Page 22 of Dark King (Advantage Play 2)

“Forward it to Diece too.”

“Done.”

Pressing the end button on my phone with more force than necessary, I refresh my email and see the list pop up in my inbox. As I peruse the information, my mind searches for a possible solution to the shitstorm that’s brewing. I can’t get the image of my sister out of my head. A man was touching her. He was toying with her bra, and her eyes were glued to his giant hands. The stark comparison between the captor’s tattoos and my sister’s pale skin was enough to make my stomach roll. I have no idea if she’s okay. If she’s being hurt. I know nothing, and I can’t stand being out of control. Therefore, I need to find a way to change that.

Picking the phone back up, I begin to dial D’s number when he appears in my doorway.

“Speak of the devil. Did you check your email?” I ask him as he swaggers in and takes a seat across from me.

“Yeah. Figured you’d want to talk face-to-face. Should we discuss the original email you forwarded to me or just get right down to the assholes who are attending?”

“Burlone has never auctioned girls via email,” I start.

“Yeah, and why the hell would he add a picture of your sister? I thought she wasn’t for sale?”

I search for a possible explanation, but nothing feels concrete.

“I don’t know. A silent threat, maybe? He could also be trying to squeeze an extra hundred grand out of his buyers by having someone else purchase her then use her for the buy-in only to lose when Burlone dominates the poker table like he’s expecting. Or he could be toying with me. He didn’t say who she is. He had her lined up with the rest of them as another Jane Doe.”

D counters, “Yeah, but that could be because no one would buy her if they knew they’d be stepping into a war with the Romano family as soon as they did.”

“That’s true,” I agree, leaning back into my chair and scratching the five o’clock shadow growing on my jaw. “And what the hell was that greeting for my debut participation in the body of the email? Who the fuck does he think he is?” I bristle at the knowledge that Burlone just screwed me over. Again. Yet, for some reason, I need to hear my right-hand man confirm it out loud.

“He’s putting a target on your back, King. Not only will your enemies know your location in a week, but you’re now officially linked to Burlone and the underground gambling ring with a side of human trafficking. If any Feds come sniffing around and he gets caught, he now has incriminating evidence against you. He played you, King. And now you need to decide what you’re going to do about it.”

“Yeah,” I sigh, squeezing the bridge of my nose. “I think you pretty much hit the nail on the head.”

“So, what are you going to do about it?”

“I have an idea. It’ll still be a gamble, but if it works, we’ll be able to make Burlone burn the way he deserves. Hell, if I could get my hands on him…”

“Yeah, yeah. We know what the Dark King would do with an opportunity like that,” D smirks. “Do you think Regina’s okay?”

“I don’t think I have a choice but to convince myself she’s surviving. She’s been through a lot of hard stuff in her life. She can overcome this too.”

My sister might be a bitch sometimes, but she’s smart. And resourceful. She’ll do whatever needs to be done to survive until I can rescue her. And I won’t let her down.

“She’s a tough little shit, isn’t she?” A slow smile spreads across D’s face as the memories of Regina filter through his mind, making me join in.

“Yeah. I think that’s pretty much the perfect way to describe her. Did you see the other players?” I ask, bringing us back to the task at hand and the second email Lou had forwarded. Reminiscing is nothing but a waste of time, and right now, the clock is ticking.

He catches my drift and clears his throat. “Yeah. Do you think it’s a coincidence the head distributor for the Eastern human trafficking ring is attending? Or that Dominic, the pussy who ratted out Regina’s identity will be going too?”

“It was another slap in the face because there’s no way that bastard won’t be revealing Regina’s identity to the table as soon as we sit down. It’s a distraction tactic. Burlone is wanting to get me flustered—”

“Is it working?” D interrupts, his gaze focused solely on me.

With a swallow, I admit something I never would to another soul. “Yeah. I think it is.”

“Don’t let it. Keep your head in the game. Keep practicing. Be ready to beat Burlone at his own game. At the felt-top table as well as off it.”

“That’s why I want to get Plan B in place. Will you figure out as much information as you can on the other players along with everyone you suspect will be in the room during the tournament?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. I think I need to send an email of my own.”

“To Burlone?” D probes.

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