King's Captive: A Dark Mafia Romance

by Piper Stone

  King's Captive

  Piper Stone

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Afterword

  Books of the Mafia Masters Series

  More Mafia Romances by Piper Stone

  Books of the Club Darkness Series

  Books of the Dangerous Business Series

  Books of the Montana Bad Boys Series

  Books of the Alpha Beasts Series

  More Stormy Night Books by Piper Stone

  Piper Stone Links

  Copyright © 2021 by Stormy Night Publications and Piper Stone

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Published by Stormy Night Publications and Design, LLC.

  www.StormyNightPublications.com

  Stone, Piper

  King’s Captive

  Cover Design by Korey Mae Johnson

  Images by Depositphotos/Tverdohlib.com, Depositphotos/Vecster, and Shutterstock/Sean Pavone

  This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults.

  Chapter 1

  Cristiano

  “Revenge is an act of passion; vengeance of justice.”

  Samuel Johnson

  Vengeance.

  I wasn’t a just man. In fact, the majority of those who knew me considered me evil, a monster, commanding the streets of New Orleans with an iron fist. I controlled by ensuring an understanding of my family’s power, using threats to handle business so violence was rarely needed.

  Unfortunately, there were those who’d crossed a line, something that could no longer be tolerated.

  I took a deep breath, enjoying the unexpected freedom, prepared to retake my command of the King fortune. However, there were actions that required consequences, and I would provide them. I dragged my tongue across my lips, hungry to move forward, the future brighter than ever.

  Even if blood flowed in the streets.

  Power was something that I excelled in creating for my family, even though the way we’d garnered such significant influence was considered… controversial. I laughed at the notion. The King family reeked of power as well as wealth, our kingdom built decades before.

  However, our gilded crowns had become tarnished. That would no longer be tolerated.

  I was heir to a throne, first-born son of Sylvester King, a man feared by every person living within the city of New Orleans as well as beyond. Considered one of the most notorious crime syndicates in the United States, our kingdom had allowed us good fortune over our decades of maintaining tight reins.

  There were some who said that wealth had a requirement of hard work. With regard to our family, the reality was a product of certain unsavory practices, ones considered monstrous by most people. Building an empire was something else entirely.

  That had taken stamina and fortitude, often paying a hefty price for living behind a steel-plated shield.

  I’d allowed a crack in the armor, and paid the price, but at least I’d protected my family.

  Now there would be hell to pay for my penance.

  The humidity was thick, enough so that even taking a deep breath felt suffocating, yet a smirk crossed my face as I adjusted the cuffs on my sleeves. I continued to stare into the sky, enjoying the string of vibrant colors dancing across the horizon. A storm was brewing, the tumultuous clouds creating an ominous setting over the dilapidated parking lot, the brisk breeze shifting the stench of garbage over the parade of reporters who’d ventured all the way to the Louisiana State Penitentiary.

  I chuckled as several of them coughed, still pressing closer in order to obtain the perfect picture, perhaps a caption on the nightly news.

  “Mr. King. What’s it like to be out of prison?”

  “Mr. King. What are your plans now that you’re released?”

  “Mr. King. What do you have to say to the family of the man you murdered in cold blood?”

  “Cristiano. What do you have to say regarding the accusations that your early release was due to money exchanging hands? Given there was a mistrial, do you expect to be tried again?” The male reporter had a smirk on his face, the familial name meant to goad me into doing something stupid.

  I walked close enough that I was able to look him directly in the eyes, remaining unblinking.

  “Ubiraysya proch’ prisoski,” Dimitri growled, my Capo shifting into his protective mode. He issued a series of actual barks after tossing out the nasty sentiment. Then he lurched in front of me, flexing his muscles, his six foot four inch two hundred plus pound frame terrifying at least half the crowd.

  Three of the reporters glared at the oppressive, dangerous-looking tattooed blond with fear in their eyes; however, the asshole male wasn’t one of them. I’d be curious to find out his name.

  I pushed Dimitri back casually, giving him a heated look, keeping my voice low. “While I want the freaking lot of them to get the fuck away as well, I don’t think calling them cocksuckers will help in that endeavor.”

  “Yeah? Well, the motherfuckers deserve worse. We need to get you the fuck out of here,” Dimitri growled, his gruff voice exactly as I’d remembered. He knew better than to attempt to maneuver me in any manner, his years of training in handling my mood swings allowing him a position of authority.

  And tonight, I was pissed as fuck.

  I shot a cold stare to the closest female reporter, allowing her to catch the stark look of rage only shown in my eyes. She seemed startled, her hands shaking and her lovely mouth twisting. When she slowly lowered her microphone, taking a step back, I resisted the urge to smile.

  Toying with them wasn’t in my best interest, but I’d never been a man to follow anyone’s rules, including the staunch requirements laid out by my father years before. After all, I was a brutal man, a ruthless killer, at least according to the very reporters standing in front of me like lambs awaiting their slaughter.

  I gave the reporter a lust-filled look, allowing my gaze to travel all the way down to her patent leather pumps, chuckling under my breath as I dragged my tongue across my lips. The ragged breath escaping her mouth was a delicious reward, although only slightly enticing the hunger that had been placed on lockdown for far too long.

  “Yeah. I’m ready for a stiff drink and a hot shower.” I was sure my father wouldn’t be impressed with the photographs that would appear on the front page of the local news.

  “Don’t blame you. Shithole of a place.”

  My Capo had been incarcerated in his native homeland for three years, the time spent doing hard labor. While the penitentiary I’d been forced to endure was considered maximum security, it was a posh hotel in comparison to the hell he’d been forced to face. They say prison hardened a man. He was like stone, ice running through his veins. That’s why we got along so well.

  Turning sharply, I walked toward the SUV, the driver scrambling to open the rear door. As I settled inside, I took one last look at the electrified barbed wire fence surrounding the prison, remaining quiet as Dimitri settled into the
seat beside me. Tonight would be just the beginning of a new chapter of the King family.

  But first, I would exact my vengeance.

  “We’ll be back in New Orleans in a couple hours,” Dimitri said quietly before handing me a satchel.

  I didn’t need to bother peering inside, the hefty weight of the duffle indicating a variety of weapons. Dimitri knew exactly what I preferred, including my favorite Beretta.

  “I made certain your house was in order. I had the cleaning staff pick up a few things as well. They damn well better have gotten everything you preferred or there will hell to pay,” he added.

  “I assume you brought the information I requested,” I stated as I poured a tumbler of scotch, lifting the crystal glass into the dim light, prepared to savor the rich flavor. Dimitri knew better than to cross me, my ruthless Russian Capo one of the few men I trusted with my life. He also had an innate understanding of my tastes.

  He slid a file across the seat, not bothering to glance in my direction.

  I’d spent eight months wallowing in a prison cell, treated like a fucking animal. The time had allowed me reflection, especially with regard to the assholes who’d betrayed me.

  I took a sip of my drink before even glancing at the file. Only when I’d settled back into my seat did I bother to inspect the contents. The information was exactly as I’d suspected, details highlighting the little prick who’d sold me out to the Feds.

  “I assume you know where Ricardo lives, his current place of employment,” I said casually as I swirled the glass, studying the snitch’s scarred face, my grip tightening around the glass.

  “Of course. Shithole down in the French Quarter. Some greasy Italian joint,” Dimitri stated, grumbling under his breath. “I should have taken the motherfucker out when I had the chance.”

  “And deny me of the pleasure?” I chortled.

  “Yeah, well, he’s been enjoying a damn good life,” he railed.

  That was about to change. Sighing, I took another sip, filtering through the remaining information. The asshole would soon face my wrath. “And the other item I asked you to look into?”

  When he remained silent, I slowly turned my head in his direction.

  After a few seconds, Dimitri jerked another file into his hands, his grip firm. “Are you certain you want to do this? I know it’s not my place to ask, but you know the Feds are likely expecting retaliation. I mean, this is a federal witness.”

  As if I gave a shit.

  I resisted the rage that had remained pooling deep inside me since the ridiculous hoax of a trial. Even though his tone reeked of insolence, I was also aware of his well-conditioned concern. Someone had used me as a scapegoat and that someone was going to face the barrel of my gun. While the asshole witnessing my handling of business wasn’t out of the ordinary, the fact I’d even been arrested meant there was a breakdown in our affairs of state.

  The King family owned at least half the police department, and a good number of attorneys and judges. They’d remained loyal through the years and in return, we offered them not only protection when needed but a certain portion of our wealth for their extended… favors. The fact we’d been betrayed meant someone was prepared to enter into our kingdom, attempting to take us down.

  My family believed they knew the identity of the assholes behind the ploy. I remained uncertain and refused to start a war based on innuendoes.

  The members of the Azzurri crime syndicate, a second mafia family who’d taken residence in our city only twenty years before, were ruthless bastards. However, they’d never attempted something this intricate, their soldiers little more than barbarians who’d eat their young if necessary. This had been something entirely different. I found it difficult to believe they’d dare come after us in such an egregious manner.

  However, I would find out.

  My arrest and subsequent incarceration had tarnished the King family, hindering not only our business activities but also my family’s way of life. I’d been kept apprised of the situation even while behind bars, but there’d been no overtures made by anyone in our family. They’d been too concerned my life would be threatened.

  And it had been more than once.

  Various enemies had managed to take advantages given our family’s tainted reputation. That would never happen again, retaliation necessary. However, to my knowledge, the Azzurris had remained under the radar.

  He sighed then slid the file across the seat, appearing more uncomfortable than before. I pulled it into my hands, fingering the edge before turning the flap, a glossy photograph positioned on top. The picture was a surprise, the face peering back at me completely unexpected.

  “You are well aware of what’s at stake, Dimitri. No one will ever attempt to destroy my family again. No one. This is just the start.” As I stared at the photograph Dimitri had captured, I was thrown, a rapid fire of electricity shooting through my veins. Every nerve stood on end, my cock twitching, my balls tightening. Surprised at my body’s reaction, I took another gulp of scotch as I traced my finger across the witness’s face.

  For a few seconds, I was shoved into a vacuum, the face appearing far too angelic and surreal. How the hell was this even possible? The find didn’t smell right.

  Hunger reared its ugly head, the kind of blatant and sadistic desire that tossed my mind into the vilest places. I took a deep breath as I read over the limited information, finally smiling as various delicious but filthy thoughts filtered into my mind.

  Yes, the discovery of the mystery witness changed my course of plans. Perhaps I would enjoy this even more.

  While my mother would voice the phrase, ‘vengeance is mine, sayeth the Lord,’ I would have my revenge in every manner that I desired.

  After closing the file, I took a deep breath. “A change in the schedule for tonight, Dimitri.” As I thought about what I was about to do, my cock stirred for the first time in months, desire racing into every cell.

  The darkness swelling within me refused to be denied.

  I was in the mood to go hunting.

  Soon the beautiful witness would learn that every action had a consequence, especially when crossing a member of the King family.

  I would capture her.

  Keep her.

  Punish her.

  Use her.

  Then break her.

  And that was just the beginning.

  Chapter 2

  Emily

  “Innocence is the weakest defense. Innocence has a single voice that can only say over and over again, I didn’t do it. Guilt has a thousand voices, all of them lies.”

  Leonard F. Peltier

  Exhaustion settled into every muscle, hovering over me like a thick blanket. I could still hear the rumble of thunder as a backdrop of the torrent of rain pummeling against the roof.

  I shivered as I stepped into the shower, wishing the blaring television had the ability to drown out the noise. I’d grown to loathe storms, especially when they happened at night.

  I closed the shower curtain, leaning against the tile as the stream of hot water cascaded over my aching body. It had been one hell of a week, the sixty-plus hours feeling more like a hundred. Shuddering, I remained chilled to the bone even though the stickiness of the recent heatwave challenged the aging air-conditioning unit. Thank God I had the weekend off, in which I planned doing nothing more than hunkering down on the couch, watching every rom-com in my movie collection.

  And maybe indulging in copious amounts of wine.

  A ragged chuckle left my mouth as I reached for the soap. My bestie’s ugly words regarding getting a life remaining in my mind. While I knew she was right, I wasn’t into the bar scene or even catching dinner with friends, at least not like a woman of my age should be. I blamed it on my work schedule but deep down inside, I knew the truth.

  Fear.

  When I heard the sound of my cellphone ringing, I groaned. If my boss was asking me to work tomorrow, I was determined to tell him no.

  Like yo
u’ve done the dozen times before?

  I yanked the scrubby ball from the hook, squeezing a huge amount of soap onto the netting. After a few seconds, the phone stopped ringing. Whoever was on the other end could leave me a message. Maybe I’d turn the phone off for the entire two days. Finally, a smile crossed my face.

  I tried to hum, jumping when I heard another boom of thunder. Jesus.

  “Goddamn it.” The phone was ringing again. What the hell? It had to be Friday night telemarketers.

  When the second call turned into a third, I’d had enough, prepared to say a few nasty words to whoever was on the other end of the line. I yanked a towel from the bar, leaving the water running then yanking the phone from the counter.

  Julia.

  Great.

  My bestie was going to nag me about going out. Again. “Stop it. I can’t go out tonight. Okay? I’m too tired.”

  “No. That’s not it,” Julia huffed, her voice shaking. “Didn’t the prosecuting attorney call you?”

  “No. Why? What’s wrong?” I struggled to secure the towel around my body as I juggled with the phone.

  “You gotta… Fuck. Fuck! Do you have your television on?”

  “Yeah, but only in the background. Why?” I’d never heard her this way.

  “I’m sorry, Em, I really am. Oh, God.”

  The tone in her voice was enough to fill my stomach with butterflies. “What are you talking about?”

  “Go look at your television. Just go. Now.”