Page 21 of Wild Card (Advantage Play 1)

“Why do we need more apples? I thought we already had some for delivery?” I don’t know why I ask. It isn’t any of my business. I don’t deal with the women, but curiosity gets the best of me.

With a wicked grin, he answers, “One was overripe, and the other’s already been purchased and transported.”

Overripe means he’s already tasted the goods and either kept her for himself or killed her already.

The thought makes my stomach roll. For a guy who raised me since I was ten, I don’t have a whole lot of respect for him.

Leaning against his desk, he addresses me. “Dex, I need you to go for a collection run.”

A collection run. That I can do. “Okay.”

“Did you get the plates registered for the Romanos?” he continues.

“Yeah. It’ll be on the truck for the delivery.”

Burlone turns to Sei who’s busy lighting another cigarette. “Sei, did you contact the buyer?”

“The one who fucked us over on payment last time? Yeah. He’ll be there. He was a giddy little school girl when I told him we’d still do business.” Feeling pleased with himself, Sei puts his hands behind his head and props his feet on Burlone’s desk.

Seconds later, Burlone slaps his hands against them. “Get your fucking boots off my desk, Sei.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good,” Burlone grumbles before addressing me. “Dex, did you find a good little soldier willing to drive the truck?” I try to ignore his condescending tone. After all, the guy is taking a bullet for us. Even if we are paying out the ass to keep him quiet.

Clearing my throat, I sit a little straighter in my seat and reply, “Yeah. Marty is drowning in debt. If we pay it off and give his wife and kid a little cash every month, then he’ll tell the Feds he was working for the Romanos.”

With his beady little eyes shining at me, Burlone grins. “Perfect.”

“When are you going to announce the tournament?” I ask, crossing each mental note off as we discuss it.

“Already did while you sons of bitches were sitting in my office.”

“So we’re good?” Sei coughs, the smoke from his cigarette going down the wrong pipe.

“Yeah.” Unbuttoning his suit jacket, a satisfied Burlone takes a seat behind his desk and starts flipping through various shipment documents scattered along the top of it. “We’re good. Now, get out of here. I need to get some work done.”

Chapter Eleven

Kingston

“Hey, asshole!” my sister shouts, storming into my office.

Slowly, I look up from my computer screen. When I confirm it’s Regina, I pinch the bridge of my nose and squeeze my eyes shut. I don’t have time for this.

“Hey, Regina.”

“Don’t hey, Regina me, Kingston. What the hell is up with Stefan following me?”

With a sigh, I motion to the chair across from me. Angrily, she stomps the rest of the way into the room then plops down into the seat and folds her arms.

Does she not understand how important her safety is? She’s the princess of the fucking Romano family. She needs protection, yet she’s acting like an ungrateful toddler, and I want to shake her for it.

Digging deep, I pray for patience. “Look. Just because Dad died doesn’t mean there aren’t men looking for you. I understand you want to get out of the house because you’re hurting, and you think you’ve hidden long enough that no one will be able to recognize you as the princess of the Romano family, but I’m not okay with you disappearing on your own. Having Stefan follow you was the best compromise I could come up with.” My voice is soft yet commanding. The sound reminds me of my father, and I see her eyes darken in front of me, confirming that I’m right.

“Screw you, Kingston. Just because you took over Dad’s role here,”—she waves her hand around the room that showcases her point—“doesn’t mean you get to pretend you’re my father. I can go wherever the hell I want, so back off!”

With gritted teeth, my gaze narrows. “Careful, Regina. I’ve had a shit day, and I’m not in the mood for you to challenge me right now. You want to leave this place and do whatever the hell you want? Fine. But only under my conditions. One. You go with a guard. Two. You keep your legs crossed. And three. You come home when I tell you to. If you can’t meet those conditions, then I lock you in your fucking room until I find you a suitable spouse that benefits the family. Do you understand?”

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