Wild Card (Advantage Play Book 1)

by Kelsie Rae

  Did she not hear a single word I just said?

  I brush away a stray hair that lays against her forehead and press a kiss to her temple. “Stay.”

  “You sure?”

  “I already told you that you’re mine now, so don’t bother leaving, or I’ll just come find you. I’ll check on you in a few.”

  With a nod, she gingerly rolls onto her side and closes her eyes, sighing softly. My chest can finally expand to its full capacity when I see the peace written on her face. Yet, there’s a slight pinch too, and I pray to whatever gods might be watching over us that I don’t squander the trust she feels in my home. The trust that appears to be keeping her nightmares at bay for her to get some much-needed sleep.

  D’s subtle attempt to grab my attention by clearing his throat is heard loud and clear, making me pull my gaze from an already unconscious Ace. Turning, I wipe my palms against my slacks and head to my office with D following behind. Once inside, Diece tosses a shirt at me, nearly hitting me in the face with it. Under normal circumstances, I’m sure he’d be giving me shit for walking around with my shirt off all night but now isn’t the time.

  “Any update on Regina?”

  His gaze darkens. “Yeah, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. We think Burlone might have her.”

  Fuck. How did I not know? If D is right, then we’re in for a shitstorm. First, Reggie missing, then Ace’s face being busted in, and now he has my sister? If this isn’t a call for war, I don’t know what is. Clenching my fists at my sides, I weigh my options and know I don’t have many. The Romano family is strong. We can handle anything. But there’s already turmoil from Vince’s betrayal, and I don’t want to rock the boat any more than I already have with the transition of power.

  “What evidence do we have to prove this?”

  It needs to be concrete if his men are going to pay for it with their blood.

  D collapses into the chair across from my desk. “Lou hacked his email and found a picture of her.”

  “How the hell did he get a picture of her?” I growl low in my throat. My blood is boiling. That isn’t possible. Regina’s identity has been on total lockdown since my mother was murdered. Only a few select individuals in the Romano family would be able to recognize her in a lineup, and I trust each and every one of them with my own life.

  “Remember Dominic?”

  I pause, searching my memories for the specific Dominic that D’s suggesting.

  “That asshole my dad was trying to work with?”

  “Yeah.” With gritted teeth, he expands. “From what we can gather, your dad offered Regina as a consolation prize before coming to his fucking senses.”

  I shake my head. “That’s not possible. My dad wouldn’t work with Dominic.”

  “Your dad wasn’t all there in the end, King, and we both know it. Regardless, he sent a picture to Dominic, who then forwarded it to Burlone a few nights ago.”

  Squeezing the back of my neck, I voice my confusion. “Why would he do that? Regina has basically lived her entire life in a prison to keep our enemies from recognizing her.”

  He lifts his shoulders. “My guess? Dominic’s a superficial asshat who wanted to see his potential bride before he agreed to anything. Then your dad came to his senses after he sent the photo and backed out of the deal. Remember how paranoid he was about her in the end? Didn’t even want to let her leave her room, for Christ’s sake.”

  With a groan, I drop my head back and look to the ceiling. “Fuucckk…” I drag out the word, recalling how insane my dad went right before he died. The medication was rotting his brain until he was almost unbearable to be around. “Yeah. I remember. So Burlone has her photo. At the very least, we can assume he’s looking for her. At the most, he’s already found her.”

  “Yeah. That pretty much sums it up. I think it’s time you give Burlone a call, King. See what he has to say.”

  Pacing the office, I consider my options only to find I don’t have many.

  His suggestion is…unconventional, to say the least. There are unwritten rules in our line of business, and one of them is keeping our noses out of other people’s shit. We don’t call each other up to chat. We don’t call each other up for favors. And we sure as hell don’t call each other up when someone goes missing.

  Calculating, I weigh the pros and cons before voicing them to D. “If I call Burlone, and he doesn’t have her, it’ll become an all-out race to find my little sister.”

  “Yeah, but if he does have her, you might be able to find something he wants. To figure out how we can get her back,” he counters.

  And I need to get her back.

  I’m her big brother. I’m supposed to protect her, and I’ve already failed her once. I won’t let her down again.

  Shifting my gaze between D and the phone sitting ominously on my desk, my nostrils flare. “Then it looks like I have a call to make.”

  Chapter Forty

  Kingston

  After Lou got me Burlone’s contact information, I sat in my chair for a solid five minutes, staring into the empty space of my office like it just might hold the answers I’m looking for.

  Unfortunately, Regina didn’t appear from thin air, no matter how hard I wished she would. My entire body is vibrating with tension that I’m anxious to release as soon as I know who to project it on, though I think we might already know.

  Steeling my shoulders, I dial Burlone’s number and wait for him to pick up. I put the call on speakerphone as D, Lou, and Stefan are all sporadically positioned in the office, listening in on the conversation to stay up to date. I’m grateful for their presence because, whether I want to admit it or not, I need them right now.

  A soft click cuts off the foreboding ringing on the line, only to be replaced with Burlone’s voice.

  “I was wondering when you’d call. To be honest, Kingston, I’m a little disappointed. It’s been nearly four hours. Four hours where your baby sister could’ve had anything happen to her.” He tsks, and the sound grates on my nerves, making my knuckles turn white as I grip the pen on my desk, strangling it while simultaneously wishing it was Burlone’s sausage neck.

  I’ve always hated the guy, but I’ve never loathed anyone with every fiber of my being until this moment.

  “I mean, what would your father think?” he pushes.

  “My father’s dead, so he isn’t your concern anymore. Now you get to deal with me. I appreciate the condolences, though. Very thoughtful.” My voice is confident, lackadaisical. Exactly what I need it to be, no matter how hard it kills me to talk about my deceased father with so much forced ease.

  In response, Burlone laughs deep and hard. D’s jaw clenches.

  “Aw, Kingston. I’ve missed these conversations. We should have them more often.”

  “Sure, we should. Unfortunately, I’m a little busy at the moment but would appreciate if you could help me out by returning my sister.”

  Again, that deep laugh. “I’d love to, Kingston. Really, I would. But you see, I’m a big fan of games. There’s just something about the competition and the strategy that brings out the worst in people. And you see, if I hand over your gorgeous little sister, then where will that leave me?”

  With gritted teeth, I offer, “With more time and a few less gray hairs?”

  And maybe even alive, I add to myself, forcing a slow breath between said gritted teeth.

  “I never pegged you for a funny man, Kingston. Are you saying your sister is a bit of a handful? Because I’d have to agree with you. She’s given my men quite the treatment since she’s been in our custody. Don’t worry, though, we’ve dealt with many…,” he pauses in search of the right word. “Sei, what’s the right word?” he calls to someone on the other end of the line. “Undisciplined? Naughty? Stubborn? Feisty? Yes, I like that one. We’ve dealt with our fair share of feistiness. But we’ve long since understood how to transform those behaviors to more favorable ones. Isn’t that right, Regina?”

  Hearing him ad
dress my sister makes my heart stop and my breathing stilted while the rest of my men lean closer, being pulled into the conversation even further. Unfortunately, our straining ears can’t hear whether or not she responds.

  I need to get her out of there. The question is…how?

  “So, my sister’s there with you?” I prod, distracting him from any further contact with Regina.

  “Obviously. My associate had a grand old time this evening as he picked her up, along with a handful of other girls to keep her company. That is, until we find them more suitable homes…for the right price.”

  My stomach bottoms out at the prospect. No. Not her.

  Narrowing my gaze, I probe, “So, that’s your plan then? To sell my sister?”

  He tsks. “Kingston, Kingston, Kingston. I don’t sell women. I sell fruit, and your sister’s as sweet as they come.”

  The promise in his voice makes my skin crawl, finally pushing me over the edge.

  “Don’t fuck with her, Burlone. I swear to God, it’ll be the last thing you do.”

  “Maybe you should’ve thought about that before you fucked with me first, Kingston. I had a plan that was supposed to come to fruition last night, but someone intervened, and one of my men disappeared. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

  Marty.

  My gaze shifts to D then glides over to Stefan and Lou, but I keep my mouth shut.

  “I’m sure you recall him,” Burlone continues. “But let’s stay on topic, shall we? We were talking about your pretty little sister with her pretty little face, her pretty little body, and her pretty little virginity. Am I right, King? Is that precious little hymen still intact? Dominic said that was your dad’s favorite selling feature for her. She’s a virgin! Don’t you want a virgin?” he mimics my dad’s voice. “I can tell you from personal experience, Kingston, a virgin can go for a pretty penny.”

  I bite my tongue, tasting the tangy metallic flavor of blood to keep from yelling at him.

  “You asking for money, Burlone?” I’m done dancing around with this shit.

  A loud, obnoxious scoff greets me. “I always want money. But, no. That’s not what I’m asking from you. All I’m asking is for you to play a little game with me.”

  My suspicion spikes, but I press forward with my gaze zeroed in on that damn pen being squeezed to death in the palm of my hand.

  “And what kind of game is that?”

  “As I’m sure you know, I played a little tournament last night with your girlfriend. Low blow, by the way. Sending her to take my money? Not what I was expecting, but I’ve got to give you credit for your balls. With how much you say you respect women, putting her in such a risky position was bold. Stupid, but bold. Has she told you yet that I had one of my men say hello? She really is a pretty thing—”

  The last thread of patience is severed the moment he brings up Ace. I’m seconds from cracking a molar and can’t take his voice for much longer. “You’re awfully talkative tonight, Burlone, but maybe we could get to the point.”

  “See? This is why I like you. Your father never would’ve spoken to me like that. But you? Your generation? You don’t care about disrespect, and I find it…refreshing. Yet, you must understand why I feel the need to put you in your place.”

  “I’m sure you do. Is my sister there? I’d love to talk to her.”

  A strange echo bleeds into the speaker seconds later, and my brows furrow in confusion.

  “Sorry about that, Kingston. I had to put you on speaker. I’ve got a handful of ladies in my office now, but your sister is definitely included. Ladies, can you say hello for me?”

  A chorus of sobbing ensues, followed by my sister’s expletives that bring a soft smile to my face, along with the rest of the guys in my office.

  The strange echo is cut off seconds later, bringing me back to a more private conversation between Burlone and me.

  “See what I was saying about that feistiness? It’s just so…refreshing. Both of you are exactly that. Now, back to what I was saying. Your girlfriend beat me in the tournament last night, and my ego’s a little wounded, so I was thinking…what if I throw another one? Only this time, I’ll invite my associates who also deal in fruit, and we’ll have a unique buy-in. You might be too young to remember, but in the good old days, I used to throw these things quite often. What do you think?”

  As a child, I remember my dad mentioning Burlone’s tournaments. They were vile. Despicable. Depraved. They were something my father wouldn’t touch with a ten-foot pole, and I don’t plan on changing that any time soon. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I try to pull myself from the past and focus on the conversation at hand.

  “I don’t play poker, Burlone.”

  Recognizing a soft creak from the call, it makes me assume that Burlone just took a seat in his chair, his weight testing the strength of the furniture.

  “But you should,” he argues. “It’s all about reading people. And you’re good at that, aren’t you? I’ve been told it’s one of your most unique assets, and I’d love to see it firsthand. Anyway, play if you want. Or don’t. But if you want to get your sister back, then you’ll want to come. Meet the gang. Have a beer. Consider this my grand invitation. However, like I mentioned before, there’s one minor catch.”

  I’d give anything to rip the office phone off my desk and throw it against the wall to end this conversation, but I can’t. Not if I want to save my sister. I feel like I’m in the middle of a bullfight but wasn’t given a sword or red flag to defend myself. And now, the damn psychotic bull is racing toward me full speed ahead, and I’m helpless to fight him off.

  “And what’s the catch?” I voice, mimicking my casualness from earlier when my blood is boiling.

  “I’m afraid you’ll need the proper buy-in.”

  The tension spikes, followed by a sense of foreboding that’s so thick, I’m afraid I’ll be suffocated by it.

  Shifting my gaze to D, I ask, “And what’s that?”

  I’m afraid I already know.

  “Your little girlfriend.” The smile on his face is clear in his voice. And I want to slit his throat for it.

  “Cut the shit, Burlone,” I spit, my wavering patience from earlier obsolete. “I don’t mess with women. I leave that enterprise to you, remember?”

  “Yes, just like your lack of interest in gambling. But I’m afraid this tournament will be your only opportunity to see Regina before she’s out of my hands––and into someone else’s. So, for her sake, I think you’d be wise to reconsider.”

  You’d think my father’s office was an exhibit at the Met with how silent everyone is. Hell, my men are practically made from marble as they digest Burlone’s terms, feeling as squeamish as I do.

  “If you touch one fucking hair on her head—”

  “Two weeks, Kingston. I’ll try to remind the men to keep their hands to themselves but…you know how they are. Boys will be boys, am I right?”

  Seconds later, the call ends with a soft click that sounds louder than a damn blow horn.

  Two weeks.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Kingston

  My dark voice fills the silent office. “Ace doesn’t leave the premises ‘til I decide what to do with her.”

  “You really gonna do this?” D asks.

  Shifting my scrutiny to him, I narrow my gaze. “Any other suggestions? ‘Cause it didn’t really sound like I had much of a choice.”

  Lou pipes up, “Well if we know where it’ll be located, we can just go in guns a blazing and get her out.”

  I shake my head, my shoulders sagging from the weight of the situation.

  “Burlone crossed a line by taking Regina, and we could probably find a relatively good backing if shit hit the fan, but to intentionally pick a fight with half the mafia when we’re on neutral territory would be a suicide mission.”

  “What do you mean, neutral territory?” D interjects.

  Searching my memory, I try to explain. “My dad u
sed to tell me about Burlone’s tournaments. The underground ones. There’s a pact in place as soon as you enter the location where the tournament is being held. All weapons are left at the door, and if a single hair is hurt on anyone’s head, it’s a death sentence for the perpetrator’s entire family. They will wipe us out like the plague if we go in guns blazing.”

  D adds, “And even if we do slaughter every asshat who attends the tournament, their men will find out who was involved, and we’ll be screwed.”

  “Exactly.”

  Resting my elbows on the desk, I lay my head in my hands and search for a solution. Anything that could bring back Regina, not piss off the entire mob and half the cartels, and keep Ace out of this screwed up situation.

  D interrupts my brainstorming with a defeated sigh, reading my mind.

  “What are you gonna do about Ace?”

  I glance over at him. “I haven’t decided yet.”

  “You can’t put her in that situation,” he argues. “She’s innocent in all of this, and Burlone is just wanting to fuck with her head the same way she messed with his. Using her as a pawn? There’s got to be another way.”

  With a slam of my hand against my desk, I give him a cold, hard stare. “You think I don’t know that, D? You think I want to sacrifice her for my sister? Sacrifice them both? I don’t play poker, and Burlone is undefeated with the exception of last night. I know I can’t risk Ace, but I can’t let my sister be used, either.” D has the decency to look contrite as I let the words rush out of me. “Not only is she my flesh and blood, but as soon as the other families find out she was taken from me and traded like fucking cattle, I’ll be seen as laughing stock, and our enemies will try to wipe us out. All of our lives are on the line. Not just Regina’s. Not just Ace’s. All of us if we can’t put Burlone and his men in their place. We just need to figure out how.”

  “Isn’t that the million-dollar question,” D mumbles under his breath, leaning against the wall and staring into the distance.