Page 68 of Wild Card (Advantage Play 1)

“What evidence do we have to prove this?”

It needs to be concrete if his men are going to pay for it with their blood.

D collapses into the chair across from my desk. “Lou hacked his email and found a picture of her.”

“How the hell did he get a picture of her?” I growl low in my throat. My blood is boiling. That isn’t possible. Regina’s identity has been on total lockdown since my mother was murdered. Only a few select individuals in the Romano family would be able to recognize her in a lineup, and I trust each and every one of them with my own life.

“Remember Dominic?”

I pause, searching my memories for the specific Dominic that D’s suggesting.

“That asshole my dad was trying to work with?”

“Yeah.” With gritted teeth, he expands. “From what we can gather, your dad offered Regina as a consolation prize before coming to his fucking senses.”

I shake my head. “That’s not possible. My dad wouldn’t work with Dominic.”

“Your dad wasn’t all there in the end, King, and we both know it. Regardless, he sent a picture to Dominic, who then forwarded it to Burlone a few nights ago.”

Squeezing the back of my neck, I voice my confusion. “Why would he do that? Regina has basically lived her entire life in a prison to keep our enemies from recognizing her.”

He lifts his shoulders. “My guess? Dominic’s a superficial asshat who wanted to see his potential bride before he agreed to anything. Then your dad came to his senses after he sent the photo and backed out of the deal. Remember how paranoid he was about her in the end? Didn’t even want to let her leave her room, for Christ’s sake.”

With a groan, I drop my head back and look to the ceiling. “Fuucckk…” I drag out the word, recalling how insane my dad went right before he died. The medication was rotting his brain until he was almost unbearable to be around. “Yeah. I remember. So Burlone has her photo. At the very least, we can assume he’s looking for her. At the most, he’s already found her.”

“Yeah. That pretty much sums it up. I think it’s time you give Burlone a call, King. See what he has to say.”

Pacing the office, I consider my options only to find I don’t have many.

His suggestion is…unconventional, to say the least. There are unwritten rules in our line of business, and one of them is keeping our noses out of other people’s shit. We don’t call each other up to chat. We don’t call each other up for favors. And we sure as hell don’t call each other up when someone goes missing.

Calculating, I weigh the pros and cons before voicing them to D. “If I call Burlone, and he doesn’t have her, it’ll become an all-out race to find my little sister.”

“Yeah, but if he does have her, you might be able to find something he wants. To figure out how we can get her back,” he counters.

And I need to get her back.

I’m her big brother. I’m supposed to protect her, and I’ve already failed her once. I won’t let her down again.

Shifting my gaze between D and the phone sitting ominously on my desk, my nostrils flare. “Then it looks like I have a call to make.”

Chapter Forty

Kingston

After Lou got me Burlone’s contact information, I sat in my chair for a solid five minutes, staring into the empty space of my office like it just might hold the answers I’m looking for.

Unfortunately, Regina didn’t appear from thin air, no matter how hard I wished she would. My entire body is vibrating with tension that I’m anxious to release as soon as I know who to project it on, though I think we might already know.

Steeling my shoulders, I dial Burlone’s number and wait for him to pick up. I put the call on speakerphone as D, Lou, and Stefan are all sporadically positioned in the office, listening in on the conversation to stay up to date. I’m grateful for their presence because, whether I want to admit it or not, I need them right now.

A soft click cuts off the foreboding ringing on the line, only to be replaced with Burlone’s voice.

“I was wondering when you’d call. To be honest, Kingston, I’m a little disappointed. It’s been nearly four hours. Four hours where your baby sister could’ve had anything happen to her.” He tsks, and the sound grates on my nerves, making my knuckles turn white as I grip the pen on my desk, strangling it while simultaneously wishing it was Burlone’s sausage neck.

I’ve always hated the guy, but I’ve never loathed anyone with every fiber of my being until this moment.

“I mean, what would your father think?” he pushes.

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