Page 1 of King of Pain

CHAPTER ONE

Luke

The trunkof a fucking car is no place to get my bearings.

Bleeding from a bullet wound doesn’t help.

I blow a frustrated breath through my nose, but I don’t pound on the lid of the trunk no matter how much I’d like to vent my rage.

It won’t help and it will just burn up my energy. This is a moment for control if I’m going to escape.

I should have known this was coming. The shit my family has been in lately…

Just to get this out there, and in case it wasn’t clear, I’m not one of the good guys.

The car, a Lambo, and yeah, trunk space is tight in those fuckers, takes the corner at full speed and I crash into the wall.

That fucker Vincent did that on purpose.

Vigo and Vincent Vendetti are the reason I’m stuffed into the trunk of a car with a bullet wound. They are the reason for a lot of my family’s problems lately.

I grit my teeth and try to brace myself.

The car takes another corner, but I hear the engine downshift before the clank of a gate fills my ears.

I catalogue the details as the car finally stops. We’ve been driving for at least thirty minutes putting us well outside of Vegas. I think.

One, two doors open and close before I hear a third and then… the whimpering of another person.

Fuck. That isn’t Vigo or Vincent, that’s for damned sure. The sound is high and clear like the cries of a woman.

The trunk opens and Vincent hauls me out. It’s got to be two in the morning, the darkness thick and inky beyond the ring of the house lights.

Just to my right, a woman kneels on the ground, a curtain of long, dark hair covering her face. But it doesn’t hide her shivering, or the pretty dress she wears. What the fuck?

I just get my feet under me when he pushes me to the ground, waving a gun in my face, as he spits out the words, “Here is how it’s going to go, you murdering piece of shit.”

Now there is the pot calling the kettle black. I’m no saint, but I’ve never put a woman in a dress like that on her knees. All right, that’s actually bullshit. But I haven’t done it to hurt her. If she’s on her knees, we’re both enjoying it.

“You…” he points the gun at the woman, “are going to patch him up. Fortunately for him, and you, we need him alive.”

She doesn’t say a word.

“To what do I owe this unexpected show of mercy?” I ask, spitting on the ground right at his feet.

Vigo bends down, looking me right in the eyes. “I had the best date tonight. Gorgeous woman with a very interesting piece of real estate right in the heart of Vegas. I hear it’s the perfect location to vent an underground tunnel meant to connect several casinos.”

Fuck. Of course, I’m here because of the tunnel. And if I were better at my job, we’d already be in the final phase of construction. “You need me alive to date some chick?”

“No, I need you alive so that your family stops chasing permits and starts chasing you instead.” He grins right in my face. “And when those permits don’t go through, you can sign over the unfinished project to me.”

I didn’t think Vigo was that smart. He’s gotten several details right that I wouldn’t have given him credit for. I am the one in charge of the tunnel project, and without me, my family will scramble to close the deal. They never should have left me in charge in the first place.

The only thing I can do now is make this fucked-up situation right. Which means getting the fuck out of here.

The woman next to me has her chin down, little sobs escaping her lips. I can see her bare knees digging into the stone of the drive.

“And you, cutie,” Vincent uses the hand not holding the gun to lift her chin and force her gaze to his, “are going to fix him up and then you’re going to join me for the rest of the evening. We’ve got a date to finish.”

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