“That’s not how this works!” he snaps.
“The game can change at any time,” Bones tells him, coming to stand beside me. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out his knife and flips it open. “I have a feeling you’ve swallowed something you shouldn’t have.”
He goes to run past us, but I grab the back of his shirt and yank him off his feet, slamming him down to the concrete floor. Bending down, I press my knee into his neck while Grave holds his hands above his head. Titan straddles his legs, and just like the last guy, Bones rips his shirt open.
“Open up,” I say.
He screams, trying to fight us, and Bones places the blade into his mouth just as Kale closes it. The blade cutting him. Blood instantly fills his mouth, and he starts to choke on it.
“Boy, Bianchi would love to see this.” Bones sighs, as if he’s sad our client isn’t here to see what he paid us to do.
“Oh, he is,” Turner adds, and we look up at him. He casually leans up against the inside of the cell. This is a typical day for him. He points at a black dome in the middle of the room.
Mr. Bianchi—Luca’s dad—made a deal with this sorry son of a bitch. It would have been a great partnership if Kale hadn’t fucked him over. Now we’ll own it. Just one more way for us to own this city.
Bones pulls the knife out, and the rest of us let Kale go. He rolls onto his stomach getting up onto his hands and knees, blood pouring from his mouth.
“Cough ’em up.” Grave kicks his back.
We don’t really think he swallowed them. No, he sold them. He really thought John Bianchi, who is a Don—the ringleader of the Italian-American Mafia—wouldn’t give two shits that he fucked him over. Kale deserves to die a slow death just for that thought alone. Titan was right when he told Turner he’s seen men killed for less. Why he thought he was untouchable is beyond me.
Kale falls to his side. His hands come up to his neck, and he holds it as if that will stop the bleeding on the inside.
Bones leans down next to him, pointing the tip of the blade at his chest. “I always thought you were a gutless bastard.” He smiles to himself. “Let’s see if I’m right.” Bones shoves the blade into Kale’s chest and rips it downward, cutting him wide open.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
ALEXA
I THROW BACK my sixth shot since Cross left me here with the girls what feels like hours ago. My temperature’s rising due to the alcohol and the fact he’s still lying to me. Something is going on.
I think I’ve proven to him that I can handle whatever he’s doing. I know, I’ve probably only seen a small part, but I’m not a fragile flower. No, I’m a bomb that will blow out the side of a mountain. But I think a part of him wants me to be in the dark. I haven’t gotten to ask Emilee or April just how much they know about their Kings. Maybe he’s just doing what he thinks is right.
A guy who looks to be around our age squeezes his way up to the bar, pushing Jasmine out of his way. “Excuse you?” she snaps, turning to face him.
“Sorry.” He looks at her, then to the bar, his head snapping to the right, getting a better look at her. “Hey, sexy.” His smile widens.
She rolls her eyes.
“Are you interested in twelve monthly payments for eighteen years?” he asks.
April and I laugh out loud as Jasmine shoves him back into the crowd.
“I don’t get it.” Emilee frowns. “What’s so funny?” She throws back a shot.
“Twelve monthly payments for eighteen years …” I say slowly, hoping she’ll get it, but she shakes her head at me after a long moment. “It means child support. He wanted to fuck her and knock her up.”
“Oh.” Emilee’s brows pull together. “That was a horrible pickup line.”
“Right!?” I signal to the bartender for another round. He acknowledges it with a head nod because we haven’t moved from our spot since the guys left us. We’re drinking like we’re fucking fish.
“April?” We hear her name being called out.
We turn around to see Ethan coming toward us.
“Hey!” She holds her arms out for him to hug her.
Instead, he comes to a stop and looks her up and down, pulling his lip back at the short dress she’s wearing. “Is Grave here with you?”
“Yep.” She nods her head quickly.
“Fuck!” He runs his hands through his shaggy dark hair.
“What are you doing here?” She narrows her eyes on him. “You’ve been avoiding my calls and texts.”
“I’ve been busy,” he growls, his eyes searching the crowd. His eyes land on mine, and he asks, “Is Derek here?”