Mafia King (Mafia Royals 3.5) - Page 14

Kartini was on my other side, her giant Prada sunglasses perched high on her face. Her lips were pressed together in a scowl, and her hand clutched her purse so tightly, I wondered if she was upset about something.

“You all right?” I asked as we turned another corner.

“Huh? What?” She looked up at me. “Sorry, was daydreaming…”

“Yeah, I look scared shitless when I daydream, too,” I said under my breath. “You know, if you ever need to talk—”

“Ah, a babysitter and a therapist, how’d I get so lucky?”

“You don’t have to be a bitch,” I hissed. “God, I was just trying to help.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“Clearly,” I muttered. “Look, I’ll do my damn job while here, but let’s just try to keep as much space between us as possible.”

“Agreed,” she sneered.

“Fine.” I felt like a toddler.

“Great.” Her smile was syrupy-sweet, all white teeth and bright red lipstick.

I nearly collided with Ash’s back when we all stopped.

“We’re so happy you’ve come back to NC Resort and Spa.”

“NC?” I muttered.

“Nixon, Chase, one of their many joint ventures.” Maksim piped up. “Oh, look, the bungalow…” And then, with a sprint, he held out his hand to the woman. “Can I have that one, pleasssssseeee?”

She gaped and then handed him a room key. “Wait for me!” King chased after him.

“Oh no, you don’t!” Izzy squealed, grabbing her own keycard and jogging after them toward a gorgeous beach bungalow with a treehouse located right on the water.

Screaming ensued.

I could have sworn I heard a gunshot go off—and let’s be honest, it probably did—as they took over the beach bungalow.

Hell, Maksim better sleep with one eye open—or both…both would be better.

“Honeymoon Suite.” Junior stepped up and held out his hand.

And they were off.

Ash and Annie followed suit.

Then Valerian and Violet.

Leaving…

Yup, you guessed it.

Me and Satan’s mistress.

“The last bungalow.” The woman beamed. “It’s one of my favorites. You can see the sunset every night.” Goody. “Besides, you two look like you won’t be venturing outside a lot anyway. I know these things.”

I barely contained my sputter of denial when Kartini leaned against me and straight-up petted my chest with her dangerously long fingernails. “Aw, you could tell?”

“Lots of sexual tension. Your auras are…” She shuddered. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Yes, well…” Tiny’s fingernails raked down the front of my shirt. Holy shit, was she ripping it open? “I would be so lost without my big, bad, sexy bodyguard.” She smacked my ass. “Have you seen this hunk?”

The woman blushed. “I’m Michelle. If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to call the concierge number on your phone.”

“Perrrfect.” Kartini took a keycard. “Actually, can you have a bottle of Patron sent to the room along with a deck of playing cards? Oh, and a bottle of Dom Perignon.”

And here we go!

“Oh, and cigars,” she added. “Oh, wait, do you have blow—?”

“Holy shit, Kartini,” I ground out. “That’s illegal.”

“It’s Mexico.”

“FBI agent,” I reminded her.

Michelle’s eyes widened.

“Don’t worry,” Kartini grinned. “He’s kind of stuck with us, so even if you do have other party drugs, he’ll be quiet. Won’t you, Tank?”

I just shook my head. “If you die, I die. So, no, I won’t be quiet.” I turned back to Michelle. “No drugs, she’s barely legal drinking age here as it is. Just the alcohol and some Advil.”

“Awww, baby, did the trip give you a migraine?” Kartini clung to my biceps with both hands.

“Yes. The trip. Of course, what else could it be?” I glared down at the tiny, insane human. “Let’s go.” I grabbed my keycard, and off we went as Michelle grinned after us like we hadn’t just asked for illegal drugs fifteen minutes into our trip.

“Unbelievable,” I ground out as I slid the card across the black pad on the door three minutes later. “Are you seriously doing drugs now? Be honest because I won’t stand for it. I won’t, Kartini. That’s a hard limit, a fucking hard limit, and not a road you want to travel down. People don’t just quit and come back up, and they don’t just—” I stopped talking when I realized she wasn’t interrupting me, rubbing up against me, trying to kill me.

It was unnerving.

I didn’t know how to handle it when she was quiet.

She jerked off her sunglasses. “Is this your protective old-man way of saying you care about what happens to me?”

“Fuck.” I spread my arms wide. “Why else would I be here? Risking my life every day to keep you safe? For fun? Do you think I enjoy being your dad’s target practice?”

“Oh, get over it, Tank. That was one time!”

“It was fucking terrifying!” I roared while she laughed into her hands. Her eyes were glassy, and she quickly looked away. “Hey…what’s going on?”

She sighed, and part of the façade slipped. “This used to be our thing.”

“Who?”

“Me and Dad.” She stared out at the balcony. “We would come here every year for my birthday. I’d dance on his feet after dinner. He’d read me stories about princesses in big towers and knights who fought to win their love. Their hearts.”

Tags: Rachel Van Dyken Mafia Royals Crime
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