by Kelsie Rae
Slowly, I look up from my computer screen. When I confirm it’s Regina, I pinch the bridge of my nose and squeeze my eyes shut. I don’t have time for this.
“Hey, Regina.”
“Don’t hey, Regina me, Kingston. What the hell is up with Stefan following me?”
With a sigh, I motion to the chair across from me. Angrily, she stomps the rest of the way into the room then plops down into the seat and folds her arms.
Does she not understand how important her safety is? She’s the princess of the fucking Romano family. She needs protection, yet she’s acting like an ungrateful toddler, and I want to shake her for it.
Digging deep, I pray for patience. “Look. Just because Dad died doesn’t mean there aren’t men looking for you. I understand you want to get out of the house because you’re hurting, and you think you’ve hidden long enough that no one will be able to recognize you as the princess of the Romano family, but I’m not okay with you disappearing on your own. Having Stefan follow you was the best compromise I could come up with.” My voice is soft yet commanding. The sound reminds me of my father, and I see her eyes darken in front of me, confirming that I’m right.
“Screw you, Kingston. Just because you took over Dad’s role here,”—she waves her hand around the room that showcases her point—“doesn’t mean you get to pretend you’re my father. I can go wherever the hell I want, so back off!”
With gritted teeth, my gaze narrows. “Careful, Regina. I’ve had a shit day, and I’m not in the mood for you to challenge me right now. You want to leave this place and do whatever the hell you want? Fine. But only under my conditions. One. You go with a guard. Two. You keep your legs crossed. And three. You come home when I tell you to. If you can’t meet those conditions, then I lock you in your fucking room until I find you a suitable spouse that benefits the family. Do you understand?”
She flattens her lips to keep them from quivering before hastily wiping at the tears threatening to spill beneath her eyes. I’ve pissed her off, and a hum of guilt quickly follows.
“Did you really just go there?” she whispers.
“Dammit, Regina!” I slam my hands against the desk. The sound makes her flinch.
With a sigh of frustration, I squeeze the back of my neck and take a second to breathe. How can I be expected to lead this family when my own sister looks at me with so much misery and disdain? “You’re right. I know how much it pisses you off when I talk about you like a pawn instead of a person. It was a hit below the belt, and that’s on me. I’m sorry, okay?” Grudgingly, she gives me a jerky nod, accepting my apology before I continue. “Listen, I know how much you miss him even though he was a shit father sometimes. I miss him too, but that won’t bring him back. You don’t remember when Mom passed, but I do. And it sucked. Just like this. We’ll get through this. But I need you to promise me that you won’t try to ditch Stefan every time you try to sneak out. If you want to leave, fine. But leave from the front door and take someone with you. I’m really close to pissing off the Allegretti family, and I don’t want you to become collateral because of it. Understand?”
“What do you mean, you’re really close to pissing off the Allegretti family?”
I frown. “You know I can’t tell you that, Regina. It’s—”
“Business. Right.” She pouts.
“Don’t be like that—”
“Like what, Kingston?” she argues. “For a guy who claims to respect women, you sure know how to put them in their place.”
“Regina—”
“No,” she cuts me off with an icy glare and a wave of her hand. “I’m going out. Bye.”
Knowing it’ll piss her off but left with no choice, I yell to her retreating form, “Don’t forget to take Stefan!”
“Asshole,” she shouts back. Seconds later, the front door slams, and I pull out my phone to text Stefan.
Me: Regina just left. Follow her.
Chapter Twelve
Ace
After my surreal encounter at the Charlette, I almost head to Dottie’s before remembering my busted up face. There’s no way I can get by without an inquisition from Gigi and Dottie herself, so I choose to go home early tonight, instead.
My backpack is thrown over one shoulder as my feet scrape against the gravel, taking me to my humble little apartment. When I see my dingy building, a wave of relief rolls through me.
Sliding between a cut in the chain-link fence, I enter the parking lot and keep my head down but my eyes up.
Eddie, one of the sweetest old men you’ve ever met, is curled up into a ball near a set of trash cans, and I decide to go say hi.
“Hey, Eddie,” I greet him. Checking my pockets, I find a crumpled-up ten-dollar bill and hand it to him.
His toothless grin makes my heart ache. “Thanks, Ace. You know you don’t have ta do that.”
With a shake of my head, I argue, “Yes, I do. You keep my place safe, remember?”
A light blush peeks through his weathered skin at my compliment, but it isn’t a lie. In a roundabout way, he does keep an eye on my apartment in case anything fishy goes on while I’m away. I couldn’t be more grateful for an extra set of eyes.
“Don’t mention it, Ace. You know I’m happy ta help.” Tilting his head to the side, he covers his mouth in shock when he looks up at me. “What happened ta your face?”
I lift my hand to touch the sensitive bruise. “Ran into a door.” The lame joke slips past my lips, followed by a dry laugh and the memory of Jack’s concern. “I’m okay. Promise.”
“Ya sure?”
“Positive. Goodnight, Eddie. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”
“’Night, sweet girl. I’ll keep an eye on the place. Won’t let no more monsters get to ya, I swear!”
With a soft smile, I reach down and grab his frail fingers with my own before squeezing them softly. “I know you won’t, Eddie. See ya!”
The rest of my night is spent in my rundown little one-bedroom apartment near the railroad tracks. After I stuff a granola bar into my mouth, I jump into the shower and let the hot water run over my skin. Memories of my first meeting with Kingston run through my mind as fresh questions surface. Am I in trouble? Did I make a deal with the devil by helping him? Who is Kingston, anyway? The power emanating from him was potent––with a side of danger with a capital D. But I didn’t feel threatened. He was right when he voiced the fact that I wasn’t really scared of him. I just can’t figure out why.
Rinsing the shampoo from my hair, I let my unexplained questions swirl down the drain with the shampoo suds, coming to the conclusion that I won’t receive the answers I’m looking for by spending any more time in the shower, no matter how much I dissect my night.
After drying myself off, I put on my sleep shorts and a tank top then slide under my covers. The comforting hum of the steam engines nearly lulls me to sleep when I hear a muffled noise coming from the kitchen.
What was that?
My eyes snap open, but I don’t move a muscle.
Did I imagine that?
I lie in wait, my ears straining to hear anything other than the damn trains that I found so comforting from only a minute ago. Now, they’re potentially covering up sounds of an intruder in my house.
Shit. Someone might be in my house.
Breathing out a stilted breath as slowly as I possibly can, I roll to my side and face the door leading to the hallway. It’s empty.
See? You’re probably imagining things.
But I still need to check out the family room to be sure.
At a snail’s pace, I sit up in my bed and gently press my feet to the cool hardwood floors before standing to my full height. Shakily, I breathe in through my nose before releasing the air out through my mouth, attempting to hear anything out of the ordinary. I’m greeted with an eerie silence that puts my senses on high alert. Again, my rules scream at me. Rule #3: If something feels fishy, it probably is. Trust your instincts. And right now, my instincts are flashing like a damn strobe light, causi
ng a soft buzz in the back of my mind.
With a slow squat, I reach for the baseball bat tucked under my bed. Keeping my eyes on the open door leading to the hall, I search for the makeshift weapon while trying to keep myself from having a full-blown panic attack. When I feel the comforting wooden handle under my sweaty palms, I breathe a sigh of relief.
It’s okay. You’re not a defenseless woman living alone in a bad neighborhood. You have a bat and…and that’s about it. I’m practically a sitting duck, for shit’s sake. But I will not go out without a fight.
As quietly as I can, I take a step toward the hallway, trying to convince myself it’s all in my head, and nothing is wrong. One step after another, I creep past my door and into the hallway with nothing but a baseball bat for protection. Lifting the thick piece of wood into the air, my eyes slowly adjust to the dark, only to see a shadow sitting on my second-hand couch tucked away in the corner of the family room.
I’m frozen in place from absolute terror as I blink rapidly a few more times to dispel the dark cloud in my living room. Unfortunately, it doesn’t work.
“You gonna hit me with that bat?” a vaguely familiar voice rumbles throughout my tiny apartment.
I know that voice.
The sound shocks me to my core, making the item in question slip through my fingers. After a loud thud, the bat rolls a few inches away and leaves me defenseless.
“Apparently, not. No offense, sweetheart, but I think we need to work on your self-defense.” I dive for the light switch in the hallway and flip it before snapping my neck toward the culprit. My jaw hits the floor when I see the intruder. With one hand thrown haphazardly across the back of the couch and one foot on his knee, a very pristine Kingston gives me a cocky grin and says, “Fancy seeing you again.”
Chapter Thirteen
Ace
“What are you doing here?”
His grin widens for a split second before softening to his usual smirk. “I told you I’d be checking on you.”
“Well, yeah, but I didn’t think it would be tonight. It’s been what…six hours?”
With a shrug, he leans forward until his elbows are resting on his knees. “I thought of another question, and it couldn’t wait.”
“And what’s that?”
He licks his lips, catching my attention before he answers. “I was unaware you were dating someone, and I’m curious if he’ll be an issue.”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. Stuttering, I ask, “I-I…uh…I’m sorry?”
“Your boyfriend. Is he going to be an issue?” Kingston’s gruff voice speaks slowly like he’s talking to an idiot. The condescending tone instantly ruffles my feathers, but I’m still trying to figure out who he’s talking about when my conversation with Jack comes to mind.
“Oh,” I pause, shaking my head. “That’s not my boyfriend.”
Pressing his hands to his thighs, he pushes off from the couch and swaggers over to me, his entire body practically oozing sex and confidence and every other attractive trait a guy can have. It’s annoying. When he reaches my frozen position, he keeps stepping forward, and I mirror his movements with steps of my own until my back hits the wall behind me.
Caging me in with both hands on each side of my face, he leans forward. “Say it again.”
“I think you heard me just fine,” I argue. “And I think you’re close enough.”
With a deliberate shake of his head, he continues, “Answer me again. I want to see if you’re telling the truth or not.”
“And you need to be an inch away from my face to decide if I’m being honest?”
The right side of his mouth tilts up in amusement. “Something like that.”
“He isn’t my boyfriend,” I repeat, straightening my spine. I won’t let him intimidate me even if he’s doing a damn good job at trying.
“Then, who was he?” His green gaze is like fire as he voices his question.
“Just an acquaintance.”
“Lie,” he murmurs. His gaze slides down to my mouth for a split second before returning to my eyes.
I clench my jaw in frustration before flinching in pain, feeling the soreness from Mr. Gorilla earlier today.
“Answer the question. Then I’ll give you a little present.”
“What kind of present?”
He doesn’t budge. “Answer the question, Ace.”
With a huff, I purse my lips. “His name is Jack. He’s a counter who recently appeared out of nowhere. I’m not sure I’d call him a friend, but I do think he’s trying to look out for me. He noticed I went missing earlier today then popped back up with a bruise the size of Texas taking up half my face and was concerned. Is that a good enough answer?”
Again, Kingston assesses me, inspecting me with laser focus before pushing off the wall and sliding his hand into his pants pocket. “Yeah.” He pulls an emergency ice pack from his slacks and breaks it with his hands, forcing the chemicals to combine and create a cold compress.
With a gentleness I didn’t expect, he presses it against the side of my face. I sigh as soon as it comes into contact with the bruise, resting my cheek against it and simultaneously his hand.
“Better?” he asks, nearly holding my head up as I soak up the cold bliss radiating from the compress.
“Yeah,” I whisper with a smile. “Thank you.”
Peeking up at him, I hear him mumble, “Don’t mention it.”
We stand in silence for a few long seconds, and I’m hesitant to admit the comfort I feel with him being so close. He’s an impenetrable wall, yet I feel like he’s keeping the dangers out instead of keeping me caged in.
I watch with rapt attention as his Adam’s apple bobs up and down in his throat before he steps away and slowly drops his hand from my face, making me hold the cold compress instead.
“I also wanted you to know that you weren’t followed, which means Burlone doesn’t suspect anything. You’re safe.”
Relief swells in my gut as I process his words. I’m safe. With a nod, I lightly press my teeth into my lower lip, trying to muster the courage to voice my appreciation. “Thank you. Again. First, the compress, and now this.” I laugh to break the silence, and he follows along with a low chuckle.
“Don’t mention it. Again,” he adds with a teasing smile.
The silence is almost palpable, and I awkwardly tuck my hair behind my ear before feeling his gaze slide down my body, heating me up from the outside in. It isn’t unusual for me to feel someone checking me out. It kind of comes along with the territory when you’re a young female card counter and spend your days in grimy casinos. But my reaction to it is unusual. It makes me…curious. And with my history, I don’t know how to handle it. Within seconds, I find myself squirming from his intensity, chancing a glance at his clear green eyes that are scorching.
When he knows he’s been caught staring, Kingston clears his throat and tops it off with another sexy smile. “Get some rest, Ace. We’ll talk later. And don’t worry about anyone else breaking in. I’ll leave someone outside to watch the place.” He turns around and grabs his suit jacket that was laid on the arm of my couch as I try to recuperate from his whiplash.
He’s leaving? Okay….
“How did you get in?”
Glancing over his shoulder, he responds, “The fire escape.”
“But I locked my window?” It’s voiced as a question more than a statement. Maybe I’m going crazy?
“Yeah, you did. ‘Night, sweetheart.” He slides open the window and steps into the darkness, disappearing from my sight in the blink of an eye.
“Goodnight.”
Chapter Fourteen
Ace
I feel like my legs are seconds away from giving out as I step into the lobby of Sin. Chewing my lower lip, I scan the surrounding area for Burlone or either of his men before heading to the bar.
As I make eye contact with the bartender, I yell, “Vodka tonic, please,” in order to be heard over the noise from the slot machines.
With a lift of his chin, he gets to work, and seconds later, my drink is placed on the counter, accompanied by a friendly wink before he whisks away to help another customer.
Grabbing the fresh drink, I bring the straw to my lips and take a generous sip in hopes of numbing my anxiety. I need to find the date of the tournament. As soon as I find it, I’m out of here. Where would I find the date?
With a wandering gaze, I tap my finger against the icy glass.
“Looking for something?” a voice asks to my right. Swiveling in my chair, my gaze narrows.
“Are you following me, Jack?”
He raises his arms into the air defensively. “What? Of course not!”
“You sure about that?” I push. Raising my brows and pursing my lips, I wait for his response.
On a sigh, he admits, “Alright. I haven’t been following you, but you freaked me out the other day, so I have been keeping an eye out for you. Is that fair?”
Watching him closely, I look for any minor facial twitches or avoidance of eye contact but come up empty. “Truth,” I mumble to myself, lifting my glass and taking another sip.
“What was that?”
“Nothing.”
“Your face is looking better,” a sympathetic Jack offers.
I snort, nearly spilling my drink. “Are you insinuating my face has looked worse?”
Balking, he defends himself. “Not what I meant, Ace, and you know it. For real, though, your bruise is almost gone. I’m happy you healed so quickly. Has the doorknob,”—he rolls his eyes—“been giving you any more problems?”
Just ten grand in my pocket, I note to myself with a smile.
“I take it that’s a no with the sly little grin you’re sporting.” He lifts his hand and brushes it against my lower lip, mirroring my expression with a smile of his own. The unexpected touch shocks me, reminding me of when I was little and stuck my finger in an outlet. Not exactly what I’d call pleasant. Shifting back in my chair, I pull away from his touch and tuck a strand of hair behind my ear as an uncomfortable silence envelops our little section of the bar.