer, slower. It’s more intimate than playful, and I love it to my core.

  “I’m excited for this shitstorm to pass,” I whisper against his mouth.

  “Me too,” he confides. “We’ll get through this. I promise.”

  My heart stalls at his assurance, and I don’t miss the way he says we, either. I know he’s told me that I’m his. I know he’s shown me that I matter to him. I know Diece has assured me that Kingston’s feelings for me are the real deal. But still, none of the evidence seems to quiet the voice inside my head that tells me to be careful. Dreams are dangerous for a girl like me, and they’re slowly starting to revolve around the man in front of me and the future we can build together.

  “You sure you won’t get sick of me by then?” I whisper.

  With a teasing grin, he smacks my butt then lifts me to my feet.

  “Not a chance. I’ve already told you that you’re mine, and I don’t get rid of things once I’ve claimed them. Now, get out of here. You’re distracting me. I’ll send D a text, and he’ll meet you in the garage.”

  I blow him a sweet kiss, nearly skipping to the door as I call out, “Thank you!”

  Twenty minutes later, I’m perusing the grocery store with a red plastic basket hanging from my arm while D trails behind me like a sad little puppy.

  “Shoot! I forgot the cauliflower. Will you go grab me one in the produce aisle? I’ll meet you by the milk.”

  With a grunt, Diece follows orders with the promise to meet me in a few.

  As I reach for a bag of Twizzlers, a familiar voice surprises me from behind.

  “Ace?”

  Turning on my heel with my mouth open wide and my hands raised defensively, I see him. “Jack?” I clutch my chest and release a sigh of relief. “You scared the shit out of me!”

  “You scared the shit out of me!” he returns angrily. “Where the hell have you been? You fucking disappeared, Ace. I’ve been worried sick about you.”

  A familiar sense of guilt churns in my stomach as I see the distress written across his face that I’ve clearly caused. Dropping my gaze down to my shoes, I dig my teeth into my lower lip before offering an apology because even though I don’t want to admit it, he deserves one.

  “I’m sorry, Jack. I didn’t mean to freak you out. I’ve just been…”

  Shit. What have I been? Busy? Running for my life? Shacking up with the head of the Romano family? I’m at a loss for words, and he can sense it.

  “You’ve been what exactly?” he probes, his voice dripping with accusation.

  Wincing, I mutter, “Preoccupied?”

  “With what?�
��

  “Life?” It’s a question, not an answer.

  He runs his fingers through his short, blonde hair, and I can feel the frustration radiating from him. It seems to intensify my guilt, and if I were a dog, I can guarantee my tail would be tucked between my legs.

  “I went by your apartment the other day,” he tells me. “Some homeless guy was loitering in the parking lot and mentioned you’d moved. I thought he was full of shit.” With a dry laugh, he shakes his head in disbelief. “I thought you were dead, Ace.”

  “Nope. Definitely not dead—”

  “Just mixed up in some shit with the mob?” he finishes for me with a look of disgust. I don’t blame him, but he’s got it all wrong. He doesn’t know Kingston like I do. He doesn’t know what Burlone has done or the situation we’re all in. He knows nothing.

  “Jack—”

  “Look, I know a hell of a lot more than you think I do. When those girls went missing, it scared me. You…” Groaning, he rubs his hands against his face before scrutinizing me with bloodshot eyes. “You’re messing with the wrong people, Ace.”

  I can see how much this is killing him, seeing me with Kingston when he’s probably heard rumors of what a terrible person he is. But Kingston isn’t like that with me. And I just wish I could relieve his worries or explain that he doesn’t need to be stressing about my well-being. That I’m okay. Or at least, I will be once we get everything taken care of.

  “Jack, we’ve had this conversation before.”

  “And we’re going to have it again,” he replies sharply. “I can help you if you let me.”

  “You can’t help me, Jack. And honestly? I’m not so sure I want to be saved. Kingston isn’t a bad guy.”

  “You don’t know him,” he grits out while scanning the empty aisle for any ears that might be listening.

  “I do know him.”

  “And what about Burlone, huh? Do you know him too? What he does to women? What I thought he did to you?”

  “Yeah, I do,” I bite out, bristling at his comment. “Trust me, Jack. I learned about Burlone a long time ago, and I’ll never forget what a scumbag he is, which is why I’m helping Kingston take him down.” I pull my lips into a thin line to keep from spewing anything else in the middle of a freaking grocery store.

  “Wait…what?” Jack probes, reaching for my wrist.

  I pull away from him to keep a decent amount of space between us. “I gotta go, Jack.”

  “Wait.” Sticking his hand into his pocket, he removes a small business card and gives it to me while looking over my shoulder. “Don’t let anyone see this, Ace. It could literally kill me.”

  I take a peek down at the cardstock, my heart racing as the words register in my head. Jack Connelly, Federal Bureau of Investigation. I freeze.

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  “I gotta go. Call me if you need anything, okay? Despite what you think, I’m one of the good guys.” Jack rounds the corner and disappears from view, leaving only a trace of his cologne and the sharp cream paper in my hand as a reminder he was really here. With as much discipline as I can muster, I squeeze my eyes shut and count to three before daring to open them again.

  Yup. Still says Federal Bureau of Investigation.

  Stunned, I slide the business card into my back pocket while my heart pounds against my chest. Jack’s an agent. A freaking agent. A freaking agent that I’m connected to. While dating the head of the Romano family. What the hell does this mean for me? Would Kingston think I was working with the Feds? Am I in danger because I was associated with him? Diece has seen us together before when we were at the Charlette. Does he know about Jack’s real identity?

  My mind keeps spinning as I stand there, unable to move in the middle of the candy aisle because I don’t know what else to do. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know who to tell. I know nothing. Yet way more than I should.

  “Ace, where have you been? I was waiting by the damn milk.” D’s husky voice shakes me from my reverie, and I reach for the bag of Twizzlers then put it in the basket hanging on my arm.

  Poker face on full display, I turn to D. “Hey, sorry. I couldn’t decide what treat I wanted after dinner.”

  D reaches for the peanut butter M&M’s, tossing a giant bag into the basket with a wink. “Peanut butter M&M’s, Ace. Always.”

  “I think you’re right.” Laughing, I shake my head, smile, and pray he can’t see through it to the nerves that are threatening to expose the card that’s in my back pocket.

  After we grab a gallon of milk and pay for our groceries, D and I are driving home when he asks me something that makes my blood turn cold.

  “So, I saw your little friend. The one from the Charlette a few weeks ago.”

  My palms start to sweat as I twist them in my lap. “Oh?”

  “Yeah. What was his name again? Jack?”

  “Oh, yeah. He came and said hi in the candy aisle.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I figured. King would kill me if he knew I let you out of my sight.”

  I roll my eyes, trying to pretend like I’m not having an epic meltdown inside. “Your secret is safe with me.”

  “Did he say anything else?” D continues his innocent prodding from the driver’s seat, and I watch for any kind of clue that might tell me what he’s thinking. If he knows about the business card that’s currently burning a hole in my back pocket. If he knows that I have a connection with the FBI that would make me look really freaking incriminating to anyone, let alone to someone who works for the Romano family.

  But as I look for any hint that I’m in danger, I don’t find any. Just a regular bodyguard who has slowly turned into a friend that’s making casual conversation on the way home from the grocery store.

  For a girl who was craving normalcy, I can’t tell if I’m truly experiencing it right now or if I’m seconds away from being interrogated.

  After a beat of silence, I offer a quiet, “Nope,” and D decides to throw another curveball, raising goosebumps along my arms.

  “That’s good, Ace. Because until things calm down, I’d be wary of testing Kingston’s patience.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Giving me the side-eye, he explains, “You know Kingston is the head of the Romano family.”

  “Yeah?”

  “And you know what the mob does, right?”

  Not really. I mean, I’ve seen movies and read a story or two, but that’s about it.

  “Umm…”

  D laughs. “Damn, you’re innocent. Sometimes I forget what that’s like. Anyway, you don’t need to know the details, just that Kingston has a bit of a reputation.”

  “What kind of reputation?” I prod, leaning closer to the center console curiously.

  “Honestly? Kingston is ruthless, Ace. He’s cold. Lethal. And exact. The guy he is when he’s around you is the complete opposite of the one everyone else sees. They call him the Dark King because when it comes to interrogation, he’s the best.”

  I’ve heard that nickname before. I think it was Jack that used it the first time when he was warning me to stay away from Kingston. I’d thought he was full of crap, but apparently, his cautiousness had merit.

  Licking my lips, I ask, “What do you mean interrogation?”

  “Kingston specializes in getting information from people. He can pull anything out of anyone. And he does it slowly and with as much pain as possible. Hell, you’ve seen it. He can read people like a fucking book and knows when they’re hiding something. If he thought Jack was sniffing around you too much or was too curious about you or what our family does, he’d take him in and start asking questions, and it wouldn’t be pretty.”

  My breathing quickens, but I try to control it by forming a small ‘O’ with my mouth and releasing the pent-up oxygen slowly.

  “Do I need to be worried?”

  “Only if you see Kingston pull out a knife,” D jokes, turning on his blinker and pulling onto a side road close to home.

  My blood turns
to ice as I try to connect the man I know and am falling for with the guy D just described while ignoring the business card that feels like a ticking time bomb.

  “Noted,” I choke out.

  We spend the next ten minutes in a quiet standoff because I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to think. I’m not sure I really know anything anymore.

  With a heavy silence in the car, D asks, “Why are you being so quiet?”

  Why am I being so quiet? Because I’m freaking out! That’s why!

  Desperately, I search for an explanation that would dismiss my weird behavior.

  Shrugging, I reply, “I don’t know. I guess I’m just a little surprised, that’s all. King has always seemed so…not what you described.”

  “That’s because you’re you. Kingston is softer around you.”

  I laugh, awkwardly. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

  “Normally, it isn’t,” he consoles. “But when dealing with Burlone, we need ruthless Kingston. We need the one who can think outside the box and bring him down without worrying about what his girlfriend thinks.”

  “Girlfriend?” My voice cracks, but he waves me off.

  “You know what I mean.”

  Digging my teeth into my lower lip, I look out the window because honestly? I don’t really know what to say to that.

  “Would it bother you if ruthless Kingston came out to play?” he presses. “If you knew he was only doing it to protect you?”

  I think about the Kingston I know. The one who gives me soft kisses and makes me homemade pasta when I’m feeling down. The one who brought me into his home and gently took care of my bumps and bruises. But then I picture Burlone and his ruthlessness, making me squirm in my seat at the memory. I can’t be like my mom and wind up with the wrong guy. Then again, I just don’t see any similarities between the two.

  “I don’t know,” I reply honestly.

  “Well, you better figure it out, Ace, because we need the Dark King. And we might need you to pry it out of him if he keeps fighting his instincts when he’s around you.”