Page 45 of Dark King (Advantage Play 2)

Kingston

With a snap of my fingers, Dex stalks closer and puts the gun to Burlone’s head, ensuring he doesn’t move. I lift my hand and cover Ace’s as it rests on my shoulder before murmuring, “Hey, Wild Card. Can you excuse me for a minute?”

She smiles nervously then takes a slow step back and lets me scoot out of my chair. Rounding the table, I rest my hip against the black felt top and tower over Burlone while feeling every single eye in the room watching my every move. If I was anyone else, I might crumble from the pressure, but I bask in it.

“Do you know what we do to traitors, Burlone?”

“I’m not a fucking traitor, Kingston,” he spits.

No, you’re not, I think to myself. A cocky smirk finds its place on my face. Even though I haven’t gotten away with this yet, I need to appear like I have.

“Well, let’s see what our fellow associates have to say then, shall we?” I look around the table. “Gentlemen? If you think this man deserves to die a slow and painful death, raise your hand. If you don’t, then I’ll let him go, you’ll pay for your women, and we’ll play the tournament as if this never happened.”

I keep my face straight and indifferent when, in reality, my heart is pounding against my chest like a jackhammer. The hand has officially been laid out for all to see, and now, I have to find out if they bought it. If I’ve won. Slowly, one after another, hands are raised into the air.

All except one.

“There a problem, Mr. Russo?”

The man in question has the eyes of a snake and the history of one too. My father always hated him, and so have I. I’d give anything to see him and his entire organization burn.

Mr. Russo clears his throat and looks pointedly at me as if I’m the one about to be wiped from the earth instead of Burlone.

“I’ve seen your evidence,” he begins. “I’ve seen the official FBI letterhead with his picture on it. But I know Burlone, and I’m having a hard time believing what you’ve shown me. I think you’ll need to give me a bit more proof before I can condemn someone I once considered a friend to a traitorous death.”

Fuck.

My mind scrambles for a Hail Mary that might help us pull this off, but I can’t figure out what to do. Dex goes to open his mouth to interject when a feminine voice to my right distracts me.

“Burlone?”

All heads swivel in the same direction where a girl with soft blonde hair stands in a tight dress that leaves little to the imagination. Her shoulders are back, and her fiery eyes are set on Burlone. I don’t know their history, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out the likelihood that he screwed up her life the same way he screwed up Ace’s. He doesn’t bother to answer her, not deeming her worthy, but she persists anyway. “Do you know what the FBI does to traitors?”

The room is deathly silent, and I don’t move a muscle other than chancing a glimpse at Dex. What the hell is going on? I’m given a mirage of a smile before it disappears into thin air, and he looks back at the girl.

She continues with a glare at her captor. “We toss them back to their own kind, letting them fend for themselves.”

Burlone shifts in his seat before gritting out, “What the fuck are you talking about, bitch? Shut your filthy mouth before I make you.”

“Shhh,” she tsks as if she were talking to a toddler. “I’m an undercover agent for the Federal Bureau of Investigation, and we had a deal. As soon as you found a buyer for me and the transaction went through, we’d storm the castle, throw your friends in jail, and you’d be off the hook. However, there was one condition I had. Do you remember what it was?”

Burlone opens his mouth to answer, but Dex slams the butt of his handgun into the back of his head, making his neck snap forward and his chin drop to his chest. In a daze, he shakes his head, so the girl answers for him.

“You guaranteed my protection. You told me I wouldn’t be touched. But I was…countless times. And now, your associates know the truth. You’re a fucking traitor, and I hope they make you pay for it slowly and in the most painful way possible.”

Burlone sputters, “I-if you were an FBI agent, why would you out yourself in a room full of mafia bosses?”

She shrugs. “I’m dead, anyway. Might as well take one asshole who’s a liar down with me for what he did. Mr. Russo, you said you wanted proof. Now, you have it. He’s a traitor who was plotting against all of you with my team to save his own skin. If I weren’t guaranteed to be dead by the end of this conversation, I’d give you physical evidence as a nice little cherry on top. But for now, you’ll have to take my word for it.”

An onslaught of questions attacks me at once as I stare at the girl in front of me. Who is she? What the hell just happened? Did Jack know? Is this a ruse? A trap? It can’t be.

Mr. Russo straightens his tie then looks to me. “And now, you have my vote. Gut the poor bastard. And she’s right. Make it slow. Make it hurt. Make him pay for being a rat.”

“With pleasure.” I smile, feigning confidence when all I feel is confusion. “Unfortunately, my utility bag is at home, and we don’t know how long we have until the Feds storm the castle, as the undercover agent so eloquently stated, so I think we’ll be going. Dex?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m going to need you to escort her to my car too.” I tilt my head toward the FBI agent, putting the rest of the room at ease with the promise of her demise, as well. In reality, I’ll be returning her to Jack after he answers a few of my questions because her presence wasn’t part of the plan. However, I’m not going to say I’m ungrateful for the part she played.

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