Alpha Prince (Twisted Royals, #1)

by Sidney Bristol

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not? I know what you’re runnin’ from.”

  “You don’t really know what you’re getting into.” She pulled away, gripping the side of the bed and staring at the floor. “I’m as good as dead already. I know that.”

  “No. No, you’re not.”

  “Yes, I am, Ian.” She glanced up, their gazes snaring. “They’re going to find me, and when they do, they will kill me. It might not be today, this week or even this year, but they’ll do it. There’s one thing I can do that’ll stick it to Julia, but I can’t do it on my own.”

  “Tell me then. Let me help.” And along the way, he’d show Taylor he could make a difference, that he was willing to take on the mob, just for her.

  “Not yet.” She glanced away.

  It was Ian’s turn to push to his feet and pace.

  Why the hell was she digging in so hard? What did she know? Was it really worth her life?

  He had to prove to her that he was strong enough to take on Cosa Nostra. There was no doubt in his mind they’d try again. So, all he had to do was keep Taylor close and his eyes open. When they threatened her again, he’d take them out. Maybe once there were a couple bodies lined up, she’d believe him when he said he was willing to go all the way to keep her safe.

  Julia smoothed her dress over her hips and tried to not grimace at the disgusting mess that was Vito’s face. The swelling was down, but everything from his hairline to his jaw was a mess of purple, splotchy color.

  He was a means to an end. Her key to keeping her seat at the table.

  “Where’s my phone?” Vito asked. He tugged at the neck of his shirt.

  “It got lost. We’ll find you another one.”

  She checked the time.

  The priest would arrive any moment. Their small group of witnesses were on hand.

  Julia hated how this plan wreaked of desperation. No one would believe in the cougar love story, so all that was left to do was admit this marriage was a business decision. Plain and simple. Vito married her, she stayed in power, everyone got a fat check.

  In a year, she’d make sure Vito died, but by then he’d be forgotten. He was nothing but a name, anyway.

  “Ma’am?” Her assistant leaned through the door. “He’s here, but—”

  “Fantastic. Come on, Vito.”

  “He brought people with him,” Madeline said in a rush.

  “Who?” Julia frowned.

  “Danny and some other guys.”

  “Vito.” Julia peered up at her young, soon-to-be husband. “Be on your very best behavior. Taylor and your mother are counting on you.”

  Speaking of Taylor, Julia needed to rein in Ciro before he did his job too well. But first, she had to get hitched and smooth the ruffled feathers of Danny and the rest.

  Vito offered her his hand. If it weren’t for his busted face, she’d say he cleaned up nicely. Together, they walked from her office into the living room. She’d assembled a few of her best men and their wives to witness the private ceremony. Somehow, Madeline had even found Vito’s pill-popping mom to be in attendance, though how much of her was in the room was hard to tell. Danny and his additions were seated to one side apart from the rest.

  Julia merely gave Danny a nod before proceeding toward the priest. The ceremony was conducted in an abbreviated fashion, hitting on the high points and going through the motions.

  Ciro would have been a better match for her talents, but he wasn’t connected. He was no one. And he was just as likely to stab her in the back as she was him. Vito would be gone soon enough, all she had to do was bide her time.

  “You may now kiss your bride,” the priest intoned.

  Vito’s nose wrinkled and she held her breath, but instead of planting one on her lips he gently kissed her cheek.

  That was a relief.

  Quick. Painless. Legitimate.

  The boss and The Commission couldn’t find fault in her claim now.

  “Christ, kid, you get hit by a car or something?” Danny addressed Vito, never once looking at Julia.

  “Or something. How’s it going?” Vito offered Danny his hand.

  “Good. I was headed over to talk to your new wife about some things, but I guess we’ll take a rain check.” Danny finally glanced from Vito to her.

  “It was so nice of you to be able to make it.” Julia smiled.

  “Yeah, guess my invitation got lost in the mail, huh?”

  “Must have.”

  “Vito, I’d like to have a word with you tomorrow.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Julia smiled to keep from snarling.

  Vito wasn’t the one in charge.

  She was.

  She made the deals.

  She made the decisions.

  This kid wasn’t going to take her credit.

  14.

  Taylor lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling. Stacey muttered in her sleep, then jabbed another elbow in Taylor’s side.

  What she wouldn’t give to be in her own bed, but between Ian’s sense of foreboding and Stacey’s need to be stuck to her side, Taylor had been practically shoved into the kiddo’s room for the night. Ian had it right on one front at least, Julia’s guys would come for her again. She just hoped it wasn’t tonight. Putting Stacey through more trauma would be cruel. She already had to live with George.

  Taylor shifted, rolling onto her side and prayed this time she didn’t fall out of bed, that maybe she could get some sleep.

  Every so often, she heard the soft pad of footsteps in the hallway.

  Ian was still up and about, her personal watch dog.

  Her greatest fear was that Ian and Stacey were put in danger because of her.

  Tomorrow, Taylor would leave. She’d wait until Stacey went in for her lesson and Ian...she’d figure something out. He had to sleep sometime, didn’t he? Taylor would pack up and walk out. She could leave instructions for how and where to pick up the files. Ian was hardwired to do something about that, and he was likely better connected to find someone who could go after Julia.

  The floorboards in the hall creaked.

  Ian was making another circuit.

  He was still unhappy about the security company and Josh’s team.

  Something knocked against the wall between Stacey and Taylor’s room.

  That was strange.

  Taylor lifted her head from the pillow.

  Was Ian digging around in her room? For what purpose?

  She groped under her pillow for her phone, fingers brushing against the can of mace first before finding the phone.

  Walking the block. Back in 10.

  Ian had sent that message five minutes ago.

  Whoever was rummaging around in her room was not Ian.

  Taylor’s throat felt as though it were closing up. The room was too small. She had to run.

  She forced herself to breathe deep and slow.

  Now was not the time to panic.

  “Stacey? Stacey, honey, wake up.” Taylor kept her voice to a whisper and slid out of bed.

  The little girl groaned and swatted at Taylor.

  “Stacey, Prince Ian needs you to wake up now.”

  Stacey opened one eye and peered up at her.

  “Hey, sorry.” Taylor smoothed Stacey’s hair back. “I need you to get in the toy chest and hide, okay?”

  Stacey’s other eye opened. To her credit, she didn’t whimper, she didn’t cry, there was no obvious alarm. The child’s stillness spoke volumes. Quietly, Stacey slid out of bed after Taylor. She held the lid to the toy chest and Stacey crawled in. The large, pink box wasn’t out of place, unless someone realized there were no toys in this room. The chest was a hidey-hole. The thick wood and metal plates would protect her from stray bullets, if it came to that.

  Taylor said a silent prayer as she retrieved the mace and her phone.

  Her first instinct was to send a message to Ian, to call him back, but she didn’t really want to do that. Whoever was in he
r room likely wanted her dead. If Ian went in there first, he might be the one to die. No, this was on her.

  She popped the top off the can of mace and peered out into the hallway.

  It could be Josh or one of the other guys. If Julia’s people were here looking for her, they had likely put word out, if not a bounty. Josh’s people would be interested in the cash and getting rid of her.

  This was on Taylor.

  She’d brought danger under this roof. All of this could be laid at her feet. It was up to her to handle this. Not Ian. Not Josh. Not anyone but her. And all she had was some pepper spray.

  Taylor crept down the hall.

  If the cameras were on, and they should be, Josh’s guys should be watching. Which meant she might be walking into a coordinated attack. But if the cameras were off again... There was no telling what she was going into.

  What was that smell?

  Taylor shook her head, her eyes burning.

  Gasoline?

  Shit.

  She held her breath and peered into her room.

  The dresser drawers were dumped onto the floor. Her desk chair was turned over. The lamp was on, casting light onto the broad shoulders of a man digging around in Stacey’s school papers.

  A red gas can sat on the bed.

  The carpet was wet under foot.

  Just the thought of a spark would ignite this room.

  She edged forward.

  The guy lifted his head, ramming it into the desk drawer.

  “Fuck,” he muttered and sat back on his heels.

  His whole body jerked.

  Too late, she caught sight of her reflection in the standing mirror that’d been knocked over as well.

  He turned, and Taylor jabbed her finger on the button.

  “What the—ah, fuck!”

  That voice... She knew that voice.

  “Who sent you?” Taylor grabbed the gas can and smacked the guy on the head. It was mostly empty, but a few drops of liquid splashed out.

  “You bitch.” He snarled and launched to his feet, reaching blindly for her.

  Taylor stumbled back, her feet getting caught in clothes.

  Angelo.

  He’d been a petulant, obnoxious boy down the street from the café her father had owned.

  Angelo roared, lunging for her. He grabbed her by the arm and groped at his waistband. Taylor kicked, but her bare feet weren’t much good. He jerked her around as he drew his gun.

  “Stop right there!”

  Taylor might have wept at the sound of Ian’s voice—except for the very real threat of the gun and gas. She balled her hand into a fist and punched.

  “Ian, get out of here,” she managed to yell.

  Ian rushed forward and grabbed Angelo by the back of his shirt. Angelo had no chance against the pissed-off Irishman. Ian tossed Angelo against the dresser as if he were nothing more than a ragdoll. The gun went clattering to the floor, lost in darkness.

  “He’s got a gun.” Taylor stumbled away from the bed, the scent of gasoline clogging her throat.

  “Get Stacey out of here.” Ian shoved her none too gently out of the door into the hall.

  Angelo launched himself at Ian and the two men fell to the ground.

  She should do something.

  Ian came out on top and slammed his fist into Angelo’s face.

  A blast so loud Taylor’s ears rang split the midnight calm.

  Fire sprang up at Angelo’s side.

  Ian leapt away.

  Stacey.

  The gas.

  Taylor bolted into the bedroom as a man began to scream.

  Her throat tightened.

  Ian...

  Stacey had to come first.

  Taylor threw open the lid to the toy chest and hauled Stacey out.

  “We have to go, now.” She didn’t pause to do more than hoist Stacey up onto her hip and run.

  “Move, now. Go.” Ian was at her back, propelling her toward the stairs.

  “What happened?”

  “I’ll get the upstairs awake.”

  Behind her the front of the house began to crackle and pop, tongues of flames licking the hallway and ceiling.

  Stacey stared over Taylor’s shoulder and screamed.

  The fire alarms blared.

  Ian’s feet thundered up the stairs, while Taylor went down.

  “The puppies,” Stacey wailed.

  “I will get them. It’s okay.”

  Taylor had no idea how fast the fire would spread, but she wasn’t about to leave the puppies to die.

  She sprinted across the kitchen and through the utility room, snagging one of the empty laundry hampers. Inside the garage, the puppies were snug as a bug in a rug, every one of them blissfully sleeping through the hell upstairs.

  “I’m putting you down now, Stacey. You have to be brave. Hold the hamper for me?” Taylor steadied a still-crying Stacey. How she wanted to take time to wipe the child’s tears away, but time was not on their side.

  Taylor scooped up puppies three at a time, dumping them unceremoniously on top of each other inside the bin until she had them all.

  Today, everyone got to live.

  Except Angelo. But he’d made this choice. Looking at that room, seeing the gas, he’d meant for the whole house to go up. How many people would have died, if she hadn’t gone in there?

  Taylor and Stacey sprinted into the backyard where others were beginning to gather. She turned to peer at the house. Plumes of smoke obscured the stars. She could hear the flames, but not see them.

  Had everyone gotten out?

  She glanced around, ticking off Josh, Cat, and George—but no Ian.

  Ciro sipped the vodka Angelo had left behind as he watched the house burn.

  A body lay on the sidewalk, still on fire.

  Judging by the build, that was Angelo.

  Well, at least Ciro was rid of him. The guy had really begun to rub Ciro the wrong way.

  The way he saw it, a couple of things were about to happen.

  If Taylor was dead and the records were gone, there’d be some minor blow-back from this unsanctioned attack, which would ultimately die down into a general feeling of she had it coming. Family was important. But Taylor had spat on the hard work of her family for so long she hadn’t earned their loyalty. If she had, the blood running through her veins would matter more. Even Julia might not be willing to take Taylor out without permission from the mafia’s governing body, though these days it was little more than a shadow of what it once was.

  If Taylor was alive... He’d flush her out. After an attack like this, she’d run, and he’d pick up her trail. She was too well-insulated under George’s roof to get at. Which made this necessary.

  Plus, he’d just wanted Angelo to shut the fuck up.

  Sirens blared and lights flashed as the local fire department arrived to take care of the blaze.

  Ian stood on the curb, staring up at the sputtering flames.

  First responders swarmed, going in and out of the house.

  No one was hurt. Only the arsonist was dead. The damage was contained to the front corner where Taylor’s room had been.

  All in all, they were damn lucky, so why couldn’t Ian shake the feeling that this wasn’t even the pre-show? Something bad was going to happen and he didn’t have a handle on it. Knowing Taylor’s history like he did, he’d hope to have some sort of bird’s eye view to what was going on, but he was still blind. What wasn’t she telling him? What was so bad that someone would risk their own lives to do this?

  Ian wanted to get back to Taylor, but until the detectives got on scene and questioned him he was stuck.

  Could Taylor’s history have taken a dark turn? Were there things about her he didn’t know? Things that would inspire this kind of hatred?

  Ian’s only experience with Cosa Nostra had been on a tour with the UN when he was younger. Even then, it’d only happened in the background. Some sort of big mob hit that got a bunch of scumbags scooped up and probl
em solved. The American mafia was younger, but had a far more public history. Given what’d gone down in the last forty years, he wouldn’t have expected the organization to have a reach this wide. Just went to show what he knew. A whole lot of nothing.

  “Do I even want to know why you’re here?”

  “Kade, hey, man.” Ian bumped fists with the Texas-born firefighter and medic.

  “What the hell happened here?” Kade stared up at the charred remains of what had once been Taylor’s room.

  “Long story. Look, I might need a hand.” Ian glanced over his shoulder.

  “With...? Let me guess—long story?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Looks like you’re going to owe me a couple rounds while you explain this. It wouldn’t have anything to do with that woman with the bruises?”

  Ian curled his hands into fists.

  “I’ll take that as a yes.” Kade shook his head. “Christ, Ian, you get into the craziest shit. Owen’s on his way. Can he even talk to you?”

  “Seriously?” Ian’s best case scenario was Kade there to administer first aid and Owen to take his statement.

  “Yeah, I heard him on the radio once I confirmed we had a fatality. There he is.”

  Ian turned in time to see Owen and his new partner get out of their car. Ian had only met Owen after his former partner’s accident. Blake was still on a long road to physical and mental recovery, but Ian would still forget to mention this part of his night.

  Owen strode straight for Ian, lips tightly compressed.

  Yeah, Ian wasn’t real thrilled about the way things were going either.

  “Ian, you okay?” Owen was usually a pretty laidback, nice guy, but Ian had never seen him at a crime scene before. His posture was...different. Assertive. He was sharper.

  “Yeah, yeah. Everyone’s good.”

  “What happened?” Owen reached for his phone.

  “Is this the official version or the we’re all drinkin’ buddies version?”

  “Just tell me what happened.”

  “The owner is going to shit a brick I’m tellin’ you any of this, so just be aware.” Ian held his hands up.

  “I’ve met George before.” Owen grimaced.

  “All right then. I was hired on two weeks ago, to look into a set of threats George received. Quietly. No cops involved. I ain’t found nothin’ until yesterday. Someone tampered with the security system and strangled one of the staff in the garage. I had a row with the security company pointin’ fingers at the on-site staff and the guys here pointin’ fingers at the equipment, so I figured tonight I’d just walk rounds. Keep my eyes on the place. I did a walk around the block and when I came back the patio door was open. The suspect was in the nanny’s room—the same staffer who nearly got choked to death—and he was goin’ after her again. The room was covered in gas. She’d maced him. I rushed in, we tussled, go to the ground. He must have had a gun because it went off, and best I can tell, the muzzle fire lit the fumes and, well, you can see the rest.”