Page 9 of Wild Card (Advantage Play 1)

With a wicked grin, I reply, “Probably.”

Chapter Five

Kingston

A knock on the door breaks my concentration as I attempt to go over the same damn files for the thousandth time today.

“Hey, Boss?”

The patience I try to muster is abysmal. “Yeah?”

With a creak, the door opens a few more inches, and one of my soldiers comes into view. “Your sister just got back.”

Grasping my neck, I squeeze the tense muscles in frustration. “Is she getting into trouble?”

“Well, not really, but—”

“Then I don’t really care. My father’s death is affecting Regina’s life as much as it’s affecting mine. We all have shit to sort out,” —I motion to the stack of papers in front of me— “so I would suggest you let me get back to it.”

“Of course, sir.”

As he grabs the handle to close the door, I stop him. “Stefan.”

“Yeah, Boss?”

“Are you shadowing her like I ordered?”

“Of course.”

I nod. “Then give her the time she needs.”

“Yes, sir.” He hovers near the doorway until I dismiss him with a quick wave of my hand as the phone on my desk rings.

My jaw clenches at another interruption. Hastily, I pick it up. “Yeah?”

“Hey, Kingston. We need to talk,” Diece’s voice rings through the phone. His brusque tone makes me sit straighter in my cushioned office chair.

“What’s going on, D?”

“Burlone is an ass. That’s what’s going on.”

I laugh, dryly. “Burlone Allegretti has always been an ass. Usually, that doesn’t constitute a phone call.” Unless it has something to do with our warehouses that Vince squealed about, I think to myself.

“Well, this time, it does. Burlone has the Feds up his ass and is getting twitchy.”

With a clenched jaw, I grit out, “And how is that my problem?”

“Because Burlone decided the best way to get out of being prosecuted for human trafficking is to frame our guys instead. He thinks that our little transition of power”—i.e., me taking my father’s place as head of the Romano Mob— “is the perfect time to get the Feds sniffing someone else’s ass instead of his own.”

“Shit.” My hand slams against my father’s oak desk. The sound echoes throughout his office. My office.

“Yeah. Shit. What are we gonna do?”

Dropping my head back, I look toward the ceiling before closing my eyes. “What do we know?”

The other end of the call goes quiet for a few brief seconds before D’s voice rolls through the speaker. “We know that he’s planning on doing an exchange near one of our warehouses outside the city.”

“Let me guess…the ones near Harbor Drive?”

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