Tiffany gives me a weird look and whispers, “You didn’t?”
It makes me laugh out loud only to clap a hand over my mouth and end with, “You’re weird; how did you get hired again?”
“Cousin of a cousin’s best friend sort of thing at Eagle Elite,” She waves me off. “Oh, and I also slept with like at least four of the made men. They talk very highly of me.” She reaches into her purse. “Vodka?”
I shrug and grab it. “Yeah, why not.”
“Good girl.” She helps untwist the top of the small bottle and hands it to me. I take three big swigs and still don’t feel better as she puts it back into her black Prada.
Of course, she has Prada. What the hell are we paying our bodyguards anyway?
I lean my head back against the leather and take deep breaths, in and out, in and out. What’s the worst that can happen by the time we get back to the house?
I repeat that same mantra the entire way and know that even if I ask Roman or King, they’ll just lie to me, so I don’t panic. It can’t be that bad though? Can it?
My answer comes an hour later when we pull into the ginormous Campisi compound with its gorgeous house, special gate with people literally standing at it along with hidden guns trained on every single thing that approaches—cockroaches included.
The guy in the security booth nods then buzzes open the gate; the black gates creak open, revealing a familiar long driveway lined with trees and ending at a circular driveway in front of a three-story Victorian house in all brick.
My stomach drops when I see the familiar cars parked in disarray around the driveway.
Two still have doors open like someone was running.
Security is sparse, which isn’t normal.
And the front door is open.
Roman pulls the SUV to a stop, the rest of the security that had been with us at the bed and breakfast pull up behind us in their black escalades, all four of them.
My breath comes out in short spurts.
Something is very wrong.
I reach for King, but it’s Roman who turns toward me and shakes his head once, then puts his hand on King’s arm. “You have to watch your back.”
“That’s what you’re for.” King looks down at his hand then back up. “Right?”
“Thought I was for her,” Roman says jokingly.
They share a smile, and what the hell sort of alternate universe did I wake up in this morning?
“I’m ready,” King says, more to himself than the rest of the car, and I visibly see him almost get taller, straighten the collar of his gray peacoat and adjust his aviators as he gets out of the car and says, “Del. It’s time.”
Time for what?
What the hell are we walking into?
All I know is that he must need me because he stops when he gets out of the car and holds out his hand. I grab it immediately, and then we start to walk through that open door and into an eerily quiet house.
I see Chase first, bandages covering his entire right arm. He’s holding a bottle of whiskey and looks like he wishes he were dead.
The rest of the bosses start to come out of the woodwork, watching us make our way up the stairs.
And that’s when I see them—the cousins, his brother, the people who clearly want him dead, or so he found out. Each of them, even Serena, won’t make eye contact with us.
It’s like we’re walking toward someone’s funeral, and still, I want to throw myself in front of King as we walk.
Valerian, his brother, suddenly appears at the top of the stairway. “He was asking for you earlier.”
King squeezes his eyes shut and exhales. “How bad?”
Valerian shakes his head. “We won’t know until he’s out of the coma.”
My knee’s buckle. Who’s in the coma? Who?
“Understood.” King starts to move, then stops and looks over his shoulder. “Whoever the fuck wants to kill me needs to take this moment as a cease-fire. Give me at least ten damn minutes with him before you start manipulating this situation, this potential loss, or I swear I will kill everyone present no matter how much blood we share.”
Gasps erupt around us.
Including my own.
Valerian stumbles back like he’s been betrayed, then meets my gaze and nods like it’s okay.
When there is nothing about this that’s okay!
I can hear my own breathing, feel my heart beat faster and faster as I cling to King’s hand.
We walk side by side into the master bedroom.
Where Tex Campisi, our Capo, lies.
Nearly dead.
Chapter Thirty-Two
“Ready my knights for battle. They will ride with their king once more. I have lived through others for far too long. Lancelot carried my honor, and Guinevere, my guilt. Mordred bears my sins. My knights have fought my causes. Now, my brother, I shall be… king.”—Excalibur