Page 53 of Bitter Queen (Advantage Play 4)

“You don’t understand––”

“I understand perfectly,” Kingston counters. His tone softens as he stares back at his best friend. “She’s not a job anymore. She means more to you. I get it, okay? But if you want to keep her safe, then you need to convince her that we aren’t the enemy. We’re her only fucking hope.” Then he turns to me and pins me with his stare. “Who are you trying to protect, Q? What aren’t you telling us?”

“What did you do to Dex?” I breathe.

“I cut off his pinkie for disobeying a direct order. Now, if you want Diece to keep his hand, I suggest you stop putting him in a position where he needs to choose between his family and you. The ball’s in your court.”

“What kind of sick monster would do that to his best friend?” I spit.

“One that puts family first.” Kingston leans back in his seat as if we’re talking about the weather instead of dismemberment and waits to see my next move. Because he’s right. The choice is mine. And I can’t let him hurt Diece.

“Let’s go, Q,” he urges.

“No.” I squeeze my eyes shut and dig my heels into the ground. “I’ll talk. I’ll tell you everything.”

With his dark flinty gaze on mine, Kingston murmurs, “Good. Sit back down.”

Wiggling from Diece’s grasp, I fall back into my chair and pull my knees to my chest, then rest my chin on my knees.

Satisfied, Kingston turns his attention back to his right-hand man. “Sit down, D. I just want to talk.”

Jaw tight and nostrils flaring, Diece sits beside me.

Then we both wait for Kingston to continue.

“Why didn’t the family file a missing person’s report?” Kingston repeats.

“Because they knew who’d taken me.”

“How did they know?”

My throat feels like the Sahara Desert, but I ignore the discomfort and mumble, “Because they were working with Burlone.”

Unconvinced, Kingston clarifies, “You were nannying for a family in the mafia?”

With a dry laugh, I shake my head back and forth. “I didn’t know I was doing that. I thought they were just…a regular family. They don’t even have an Italian last name or anything. How was I supposed to know what I was stepping into when I accepted the job?” My voice cracks as I fight back the urge to run away and cry. It’s too real. Too fresh. Too close to the threat that could kill me if the truth ever slipped free.

But the irony is that I’m not even sure what the truth is. Just that I need to protect it at all costs if I want to keep my life.

A heavy silence follows as the two men in the room let my comment marinate. Then Kingston continues. “What was the name?”

“J-Johnson,” I reveal.

Kingston’s eyes flash with recognition before returning to indifference. If I’d blinked, I would’ve missed it. Clearing his throat, he asks, “Why would Johnson be okay with your disappearance?”

“He wasn’t okay with it. He liked me. Probably too much, but he was always respectful.”

“What do you mean, probably too much?” D growls beside me.

Pulling my lips into my mouth, I replay all the little signals from what feels like a lifetime ago before giving him a shrug. “I don’t know how to explain it. Maybe it’s a weird sixth sense or something. But sometimes, a girl can just tell when someone is looking at her in a…more intimate way.”

His nostrils flare. “Did he ever touch you?”

“No. Mr. Johnson never touched me.”

“But he didn’t want Burlone to take you from him,” Kingston interrupts.

“N-no,” I stutter. “I don’t think so.”

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