by Kelsie Rae
“Look.” I rub her back, trying to soothe her in the only way I know how. “It’s not like I want to die. I’m just saying that you going to the tournament isn’t an option. We’re going to figure this out, okay?”
“But…how?”
A blaring I have no fucking idea flashes through my mind before I shove it away and focus on the issue at hand. Swallowing, I present the first step. “First, we need to get your brother this letter. I need an ally right now, and I think he’s our only shot.”
“Then we’re screwed,” she admits with a dry laugh. “Kingston will kill you before you get within ten feet of him or any of his men. How are you going to deliver the letter?”
“I have an idea.”
With pursed lips, a doubting Regina folds her arms. “Which is?”
“Don’t worry about it. All I need you to do is write the letter and hold on while I’m gone for an hour or two.”
“Where are you going?” She reaches for the pen and paper before sitting on the floor to use the slab of cement as her own personal table while waiting for my response.
“Out,” I offer. “I have an idea of how to reach my brother––alone––and I think he’s the only one who will give me a chance without shooting me between the eyes. That is if he even knows I’m his brother.”
Brother. It’s such a foreign concept for a guy like me. Sure, we’re blood. But we’re also enemies in every other sense of the term. Will it be enough to save Regina? I have no fucking clue.
Regina doesn’t answer right away. She’s busy concentrating on her letter, and I watch in fascination as she writes every word in swirling cursive across the paper. Even her handwriting is dainty and feminine. It’s a stark reminder of how different we are and only makes me want to protect her more.
When she finishes, she pops the cap back onto the pen and folds the paper into a perfect little square before offering both to me.
“Here you go. And I don’t remember D ever talking about a long-lost brother. But I do remember my brother making an off-handed comment once or twice about D’s dad being an ass for sending someone away instead of bringing him into the fold. After hearing your history, it was easy to piece the information together. Plus, if D sees you up close, I don’t think it’ll be too far of a reach for him to figure it out, too.”
I cock my head. “Do we look that alike?”
“Honestly? When you opened the door to my room that first night I was brought here, I thought you were him coming to save me. After I realized you weren’t Diece, I convinced myself that I was still drugged up, and the similarities were minimal, but”—she tilts her head and looks me up and down—“yup. You guys are definitely related.”
I nod while a low hum of anxiety pulses through me.
“Good to know. Hopefully, it’ll give me a few more minutes with him before he pulls the trigger.”
“Don’t talk like that,” she scolds, her forehead wrinkling.
“Sorry,” I mutter, though I don’t take it back.
“Are you going now?” she adds, still sitting cross-legged on the floor. I offer my hand, then pull her up and lean forward for a kiss goodbye. I think I’m needing it more than her, but she doesn’t hesitate in returning it.
Stepping away, I slip the note into my back pocket and turn on my heel. “I’ll be back soon. Be safe.”
“I will. Be safe, too. Please.”
Tossing a wink over my shoulder, I add, “Always, darlin’.”
Chapter Seventeen
Dex
The place is as sketchy as I remember it. Same chain link fence that’s been cut in a few places, same worn asphalt that needs to be replaced, same cracked sidewalks and graffitied walls. The fact that Ace lived here––by herself––baffles me.
Scanning the parking lot, I find the man I’m looking for and walk over to him.
“Hey.” I lift my chin in greeting.
The homeless guy looks up at me in a daze before fumbling in his wool blankets.
“You’re the guy. The guy I was supposed ta watch out for. What are ya doin’ here, anyway? You’re not supposed ta be here. Why are you here? And where’s that damn card? He told me ta keep track of it and call if ya showed up, and y-you’re right here,” he continues mumbling under his breath in search of the card that I assume has Diece’s contact information on it.
I crouch in front of him and start helping in his quest, breathing through my mouth when the stench of alcohol and bad breath wafts through the air.
When I find it tucked next to a bottle of bourbon, I pick the business card up and hand it to a very intoxicated old guy that I feel sorry for.
“Here. Is this what you’re looking for?” I ask.
He squints his eyes to take a closer look. “Yeah. I think that’s it. But why…why are ya helpin’ me?”
“Because I need you to do something for me.”
Fiddling with the business card in his hands, he wrinkles his nose. “And what’s that? I don’t think we like ya—”
“We?”
“Ace and me. She and that big man told me ta keep an eye out for ya. They told me ta call if ya showed back up. You really do look like him, ya know—”
“Yeah. That’s what I’ve heard. Listen”—I pull out a burner phone then hand it to him—“I need you to call him and tell him I stopped by. I need you to tell him that I gave you a letter from Regina. Do you think you can do that?”
He cocks his head to the side, looking confused as hell. “Regina?”
“Yeah. Can you do that?” I repeat, eyeing him warily. He’s drunk off his ass.
Waving me off, he mutters, “Yeah, yeah, of course. Let me sober up a bit first, though. Ace don’t like it when I drink.”
With pity shining in my eyes, I push the phone into his hand and cover it with my own to make sure he’s got a good grip. “I’m going to need you to call him right now. It’s to keep Ace safe, understand?”
His gaze clears almost instantly, sensing the gravity of the situation. Nodding his understanding, he attempts to dial the phone number printed on the business card. After his third attempt, I grab the phone and press the correct combination then hand it back to him. “Here.”
“Thanks,” he slurs, his voice showcasing his embarrassment.
Releasing a sigh, I wait for the call to connect, praying it won’t go to voicemail. When I hear a muffled voice echo through the shitty earpiece, I lean closer and try to ignore the pungent smell clinging to the homeless guy.
He clears his throat before mumbling, “Hey, hey, it’s me. Ya gave me yer card a few days ago, or maybe it was weeks? But I—”
Someone talks on the other end.
“Yeah, yeah. Anyway, ya asked that I give ya a call if that guy showed back up and—”
The voice cuts him off while the homeless guy starts nodding up and down like a bobblehead.
“Yeah, yeah. He’s here. Asked me ta give you a letter. It’s about R-R—” He looks at me. “What was her name again?”
“Regina,” I finish for him.
“Ah, yeah. That’s right. Regina. He’s got a letter about Regina—”
The same brash voice interrupts him again, and I lean even closer while holding my breath in hopes of hearing what’s being said. Unfortunately, I can’t make out what Diece is saying.
Glancing up at me, Ace’s friend replies, “Oh, yeah. Sure. He’s still here.”
After listening to Diece’s response, the homeless guy pulls the phone away from his ear and offers it to me. “He wants ta talk to ya.”
Shit.
This could go one of two ways. I just need to pray that whatever the hell Regina wrote in her letter is enough to convince them that I’m the good guy. I didn’t bother reading it because I assume it’s private, and I respect Regina enough to give her an ounce of the privacy that’s been missing from her life. However, I’m definitely questioning my decision as I wait to talk with my half-brother while praying he’s not going to kill me.
; Literally.
Grabbing the phone, I shift it to my other hand before bringing it to my ear. “Yeah?”
“This Dex?” a low voice grumbles.
“Yeah.”
“Why the hell are you using Eddie to contact me?”
I scrub the palm of my hand against my face then admit, “Because it was the only way I could think of.”
“And why are you contacting me?” His tone is cold. Hell, it’s frigid.
Gritting my teeth, I explain, “Because you’re walking into a shitstorm, and I’m trying to keep you all from getting fucked.”
He scoffs, and I don’t blame him in the slightest. “And you expect me to believe that?”
“No, I expect you to believe Regina.”
“Don’t you say her name,” he spits. “After the hell you and your boss are putting her through, I don’t want to ever hear you utter the name Regina again. Do you understand me?”
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I count to ten and pray for patience. “No offense, Diece, but you have no idea what you’re talking about. Read her letter. See what she has to say. And help me get the Romano family––and Regina––out of this mess. That’s all I’m asking for. That’s all she wants. Just…,” I sigh. “Just read the damn letter.”
A beat of silence greets me, and I look down at Eddie to see him curling back into a ball like when I first found him. I could’ve ended up like that. Some nobody on the street who’s only love is found in a liquor bottle. Instead, I found Regina.
I need to get her out of this mess. And I need Diece’s help to do it, which means I need him to listen to me.
“Look—” I start, but he cuts me off.
“If you think I should trust you, then….” He stops to clear his throat—and probably to second guess himself too. “Then stay where you are. I’ll be there in ten.”
The call goes dead, leaving me on my own while I fight every instinct inside of me that’s telling me to run before a bullet meets my skull.
But I don’t.
Chapter Eighteen
Diece
The likelihood of me walking into a trap is far from slim, but it doesn’t stop me from putting the car in park and turning off the ignition. Tugging the sleeves of my suit down an inch, I walk toward the dumpster where I last saw Eddie. Only this time, a bear of a man is standing next to it. His hands are raised in the air in an attempt to put me at ease as he watches me approach.
It doesn’t work.
“I’m still here,” he calls out to me when I’m twenty yards away.
“I can see that. I think the real question is, why?”
Not moving an inch, he says, “Any chance you’d be willing to go somewhere private? Where we can talk? I’m getting itchy out in the open.”
His comment isn’t what I expected, and neither is the way his gaze shifts left and right while scanning the parking lot. Either he’s scared out of his mind, or he’s waiting for someone to jump out of the bushes and put a gun to my head. I can’t decide which.
“And where would you like to go?” I ask cautiously.
“I dunno. Ace’s apartment? A diner somewhere?”
My suspicion spikes. “No offense, but I think it’s best if we stay here until you can convince me to trust you.” Even though I’m as itchy as you are to get out of this situation.
With a nod, Burlone’s right-hand man slowly starts lowering his arms back down to his sides. “I’m reaching for the letter. Don’t shoot me before I have a chance to prove that I’m on your side, okay?”
My jaw is like chiseled granite as I thumb the Glock in my jacket and watch his every move, prepping for any possible outcome. Although it’d be really nice if I didn’t have to shoot my own brother today.
Just sayin’.
Seconds later, Dex pulls a folded piece of paper from his pocket just like he voiced and offers it to me.
“Here.”
Releasing a breath I didn’t know I was holding, I take it and slowly unfold the creased letter.
Hey, King,
It’s me. First—I’m so sorry I snuck out. I screwed up, and that’s on me. But I want you to know I’m okay. Please don’t shoot Dex! He’s been watching over me. He’s been taking care of me. He’s been really good to me, King. He’s not like the other men. I know you’d kill me if I were in front of you right now, but I really care about him, and I’m begging you to give him a chance. He wants to get BOTH of us out of this situation and has information from Burlone that the tournament is a trap. I’m sure you’ve already been able to guess that would be the case, but Dex can confirm it. You can’t go. I don’t care if I’m sold or…whatever the plans are for me. Burlone is going to kill you if you show up, and I can’t let that happen. Especially because if I had listened to you, I wouldn’t be in this position in the first place. Just be careful, okay? And listen to Dex. He’s the only shot we have.
Love you,
Regina
When I’m finished reading the message for a third time, I look at my brother and tilt my head toward my car. “Get in.”
He listens, keeping his hands out of his pockets and within clear view of my suspicious gaze as if he knows I’m still a little trigger happy. Both car doors slam shut with a thud before I turn on the sleek, black sedan and start driving toward King’s estate. The awkward silence is deafening, but I don’t know what to say. There’s more than one elephant in the car with us. Where the hell do I even start?
My fingers tighten around the steering wheel as I ask, “So, is this true? You’ve been watching over Regina?”
“Yeah,” he responds in a gruff voice.
“Why help us? Why tell King he’s stepping into a trap when you know Burlone will gut you in the ugliest way possible if he finds out that you’re a rat. Why do any of this?”
Dex keeps his attention out the side window, watching the green trees blur across the landscape as we get closer to our destination. “I think we both know I’ve never really fit in with the Allegrettis.”
My head snaps to him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I think you know what it means,” he mumbles under his breath.
“Spell it out for me, then.”
“My father was a Romano. I guess it’s in my blood, just like it’s in yours.” Turning in his seat and looking straight at me, he waits for my reaction.
Shit.
I first suspected he was my brother when his mom drove up and begged for money. A few years later, I confirmed my suspicion when a picture of him standing next to Burlone was found on my dad’s desk. And now, as he sits next to me, I know the truth without a doubt.
“How long have you known?” I mutter, my hands still clenched around the wheel.
“A while. You?”
“A while,” I repeat with an amused smile. “Why haven’t you reached out?”
He laughs. “Because I was already turned away once, Diece. Burlone took me in.”
I scoff before he has a chance to finish, and he rolls his eyes at my immature response before clarifying, “Okay, he took my mom up on her offer to trade me for a kilo of cocaine and her debt wiped free. Regardless, he put a roof over my head and raised me. Even if it was a pretty shitty upbringing, at least he did that much. My own dad? He couldn’t stand the sight of me.”
I squeeze the steering wheel and grit my teeth. He only knows half the story.
Taking a deep breath, I try to explain the other side. “That’s not entirely true. He had his own set of issues, okay? But don’t let that affect your future. Burlone’s a filthy asshole who deserves to have his dick cut off. Or are you too blinded by your history to see that?”
Shaking his head, a low burn emanates from his eyes. “You’re right. Burlone needs to be put down, and I’m here to help you do it.”
As I watch him from the corner of my eye, I try to figure out if he’s telling the truth or not. The only problem is that I’m not a freaking lie detector like Kingston is. I guess only time will tell, and w
e’ll find out soon enough.
Turning into the long driveway that leads to Kingston’s house, I let the silence encompass us then shove my car in park once we’ve reached our destination. Turning off the ignition, I ask, “So, tell me, Dex…if I put my neck out for you, will I regret it?”
Without hesitation, he looks me straight in the eye. “Not a chance in hell.”
“Good because I think we’re about to find out.”
I lift my chin toward the front of Kingston’s estate and open the car door before heading inside. Dex follows behind.
Chapter Nineteen
Dex
I feel itchy. It’s the only way to describe it. As if a thousand deadly spiders are crawling along my skin, but I’ve been told that if I brush them away, their tiny fangs will sink into my flesh and fill me with a debilitating poison.
“Wait here,” Diece orders when we reach the foyer.
I lift my chin in acknowledgment. “Sure I won’t get shot if anyone finds me here without a guide?”
“If we wanted you dead, you wouldn’t have stepped a single foot onto our Italian marble tiles,” he quips. “I’ll be back in a few.”
Then he’s gone. Rocking back on my heels, I look around the expansive entryway as I realize that this is Little Bird’s home. This is what she was taken from. This is where she was raised. I take in the dark banister leading to the second floor where I assume the bedrooms are. Perusing the walls, I search for a family photograph, but they’re bare. Not a single slice of evidence can be seen from where I’m standing that Regina Romano ever existed in the first place. I assume it was in an effort to protect her identity from Romano’s enemies, but still. Maybe Regina and I aren’t that different after all. One thing is for certain. When I imagine a life without her, it nearly cripples me.
The itchy feeling intensifies, pulling me from my reverie. Glancing over my shoulder, I find a guy in a suit studying me from down the hall. He doesn’t bother to retreat when I catch him staring. He simply folds his arms and rests his shoulder against the doorframe.