Page 2 of Wild Card (Advantage Play 1)

“I’m not—”

“Do you know who I am?” I probe.

“Kingston Romano?”

“Yes. Do you know what I specialize in?”

He gulps. Again. If that’s not a tell, I don’t know what is. Growing frustrated, I reach for the letter opener lying on my desk and run the pad of my thumb along the dull edge before dragging it up to the pointed tip. Yes, this’ll do nicely.

“You specialize in torture,” Vince mumbles, his gaze glued to my hands.

“I specialize in getting answers. How I get them depends on the individual I’m interrogating. Now, you’re trying my patience, Vince. Let me be clear. You won’t be walking out of this office. You said goodbye to that possibility the moment you gave sensitive information to my enemy. However, Diece can carry you out of this office in one piece…or multiple. That’s the only control you have here. And even that decision is given to you because I’m feeling generous.” Again, he eyes the letter opener in my hand warily, and I reply with a dry laugh. “No. This can’t slice through dry bone, but it can still poke you full of holes before I decide to send Diece for my kit that holds the fun stuff. Now, tell me why you betrayed the Romano family.”

When he remains silent, I count to three in my head before lunging forward and driving the letter opener into him an inch below his left collarbone, and he screams in pain. After twisting it clockwise, I tug the weapon back and wipe the crimson blood along his ashen cheek as he sobs like a baby. Satisfied with the war paint I’ve gifted him with, I growl a single word, “Talk.”

Through his sniveling, he starts, “Y-you don’t understand. He approached me. He asked about the warehouses near Harbor Drive. Wanted to know how heavily they’re watched. I-I didn’t mean to say anything—”

“Wrong. You approached him because you weren’t happy when I took my father’s position and wanted to get into Burlone’s good graces. However, only a fool would trust someone from a family other than their own, and Burlone isn’t a fool. That being said, he did take advantage of the situation by asking for information concerning his enemies. What does he want with our warehouses?”

“I don’t know!” he weeps, tears streaming down his cheeks.

Tilting my head to the side, I assess him before nodding, satisfied he’s finally telling the truth.

“And what did you tell him?”

As he squeezes his eyes shut, I can tell he’s going to need a little more persuasion, and I drive the letter opener into his opposite side but in the same spot near his collarbone. Again, he squeals in pain; then the truth begins to spill out of him just like the piss that’s soiled my chair.

I’ll have to get a new one.

Dammit.

By the time I’m finished prying the answers I need out of the little weasel, my shirt is splattered with the traitor’s blood. Looking down at the soiled clothes, my fingers slowly unbutton the white dress shirt at my collar. D’s voice distracts me from inspecting the dead body slumped in my office. It’s a shame he squealed so quickly that I had to put him out of his misery before getting to the fun part.

“Seems you haven’t lost your touch,” he notes. “And the sulfuric acid? That was new.”

I laugh dryly, observing the marks along his skin where it was eaten away by a clear liquid I keep in my liquor cabinet. “I dunno. I’m a little disappointed I didn’t need to pull out my hunting knife.”

He joins in with a deep chuckle. “And that is why your enemies call you Dark King.”

“If only I didn’t have to remind the Romano family,” I sigh before pulling my arms out of the sleeves and dropping the stained shirt onto the lifeless body hunched in the chair. “Have you heard anyone else who’s disappointed in the transition?”

“No. Vince was the only one. You heard him. He wasn’t conspiring with anyone else.”

“Yeah, but not before he passed along valuable information to Burlone,” I argue bitterly.

With a shrug, Diece pulls out his phone and sends a text to someone before looking back at me. “Doesn’t matter how well we do our job, there’s always going to be someone with a stick up their ass. We’ll figure out what Burlone is trying to do with the information about the dock, and when we do, we’ll eradicate the issue like we did with Vince. I just sent a text to Stefan to clean up this mess. We’ve got more important shit to do anyway.”

I nod. “You’re right. I guess I shouldn’t expect anything less.”

“Not when you’re the head of one of the most powerful mafia families.”

“One of?” I jest with a quirked brow.

“For now.”

Chapter One

Ace

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