Page 15 of White Rabbit

“I suspected you might say that.” Rubbing his face, Jules takes his seat. “Crazy fucker.”

Taking a closer look at my best friend and boss, I realize he looks worried. Not in a way that anyone else would notice, but I’d known him since we were children. I recognized the tight set of his jaw and the way his left-eye twitched ever so slightly, which meant he hadn’t been sleeping properly.

“How is everything else?”

Sitting back in his chair, he crosses his legs and folds his arms. “Cato and Nicco have been keeping things running. I've been very impressed with their work, but they are not you and I need my Left Hand back where he belongs.”

He glances down at his nails before polishing them lazily on his lapel. “Rosie also added two more to her KC.”

Rosalyn Gambino had been raised by her father, much like Jules and I had been raised by ours, with bloody hands and flesh between our teeth. The difference was that we’d been taught to rely on brute strength, and Rosie didn’t have that.

Instead, Vincent Gambino had made his daughter cunning and ruthless. She was like an assassin, trained with poisons and knives. That didn’t mean she couldn’t fight, no, she’d had training with that too and what she lacked in physical strength, she made up for with determination. She claimed her seat on the throne, head of the family alongside Jules, and refused to be a docile little princess. No, she was a bloodthirsty, unhinged queen. And the Kill Count was a testament to that.

Julian was trying to rile me, prod my competitive side into making me consider leaving here early. “Bullshit. You’re lying.”

“I wish.” He rolls his eyes and makes a pained expression. “It would save me a massive headache. You know how much she likes to play with knives.”

The Kill Count, or KC, was a game we’d created to see who was more dangerous. More savage. Each kill earned you a point and if the death was particularly creative, you could rack up a few more. That’s all there was to our little contest. It wasn’t complicated, just cut-throat. Literally, in her case. I preferred guns and my bare hands personally.

“So messy,” he tuts under his breath before saying. “Apparently no one else plays the game right.”

Running a hand through his golden hair, he looks every inch the rich socialite he is, when he’s not being a lawyer or a mafia boss, especially sitting opposite me, with my darkness and scars. We’re two sides of the same coin, and while my father would never have been satisfied with me being second in command, his greed would have pushed me for more. I know I’m where I’m supposed to be.

“How can they play it wrong? There are no rules.”

Julian gives me a dry stare, as if I’m an idiot. “Because everyone else who plays isn’t you.”

The corners of my mouth stretch into a wide, smug grin. “So…what you’re saying is that I’m her only worthy opponent? And that you think she’s only going to win because I’m not able to play while I’m locked in here?”

Green eyes narrow. “I’m not saying that, you are.”

“She’s not here to hear you take my side, Jules. You don’t always have to be neutral like Switzerland.” Tossing back my head, I laugh. Jules was always caught up in the crossfire between me and his psycho banshee of a wife.

Despite how competitive we were, I could read between the lines he was laying down, she missed me and she was worried. She didn’t need to be. I had it handled.

Continuing my teasing, I say, “Sometimes you can just say that your wife is a crazy cunt and that I’m right.”

He checks his watch before making a tutting noise. “I happen to like my head attached to my body and my heart still beating in my chest, so I’ll say no such thing.”

Rosie hadn’t earned the title ‘Queen of Hearts’ for nothing.

Clicking my tongue, I sit forward. “Pussy.”

With a soft sigh, Jules leans forward and opens his briefcase. “Since your stubborn ass is determined to stay in here and play Sherlock, I suppose the provisions I’ve made will come in useful.”

There he is, the mafia man. The planner. The power player.

“What’ve you got tucked up your sleeve, Asaro? What favors have you called in?”

He grins, “For my Left Hand? Well, firstly there’s this.”

Pulling out a tablet in a protective case, he slides it across the table to me.

“A tablet? How the fuck am I going to be allowed to keep that hidden in here?” I push it back towards him, shaking my head.

“No hiding necessary, my friend.” Jules' gaze softens. “This isn’t like juvie all those years ago, or like when your old man was inside. Prison evolves, just like the rest of the world, Eli.”

With a huff, I take it back and switch it on, seeing it already loaded up with several apps that I know for sure are not permitted inside Ogmore. He’s set it up so that I’ll be able to keep working, to some extent, from behind bars.

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