Page 94 of Scandalous Kingpin
“I hoped it would be enough.” To his credit, he stood his ground. “So back the fuck off.”
I turned to Bogdan, who acted as if this was all some great performance, taking another sip of his whiskey and looking bored. But I saw past it; he was taking stock. Evaluating me.
“Jean-Baptiste means to use her as a pawn to fuck with you and get his territory back,” he said coldly, his voice venomous.
“And what doyouwant?” I growled back. “Some kind of pissing contest to see who’s better, faster, stronger?”
Bogdan chuckled, but it didn’t reach his dark eyes. “A ‘pissing contest’ is fucking a rival’s woman.” When I stiffened, Bogdan cocked his head, arching a cold brow. “What I want is docks in every major port on the East and West coasts of the United States.”
I narrowed my eyes. “And what does that have to do with me?”
“Don’t mistake me for a blind or stupid man.”
I released a long breath, choosing to ignore his insolence for now. Ivy was all that mattered to me.
“The DiLustro family only has access to New York and Philly.” I splayed my palms out wide. “You’re already in Philadelphia, in case you’re confused.”
My eyes locked with his. A second ticked by. Then another. “We’ll start with New York. Then you’ll reach out to your distant family member in Toronto.” My brow furrowed. Our connection to Alessio Russo, recently changed to Ashford, was barely known. “Yes, to Alessio. And from there, we’ll slowly make our way down the coastline.”
“You’re fucking crazy,” I snarled.
“Maybe.” He chuckled, the darkness in his soul filling his eyes with black. “But unless you agree to it, the bomb I have surrounding Kingston Ashford’s home will explode with your wife inside it.”
Harsh breaths burned my lungs.
I knew there was no life without Ivy. The moment we crossed paths, I began experiencing feelings that were so foreign I had to look them up. She’d healed parts of me that I thought were gone for good.
Yes, I desired her, but it was so much more than that. It was an obsession. It was love. It was an emotion so strong that it dug under my skin and buried itself into my DNA.
“It’s yours,” I finally said. He cocked his head as if debating whether to believe me. He must have never known love, otherwise he’d understand. The thought of Ivy perishing into ashes made my chest squeeze worse than anything else. “And Jean-Baptiste is mine,” I stated coldly, challenging either man to disagree.
They didn’t.
I was nearly at the exit when Bogdan’s voice stopped me.
“Priest?” Turning my head, I caught his eye. “If you ever step foot on my territory without an invitation again, I’ll cut your fucking head off.”
I left Bogdan and Sébastien in Philly twenty-four hours ago to board a jet bound for Lisbon. Right after I’d given the Serbian asshole access to another dock in Philadelphia and one in New York.
Speeding down the highway on my motorcycle, I was eager to make Jean-Baptiste history and head to the part of town where Ivy currently slept. Parking my bike at the end of the street where my intel showed Jean-Baptiste was hiding, I continued on foot. My steps were silent as I wound my way past charming villas. They were small but private, with tiny courtyards inbetween. The lights slowly started to flick on as I reached the last house on the street.
My phone flashed and I lowered my gaze to find Basilio’s name on the screen. I ignored his call, but no sooner had it stopped ringing than it started again.
Sighing, I answered it. “I should have checked in with you first.”
“Oh, you fucking think?” Basilio roared. “What good is the Syndicate if we’re just doing things on our own terms?” I scowled as I studied the blueprints of the home, memorizing each room. “Are you listening to me, Priest?”
“Yes, but I’m kind of in the middle of something,” I hurled back.
“Bogdan is a fucking enemy, dipshit!”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. I hadn’t slept in forty-eight hours and it was starting to take its toll.
“You know what they say, keep your friends close and your enemies closer.”
“I want to barge into that fucking dock, guns blazing, and level him,” he bellowed so loud I was certain his voice carried over the ocean and not via the phone line.
“Bas, I really am busy?—”
