Page 65 of Wild Card (Advantage Play 1)

“D’s back with your girl.”

My girl. I open my mouth to deny it but finally accept the truth. If the knots in my stomach are anything to go by, then yeah. I’m going to say that she’s my girl. I just need to convince her of that.

“She looks pretty bad, Boss. Just wanted to give you a heads up.”

Swallowing the bile as it burns down my throat, I rub my face roughly.

“Thanks for the update. Any news on Regina?”

A heavy silence is all I get as a response before Lou hesitantly answers me. “Not yet. But we’ll find her.”

“Is there a possibility that she left her phone there for a reason? That she didn’t want to be followed? I mean…it’s possible, right?” Stefan’s voice echoes through the phone, and I assume they’ve put the call on speaker. He’s been working as diligently as Lou to find Regina, but I’m afraid I already know the answer.

“It’s possible,” I admit. “But I think the odds are stacked against us, considering how we screwed up Burlone’s plans last night. Keep looking. And keep me updated. I need to deal with Ace right now.”

A couple of, “Yes, sirs,” echo throughout the room before the line goes dead.

Standing from my chair, I head in the direction of the garage when I see a girl who looks nothing like the one I’ve grown accustomed to seeing. With her arm cradled to her chest, she whimpers as soon as she sees me.

“Hey.” A pitiful smile accompanies her weak voice as she limps closer with D by her side. She looks like she got ran over by a fucking truck. A fat lip that’s begging for some ice, dried blood crusted beneath her nose, and two swollen eyes that are nearly swallowed whole from the dark purple bruising surrounding them.

I’ve seen a lot of shit in my life, but nothing has crippled me the way the broken girl in front of me has.

Rushing toward her, I wrap my arm around her shoulders then guide her down the hall and to the couch in the family room. Without protest, she follows before collapsing onto the cushions. She looks so tiny. So frail. My knees hit the ground so I can take a closer look.

As gently as I can, I touch each side of her face to examine the damage. My blood boils at the sight.

“You sure this was Burlone’s men?” I grit out.

Her chest rises and falls slowly as a single tear slides down her cheek. “Yeah. You were right, Kingston. I messed with the wrong guy. I’m so sorry.”

Sorry? She’s apologizing?

I press a gentle kiss to her forehead then move to sit beside her on the couch. Pulling her into my lap, I hold her close and rock her back and forth. Back and forth. She melts into me a little more with each movement.

“Shh,…it’s okay, Ace. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I do, though,” she whimpers. “I didn’t know who to call. You didn’t sign up for this. You have no obligation to help me, yet here I am.” Raising her arms, she motions to the family room of my estate. A place that very few people have ever really been invited into.

“All I wanted was to take something from him the way he took something from me. But, instead…,”—she shudders in my arms—“all I won was a living nightmare I’ll never be able to erase.”

My hands tighten around her tiny waist, and it takes everything in me to loosen them. She doesn’t need to see Dark King right now. She needs the tender King. The one only she’s ever been privy to.

“You’re right,” I offer. “I didn’t sign up for this. Neither of us did, yet you fell into my lap anyway, and I wouldn’t change it. Listen to me, Ace.” Carefully, I raise her chin with the pad of my forefinger until I have her full attention. Or at least, as much as she can give me when her entire face is smashed in. I grit my teeth, but push my anger aside and focus on how I can harness it. “You’re mine now. Do you know what that means?”

She shakes her head.

“It means I’m going to burn every single one of them for what they did to you. And I’m not going to let you go.”

The feel of a cold compress is pressed against my bare shoulder. Diece is hovering over us like a mother hen as I take the offered ice pack and give him a nod of thanks.

He returns it with one of his own before addressing the wounded girl in my arms. “Hey, Ace?”

“Yeah?” she mumbles, pulling away from me then looking up at D.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but I think we need to take a look at that hand.”

I had almost forgotten about the way she cradled it against her, and I feel like an ass for not addressing it sooner. Lowering my head to get a better look, I gently wrap my thumb and forefinger around her wrist then pull it away from her protective embrace. Blood drips down her elbow, staining the black cocktail dress covering her tiny frame.

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