Mafia King: A Mafia Royals Novella

by Rachel Van Dyken

  Now, she gets excited? Poor Maksim.

  I rolled my eyes. “Not really. I’ll just torture him for one lame day and get back to my life. But the fact that I can even get a rise out of him brings me joy, and you did say…what makes me happy?”

  Her gorgeous, wide smile beamed as her jet-black hair bounced down to her ass like a friggin’ Kardashian. “Absolutely.”

  “Good talk, Iz.”

  She blew a kiss toward me. “Good talk, Tiny.”

  I turned back to the mirror with an evil grin. If I couldn’t be happy. Content. If I couldn’t sleep. Why let him? After all, he was the one who’d gotten away, who didn’t save me. Not that he’d heard me screaming, but I’d always imagined him coming in on a white horse.

  Instead…

  He’d done nothing.

  Which was worse than rejecting me.

  So, I’d make him pay, just a little. For his flirting and his constant attention before the incident—before the change.

  I would make his life a living Hell.

  Twenty-four hours.

  Ha, strap up, princess, because Tiny is hella coming for Tank!

  Chapter Three

  Tank

  I knocked on Director Thompsons’ door.

  “Come in.” He didn’t look up from his desk.

  He was in his late fifties with salt and pepper hair and a constant scowl on his face as if the world couldn’t help but disappoint him on a daily basis. Then again, if people saw what we did…

  Lived how we did at the bureau, well…it was hard to find the light in things—the happy when everything seemed so dark and tragic.

  “Yes.” His brown eyes crinkled at the corners as he scanned me intently from the black folder he was holding. “This true?”

  Shit.

  “Well, that depends on what it says.” I knew what those black folders meant. Had they finally forced my hand? Finally sent the FBI something that meant this would be my last day?

  My badge burned in my pocket as I crossed my arms.

  “Sit.” He pointed to the cold metal chair.

  I stalked over to it, trying to fit my giant frame into a tiny seat was hellishly uncomfortable. Maybe a few years ago, I would have been able to, but not since working out with Ash.

  I’d thought Quantico was rough.

  Ha, they should just send in Ash, Junior, King, Maksim, and Valerian. That would be tough.

  They bled like they liked it.

  They were grumpy when they weren’t injured.

  And I rarely saw them smile without at least some blood on their person.

  I’d been forced to fight. Forced to lift more weights than I’d ever seen in my entire life, forced to live their life in order to survive.

  I didn’t feel sorry for myself.

  I just felt bad for my sore ass as I moved on the chair and tried to get comfortable.

  “You’ve changed,” Thompsons said with a sigh. “I’d believe it with my own eyes even if I hadn’t been sent this folder this morning.”

  “I’m assuming this is where you ask me to turn in my badge, gun, and—”

  He held up his hand. “I just need to know if it’s true.”

  “You’ll have to be more specific.”

  “Are you made?” He leaned forward, clasping his hands together so tightly, his skin turned a palish white.

  Shit.

  He didn’t know, then?

  He’d seen the bruises on my face.

  He’d seen the limps as I walked into the office.

  He knew I was undercover.

  Everyone assumed that I was working for one side but pretending to work for both.

  They were wrong.

  Because, somehow, the Five Families had become my family. Somehow, they’d healed me in a way the FBI never would and never could.

  I was half De Lange, after all, wasn’t I? Half-blood of the most hated mafia line in the entire universe. Yay.

  Maybe that’s why I chose the good guys, only to realize too late that both sides were good—both sides justified the spilling of blood.

  But only one side was loyal to the death.

  And it wasn’t the one with the badge.

  “Yes,” I finally said. “I’ve been made.”

  His sigh was long and drawn out. “What the hell do you want me to do with this information, Tank?”

  “Burn it?” I offered.

  The lines on his forehead deepened. “So that’s it, then? You go undercover too young, and now I lose you forever?”

  “You have other informants. I’m easily replaceable.”

  He flinched. “How do you know that?”

  “Because you would never just lay all your cards out on the table. Quite honestly, I think you have someone else in the Family, I just don’t know who would be desperate enough to work with you the way I was.”

  He pounded his fist onto his desk. “I saved you!”

  “I know,” I said softly. “You saved a lot of us. You gave us purpose. You gave us a life. But now it’s time for me to make my own choices.”

  “I knew you were too young when I sent you in undercover.”

  I shrugged. “I was already so old in my own head, you know that. I was forced to live a rough life, and you gave me an out. I’ll never forget that.”

  “And yet…” His smile was sad. “You choose the bad guys.”

  “They aren’t bad,” I said defensively. “Just…misunderstood.”

  “Justified killing is misunderstood?”

  “You tell me,” I fired back.

  He tossed the black file toward me. “One more job, and then I’ll be taking that badge, son.”

  My eyebrows rose in surprise as I leaned forward and checked out the folder. It was me standing next to Kartini at Valerian’s wedding last year.

  God, she’d been so pretty that day.

  And then she’d just disappeared on everyone after the scene with Ash. Fucking Ash. Thank God he was himself again and not such an asshole, though he still had his moments.

  Annie, his girlfriend, balanced him like a pound of Xanax.

  “Kartini Abandonato.” I gulped. “What about her?”

  “A few men in the field were killed that day. One of them was undercover for the Petrov Crime Family. I received his head in a cake box with a note signed: xoxo, K.”

  I barked out a laugh. “Yeah, she would never do that.”

  “The daughter of a mobster? You sure?”

  “Positive.” But even as I said it, I knew something had shifted in her. But it had to be something other than chopping someone’s head off. “What do you want me to do? I’m already her new babysitter for the next two weeks. So, if it’s following her around, save the energy. It’s already done.”

  He grinned. “Follow her. Befriend her. Get her to trust you. Seduce her.” I flinched. “And find out what really happened to my men.”

  “You mean other than death?”

  “Very funny.”

  “It wasn’t meant to be.”

  He sighed again. “Tank, it’s your last assignment. Keep it clean, get as close to her as possible. She’s your new job.”

  “Great. So, both bosses want me to follow the terrifying Tiny Abandonato…what could go wrong?”

  He frowned down at the picture. “You’re literally three times her size.”

  “You haven’t seen her balls.”

  His face cracked into a small smile. “Wait, are you…afraid of her?”

  “Hell no!”

  “Sure, okay.”

  “Can I be excused now?”

  “Are you ten?”

  I growled and shot to my feet. “Last job, and then I’m out.”

  “And then you’ll...do what? Stay permanently at Sergio Abandonato’s compound? Become a captain? Underboss? What?”

  I was silent. And then… “I like his compound. It has a theater room.”

  “You used to hate pulling your gun,” he said softly. “And now, it almost seems like you can�
��t wait to use it.”

  “Yeah, well, if you’d seen what I have.” I nodded. “You’d feel the same way…blood protects blood, sir. And no matter how many badges or awards you give me, nothing will change that.”

  Something that almost seemed like respect flickered in his eyes as he nodded and whispered, “You can go.”

  I left the black folder on his desk and ignored all the whispers and stares I received as I stomped through the offices.

  I was rarely there, and when I was, people always talked about the guy who the FBI had somehow allowed to switch sides.

  But I knew something they didn’t.

  A very long time ago, they’d had two FBI agents in the Five Families working for them.

  Phoenix Nicolasi.

  And Sergio himself.

  So…they could judge me all they wanted.

  Because they had no idea that the Five Families were on the fucking government payroll.

  Idiot sheep.

  I slammed the door to the offices behind me and groaned when I saw Giana Lang waiting in front of the elevator.

  If Kartini was Satan’s mistress, then Giana was the spawn of Satan. Her jet-black hair was pulled into a tight, severe bun, and the only color on her body was her trademark pink lipstick that always made her lips look too big, as if her mouth were just waiting to devour its next victim.

  Her green eyes flashed when I went and stood next to her. I had no other choice at that point.

  “I don’t trust you,” she said it as if she were bored.

  “And I don’t care.” I shoved my hands into my jeans’ pockets. “But your concern is noted.”

  She tapped her boring black heel against the concrete floor. “You’re in too deep, Tank. And one day, the water’s going to drown you.”

  I sighed. “Pretty sure the mafia will throw me a life jacket—they need me too much.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong.” Something flashed behind her green eyes. “They don’t need you. You need them.”

  “Excuse me?” Okay, now I was getting pissed. What the hell was her problem?

  “That. Right there.” She jutted a finger in my direction then tapped it once against my chest. “You’re emotional about it. You’re defensive in every meeting, and now you think you can just walk away from the bureau and set up camp with criminals and nobody’s going to bat an eyelash? You’re wrong, Tank. God, I can’t believe they gave you a promotion last year.”

  “Still stings, doesn’t it?” I grinned knowingly. “To know that no matter how many bad guys you arrest, I’ll still be the favorite.”

  “I hate you.”

  “You hate yourself,” I spat.

  The elevator doors opened as I ignored her and grabbed my cell, dialing Sergio right in front of her like it didn’t matter because, quite honestly, it didn’t.

  “What’s up?” He sounded way too calm for a Tuesday.

  “New assignment just happens to be your daughter. Know anything about that?”

  “New assignment?”

  I hesitated and noticed that Giana had gotten onto the elevator with me. Whatever. Let her hear. “Last assignment.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I could have sworn she smiled.

  “So, you’ve made your choice?”

  “Did I ever really have one?” I snorted out a laugh.

  He was quiet and then said, “We always have a choice.”

  “Sure, okay, tell that to all the rivers of blood we seem to bathe in.”

  Giana snorted out a humorless laugh next to me like she actually understood the double life I’d been living.

  I rolled my eyes and whispered to her, “I was kidding. It was a metaphor.”

  “Sure, you were.”

  “Scaring small children again?” Sergio laughed.

  “If only it worked on yours,” I fired back.

  “She’s no longer a child, Tank.”

  Yeah, I knew. That was the problem.

  Seven-year age difference.

  Seven-year age difference.

  I just kept repeating it to myself so I didn’t feel like a total idiot and creeper.

  “You’re awfully quiet.” He interrupted my mental chant. “And she’s at the house. She was asking for you, actually.”

  “Oh, good, let the torture begin.”

  “Yours or hers?”

  “Guess.”

  His laughter was all I heard before the line went dead.

  The elevator doors opened, and Giana stepped out ahead of me, only to stop once she was in the hall. She called over her shoulder, “I hope you know what you’re doing, Tank. Because it’s not just your life you have to worry about.”

  “They can take care of themselves,” I said calmly.

  “We’ll see,” was all she said, leaving me wondering why her words felt more like a veiled threat than a dig.

  Our conversation bothered me the entire drive to Sergio’s.

  And I had no idea why.

  Chapter Four

  Kartini

  The door slammed.

  “Honey, I’m home...” I said to myself with a grin.

  I had a bottle of wine out on the living room table, my shoes on the glass as I leaned back and took a swig from my goblet—because why not get fancy at two in the afternoon?

  “It’s ten a.m,” came Tank’s annoyed voice.

  Or ten in the morning…whoops.

  “I don’t own a watch.” I shrugged.

  “What’s that on your left wrist, then?”

  “Oh, that?” I shrugged. “It’s an Apple watch used strictly for heart rate and exercise purposes.”

  “Exercise to you is opening your mouth and closing it, Tiny.” He made it farther into the room, and I tried…I really did. I tried not to check him out.

  Not to stare at his golden skin.

  His bulging biceps beneath his plain black t-shirt.

  The new ink poking out from the V of that same shirt.

  Would he get the Abandonato crest like the rest of the Family?

  I shivered.

  He would look so hot with it across his chest.

  Our crest.

  Mine.

  I shifted my eyes away too slowly, and he caught them with his green-eyed gaze before he licked his full lips like he saw something else he wanted to lick.

  He always looked at me that way—with both annoyance and need.

  And I never knew how to take it.

  On one hand, I wanted to believe the need trumped any annoyance he felt for me, but I knew how he saw me.

  As a spoiled brat with a silver spoon stuck up her ass.

  And even worse now that I was older.

  Now that I was…different.

  “You added more blue.” He jutted his chin toward me and sat down on the chair across from the sofa I was lying on.

  “Yup.” I examined my black nail polish. “I felt like it wasn’t making a strong enough statement.”

  He snorted out a laugh. “And what sort of statement were you going for? Gothic chic?”

  “What?” I glared at him. “You don’t like it.”

  “It’s not you.”

  Disappointment threatened to choke me, and shame crawled up my neck by way of a harsh red flush. “You don’t know me.”

  “I did.” He locked eyes with me. “Or I thought I did.”

  “People change, Tank.”

  “Not that dramatically.” He saw too much. I needed to pester him, to get him to verbally spar or maybe just spar in general.

  I shot to my feet. “Wanna fight?”

  He groaned into his hands, his golden-brown hair falling forward over his forehead. “You ask this every week, and every week what do I tell you?”

  “Ummm, no. You say ‘no,’ even though you know I can hold my own. I’m an Abandonato, so…” I walked right up to where he was sitting and kicked him in the shin.

  “Son of a bitch, Tiny!” He roared in pain. “Why?”

  I laughed. “Because you were bei
ng a pussy.”

  He glared. “Why are you like this?”

  “Why are you?”

  “What?”

  “So…” I leaned down and whispered, “Weak.”

  That did it.

  A barely controlled rage burned behind his green gaze as he jumped to his feet and picked me up like I weighed nothing, then tossed me over his shoulder and stomped toward the weight room.

  I could barely contain my triumphant grin—until he bypassed the weight room and shoved me into my room, then started to close the door after tossing me onto my bed.

  “Oh, hell no.” I bolted after him just as the door caught my foot.

  He glared. “Naptime, princess.”

  “You bastard!” I roared, clawing at his arm.

  He shoved me back again, as gently as he probably could.

  So, I jumped around onto his back.

  He let out a roar and threw me back onto the bed, pinning my body beneath his as his chest heaved in exertion. “You drew blood.”

  “Where?” I laughed.

  “My neck. And you’re insane. You know that, right?”

  I located the blood and very slowly lifted my head until my lips pressed against his neck. “There…” They vibrated against his skin. “All better.”

  He cursed under his breath. “We need ground rules.”

  “For?” I leaned back as he pulled his hands away.

  “This.” He growled. “No kissing me. No touching me. No annoying the hell out of me. Your dad put your safety in my hands for the wedding.”

  I let out a huff of embarrassment. “And why can’t I touch you? Does it make you uncomfortable?” I trailed a finger from his neck down to the V of his shirt then gave it a small tug. “Hmmm?”

  His lips parted as his expression shuddered, kicking me out of whatever emotions he refused to share with me. “Don’t push me, Tiny. Not right now.”

  “See, I think that’s exactly what you need, Tank…to let me shove you right off that cliff into oblivion. Think how good it would feel.”

  He jerked away from me. “Yes, and then decapitation by way of your father, all in the name of you having a bit of fun with my life. No, thank you.” He growled. “We leave Friday morning. Get your shit packed.”

  “Already am.” I shrugged. It was a first, considering I’d never packed a week before anything—I was that excited.