Page 63 of Wild Card (Advantage Play 1)

I don’t see it coming. The angry knuckles as they connect with the side of my face, tattooing themselves in my memory as pain blossoms from my cheekbone to the back of my skull. The hit is like a freaking wrecking-ball that makes the backhand from a week ago feel like child’s play. When black spots start dotting my vision, I’m given one more apologetic look from my attacker before he throws another punch and the darkness finally takes over.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Kingston

In my family’s estate, there are three floors with an array of bedrooms spread throughout. When my dad died, I took over the master suite, but only because it was expected of me. In the bathroom that connects to his bedroom––my bedroom––I forcefully scrub my hands with a bar of soap. After my first kill, my father warned me it wouldn’t get any easier. And even though I didn’t pull the trigger this time, Marty’s blood is still on my hands. But without his death, there would be so many more. Besides, he chose to take on the Romano family. And that was a fatal mistake.

Rinsing the suds off, I grab a towel and dry my hands. After replacing it on the rack, I unbutton my white dress shirt, one loophole at a time before gliding it down my shoulders and tossing it in the hamper.

Reggie isn’t answering his fucking phone. I don’t know how else to reach Ace, but I saw the results from the tournament. She won. I’m so damn proud and shocked she pulled it off in the first place. Pulling out my phone, I reread the last text from Reggie.

Reggie: At the diner. Eating eggs. No threats.

Rubbing my hand across my face, I head to the bedroom in hopes of getting some sleep when a loud knock pounds against my door.

With furrowed brows, I open it to see Stefan’s ghostly complexion.

“What is it?”

“Regina’s missing.”

My fingers dig into the doorjamb in hopes of it keeping me grounded as I see the remorse shining in his eyes. There’s no way. We talked. I told her she needed to stay home. This isn’t possible. She has to be here somewhere. We just need to look.

“What do you mean she’s missing?” I argue. “She’s been here the whole night.”

With a shake of his head, an apologetic Stefan continues, “No, sir. She snuck out. I checked the GPS on her phone, but it only led me down the block before I found her cell in the bushes. She’s gone.”

She disobeyed my orders. I’m terrified. Pissed. Frustrated. And so many other emotions I can’t even comprehend them all.

What the hell were you thinking, Regina?

“Fuck!” I yell as I tug on the roots of my hair with so much force I’m sure they’ll fall out in seconds. I have to fix this. Storming out of my room in nothing but a pair of black slacks, I head down the hall to the security room. The door is usually locked as a precaution, but Lou must already be aware of the situation because the door is propped open, ready for my entrance. Computer keyboard in hand, Lou’s prepped and ready to help.

“Pull up the feed from tonight. I want to see everything,” I order.

“Yes, sir.” Lou starts tapping away until he finds what I’m looking for and starts displaying the videos on the screens that line the walls.

When I see Regina hidden in the shadows on one of the televisions, I point to it. “There.” Lou resumes his typing, blowing up the video and playing it in slow motion.

I watch as my baby sister sneaks out the front door without a backward glance before moseying down the driveway then turning left. That’s it. That’s all I’m given.

“Do we have any footage of where we found her phone?” I grit out. My tone is like steel.

Clearing his throat, Lou shakes his head. “Sorry Boss, but we don’t have shit. We’ll find something, though. I’m going to keep looking.”

I open my mouth to voice another question when I hear the slamming of heavy footsteps in the hallway coming closer.

Diece appears in the doorway, almost out of breath as he says, “Your office phone is ringing.”

With sweaty palms, I sprint to my office on the first floor, taking the stairs two at a time before throwing open the door and answering the call.

“Yeah?” Quietly, I calm my breathing as I wait for a response. There are only a handful of people who know this number, and Regina’s one of them.

“Kingston?” a feminine voice crackles through the speaker, but it sounds forced.

A second ticks by as I try to register who I’m talking to.

“Ace?”

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