by Kelsie Rae
Keeping my feet firmly planted, I stare at the objects dangling from Kingston’s hand as if they’re a snake waiting to strike. My gaze turns to the guy who answered the door, then back to Kingston. He looks about two seconds away from storming out with me in tow, throwing our whole plan out the window. And I can’t let that happen.
“It’s okay,” I reassure him under my breath while praying the asshat from a few feet away can’t hear me. My eyes dart to said asshat before returning to Kingston. “Promise.”
“Where are the keys?” King barks to the spectator who’s getting way too much enjoyment out of King’s reluctance. Without a word, he picks them up from the platter and lifts them into the air.
“Here you go. Once you reach the main room where the tournament is being held, you’ll place the keys in the center pot for the final winner to collect at the end of the night.”
With a final glare at Burlone’s thug, King turns to me reluctantly, looking way too helpless for his own good. I raise my arms toward him and shrug one shoulder.
“It’s fine, King. I’ll be out in no time, remember?”
My comment is meant to soothe him but only seems to rile up the guy who answered the door. Thankfully, another firm look from King is enough to shut him up.
King grasps my offered hands as if I’m a helpless bird and brushes his thumbs against the inside of my wrists before lifting the cuffs. The intention is clear in his apologetic eyes while the metal is cold against my skin, making me flinch when the locks click into place.
A satisfied grin is plastered on the asshole’s face as he says, “Best get going. Burlone is very anxious to get started, and you’re the last to arrive, so chop chop.” He claps his hands for good measure before dangling the keys in front of Kingston’s face. With a cold, hard stare, Kingston takes them from him, tucks them into his suit jacket, then guides me across the marble tile with his hand on my lower back.
As I look around the expansive foyer, my mouth opens slightly. The space is immaculate. Not a thing looks out of place, yet there aren’t any personal touches anywhere. Rich golds and deep reds suggest an opulence I’ve never even dreamed of.
“Is this Burlone’s house?” I ask, my voice coming out squeaky and mouse-like.
“Technically, no. It’s registered under an alias, but, yes. He owns it.”
“It’s huge.”
“Yeah. Take a left up here.”
“How do you know where you’re going?”
“They explained it in the email with a small disclaimer that if you’re not where you’re supposed to be, you’ll be killed without a second thought.”
I gulp. “That sounds promising.”
His deep chuckle reverberates through me as we round the corner. “No worries, Ace. We got this.”
I sure hope so, I think to myself, but I keep my lips zipped.
I wish his confidence was contagious because the only thing I’m feeling right now is that I’m about to puke.
When we reach the open ballroom, a smoky fog makes my eyes water. Or at least I think that’s what it is. A gaudy chandelier hangs from the ceiling, and beneath it is a fancy poker table with black felt and six cushioned chairs surrounding it. Five of the seats are taken by men while breathtakingly gorgeous women stand next to them with the same collars around their throats and handcuffs around their wrists as I’m currently wearing. The sight is nothing short of a nightmare.
The fight or flight instinct hits me full-force, and I have to use every ounce of self-discipline to keep my feet from running in the opposite direction.
My eyes take in each individual girl, focusing on their discomfort instead of my own. If we can pull this off, then they’ll all be safe. Some have tears streaming down their faces. Others appear to be numb from trauma. I nearly stumble when I see Gigi in a tight, red dress and a swelling bruise against her cheekbone.
“No. No, no, no, no,” I mumble under my breath, my eyes glued to my best friend as my entire body goes into shock. I’m shaking like a leaf when Kingston catches me at the last second and shushes me quietly so only I can hear. “It’s okay, Ace.”
“You don’t understand.” My voice cracks, and my eyes well with tears as I choke out, “Gigi’s here.”
I knew it was a possibility. Hell, I knew the odds were pretty damn likely, but it still doesn’t stop the reality that she’s been living an absolute nightmare from nearly taking me down to the floor. And it’s all because of me. Because we sat together and bonded over breakfast foods. Because we were friends.
He tosses a quick glance over his shoulder at the table before looking down at me, and I know he can feel my pain as if it’s his own because I feel the same way.
“We’ll get her out. But I need you to be patient, okay?”
The metallic taste of blood explodes in my mouth as I dig my teeth into my lower lip to keep from having a complete meltdown. The tangy flavor is barely enough to keep my emotions in check. For now, anyway.
He’s right. If we’re going to get out of this, then I need to chill out and be patient.
Nodding, I follow Kingston to the last vacant spot at the table then place my hand on his shoulder like the rest of the girls. The odd behavior makes me feel like I’m nothing more than an object––a pretty piece of meat for all the men to look at. And boy, are they looking. I can feel their eyes on me. The way they observe me like a cut of prime rib from the butcher, inspecting me for their own sick use. My stomach rolls at the thought, and my fingers dig into Kingston’s shoulder. Since he’s made of solid muscle, he doesn’t even flinch as I take a bit of my frustration out on him. The collar feels like it’s slowly shrinking around my neck, making me swallow thickly.
Calm down, Ace.
With effort, I loosen my hold on him while reminding myself that Kingston needs a strong woman by his side so he can focus on Burlone. If everything goes according to plan, the slimeball is about to have his world thrown on its axis. And I’ve never wanted something more in my entire life.
I take a deep breath and try to calm my nerves then take the opportunity to get a closer look at the girls around the table. When I find Gigi looking at me with the same shock written on her face as I’m sure is written on mine, I want to cry all over again.
“It’s okay,” I mouth to her in an attempt to appear unfazed by the entire ordeal. I have no doubt she can see right through me.
She blinks rapidly in response, holding back a fresh set of tears. But she doesn’t say anything. Who knows? With the hell she’s been through, maybe she’s too afraid to try.
Chapter Twenty-One
Ace
“Gentlemen, I’m glad you could all make it,” Burlone starts, distracting me from Gigi’s terrified expression. His voice brings back haunting memories every time I hear it, and I have to fight my knees from buckling as the horrific memories hit for the thousandth time since this whole thing started.
“Now, as you all know, the rules are a simple winner takes all format. However, while I’ve been gracious enough to prepare your women for you, none of you have compensated me for my efforts in acquiring them. Instead, you requested to pay in person this evening before the official tournament started. As you all know, this is highly irregular, but I’ve been generous enough to comply. Well, gentlemen, the time has arrived. Now, if you will…” His voice trails off as he motions to the table, silently asking the slimy assholes willing to sell and buy women sitting around the table to pay up.
No one moves a muscle.
With my heart racing, I wait to see Kingston’s move. This is the moment we’ve been waiting for, and the ball is officially in his court. Our court. When Kingston doesn’t do anything, curiosity gets the best of me, and I look around the room to find I’m not the only one anxious to see how this is going to play out. Every man is staring at Kingston too. I’d give anything to see his face right now, but I can’t, so I’ll have to settle for Burlone’s.
His big, bushy eyebrows are furrowed as he looks at his a
ssociates who are all frozen in their places.
“I’m sorry, were those instructions confusing? I mean, I know there’s an open bar and all but––” He chuckles awkwardly at his pathetic joke while the rest of the room stays motionless.
“You’re awfully insistent we pay up,” one man mutters under his breath. If it’d been in any other situation, I’m sure he could’ve kept his comment to himself. Unfortunately for him, the room is so silent that his quiet voice is easily understood.
With his salt and pepper hair slicked back, the stranger is busy fiddling with his hands as his gaze springs around the room in search of backup before landing firmly on Kingston who still hasn’t moved a muscle. Clearly, he’s biding his time. I just don’t know what he’s waiting for, but I trust him enough to know that when the opportunity presents itself, he’ll step forward and state his case. A swarm of nervous bats ravages my stomach as Burlone’s eyes darken.
“Excuse me?” Burlone scoffs. “Dex, escort Mr. Carbonne from the premises. It seems he’s misunderstood the dynamic of our relationship. But don’t worry, I’m sure we can find a way to rectify that as quickly as possible with a little persuasion.” The threat is clear, especially since Dex has always been the muscle for Burlone. The one to educate Burlone’s enemies with his fists. Two weeks ago, I got a lesson firsthand, and the recovery was a bitch. Gingerly, I touch my rib cage that’s still slightly bruised and hurts when I breathe in too deeply. I know he’s supposedly on our side, but it doesn’t stop the shiver from racing through me at the memory of our one-on-one encounter. I’m not sure if I’ll ever truly trust him, but Kingston has chosen to, and I’ll trust him with my life.
Mr. Carbonne, however, gulps loudly before tugging on the collar of his button-up as if it’s choking him. I want to laugh at the irony since the girl behind him is literally wearing a collar too, just like the rest of us women in the room.
Asshole. Kind of sucks being threatened, doesn’t it?
I place my sweaty palm back on Kingston’s shoulder. His muscles tense beneath his shirt as he waits with bated breath to see how Dex responds to Burlone’s orders. I catch myself holding my breath too. This is the moment. The one that tells us if we’re going to be slaughtered tonight, or if we have a chance to pull this off. Because without Dex? We’re screwed.
From the shadows, I hear his gruff voice that makes me break out into a sweat from the first time I met him. “Apologies, Mr. Allegretti. But I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
“Excuse me?” Burlone turns in his seat with a glare, searching for Dex around the perimeter of the room.
Digging my teeth into my lower lip, I find Dex in the corner with a handgun resting by his side and a casual I-don’t-give-a-shit expression painted across his face. It’s still hard for me to look him in the eye when the last time I saw him, his fist was connecting with the side of my face. Over and over again. But Kingston reassured me we could trust him, so I’m here, praying it isn’t a mistake. By the look on his smug face, I’d say we made the right choice.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Burlone grits out with a narrowed gaze.
“Nothing.” Dex shrugs. “Just making sure to keep everything in check, which means Mr. Carbonne gets to stay here for a bit longer.”
“Have you forgotten your place, Dex?”
“No, I’ve found it,” he returns, looking at Kingston for a split second. But it’s long enough for Burlone to start piecing things together. His mouth opens in disbelief.
“Sei!” Burlone shouts. His neck snaps to the front as he searches for his other loyal soldier.
“I’m afraid Sei’s not available at the moment,” Dex adds conversationally. “And neither are the rest of your men.”
“What the fuck did you do?”
“Just taking out the trash, Burlone. And those that didn’t need my assistance in disappearing were generously compensated. I’m sure you understand,” Dex replies before motioning to Kingston. “Boss, I think now would be a great time to step in.”
Kingston chuckles darkly, gaining the attention of everyone in the room as the spotlight shifts from one man to another. I don’t miss the way Dex calls him boss, and I’m positive everyone else here heard it loud and clear too.
“I dunno, Dex. I think this is rather entertaining, don’t you?” Kingston finally voices. I know this isn’t the time or the place, but the confidence he’s exuding is sexy as hell. My fingers trail along his neck before finding their place back on his shoulder, my spine straightening.
We can do this. We can do this.
The rest of the people in the room stay silent as they watch the situation unfold with rapt attention.
“What the fuck is going on?” Burlone bellows angrily. Droplets of sweat are starting to cling to his forehead. His face is slightly purple from frustration, and part of me wants to take a picture to remember this moment. Unfortunately, I know it would probably be used as evidence against us if it made its way into the wrong hands.
Especially when I know the potential outcome of tonight. It won’t end pretty for him. For any of them.
“Alright, alright. I’ll step in,” Kingston interrupts. I can hear the smile in his voice, and the sound calms me enough to think this might turn out okay.
“Dex came to me recently. Can you believe that, Burlone?” Kingston asks though he’s addressing the whole room. Hell, he’s commanding it. “Your own right-hand man? I thought it was a little out of character too, but Dex felt the need to voice a suspicion he had about his dear old boss. Secret meetings. Intentionally botched drop-offs. I found it fascinating, so I decided to do a little research of my own. What I found was…interesting, to say the least.”
Burlone shakes his head in disbelief. “What the hell are you talking about, King?”
“I’m talking about your association with the FBI, and your plan to incriminate everyone at this table tonight as soon as they handed over their money for the beautiful women you’ve found.” The way King says the word found is enough to insinuate the opposite.
Burlone sputters, “What the fuck does that mean?”
“Dex,” King calls while ignoring Burlone completely.
Gun at his side, he steps out of the shadows. “Yeah, Boss?”
“Were the women in this room handled differently than usual?”
“Yeah.”
“Care to expand?” King laughs, dryly.
Dex joins in before explaining, “The men were explicitly told not to touch them. In fact, Burlone brought me in and ordered me to keep them from being spoiled before they were officially purchased, which he’s never done before. If we’re being honest, he’s usually one of the first to break them in.”
The men around the room all laugh, like that little tidbit isn’t one of the most despicable things Dex could’ve said. My stomach clenches when Kingston’s own chuckle joins in before he continues his probing.
“And why do you think they were being protected?”
“Because he didn’t want any incriminating evidence on the Allegretti family. Only his associates.”
“And why is that?”
“Because he cut a deal with the Feds,” Dex finishes. His tone is matter-of-fact and almost lazy. If I weren’t in on the ruse, I just might believe him myself.
Outraged, Burlone shoves his chair away from the table a few inches but stays seated as he argues, “That’s bullshit, and you know it. Gentlemen, why would I talk to the Feds? It’s not logical.”
“It is if they’ve got incriminating evidence against you like your former soldier just stated,” Mr. Carbonne pipes in while crossing his arms over his large, round chest. “It makes sense for you to work out a deal with the Feds to help them gather evidence against your associates instead of arresting you. Selfish, Burlone. But smart. If you hadn’t been caught.”
With a roll of his eyes, Burlone shakes his head. “That’s the most ludicrous thing I’ve ever heard. What kind of evidence do you have? You can’t honestly believe the high
and mighty Romano family over one of your own?”
Another man interrupts from my left. He’s got to be almost sixty years old and looks like an old bulldog, his jowls hanging off his face. “Interestingly, I would normally agree with you, Burlone. But then I heard from one of my associates who informed me of a little incident a few weeks ago. One where you had set up a drop off on Kingston’s turf but didn’t show up with the women. However, the Feds did know where you were meeting and were there to greet him. The only reason my associate didn’t get caught was because the Romano family stepped in and fucked up your plans. I assume that’s why you personally named Kingston Romano in the email invitation to this tournament. To incriminate him when we all know he’s never been one to dabble in the skin trade. You wanted to use the email against him in a court of law.”
“This is all hearsay. There’s no proof.” Burlone’s defense falls flat on his audience, and I know I’m not the only one feeling the tides turn in Kingston’s favor. However, the push and pull are definitely still there. I know we haven’t won yet.
“And if there was proof?” Kingston interrupts the conversation, taking control of the room with a simple question.
My breathing quickens, and I shift my weight between my feet, the need to run still very much present as the testosterone in the room––along with the accusations––intensifies.
Burlone’s face goes splotchy and red. His mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water, playing right into our hands. “I-it’s not possible.”
“I’m going to have to respectfully disagree, my friend.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Kingston
With a snap of my fingers, Dex stalks closer and puts the gun to Burlone’s head, ensuring he doesn’t move. I lift my hand and cover Ace’s as it rests on my shoulder before murmuring, “Hey, Wild Card. Can you excuse me for a minute?”