by Kelsie Rae
“What’s going on?”
I continue to chew on my lower lip.
“Ace?” he presses.
On shaky legs, I stand up and shuffle a foot away from Kingston to give us both some space.
“Do you trust me, King?”
“Of course, Wild Card. But that look is freaking me out.” He laughs, though there isn’t any humor in it, and I have a feeling he can feel the same foreboding as I can. Swallowing thickly, I reach into the back pocket of my jeans and pull out a business card. Jack’s business card.
“I have an idea.”
His brows furrow in curiosity before taking a closer look. “And?”
“Do you remember—”
“What the fuck is that?” King explodes, eyeing the small piece of cardstock in my hand as if it were a ticking time bomb. I jump from his outburst as D looks over his shoulder toward the empty hallway then rushes to close the office door. His chiseled jaw hardens, and I know exactly what he’s thinking. He thinks I lied to him. That I lied to both of them.
Under their scrutinization, my tongue fumbles over the words, “It’s not what it looks like.”
“Better not be what it looks like, Wild Card, or you’d put me in a pretty messed up situation,” Kingston spits, his gaze narrowing in suspicion.
“Boss,” D murmurs, his tone heavy.
I look over at him to see his hand resting near the Glock I know is tucked behind his suit jacket.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
“Start talking, Ace. Now.” The steeliness in Kingston’s voice surprises me, making me flinch.
“Do you really think I’d betray you?” I whisper. My feet seem to have lost all desire for self-preservation as they take a cautious step toward him. If I can just touch him. If I can make him see that it’s me he’s glaring at, and not the enemy, then I might be able to bring my Kingston back to the room instead of the stranger who’s glaring at me like I’m a double agent.
With his spine made of steel, he watches me warily but doesn’t move a muscle. “I told you to start talking, and I suggest you don’t make me ask twice.”
My feet stop their pursuit. Shit. He’s pissed. As I release a shaky breath, I look over my shoulder and address Diece. “Do you remember the grocery store?”
Fists clenching, he gives me a jerky nod.
“You saw Jack there. He approached me—” The news pulls a roar from Kingston’s chest, and I raise my hand in a silent plea. After shaking his head in disgust, he quiets down long enough for me to continue. “I didn’t know he was going to be there. I promise, Kingston. I need you to trust me right now.” Roughly, the palms of his hands rub against his face, but he remains silent, so I press on. “Jack thought I was in danger and gave me his card. I promise you that I had no idea who Jack was, or that he’s been undercover. I met him at Sin, and then he just…started popping up places. For some reason I still don’t really understand, he was trying to look out for me, and when I disappeared, he lost it. Then he saw me in the store with D––which was completely coincidental––and gave me his card. He told me that if I ever need anything from him, he’s here to help, but I promise you that I would never tell him anything, Kingston. Ever. Not unless I spoke with you first, and we both agreed it was in our best interest, and after what you’ve just told me, I think it might be.”
The silence in the room is so thick that my lungs struggle to breathe, my chest constricting in agony as I watch the man I’ve fallen for observing me so coldly.
With a tense voice, he continues his interrogation. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”
“Because he’s only doing his job, and I didn’t want him to get hurt. A-and I didn’t want you to look at me the way you’re looking at me right now,” I confide before dropping my gaze down to my bare feet.
“D,” Kingston barks. “Out. Now.”
“But—”
“Now.”
The door opens then closes with a soft click seconds later, and I’m left with the most powerful man I’ve ever met who’s making me feel like his enemy when I’m supposed to be on his team.
“Sit.” My neck snaps up to see him leaning against the desk with his ankles crossed and a frown firmly in place.
I gulp before taking a seat on the chair opposite him. With my butt on the edge, I wait for him to say something. Anything.
“Do you know what a connection like this looks like?” he asks in a lethal tone.
Peeking up at him, I nod.
“Do you know what kind of position this puts me in?”
Again, I nod.
“Do you know what I should do with this information?”
I squeeze my eyes shut only to hear his hand slam against the top of his desk, making me jump for the third time in five minutes.
“Answer me,” he growls.
“Yes.”
“Then tell me why you think I shouldn’t. If it were anyone else in this room with a card like that, they’d already be dead. Why should I treat you any different?”
The image he paints steals my breath. If I ever wanted to truly see how strongly he feels about me, it seems like now is the perfect opportunity.
Licking my lips, I chance another glance up at him. His eyes are hooded and pitch black. His fists are tight in barely restrained anger. And his muscles are bunching beneath his shirt like a damn tiger who’s been cornered. This is the Dark King. And I’m challenging him.
“Because I’m trusting you.”
“Or you’re using me,” he counters.
“Do you really think I’d use you like that, Kingston? Think about it, and I mean really think about it. I’m putting my life on the line in hopes of finding a solution, and one fell into my lap. You can’t blame me for that. I didn’t go out looking for Jack. I didn’t know who he was. But if you could just…trust me. I think I have an idea. One that can fix everything.”
“You’ve said that already. Better keep talking, Wild Card.”
Clearing my throat, I dive right in.
Chapter Eighteen
Kingston
It isn’t easy to gain my respect, but as Ace goes toe-to-toe with me, I can’t help but admire her determination.
That doesn’t stop the overwhelming suspicion from taking hold, however.
“I said talk,” I bark.
I watch as her pink tongue darts out between her lips before running along them. “You need evidence that Burlone works for the Feds. I know a Fed who might be willing to help.”
Tapping my finger against my chin, I say, “You said might. Do you know what happens if he doesn’t want to give us the fabricated documents we’re asking for?”
“He’ll give it to us,” she counters. There’s an edge of determination in her voice, but it isn’t enough to convince me.
I scoff. “How do you know, Ace?”
“Because he knows what a terrible human being Burlone is just like we do.”
A wave of frustration mixed with defeat rolls through me.
Leaning forward, I ask, “Ace. Who am I?”
Ace’s brows pinch in confusion. “Huh?”
“Who am I?”
“You’re Kingston?” It’s obvious she doesn’t know where I’m going with this, so I spell it out for her.
“I’m Kingston Romano. Head of the Romano family. I’m a made man, Ace. I’m a bad man.”
“Well yeah, but—”
“What makes me any different than Burlone in Jack Connelly’s eyes?”
With a huff, she crosses her arms. “You don’t have multiple women at your disposal for a quick buck. That’s the difference. If we can offer him something he wants in return––”
“And what if we can’t find something he wants? You’re suggesting we approach a Fed, Ace. If he refuses to help us, then I’ll have no choice but to kill him to protect ourselves. To protect our family. Are you okay with that?”
“It won’t come to that,” she argues, though I can see the doubt in her eyes.
“It mig
ht,” I return. “I need to know whose side you’re on. Because right now, you could still walk away. You could still disappear into the night. Your name hasn’t been tainted by the mafia yet, but if your connection with a Fed is discovered, and then that Fed goes missing because they refuse to cooperate with us, it won’t take a genius to figure out the part you played. Do you want that?”
Gaze steely, she stands from her seat before nudging my legs apart and pushing between them. I feel her soft palms cup both sides of my face, and the intimate touch surprises me. Especially when I just finished giving her an ultimatum I’d never planned on voicing aloud.
Pulling me down until my forehead rests against hers, she whispers, “I’m in this, King. I’m all in. If Jack doesn’t go along with this, then we do what needs to be done to protect the family. There’s no going back for me…no matter what.”
I watch for any sign of a lie, even if she’s hiding the truth from herself as much as she’s hiding it from me, but I don’t see it. The resolution in her eyes is clear, and my chest squeezes in anticipation.
“Truth,” I murmur, my lips hovering an inch from hers.
“Then let me ask you again. Do you trust me?”
I nod.
“Let’s do this.”
I don’t like this. I don’t like this one fucking bit. I watch Ace dial Jack’s number with a clenched jaw, convinced we’re all going to end up dead or in prison. But she asked for my trust, and after hearing her side of the story, I grudgingly told her she had it.
Those big doe eyes got to me as she explained what had happened, and her logic behind following this path was enough to convince me she’s right. I assessed every movement as she laid out her plan. I couldn’t detect a single lie in her absurd story concerning how she received that damn card. Watching her closely, I still can’t find a single bone in her body that whispers betrayal. Either I’m going soft, or she’s telling the truth. I just pray that my feelings for her haven’t clouded my judgment. But I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.
“Um, hey,” her soft little voice murmurs into the receiver. “Yeah, it’s me, Ace.”
Silence.
Her gaze darts over to me before looking down at her sneakers. “I’m fine, I promise. Look, do you think we could meet somewhere?”
Silence.
“Umm…there’s a diner? Dottie’s? It’s on––” She pauses. “Okay, good. See you then.”
Her hand that’s holding the phone to her ear drops to her side, and she gives me the thumbs up. “Looks like we’re meeting him in thirty minutes at Dottie’s.”
“Thank God. I’m starving,” D adds, rubbing his stomach dramatically. As soon as I told D that I trust Ace, he jumped on board without any questions, and I appreciate his support. Ace laughs at his antics before walking around the desk and planting a kiss against my mouth.
“It’s going to be okay,” she promises, her eyes shining with sincerity.
“And if it isn’t, am I allowed to kill him?”
Messing with the Feds is unheard of in this business. Well, unless you want to end up dead like Burlone is going to be. If everything goes according to plan.
Hesitantly, she leans forward and drops another kiss to my mouth. This one is slower. Sweeter. And so damn addictive I have to force my hands to stay at my sides when they’re begging to wrap around her tiny waist so that I can press myself against her. The tip of my tongue brushes against the seam of her mouth as I hear D clearing his throat. I’d almost forgotten he was in the room, though I don’t really give a shit. With a sigh, Ace pulls away and rests her head against my forehead. “Come on, King. Buy me some French toast, will ya?”
D interrupts. “French toast? I thought you were an eggs kind of girl?”
Looking over her shoulder at him, she shrugs. “Yeah. I guess it’s my own little tribute to G. Have you heard anything about her?”
“She’s a ghost, Ace,” he replies. “We haven’t been able to find anything.”
Her face sobers, but I press forward because she needs to know the truth.
“Your friend vanished, and we think it has something to do with Burlone. But we’ll find her. I promise.”
With a nod, a somber Ace wraps her arms around herself before I press my hand against her back and lead her to my black Audi parked in the garage. I open the passenger door and help her inside. Once she’s situated, I climb behind the steering wheel. D sits in the back, and we head to Dottie’s.
The place is exactly what I expected. Fifties diner. The smell of grease. The booths tucked along the walls. It’s…quaint. And clean. I’ve gotta give the owner some credit for keeping it in pretty decent shape, especially in a neighborhood like this. I scan the area for the man of the hour.
As soon as I see the guy sitting in one of the booths near the back of the diner, my steps almost falter.
“This is Jack? The asshole who grabbed you in my casino?” I spit angrily.
Ace has the decency to look apologetic before placing her hand on my bicep and giving it a soft squeeze.
“He’s our only shot right now to get the concrete evidence we need, King. Can you please play nice? For me?”
With a clenched jaw, I dig deep and find some semblance of control before putting my hand against the small of her back and pushing her forward. “I think it’d be best if he saw you first, Wild Card. Because if he sees us swarm him, he might have a heart attack.”
Laughing awkwardly, she takes a step toward the booth before turning on her heel. “Come over in two minutes. I’ll try to prep him, but I don’t want to give him a chance to actually leave, ya know?”
Both D and I nod before D jokes, “We’ll be right over by the hostess table. But don’t make us wait long. I wasn’t kidding when I said I was hungry.”
Giving D a playful wink, Ace says, “I’ll place your order when Dottie comes over. Eggs, sausage, and breakfast potatoes?”
His stomach growls. “Yes, please. And order some for Kingston too. I don’t want him getting handsy with my sausage.”
Snorting, she waves us off. “See you in a few.”
With the confidence of a runway model, Ace approaches Jack and sits down across from him before a waitress comes and takes their order. I watch as her mouth forms my name, quickly followed by the douche slapping his hand against the table angrily, his posture turning rigid. My nostrils flare when I see Ace put her delicate little hand on top of his to calm him down.
Sensing my frustration, D grabs my forearm. “Give her a second, King. It’s all good. She’s taking care of it.”
“I don’t like her touching him,” I grit out.
I don’t like it at all.
“You don’t own her, man. Pretty sure it’s the other way around.”
Giving him the side-eye, I see an amused smirk on his face, and if we weren’t in public, I’d wipe it off with my fist.
I don’t bother responding to his remark because I’m afraid he might have a point. How else would a girl off the streets be able to convince a mob boss to meet with the Feds?
Cracking my knuckles, I mutter, “It’s been two minutes. Time’s up.”
Casually, I walk over to the booth then slide in next to Ace without waiting for an invitation. I don’t need one, anyway. Not after everything she’s put me through. D grabs a chair from a nearby table. The legs scrape against the tile floor as he drags it toward us then plops into it lazily and rests his elbows on the table. Once we’re situated, I assess the man I’ve been told I should rely on. The only problem? With the way he looks at Ace, I know my judgment will be clouded, and I won’t be able to trust my gut.
Which means I’ll have to put my trust in the girl beside me, instead. Looking over at her, she gives me an innocent smile then rests her hand against my thigh beneath the table. Her touch immediately calms me, and it only confirms D’s comment from earlier. She fucking owns me.
Our food is being placed in front of us seconds later by an older woman with short dyed-red hair and
a no-shit attitude that I admire.
“I see the way y’all are lookin’ at each other,” she starts. “I spent way too much of my time and money to see my diner ruined by a brawl or a pissin’ contest. If things get crazy, take it outside. That ain’t negotiable, ya hear?”
My mouth quirks up on one side. “Loud and clear. Thanks for letting us borrow your establishment. We’ll take good care of it.”
“Good answer. I’ll be over there if y’all need anything.” Her forefinger points to the other side of the diner before she turns on her heel and goes on to help the next customer, leaving us to ourselves.
“Ace said you wanted to see me?” Jack breaks the tense silence with a sarcastic tone that immediately grates on my nerves. His frustration is clear but unnecessary.
D pops a breakfast potato into his mouth then jokes, “Don’t get your panties in a twist, Jack Connelly, FBI agent. We’re only here to talk.”
“Sure you are,” Jack mumbles under his breath, his eyes narrowing on Ace.
“Look,” Ace says. “We need your help.”
With a scoff, Jack shakes his head. “And what kind of help would a mafia king need from an FBI agent? I’m not going to cover up the shit you’ve done. I’m not going to go crawling back to the academy empty-handed, and I’m not a dirty cop. So what the hell do you think you can get from me?”
“Let me ask you something, Jack.” My voice is like ice; my demeanor is confident, bordering on arrogant. I know Ace can see the change in me compared to the man she’s always seen by the way her breath catches in her throat. Her hand shakes as it rests against my leg, but she doesn’t remove it. Instead, her head does a tiny bob of approval, encouraging me to be the man I need to be and to get shit done.
Which is exactly what I intend to do.
Clearing my throat, I press forward. “What would you do if you were given the opportunity to take down the entire human trafficking ring in the Midwest?”