I lean in to kiss him, and I don’t pull back. I run my hands over his chest, his abs, his thighs. I love that he’s so liberal with his body, that he lets me have my way with him however I want, as if it’s my body as much as it is his. I love touching him, exploring every inch of his skin.
I want to give him the same in return. Someday, I’m going to do it. I don’t know how yet, but I vow I’m going to make it happen. I will be worthy of him. He may think I am now, but I’m going to prove it to myself, the way he proved himself to me. After what we’ve been through, we both deserve it. We deserve to have everything we need. I need to be treasured but also tamed. And he needs the gift he gives me every day, the one he desires and deserves most of all—me.
twenty-eight
King
“It’s time,” Il Diavolo says, nodding for me to get out of the car. We’re parked under a bridge with nothing but warehouses behind us. The river crawls sluggishly by in the other direction. I climb out of the car, pocket the keys, and join the others. The night is windy and crisp, and as I cross the lot, lit only by security lights, I scan the building ahead for signs of life.
As quietly as we can, the four of us creep toward one of the darkened warehouses. Al may have promised this one to me, but he’s not taking any chances. A guy with enough balls to make an attempt on a don needs to be taken out—now. We’ve spent the last month searching for the bastard, and we’re not going to lose him again.
We pull up short at the front of the warehouse, and I look to Joey One-Eye, who gives the signal for two of us to go ahead while he waits outside in case we flush Little Al out. Il Diavolo heads around the corner to watch the back door. I step inside with Arthur, one of Valenti’s other guys.
Any chance at stealth disappears when we find the door locked and have to crack it with a crowbar. After that little delay, we open the door and peer into the darkness. Little Al will be armed, and one of us has to take the first step inside. Since I’m the new guy, it falls to me.
I fight the urge to cross myself before stepping into the darkness. Silence greets me, and I gesture the okay for Arthur to come in. He swings his rifle in an arc, aiming the mounted light around the cavernous space. Around us, light pine boxes sit in giant stacks, with shelves containing boards in the same color along the walls.
A coffin warehouse.
If this isn’t the perfect place to die, I don’t know what is.
Arthur gestures for me to go right, and he goes left. His light bounces off the pale coffins, and shadows stretch across the room. I edge along a towering stack of the body-sized boxes, wondering how the hell we’re going to flush Little Al out of a place like this. I think about everything I know about him, everything he’s told me. A coward runs out the back. Only a desperate man, or a stupid one, fights when he knows he won’t win.
Little Al’s obviously got balls to set up a plan against the head of one of the most powerful crime families in New York. He’s no coward. He’s not stupid, either. But he is cocky. Again, no one else would orchestrate a plan like that. As far as how desperate he is, I’m guessing he’s gotta be pretty fucking close to the edge by now. He’s been on the run for a month, but he hasn’t gone far. He must be sticking around for a reason. Either he’s out of money, or he’s stayed for someone he cares about.
I creep along the wall, waiting for a sound, a sign that he’s here. Maybe he saw the car arrive and slipped out. He was feeding the Lucianis information, and if that family’s leadership hadn’t changed hands and made fast alliances with us, I’d think they were protecting him. But he doesn’t have anyone in his corner now. He’s alone, and that’s a bad place to be when you’ve pissed off a criminal organization.
Suddenly, I see a shadow move. I spin that way, my finger steady on the trigger. At first, I don’t see anything. But then I see what caused the flicker in the corner of my eye. It wasn’t a person. It was a stack of coffins.
I shout a warning to Arthur, but it’s lost in the enormous crash. Coffins tumble and cascade, bouncing off each other and splintering as they smash against the concrete floor. The roar is so loud I don’t hear Arthur, so I don’t know if he screamed. I only know that I see a dark shadow streak for a small door in the side of the building, a fire exit that’s unguarded outside. Joey is at the front entrance, where the workers come and go, and Il Diavolo is at the back, where the shipments go in and out.
Unless one of them is prowling and happens to be on that side, Al’s going to have a good head start. I’m lucky to have been against the wall, unharmed by the toppling coffins, but I have to scramble over the debris to get to the fire exit door. By the time I shove through, I see his figure retreating toward the bridge. I take off at a dead sprint after him.
He’s almost to the supports on the bridge when I see that he’s got nowhere to go except into the river. I imagine him plunging into the polluted water, disappearing under the scummy surface. I pull up short, take careful aim, and get off one shot before he disappears behind the pillars supporting the bridge. I hear cursing behind me and know that at least one of the lookout guys saw him run, and they’re behind me.
Without waiting for them to catch up and give me backup, I run for the spot where I saw him disappear. My chances of hitting him are slim once he’s in the water. He won’t go down without a fight, though. He’s probably behind the column, taking aim right now, so I weave in and out as I run, hoping he won’t hit me, that the guy behind me will cover me well enough. Dust and grit from the concrete sloping down toward the river blow into my face, but I blink it away, ignoring the stinging in my eyes.
When I’m nearly at the supports, I hear a crack, and the bullet comes so close to my cheek I swear I can feel the air move. But I’m still standing, so I keep going. I could pull up and aim and wait for him to peek around his hideout. Instead, I go full force, pushing myself as hard as I can, until my thighs burn and my feet thud against the pavement. I don’t slow as I reach the massive structure. I fly around it and slam into Little Al so hard he goes hurtling through the air. Together, we hit the ground with bone-splitting force.
Lucky for me, Al’s on the bottom, and he takes the brunt of that force. He groans, cursing and wheezing as he tries to hit me with his gun. Before he can recover himself or get air in his lungs, I grab his wrist and twist. He howls, the gun skittering from his grip as his bones snap. While I’m still holding his right wrist, he delivers a crushing left hook to my jaw. It knocks me backwards, and he scrambles up, but I’m just as fast. I jump to my feet and level my gun at him.
“Don’t fucking move,” I warn before he can take a step toward his gun. He’s dirty, his clothes ragged, his hair unkempt and greasy, a beard darkening his jaw. Guess he’s not visiting a special someone in the city after all.
“I should have known they’d send you alone,” he snarls in disgust. “They don’t care about you, King. You’re disposable to them.”
“Is that why you tried to fucking dispose of me?” I snap. “You’re the motherfucker who sent me into an ambush, after all.”
“Don’t get all butt-hurt,” he says. “It wasn’t personal. I didn’t even know you’d be going when I tipped Luciani off.”
“But you sure as fuck didn’t discourage me from going,” I remind him. “In fact, if I remember correctly, you thought it was a splendid idea for me to go. I thought you were just being a dick because you knew I’d have to face Eliza’s father, but it wasn’t that, was it? You wanted to get rid of me and Al in one shot. You’re a sick bastard, you know that?”
“Give me a fucking break,” Little Al says. “You’re nothing, King. Just a worthless little soldier. I might have been having a little fun with you, but you were never even part of the equation.”
“Yeah, well, you should have calculated better,” I say. “Because I’m the reason Al survived.”
“And I bet he’s sucking your dick and kissing your ass for that,” the man’s grandson says in disgust. “You’ve only been at this a few months, and he probably already likes you better. I’ve been doing this my whole fucking life, and I’m still a measly little soldier, no better in his eyes than a rookie who grew up like a pampered prince and showed up barely a day over eighteen with a lollypop in his mouth, thinking he’d take my place. You’d never even killed a guy, you fucking pussy.”
“I never wanted your place,” I say. “And I sure as hell don’t envy it now.”