by Kelsie Rae
Bitter Queen
Advantage Play Series Book 4
Kelsie Rae
Copyright © 2020 Kelsie Rae
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons living or dead are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners and are used only for reference. The reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.
Cover Art by Cover My Wagon Dragon Art
Editing by My Brother’s Editor
Proofreading by Stephanie Taylor
November 2020 Edition
Published in the United States of America
Contents
Blurb
Prologue
1. Q
2. Q
3. Diece
4. Q
5. Diece
6. Q
7. Q
8. Diece
9. Q
10. Sei
11. Diece
12. Sei
13. Q
14. Q
15. Diece
16. Q
17. Diece
18. Diece
19. Diece
20. Q
21. Diece
22. Q
23. Q
24. Diece
25. Diece
26. Q
27. Diece
28. Jack
29. Q
30. Q
31. Diece
32. Ace
33. Q
34. Q
35. Diece
36. Q
37. Q
Sneak Peek
Jack
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Dear Reader
About the Author
Blurb
Diece is the right-hand man to the most powerful family in the Italian Mafia. He’s ruthless, brutal, and has been tasked with protecting me after I stuck my neck out for his boss.
That doesn’t mean I trust him, though.
Against my will, Diece whisks me away under the guise of keeping me safe, but I’m not about to exchange one prison for another.
When he finds out what I’ve been through at the hands of my previous captor, he begs me to let my guard down.
To let him in.
But if I do, he’ll find out the truth, and I can’t let that happen. Not just for me, but for his safety too.
He says he won’t let anyone hurt me.
He has no idea who I’m running from.
Prologue
Diece
Her legs wobble as she follows me toward the shed. The brisk air is turning warmer as the sun peeks over the horizon in the distance, but even the blinding sun can’t tear my gaze away from the sexy stranger.
Who the hell is this girl?
“I’m Diece, by the way,” I introduce myself, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “I know Kingston mentioned me, but I figured I should probably introduce myself. And you’re Queena?”
The only response I get is a piece of gravel being kicked across the sidewalk leading to the shed tucked behind Kingston Romano’s massive house.
“Well, it’s uh…it’s nice to meet you.” I sound like a damn pussy. “I don’t know how long we’re going to be together but—”
“We’re not going to be together.” Her voice is cold. Indifferent. And laced with disgust. Like I’m a piece of shit she stepped in, and she doesn’t know how to clean it off.
My annoyance spikes, but I shove it aside. She’s been held against her will for the past two weeks. Of course, she’s going to be leery of strange men, especially when they’ve been tasked with keeping an eye on you for the foreseeable future.
“Sorry, Q,” I apologize. “But you’re stuck with me until Kingston tells me otherwise. You put a target on your back when you told a room full of very powerful men at Burlone’s poker tournament that you work for the FBI.”
She freezes when Burlone’s name rolls off my tongue, but I don’t blame her. He kidnapped her, tortured her, and planned to sell her as a sex slave before Kingston stepped in and framed Burlone for working with the FBI. But it was Q who stepped in and verified his bullshit accusation. I just wish she saw us as an ally instead of shoving the Romano family in the same box as Burlone Allegretti.
“Don’t get me wrong. We’re grateful,” I continue, attempting to tread lightly. “There’s a big possibility none of you would’ve made it out of there alive without your help. But it doesn’t change the fact that you kind of screwed yourself over because of it. Kingston recognizes your sacrifice and is offering to protect you. You need to take him up on it.”
“And if I don’t want to?”
“Then you’ll wind up in a ditch by the end of the week,” I answer bluntly. She flinches at my brashness, causing a bolt of guilt to hit me straight in the chest. With a sigh, I try again. “Look, I know you’ve been dealt a shit hand, but now’s your opportunity to make the most of it.”
She peeks up at me through her thick upper lashes. “Are you asking me to trust you?”
I shrug. “Yeah. I guess I am.”
“And what if I can’t?”
“Listen, I don’t know what happened—”
She starts marching toward the shed that holds Burlone and cuts me off. “I’ve trusted a lot of people in my life, and every single one of them has let me down. What makes you any different?”
Her candor takes me aback, causing me to ask myself the same thing. I’m not a good guy. I’ve killed people. Crippled them. Sold drugs and weapons to people who definitely shouldn’t be touching them.
The realization is harsh as I murmur, “I guess I don’t know.”
“Then I guess I can’t trust you.”
“Listen—”
“Where’s the bat?” she asks as we reach the shed that holds Burlone. I’d promised she could use one against the bastard when we were in Kingston’s office a few minutes ago. She’s a feisty little thing. I’ll give her that much. And bitter. So damn bitter that I’m surprised her pouty lips aren’t pursed twenty-four-seven.
The shed door has a metal padlock hanging from the front, and I search my pockets for the keys Stefan handed off to me as we left the office.
“The bat’s in here. Listen, if you want a chance to make Burlone hurt, then I’m going to need you to promise me something.” Her eyes flash at the prospect of finally exacting her revenge against the guy who put her through Hell, and I know I have her full attention. “I need you to let me watch out for you until it’s safe for you to leave.”
“No deal,” she grits out, looking around the expansive yard like a caged beast.
“Then I’m afraid I can’t let you in here.”
“Diece—”
My name on her lips makes my cock hard, but I ignore my physical response and try to focus on the conversation.
“I want to keep you safe, Q. But you need to let me.”
Slowly, I watch as tears gather in her eyes before she hastily wipes them away. “How long?”
My brows furrow. “How long?”
“How long do I need to give you?”
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “Until it’s safe for you to leave.”
“So, I’m exchanging one prison for another?” Her voice cracks on the word prison, making my heart break right along with it.
“If that’s how you have to look at it,” I mutter, “Then, yes. But it’s for your own good.”
“And the only way you’ll let me hurt Burlone is if I agree to it?”
I nod. “Yeah. That’s the deal.”
Squeezing her eyes shut tight, I watch a small part of her die inside before she whispers, “Open the door. I’ll do whatever you want me to do, just…just let me hurt him.”
I shove the key into the lock, then turn it and unlatch the shed. After, I flip the light switch on the wall to reveal a hunched body in the center of the empty room. Looks like Burlone hasn’t woken up from the hit to his head. I smirk, knowing his skull is going to be pounding when he finally does.
“Come on in,” I murmur to Queena.
Peering into the room, she releases a shaky breath before stepping over the threshold like she’s afraid something is going to jump out and grab her.
There’s a tall metal cabinet in the back corner, and I make my way over to it. Once it’s opened, I wave my hand in front of the various tools designed to make someone hurt.
“Here ya go, Q. Go wild.”
1
Q
My eyes nearly pop out of my head as I inspect my options. Knives of every shape and size. A hand-sized blow-torch I’ve seen used on the cooking channel to make crème brûlée. Pliers. A hammer. Chisels. Cigar cutters. I catch myself hyperventilating as I continue my perusal in a daze when Diece gently touches the small of my back. I nearly jump out of my skin. Twisting away from him, he raises his hands into the air before offering an apology.
“Shit, Queena. I didn’t mean to scare you. Are you okay?”
I nod, though I can feel the lie from the top of my head to the tips of my toes.
No. I’m not okay.
“The baseball bat’s over here, but you’re welcome to whatever you want. Just make sure you leave something for Ace. She has her own beef with Burlone too.” He points to the lower half of the cabinet, where a couple of baseball bats sit as the memory of my conversation with Ace flutters through my mind.
Again, I nod because I’m not sure I could talk right now, even if I tried.
Yeah.
She does have her own beef with him. And she’s being generous letting me have the first swing. If it were Sei strapped into that chair, there’s no way I’d let her go first. There’s no way I’d let anyone touch him except me.
Hands shaking, I reach for the wooden bat. My knuckles are white with how hard I grip the handle, but my palms are sweaty, and I don’t want to risk dropping it. I can’t let Diece see how weak I feel.
How weak I am after everything I’ve been through.
“What now?” I whisper, peeking up at him.
“Now, you wake him up.”
“And how would I do that?”
He smirks. “Well, you can do it nicely and build the anticipation before the first hit, or you can do it the hard way with a single swing to the knee.”
Considering my options, I murmur, “I want him to know it’s coming.”
“Good choice.”
Digging through the cabinet, he grabs a little canister and offers it to me.
Hesitantly, I take it, making sure not to touch his calloused hands.
“What’s this?” I ask.
“Smelling salts. It’s ammonia. Just put it under his nose, and he’ll wake up in no time.”
“You mean that actually works?” My tone is laced with disbelief.
He grins. It’s so boyish and carefree, you’d think we were discussing a sitcom or comedy act.
“Like a charm,” he answers.
Shaking off the effects of his smile, I do as I’m told and twist off the lid on the canister, then walk over to an unconscious Burlone. As I put the small canister under his nose, a bit of the salt spills onto Burlone’s stained dress shirt. I’m shaking. With every ounce of effort and determination I can find, I shove aside my fear, along with the knowledge that I’ll never be comfortable around a man again. Even the one watching me near the sociopath toy box.
Within seconds, Burlone wakes up with a gasp.
“What the fuck?” he murmurs, disoriented. Blinking rapidly, a very confused Burlone looks around the room. “Where the hell am I?”
Frozen, I simply stare at the bastard who ruined me, unsure of what to do next.
“Hello, Burlone,” Diece says conversationally, stepping in to back me up. “Q here would like to show you her appreciation for your hospitality over the past two weeks.”
Squinting his eyes, Burlone looks me up and down before tugging against the zip ties around his wrists that keep him strapped to the metal chair. “You! This is all your fault! She’s part of the FBI, Diece. Don’t listen to a word she has to say. She’s a liar. A filthy slut—”
I cut him off by slapping him as hard as I can. The palm of my hand stings from the impact, but the satisfaction I feel as his head snaps to one side and the angry mark on his cheek is enough to soothe it.
“Shut up, Burlone,” I spit. “I don’t want to hear a single word come out of your mouth unless I ask you a question. Understand?”
“Who the hell do you think you are, you filthy—”
Smack. My palm tingles, slightly burning as I hit him again.
“I said, shut up,” I seethe. “Do you remember what you said to me when we first met? How you were going to sell me to someone who would make me scream? How you wished it could be you, but you needed the money, and my virginity would go for a pretty penny?” The words nearly get clogged in my throat, but I choke them out. “Well, now it’s my turn.”
Lifting the bat, I aim for his leg like Diece instructed and savor the sound of his knee cap being crushed, accompanied by his crying as soon as the wood connects with it. The combination is like a balm to my soul, finally easing the ache inside of me.
So I do it again.
And again.
Until Diece’s thick forearms wrap around my waist, and he tugs me away, bringing me back to the present instead of the memories that I’ve been drowning in.
“Enough, Q. Enough.”
Looking over at Burlone, I finally see the damage I’ve done. His face is a messy pulp of skin and blood. His head hangs limp on his shoulders as his shirt soaks up the crimson liquid that flows onto it. It’s horrific and would’ve given me nightmares before I was kidnapped. But now I’m too jaded to care. His chest rises and falls unevenly, proving he’s still alive while I’m left feeling dead on the inside.
Angry, I lift the bat again, but Diece grabs it from me. “It’s enough,” he repeats.
I shake my head back and forth as my fraying emotions finally get the best of me.
“It’ll never be enough,” I sob. Clinging to Diece, I finally give in and grieve the loss of the girl I once was compared to the stranger I’ve become. “Never.”
“Shh,” he whispers, squeezing me a little harder in his embrace. “You made him hurt. And now, Ace will get her turn. Then King.”
“But why don’t I feel better?” I choke out.
“Because his pain didn’t lessen yours. And it never will.”
The truth is gut-wrenching, and I collapse into Diece’s arms before begging him to take me away. I just…I can’t stand the scent of Burlone’s blood any longer.
Who have I become?
2
Q
Diece carries me to a sleek, black car before slipping me into the passenger seat. When I don’t move a muscle, my new prison guard carefully buckles the seatbelt over my lap as if I’m a toddler. Then he gets behind the wheel and backs out of the driveway.
My breathing is shallow as I chew on my thumbnail and stare out the side window. The trees blur together before they’re replaced with graffitied buildings, then transform into rolling pastures speckled with livestock.
Where are you taking me?
The question rests on the tip of my tongue, but I don’t bother to voice it aloud. It wouldn’t do me any good, anyway.
I don’t know how much time passes before Diece finally breaks the silence. “Where are you from?”
I s
tay silent.
“Have you ever been to the country before?”
My eyes glaze as I continue to stare out the window.
“Do you like animals?” he tries again. “Matteo has a stable at his estate. He used to have horses and shit, but I’m not sure if he still does.”
Blinking back tears, I dig my teeth into the pad of my thumb until I’m positive the skin will break.
With a sigh, he turns down a long, winding road off the highway. The nearest town is at least thirty minutes away. If he wants to kill me, or rape me, or hurt me, this is the opportunity for it.
“We’re here,” he mutters when the car rounds the corner.
My heart drops to my stomach as my new prison comes into view. The place is huge, with a gray stone exterior and lush green vines weaving up the sides. A set of steps leads to a heavy oak door that looks like it could’ve belonged to a castle from the fifteenth century.
Hell, it could’ve belonged to the beast himself in Beauty and the Beast.
But this isn’t a fairy-tale. It’s a nightmare.
And no matter how hard I’ve tried, I can’t wake up.
With a twist of the key, Diece turns the car off. Then we sit in silence. Again. I can feel his stare, but I don’t bother to look at him as he waits a few seconds before announcing, “Let’s get settled, shall we?”