Alpha Prince (Twisted Royals, #1)

by Sidney Bristol

  “What?” Taylor blinked at him.

  “I just...”

  “Are you trying to say,” Taylor leaned closer, whispering her words, “you think I slept with you because—what?”

  “I just thought, after our interview that...”

  “That—what? I need your help? Your protection?”

  “You’re hidin’ something’ Taylor. I’m not stupid. You are in trouble, but you won’t tell me why.”

  “And the clear, obvious, answer is that I would, of course, sleep with you to...throw you off the trail? To...I don’t even know. Awesome. Great. Now, I guess I know why it’s been so awkward.”

  “That’s—no, Taylor. Shit.”

  “Look, my secrets are my business. You don’t need to get caught up in them, so you’re off the hook.” She plucked a puppy out of the hedges behind them and nudged him off toward his siblings.

  Ian scooted down the bench toward her.

  “How did me tryin’ to apologize turn into a fight? Seriously?” He frowned at her.

  “Because you excel at sticking your big foot in your big mouth.”

  “What am I supposed to think? You show up on a job, there’s clearly some shady business goin’ on—”

  “And the solution is clearly that I want something from you besides—” Taylor clamped her mouth shut as the three children scampered by.

  “Then why do you sneak off every time like there’s somethi’ then, hm?”

  “Because I’m doin’ my job,” she parroted at him, mimicking his accent.

  “What could you possibly be doin’ at four o’ clock in the somethi’?”

  “Do you have any idea what time that child gets up at?” She thumbed over her shoulder at Stacey. “Five-thirty. Six, if I’m lucky. If I was going to get a shower, prepare for her morning lessons and have breakfast ready—yes. I have to get up at four.”

  “But—why? Why would anyone want her up that early?”

  “Because George believes that children her age should go to sleep at eight.”

  “That’s...that’s insane. And you have to be up with her?”

  “If I’m not, she might...I don’t know. Draw on the walls. Be a normal child. If I’m going to beat her to waking up, I’ve got to be up at four. It’s the only time I get to myself.”

  “Was that... Did you leave the other night to get back then, too?”

  “Yeah. I should have told you, but you were out cold and I felt bad, but I didn’t exactly expect I’d see you again. I wasn’t trying to be a bitch, but I have a job to do. Stacey comes first.”

  “You’re a teacher. Why not get a normal job?”

  “Because I’m licensed to teach in New York, not Washington. Getting it transferred over is a whole process, and it’s the end of a school year. Besides...like you said, Stacey needs someone, and right now that person is me. If I leave, who will George bring in for her? Will they love and understand her like I do?”

  That look—right there—was why his gut said Taylor was innocent.

  She cared so deeply for this little girl. There was no possible way the threats had anything to do with her.

  Taylor glanced at him, their gazes tangling.

  “The other night wasn’t about anything. It was just, you know.” She lifted her shoulders and glanced away.

  “Oh. Good.” He scrubbed his hand across his face. If that was the truth, why couldn’t she meet his gaze when she said it? Could she be using sex to blind him to something else?

  “Next time, just ask?” Taylor flicked the end of the leashes at him.

  He caught her hand instead.

  “What am I askin’ about?” He worked his fingers between hers.

  “If you have questions—ask.”

  “What do you think about the head of security? Josh?”

  “Josh? He’s an entitled asshole who scares me. I avoid him at all costs. It’s just...the way he looks at me.”

  “I don’t want you alone with him.”

  “Why? What’s he done?”

  “Don’t want to talk about it.” He nodded at the kids who’d taken up on the swings nearby. “What’s your schedule like today? Think you’d have some time for me?”

  “To do what?” Taylor’s brow arched.

  “Does it matter?”

  “After accusing for ulterior motives I’m still not quite clear on, yes.”

  “I want to go over George’s schedule. He’s got these meetin’s that don’t quite make sense. I’d like to pick your brain a bit. And talk a little bit more about the other night. Perhaps I can apologize a bit better.” And maybe have some time to speak frankly. Without little ears or having to censor themselves. If Ian could get Taylor on his side, helping him, maybe they could make a difference.

  “I like wine and chocolate with my apologies.” Taylor crossed her arms across her chest. The picture was ruined by two puppies treating her shoelace like a tug o’ war toy. She nudged them away with her toes. “Kidding. Things are weird around here. I shouldn’t be surprised your head went there.”

  “I never thought it was somethin’ you wanted to do.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Not—like that.”

  “I’m so yanking your chain.” She jabbed him in the side with her finger. “Loosen up a bit?”

  “I’ll try.”

  It was hard to let go of the impending sense of doom. That something he couldn’t anticipate was about to happen, and Taylor was part of it. Somehow.

  8.

  Julia paused with the wine glass at her lips, the hair on the back of her neck rising.

  Danger was close by.

  She splashed some of the wine on her lips and set the glass down.

  “Mrs. Lucchese?”

  “Danny Touhy, sit, please?” Julia screwed her smile on tight. He was the last person she wanted to see. Danny was one of two family underbosses over her, and a hard man to get a read on.

  Danny sank into the chair opposite of her, studying her face, her breasts. He didn’t try to hide his stares. She was, of course, used to it. Being an attractive woman in the boys’ club meant a lot of attention, but she wasn’t about to get her panties in a twist. Being appreciated physically had gotten her far enough in life.

  She eased back in her chair, her dinner forgotten. As curious as she was to know why Danny was here to see her, she wouldn’t do him the favor of asking. He’d have to make that turn all on his own.

  “The boss was wanting to speak with Taylor. You know where she is?” Danny finally asked.

  “No, can’t say that I’ve had time to keep tabs on my daughter, you know, what with the business to manage and all.”

  “You’ve been busy.”

  Julia didn’t hear a question, so she didn’t bother to answer. She pasted on a pleasant smile and waited.

  Danny stared at her.

  She stared at him.

  The moments dragged on.

  “The boss wants to see both Taylor and Vito. If you see either of them, pass the message on?” Danny pushed to his feet and smoothed his jacket.

  Julia watched him leave. She ground her teeth.

  Taylor was a rat. The daughter of an even bigger rat. And Vito was a pathetic excuse of a man. Why did the boss take interest in them? Julia was the one doing all the work. She made the family money. All they did was ignore her, pass her by.

  Maybe she had her sights set on the wrong thing. Maybe playing their game, by their rules, was the wrong way to go.

  No. No, history had proven that down that path led too much bloodshed to be profitable. Any time the families warred, business plummeted. It didn’t make financial sense to kill that many people. If they began a turf war, other groups might swoop in. Her partnership with the MS-13 gang was tenuous at best. Some of the others were downright hostile. Still, if she didn’t recover those files and Taylor, it might be Julia who paid the price.

  She reached for her phone and fired off a text. It was past time for Ciro to have some kind of results
.

  Taylor closed the office door gently, so as to not break the trance the movie had woven over Stacey. The little girl was played out after the impromptu friend-making at the park. If Taylor had any luck at all, Stacey would conk out until bath time, when she’d need to get ready for her daddy dinner date. There was no salvaging the coral dress, so she’d have to wear something else, a hurtle they could worry about when they got there.

  Now all Taylor had to do was survive...this. Whatever this was.

  “Do you have George’s date book?” Ian asked without glancing up. He frowned at the page in front of him.

  “Yes, right here.” Taylor crossed to sit across the desk from him, tablet in hand.

  “I just want to corroborate what I have, and what you have. Go over things. See if you can’t give me more insight as to what’s goin’ on. Who might be makin’ the threats.” He spread his hands, gesturing to the piles of paper on the desk.

  “Yikes. What’s all this?”

  “Research.”

  “I thought being a PI meant...stake outs and stuff?”

  “No, it’s a lot of askin’ the right people the right kind of questions.”

  “Okay, so why...don’t you walk me through some of this and I can supply what I know?”

  “Fuck all is what I know.” Ian leaned back, glaring at the paperwork. “I’ve dug into everyone who lives here. Most of the people George has met with in the last three weeks. And I’ve installed cameras around the perimeter. There’s plenty of people who’d like to see George fail, but I can’t pin the threats on anyone.”

  “Can...I see the threats? What’d they say?” Taylor had intercepted several of the hand-written messages, but others had slipped through her grasp.

  “It’s all the same kind of stuff.” Ian pulled a folder out of the desk drawer and opened it. “Give us what we asked for or we tell. Pay five grand or we tell. Clock is tickin’.”

  She took the three notes. The ones she had were along the same lines. She recognized the handwriting, even the envelopes, but she couldn’t tell Ian that.

  “What is it?” Ian leaned forward.

  “Hm?” She glanced up.

  “Your face. You know somethin’.” He continued to study her. “But you won’t tell me. Why? What if I tell George you know more about this than you’re lettin’ on? What then?”

  “If he was smart, he’d fire me.” She closed the folder. She’d seen enough. She’d shelled out the cash, so for now she was safe, but how long until he wanted more?

  “Why won’t you let me help you, Taylor? I’m goin’ to find out. Soon enough, I’ll turn over the right rock.”

  “Yeah, well, you only have a week left, right? Let’s hope you keep turning over wrong rocks. What’d you say you were before? A detective of some sort?” She eased back into the seat.

  She shouldn’t have acknowledged that much. It was enough that he knew, and she knew that he knew. Giving him more ammunition would only make him hold on tighter to this idea that he could help her.

  “Yup.”

  “Why’d you leave? You must have been good.”

  “I was. But my sister, she needed me.”

  “The one from the video? With the daughter?”

  “Chloe. My twin.”

  “She must be the good twin.”

  “She is. You’re changin’ the subject.”

  “Yeah, well...” Taylor shrugged.

  Ian stared at her, his gaze boring into her skull. Her feeble attempts at a cover story, at lying to get by, didn’t work with him. He saw straight through her. It was kind of funny how the one thing that’d drawn her to him, was also the one that put them at odds.

  “Why won’t you let me help you, Taylor?”

  “Because helping me wouldn’t help you. Let it go, Ian.”

  “I can’t do it. You.” He pointed at her. “You’re a good person, and somethin’ bad has happened. I can’t...I can’t turn my back on that.”

  “It’s easy. Just...forget about me.”

  “I couldn’t forget about you before, what makes you think I could now?”

  “Didn’t try hard enough?”

  “Damn it, Taylor.” Ian sat forward and she got the feeling he wanted to leap over the desk and—what? Strangle her? That might solve all her problems, but she doubted he’d follow through with it.

  Ian was a good guy, maybe a little rough around the edges, but deep down he was one of the good ones. Confirmation of his history in law enforcement only reinforced that knowledge. If worse came to worst, she could send all the stuff she’d stolen to him. He might know what to do with it.

  Lord knows she’d tried to do the right thing and failed.

  She couldn’t get a reporter or journalist to speak with her, not after the things the Commission had done to their predecessors. Besides, the family had guys in editorial for the express purpose of keeping the family out of the news. Simply going public would make her a bigger target. The cops would just pitch it at the FBI, what with transactions tromping all over state lines. And that just got her back to square one. She’d tried to tell the FBI and nearly died in the process.

  Her phone buzzed, breaking the moment.

  She pulled it out of her pocket, expecting a note from George or maybe Cat, but it was Vito instead.

  How u doin?

  She shook her head. He didn’t talk to her for days? Almost a whole freaking week, and then he pops up with this?

  “What’s that look for?” Ian got up and circled the desk.

  “Just—my cousin. He’s been MIA lately.”

  “He do that often?”

  “Kind of.”

  Where have you been? Everything ok?

  Just hearing from Vito put Taylor a little bit more at ease. One less thing she had to worry about, and that was a blessing.

  “Hey?” Ian reached out and grasped her by the hand.

  She glanced up and got snared in his eyes. Ian was trouble. For her. For everything she was trying to do. And yet, when he looked at her like that she just wanted to melt.

  “What happens after Stacey goes to dinner with her da?” He ran his thumb over her knuckles.

  “I do stuff.”

  “Can any of it wait?” He ducked his head and kissed her knuckle. Sucked it briefly, was more like. Was that his tongue?

  “Um, I don’t know.” She swallowed.

  Time alone with Ian seemed to only go to one place. She wasn’t sure she could afford a distraction like that, but when he looked at her with promises in his eyes, she wanted to trust him. To fling herself into his arms. He just had no idea who—or what—she was.

  Ciro rechecked the doors and windows to ensure they’d disabled the whole security system. As luck would have it, the people who owned the house across from George Wachtel were on a four-week vacation.

  Must be nice to have that kind of life.

  At best, Ciro figured they had a week left to get the job done. Julia wanted things wrapped up yesterday, but the hard truth was that these weren’t the old days when people whispered the word mafia in fear and the capos had license to do whatever they wanted. No, Ciro and Angelo would have to be smart about this. Which took time.

  “Got a visual yet?” He peered over Angelo’s shoulder.

  “I can’t make this damn thing work.” Angelo frowned at the binoculars.

  “Try taking the caps off, dumb ass.” Ciro flicked one of the protective lens covers off the binoculars and moved on to the laptop.

  Angelo was a hard worker, but not a great earner. Guys like him would always be low man on the totem pole, while guys like Ciro worked their way up. If he did this job right, he could make a case to Julia, get her to see what they could do together. Yeah, the boss wanted a Lucchese in the family seat, but if Ciro and Julia could out-earn the other capos, then the boss would have no reason to not reward them. They’d be unstoppable. Who said the golden days were gone? The way Ciro saw it, they’d simply weeded out the guys who didn’t belong.

&
nbsp; First, he’d get the Lucchese girl, then he’d be a made man, one way or another. If Julia wouldn’t play ball, there were other solutions.

  He checked Vito’s phone again, but Taylor hadn’t responded after their brief exchange earlier. That was fine. She’d confirmed her location.

  Next, they’d get a feel for her movements in and out of the house, figure out when and where to grab her. They couldn’t just pop her. They needed the files back before the heads of the family convened to go over their books, which would be soon. Julia knew it was coming and so did Ciro.

  “Angelo, why don’t you get some sleep? Tonight, we’ll set cameras, get eyes on the place from all angles. I’ll keep watch now.”

  “Shoot, don’t have to tell me twice.” Angelo handed the binoculars back to Ciro then took off into the deeper reaches of their borrowed house.

  By Ciro’s estimates, they’d have Taylor and the files by the end of the week. And then Julia could make a lesson out of Taylor. After all, people needed to be reminded that rats got caught.

  Ian had no reason to be on the second floor in the middle of the afternoon. Except Stacey’s school and play rooms were here, and if she wasn’t busy then Taylor wasn’t busy. They’d never had the chance to continue their chat—or not chat at all—last night. George had canceled his dinner with Stacey, leaving the little girl inconsolable.

  He paused his casual loitering in hallways to check the latest message on his cell phone. It was Erik, asking if he’d be around the bar later. Fuck. What had one of the guys done now? If Erik was reaching out to him, instead of handling it directly, then it had to be Javier. Javier butted heads with a lot of guys. Since the birthday party, they’d had some sort of truce or understanding. Hell, maybe they were friends now.

  “Prince Ian?”

  He turned. Stacey stood in the middle of the hall, a doll in one hand and a teddy bear in the other. A plastic tiara sat tipped to one side on her head, and he was only a little certain that dress was for make-believe and not dinner.

  “Look at you all dressed up there, princess.” He went to a knee. Her persistence in calling him prince was rather darling. His niece, Delilah, would get a kick out of it.