Page 1 of Scandalous Kingpin
Prologue
IVY
“Welcome to Philadelphia!”
The radio announcer’s perfectly timed words echoed through the speakers of Wynter’s Jeep as we took the Benjamin Franklin Bridge across the Delaware River.
Wynter, Juliette, and Davina were my ride-or-dies from Yale. Wynter and Juliette were cousins, raised mostly together by Wynter’s mother in California. Juliette was reckless but easy to love, and based on all the stories they’d shared over the years, she was the yin to Wynter’s yang. Wynter, who’d been preparing for the Olympics since the day she’d slid her feet into her figure skates, had a single-mindedness to her that benefited from Juliette’s wild ways.
Then there was Davina, who always made sure we made the right moves and thought with our sensible brains rather than our lizard ones. We always joked that she was the mother hen of our group, but we wouldn’t have it any other way.
And me… well, I was just me. Ivy Murphy, daughter of an Irish mobster. Both my father and Juliette’s ran our families’parts in a much larger criminal organization. Her father ran the Brennan Irish mafia, their territory in Ireland and the States, and my athair—father—and my brothers ran the Murphy Irish mafia in Ireland only.
It worked for me—less chances of running into my brothers. Or, as they were known in the underworld, the Irish pricks. I hadn’t been back to Ireland since I stepped foot on American soil, and even now with a Yale degree under my belt, I kept delaying my return to Ireland.
So here the four of us were, en route to carry out our heist—namely, rob one of the kingpins. How did this come to be, you might wonder? Well, it started with a house fire and Davina’s ex-boyfriend blackmailing us. We followed one rule: never steal from the same place twice. So far, we’d robbed Juliette’s father, a casino in Chicago, and now we were shifting our efforts to a club in Philadelphia. Diversity was important to us amateur criminals.
And something good had come out of it.
After Wynter’s boyfriend assisted in erasing the evidence of our past operations, we decided to use the money to start a school. It was a school that would teach a regular curriculum supplemented with fighting, self-defense, and survival in the mafia world.
Before long, Wynter had parked her Jeep and we were strutting through the club like we belonged. On my left was the cloakroom, tinged in red neon lights, and a bar area with a dozen or so high-top tables. Some of the patrons had cleared a space for a dance floor, and behind it, on the farthest wall, hung a familiar sign.
Kingpins of the Syndicate.
Its large skull followed me as we passed through the dance floor, burning a hole in the back of my head.
Music blasted as we walked deeper into the club, vibrating the grimy floor beneath my feet. A few bodies writhed as we weaved between them toward another bar.
We ordered a round of sodas, and as we waited, my eyes traveled over the strobe-lit club. It was clearly catered toward the upper echelon of society—the people here were dressed so finely I could’ve sworn their clothes had come straight from the New York runways.
Juliette and I finished our drinks first, setting them down and moving on to the dance floor. We started swaying to the beat, laughing and shaking our asses like club girls trying to make a living.
Davina and Wynter joined us as “Morning After Dark” by Timbaland came on, and I craned my neck to spy the DJ, a stunning leggy woman with white-blonde hair and a pair of bubblegum-pink headphones. I made a mental note to slide her a tip on our way out.
The four of us laughed and shook our hips, letting ourselves forget the reason we were there. One dance turned into two, then three, and before long, it was time to execute our plan.
“Okay, be on alert, girls,” Wynter said after she’d pulled us into a huddle. “The signal can’t be far off.”
We’d parked in the way of the money truck that was due at any moment. The plan was to go back to the car and follow the money truck out of here. Nothing could stop us now.
Well,almostnothing.
“I have to use the restroom.” I glanced around, looking for a bathroom sign. “I’ll be super quick.”
“If you hear the announcement,” Davina instructed, “don’t come back here. Head straight to the car.”
I scurried off with a jerk of my chin, leaving Juliette, Wynter, and Davina dancing. I waded through sweat-slicked bodies and dodged floating silver trays carrying drinks that glinted beneaththe flashing lights. Once in the bathroom, I took care of business, washed my hands, and was about to make my way back down the dark hall when I collided with a man’s hard chest.
He looked down, trailing up my bare legs before his emotionless gaze flicked up and caught mine. It was like he was looking straight through me. Goose bumps raised the hair on my arms, and I instantly knew who he was. Priest, the Syndicate’s kingpin who ruled Philadelphia.
Instinctively, I took a step back, and something dark moved through his eyes.
“Now what have we got here?” he said softly. My stomach dropped like lead and a quiver started in my chest. Being alone with him made it feel like there wasn’t enough oxygen in the small space. “You shouldn’t be out here alone, angel.”
He closed the distance between us in one powerful stride and a shiver ghosted through me. His eyes that locked on me were heartless. Invasive. Blue.
The moment stretched, stealing what little breath of air I’d managed from my lungs.
