Mafia King: A Mafia Royals Novella by Rachel Dyken (books for 6 year olds to read themselves TXT) 📗

the lounge chairs with her still on my lap, her head resting against my chest as if it belonged there.

I’d made the right choice.

I knew that now.

I just needed a reality check of what that meant, what it could mean if this went wrong. If the Family that I chose either double-crossed me—or chose not to protect me.

God, it hurt.

That space where my heart beat against my rib cage, that space where my heart beat for her over and over again.

Could I even regret such a thing?

No.

Not even a little bit.

“What happened…?” I whispered. “That day.”

Kartini stilled, and then she pulled away from me just enough to look at her hands—as if they were stained with blood.

“You weren’t there.”

“But I was…” I corrected. “I was there when Ash was being an ass per usual. I was there when we went to the bar. And I was there when you ran off because you didn’t want them to see your tears.”

She shuddered against me, still refusing to lift her head so I could see the sweetness of her blue eyes.

“There were two men.” She sighed. “They hit on me earlier that night. I turned them down because, obviously, I couldn’t look like I was with someone else when all my energy was spent on trapping you.”

I froze. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I may have”—she twisted her hands in her lap—“had a small, non-important crush on you.”

“What?”

“Are you really going to make me repeat the humiliation, Tank?”

“Having a crush on me’s humiliating?”

“Okay, that came out wrong. Tuck your tender dick away and just listen, okay? Otherwise, I won’t be able to get this out.” She sighed.

“My dick isn’t tender.”

Another sigh. “I’m aware. I can feel it.”

Weirdly enough, I felt my cheeks heat right along with the rest of my body.

Crush.

She’d had a crush?

Had as in past tense.

So, what did she have now? An aversion? Hatred?

Shit.

She really should not have told me that.

She flirted with anyone and everyone. And while, yes, the plan was to get answers from her, I realized I was compelled to flirt right back. To see how far I could push her, to see how much I could touch her, to see how much I could have her.

“So, what happened?” I finally asked with extreme strength that I somehow gathered from whatever well of it I had left after hearing that news. “You can trust me.”

Finally, she looked up into my eyes. “I ran away like the little girl you said I was. I cried, like the child you saw me as.” My heart clenched. “And then, in less than seven minutes, I went from little girl to woman. I went from innocent to guilty. I went from Heaven to Hell, and I’ve been there ever since.”

Tears slid down her face in rapid succession.

I wiped them from her cheeks. “Why?”

“He said he was going to kill me.” Her voice was hoarse. “He-he touched me.”

My fingers clenched into fists.

“And he kept trying to touch me.” She lowered her head. “He ripped my dress.” All I saw was murder. “He wasn’t just going to kidnap me. He wanted to screw me before or after I was dead, didn’t seem to matter to him. He was using me as an example maybe? I never figured out who he was connected to, and neither could my dad. It was maybe a hazard of being in the mafia, a one-time thing, you know? All I know is that one minute he was trying to kill me, and the next, my knife was in his stomach, and I was pushing. He was bleeding. And then all my training came back full-force. I was at his back, choking him, we fell back against the rocks on the cliffs.”

Slowly, she turned in my arms. “You never asked about the small scars on my back…they’re from the rocks.”

“I don’t notice scars,” I said honestly, because I hadn’t. “I just notice your beauty, Tiny.”

She wiped under her eyes. “Thanks.”

“So, he died?” My stomach clenched.

“I killed him,” she admitted. “To save myself. And I’d do it again.”

I was quiet for a few heartbeats as the ocean waves crashed against the shore. I pulled her against my chest and kissed the top of her head. “You did well.”

“Am I in trouble?”

“That depends...”

“On?”

“Did that fucker suffer?” Rage burned behind my eyes.

She hiccupped out a sob and then a laugh. “I hope so.”

“Good.” I kissed her head again. “Did he ever tell you his name?”

“He said his name was Jenner, that’s all I know. It wasn’t in any databases. Trust me, my dad looked them up.”

It wouldn’t be in any databases.

It was his code name.

The name of a spy.

My stomach rolled. “What did he look like?”

“Tall, blond, handsome.” She shuddered. “A monster.”

Jenner had been on my team.

The same one Giana and I had partnered on.

The team I’d told to stand down that day, even though Giana saw an opportunity. And they should have. I thought they had. And then Jenner went missing, and I assumed that he’d gotten drunk and wandered off.

Drowned.

Or got his ass killed by being in the wrong place at the wrong time at a mafia wedding.

I was close.

Not close enough.

The very bureau I had trusted—worked for—had carried out a hit on the precious woman sitting in my arms, crying. Forced to make her first kill.

Forced her to become made, when all she’d wanted was to flirt with me and dance with her dad.

Agony ripped through me.

I wanted to scream.

I wanted to burn the entire world down.

And now I knew why Sergio had put me in this position.

He wanted me to see it firsthand.

He didn’t want to tell me that we were all villains because who would you believe? The one with the badge, or the one with the gun pointed at her head?

“Do you know what happened after?” I asked quietly. Already, I was afraid of what she would say.

“Dad said he would deal with it. But it was my kill. Mine. It was my life. Not his. So, I chopped