Page 56 of Wild Card (Advantage Play 1)

As Burlone’s grin widens, she finishes him off with another flick of her wrist. The entire room goes silent as if we’re all holding our collective breath at once. Tossing a second ace onto the stack, she lowers her chin and watches in satisfaction as Burlone’s grin slides off his face.

“Full house, Mr. Allegretti. But you put up a good fight.” His jaw clenches as she continues, “I have to ask though, does defeating you come with a plaque or anything? Or maybe I can hire someone to make one. Ya know, since you were undefeated and all.”

Hot. Fucking. Damn.

I’ve never seen anything more attractive in my life as she slowly drags the stack of chips toward her, her gaze never leaving Burlone’s as fumes practically shoot from his ears. I know what he’s thinking because the rest of the crowd is thinking the exact same thing. She just played him like a fucking fiddle in front of everyone, and he’ll never be able to recover from the embarrassment. He just got his ass handed to him by a nobody because he underestimated her. A girl who hasn’t played a single hand of professional poker before tonight just swept the tournament and dethroned the cocky sonofabitch who put it together in the first place.

Hot. Damn.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Kingston

Meanwhile…

The air is calm, almost balmy as I wait near the safe house for D’s arrival. Him and Stefan, along with a few other men, are spread throughout the city, strategically placed to prevent our plan from crumbling, no matter what curveballs are thrown our way.

Lou, a soldier and computer genius, stands at my side as we watch a white van roll down the street. Seconds later, a loud popping sound breaks the silence as Stefan uses a sniper rifle to puncture holes in the tires. With a squeal, the driver slams on his brakes and is ambushed by seven men with their handguns drawn.

The pussy surrenders without a fight as he raises his hands into the air for all of us to see before opening the door. Two of my men reach for him and grab his arms, twisting them behind his back. He whimpers in pain.

Tilting my head, I assess his strange behavior. It’s out of character for a soldier to come quietly. However, as soon as he sees Diece saunter over, he starts thrashing in an attempt to get away.

This is the reaction I was anticipating.

With a single hit, Diece knocks out Burlone’s man then tosses him over his shoulder as if he weighs nothing more than a feather. Walking toward me, he lifts his chin then stalks inside and gets to work strapping the lifeless body to a hard, metal chair.

My expression is stone cold as I follow him into the empty warehouse. It’s the same one my father brought me to when I had my first kill. I can still feel the cold metal of the gun as he placed it in my hand and encouraged me to pull the trigger.

“Do you see what we do to traitors?” he asked. I was still shaking like a leaf from witnessing my first torture session, my stomach rolling with nausea. They had peeled back sections of his skin, ripped out toenails from his feet, broken bones with a hammer. It was gruesome. Unthinkable. Sickening. Yet, justified because he had lied to his family. He had given information to the Feds. He had earned every single amount of pain they inflicted and deserved the bullet I placed in his skull.

And tonight?

Tonight wouldn’t be any different.

Sliding my black suit jacket from my shoulders, I hand it to Lou then approach the unconscious body sitting in a heap a few feet away.

A table is set up beside him with various tools necessary for making even the strongest of men sing.

And I’m in the mood for an entire album.

“Hey, Boss?” D asks, grabbing my attention. When my stare connects with his, he continues, “What do you want me to do with the van?”

“How many are in there?”

“Three.”

Three innocent women who were on their way to be sold like cattle. I’d like to say my conscience is cleared with the knowledge I saved them from a fate worse than death, but I know how many I’ve turned a blind eye to. Girls just like them who were sold to the highest bidder, and I’ll never be able to wash my hands of their blood.

“What kind of shape are they in?”

“A few cuts and bruises. Nothing broken,” D answers gruffly.

“Then let them go.”

With a nod, D passes along the orders, and I know shit will get handled as it always does when Diece is in charge.

“Now,” I continue. “Let’s begin.”

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