by Kelsie Rae
His attention shifts to the closed office door as his index finger trails along the slit in my dress. The intimate touch is almost enough to distract me. Almost. As I squirm in his lap, he gives me a cocky grin before asking a question of his own.
“Do you trust him?”
I place my hand on top of his as it rests on my upper thigh so I can focus. “It doesn’t matter if I trust him. Gigi trusts him, and she knows him better than both of us.”
“Does she, though?” His eyes darken. “He was her captor, Ace. Yes, he protected her. And yes, he pulled through tonight. But he’s still a stranger. Until I know I can trust him fully, I can’t give them my blessing.”
“But why couldn’t you just tell them that? Give them a little hope? You didn’t just shoot down the possibility of them being with each other; you freaking blew it up.”
Again, that same cocky smile makes an appearance before he sobers. And it’s the sobering part that makes me nervous. I know that whatever he’s about to say is something that’s bothering him. I just don’t know what it is.
Raising his hand, he brushes a strand of my dark hair away from my cheek before cupping my jaw. The intimacy is overwhelming, and I lean into his touch.
His warm, minty breath fans across my face as he releases another sigh. “I have reason to believe there’s a rat in my organization.” I gasp, but he keeps me close as he continues, “What better way to uncover him than by giving the rat a potential ally? Dex was once the enemy. He’s extremely pissed off at his new boss right now, and he has connections with a shit ton of men who have a grudge against the Romano family. If the rat is looking for a new friend, I just delivered one in a handbasket.”
I’m shocked that he just revealed his plan to me. It’s family business, yet he’s trusting me with the confidential information. Confidential information that could make––or break––the family. Still, that doesn’t mean I don’t have reservations about his arrangement, and if he trusts me enough to disclose the information to me, then he needs to hear them.
“So, you’re using him?” I probe.
“No. I’m testing him.”
“And there’s a difference?”
With a smile, he pulls me down for another kiss, dragging his tongue along the seam of my lips before murmuring, “Yes. One that gives him the prize of my little sister at the end if he succeeds.”
“And if he fails?” I whisper, terrified of his answer.
“Then he’ll only receive death.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Ace
“You sure you want to do this, Wild Card?” King asks as we walk toward the shed fifteen minutes later. After our little chat, Kingston stood up and suggested we relieve Q of her…duty. He wanted to give Q privacy to do what needed to be done. He could see her need for revenge as much as I could, and I wanted to give her the same thing.
“Yeah,” I answer. “I’m not the delicate little flower you paint me as, King. I’ve been wanting to make him hurt since the moment he entered my life. And I want answers too. I want to know what happened to my mom.”
“You might not get your answers, Ace. I just want to make sure you’ll be okay if you don’t.”
I take a second to really consider the possibility that he might not remember me or what he did. That he might not remember my mom or what happened to her. That my existence really was so inconsequential to him that he honestly can’t recall how he ruined it. How he ruined me.
“Honestly? I’m done being hurt by him. I just want to move forward, but I want to do it with a clean slate. As soon as I find out the truth––whether it’s what I want to hear or not––I’ll move on.”
“You can move on, but only after I put him in a body bag,” he growls, putting a protective arm around me. His reply makes me smile.
“Can I ask you something, Kingston?”
“Yeah.”
“You say things like that, but I haven’t really seen that side of you since we first met, and even then you were pretty tame.”
He tugs me closer. “I’ve kept that monster locked away, but after seeing how strong you are, I’m not afraid to unleash him on your worst enemy.”
“Good. Because you couldn’t scare me if you tried. I love you, Kingston Romano. All of you.”
“You too, Wild Card. You too.” He leans forward and gives me a soft kiss before tugging me the rest of the way to the shed.
Looking down at me, he pauses at the door. “You ready?”
“As I’ll ever be,” I return.
“Then let’s finish this.”
With a swift tug of the handle, Kingston gives me a view of the shed. I gasp when I see Burlone tied to the chair, blood pouring down his face and the smell of pee lingering in the air. Covering my mouth, I turn to King who looks over my head at D.
“What the hell happened here?”
I follow his gaze and find D with his arms wrapped around Q as she burrows into his chest with her eyes squeezed shut. He continues rubbing her back as he states, “Q happened. Looks to me like she’s a natural at torture, King. She might be able to give you a run for your money.”
King chuckles under his breath in amusement before motioning to the door. “Well, get out of here. I promised Ace a few minutes before I started asking my questions, and with how bad he looks, I’m not sure I’ll have much time before he passes out again.”
Burlone groans in pain, making King smile even wider before he adds, “Thanks for warming him up for me, though.”
Diece rolls his eyes and carries Q out in his arms. My concern for her spikes when she doesn’t protest and doesn’t bother to look my way, either. Burlone broke her. Just like he broke the little girl I once was.
And now he’s going to pay for it.
Once they’re gone, I step toward the back corner where I see a cabinet tucked away.
“Is this where you keep everything?” I ask. My nose wrinkles in distaste from the rank stench permeating the air as I look around the room. It isn’t very big. There’s a single light hanging from the ceiling and cement flooring with a drain in the center that happens to also be right below Burlone’s unconscious form. The walls are bare other than the cabinet that is now within reach.
Kingston chuckles darkly. “Yeah. I would say go crazy, but I’m selfish and want a turn too for all the shit he put us through, so maybe take it easy on him.”
With a dry laugh, I grab a switchblade and say, “No guarantees.”
Shaking his head, he pulls up a folding chair and takes a seat. “Fine. But only because I love you.”
I had changed into a t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers before coming here. When I take in all the blood and other fluids I’d rather not label, I’m grateful I did. As King had mentioned once before, blood is a bitch to get out of clothes. Clearing my throat, I tap my shoe against the bottom of Burlone’s loafers. “Hey. Time to wake up, Sunshine.”
Again, he groans.
Leaning closer, I snap my fingers in front of his nose. “Come on, Burlone. I have a few questions for you, and I’m going to need you to answer them for me.”
Slowly, he blinks his eyes as if his swollen lids weigh a thousand pounds. “There ya go. The more you talk, the less I hurt you, okay?”
Those are a few words I never thought I’d say.
Another groan.
“I’ll take that as a yes. Do you know who I am?”
The asshole mutters something, but I can’t understand what the hell it is, so I lean a little closer.
“I’m sorry, what was that?” I press.
An annoyed Kingston steps forward and digs his thumb into an open wound along his forearm. Blood flows out of it freely, dripping onto the splattered cement floor and is quickly followed by a scream from our captive.
“Kingston’s girlfriend,” he slurs once Kingston relieves the pressure. I have to really focus to understand what he’s saying.
“Do you know who I was before that?”
“A bitch who conned me.
”
Kingston snorts, and I turn to give him a smile before giving Burlone my full attention. “Yeah. That too. Do I spark your memory in any other way?”
He lifts his head and looks at me. Really looks at me. But his eyebrows stay pulled low in confusion.
“Let me give you a hint. Picture me with blonde hair…just like my mom.”
A spark of recognition shines through his gaze.
“Now we’re getting somewhere,” I murmur. “Do you remember my mom, Burlone?”
With a cough, he mutters, “Yeah. Crack whore who liked it dirty and would do anything for her next fix.”
My nostrils flare, but I push forward. “And do you remember her daughter?”
“Of course I do. Pretty little thing too. It’s a shame you—”
I slam the switchblade into his thigh, turning his demeaning comment into a tortured scream.
“Don’t ever talk about that little girl again, understand?”
“You asked, you crazy bitch!” he shouts, spewing spittle with his words.
I twist the switchblade in his leg, making him scream even louder before I calmly say, “I have one more question.”
“What? What is it?” he cries.
“Do you know where my mom is?”
“She’s dead! Didn’t even make it to the buyer. My men used her up and spit her out before I could make a dime off her.”
Releasing my hold on the switchblade, I leave it embedded deep in his leg then turn to King.
“You’re up.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Kingston
The pride swells in my chest as Ace admires her handiwork before stepping away from her victim and toward me. Unable to control myself, I wrap my hand around the back of her neck and tug her into my chest before dropping a hard kiss to her pouty lips.
“You sure you don’t have any more questions for this fucker?” I mutter against her mouth.
She nods. “Yeah. He was nothing but a monster. And now my very own supervillain gets to defeat him while I have a front-row seat.”
After a breath of laughter, I ask, “You wanna stay?” I can’t hide my disbelief. I’d assumed she’d retreat to our room to clean herself up while I get a few more answers I need before putting a bullet in his skull.
“Positive,” she breathes, peeking up at me. There’s no fear. No hesitation. Just trust. Anticipation. And an overwhelming need for peace.
Pressing my mouth against hers for a second time, I murmur, “Then let’s get this over with.”
I turn to Burlone to see him watching our interaction with open hatred, but he’s smart enough to hold his tongue.
“Never knew you were such a softie,” he notes. “She tastes pretty sweet, doesn’t she? You should’ve seen her when––”
My fist connects with his already bruised jaw, causing his head to swing to the side as red-tinged spittle flies from his mouth.
Apparently, he’s not as smart as I’d assumed.
“Careful, Burlone,” I warn as the deep ache in my knuckles centers me. “The Romano family let you get away with too much for too long. But not anymore.”
“Fuck you,” he spits, more saliva flying. “If you honestly think I’m not going to walk out of this room, you’re more dense than I thought.”
With a dark laugh, I give him my back and begin sorting through a few items tucked away in the cabinet. However, there’s something about the switchblade lodged into Burlone’s leg that calls to me. I shake my head. It won’t work for the specific techniques I have in mind. Sighing, I reach for one of my favorites––a six-inch blade with a polished ebony handle that fits perfectly in my grip. My mouth pulls into a grin.
At a lazy pace, I circle the poor bastard who’s strapped to a chair in the middle of my interrogation room––one slow step at a time.
“I find it interesting that you actually think I’d let you go after everything you’ve done. Let’s just put a pin in the fact that you tortured my girlfriend. That you raped her. Sent one of your men to beat the shit out of her. And scarred her in more ways than you could ever imagine. Don’t worry, though; she’s stronger than you could ever imagine. Not only did she beat you at your own game; she did it twice.” My pride swells a second time as my attention shifts to her. She nods softly, encouraging me to continue. Clearing my throat, I try to focus on the task at hand instead of the brunette bombshell who’s about to see a whole new side of me. And for once, I’m not terrified she’ll run in the other direction.
“Let’s focus on the fact that you took the princess of the Romano family, shall we?” I pause when I’m behind him, enjoying the way my presence makes him squirm. He cranes his neck to keep me in his view as I watch tiny goosebumps pop up along the back of his head before disappearing beneath his stained white shirt.
“You’ve had your fun, Kingston,” he argues.
I laugh before tightening my grip around the knife in my right hand. “No. I think I’m just beginning.” Pressing my right forearm against his left temple roughly, he has no choice but to rest his right ear against the top of his shoulder. I angle his head until the entire left side of his neck is exposed toward the ceiling.
“Wait, wait, wait, wait, Kingston. Be reasonable. You’ve had your fun. I’ve learned my lesson. Besides, no one touched your sister. I kept her safe––”
His words morph into screams as I grip the shell of his left ear then slice through the skin with exact precision. Even though the blade is wicked sharp, I have to saw at the cartilage as Burlone’s blood oozes down his neck.
His arms tug against their restraints, his head jerking back and forth, but I don’t release him until his ear is in my hand. Lazily, I toss it in his lap.
“Apparently, you weren’t listening to me very well, Burlone. Maybe now you’ll try a little harder to cooperate. Capiche?”
The tears are streaming freely down his face, his lower lip quivering pathetically. But the hatred in his eyes? That’s giving me the information I need. He wants me to burn for my actions. Now, I need to find out if it’s possible that I might.
“Good boy.” I wipe the blood from my left hand along the top of his head, smearing it into his hair while treating him like a dog.
Hell, like a little bitch. I smirk at the thought.
“You’re never going to breathe air outside of this room. Ever. Again,” I divulge. “The sooner you realize that, the sooner we can get the answers we need. And the sooner we can put you out of your misery. However, if you don’t feel like being helpful, I’m more than happy to persuade you a little more. Any questions?”
“Motherfu––”
“Careful, Burlone,” I tsk, raising the crimson-colored blade into the air. “I still need your tongue, but you have plenty of other appendages that I don’t find necessary to getting the answers I want. Nod if you understand.”
His swelling jaw is clenched tight, and his beady eyes hold so much hatred, I’m surprised I’m still standing.
“Nod,” I bark.
And like a good little boy, he does.
“Good boy,” I repeat, condescendingly. “Who knew about the tournament? Anyone else that wasn’t on the email list?”
He remains silent. That is until I grab his wrist and drag the edge of the knife along his middle knuckle.
“Fine!” he squeals like a little pig, struggling against my firm grasp. “Fine, I’ll tell you!”
Releasing him, I stand to my full height and cross my arms, being careful of the blade in my right hand. “Start. Talking.”
“I can only speak for the Allegretti family.”
“And what did they know?” I press in a cool tone.
“That I was throwing a tournament together.”
“Did you have any buyers lined up for the girls?”
He laughs. “You mean the fruit? Of course.” At the mention of his favorite conquest, he brightens. “Any good businessman would have a buyer lined up for fresh merchandise. Don’t you?”
“Have a buyer? For the girls? No. I don’t believe in selling women, remember?”
“I meant I’m sure you always have a buyer lined up for the drugs. The guns. The…information.” With a smirk, his cloudy gaze moves from mine to Ace’s. “Do you know who you’re screwing, Pretty Girl? Because if you did, I think you’d be running in the other direction. Sure, I’m not a good guy, but he isn’t a saint, either.”
“I know exactly who I’m sleeping with,” Ace replies indifferently from behind me. “But thanks for your concern.”
“If I’d have known you’d slip into bed with someone of our caliber willingly, I’d have––”
“Careful,” I interrupt. “I have a few more questions that I need answers to, and I’m afraid if you keep talking, I won’t be able to control myself.”
“Then get to the point, Kingston. I’m afraid I’ve grown bored of your little game.”
“I thought you loved games, remember?” With a sarcastic laugh, I wave the knife through the air. “But you’re right. I’ve got more important shit to do today than let you breathe much longer. Who were the buyers?”
Annoyed, he mutters, “You already know. They were in the process of purchasing before your lie swayed them––”
“I meant the buyers you’d lined up for after you won the tournament. We both know you’re too much of a cocky sonofabitch to not have assumed you’d come out the victor.”
“Touche.” He smirks. “Unfortunately, I don’t know the names off the top of my head.”
“Lie. Who were they?”
“Why does it matter?” he argues. “They’re not getting the girls.”
“Yes. But they’re likely looking for them. Answer me.”
“No.”
Impatient, I turn back to the cabinet and grab a set of pliers with the intention of ripping out a few of his fingernails. When he sees them in my hand, he shakes his head back and forth rapidly.
“Fine! I don’t know the names off the top of my head, but we corresponded through email. I’m sure your tech gurus can take it from there. J-just put it down.” He stares at the pliers as if they’re a damn viper that could strike at any second.
