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The remnants of our fight settled around us like dust, and I realized how similar we were, despite our differences. Both of us were caught in the crossfire of decisions made by the men we loved, decisions that had altered the course of our lives in ways we couldn’t have imagined.
My insight didn’t erase the past or heal her wounds, but it did offer me a glimmer of insight. Ours was a desperate kind of fight, fueled by misunderstanding and years of accumulated grievances. Yet, beneath it all, there was a tragic irony. Here we were, two women linked by our connections to Kingpin, to Hallow, to a life that seemed determined to tear us apart, fighting each other when we should’ve been united against the true enemy so we could get the hell out of here and back to the men we love.
“Sky, there’s nothing I can say or do to change your mind about me, but we’ve gotta get out of here alive. Okay? No matter what’s going on with you and Hallow, they got your kid. And I have kids of my own to worry about. I don’t know if they’re safe. That’s something we can agree on, right?”
Sky bowed her dark head.
“And no matter what, Kingpin and Hallow aren’t going to let anything happen to us,” I said, full of confidence.
Sky’s face shot up, full of tiny scars from being about massacred at the hands of one of Kingpin’s enemies before. Her eyes were rightfully full of doubt.
“Lordalmighty,” I whispered as the horrible fact dawned on me.
Suddenly, I wasn’t too sure we’d be rescued. The fear and dread hit me like a ton of bricks.
Chapter 17
Kingpin
The moment that damn ransom note hit my hands, I knew we were diving headfirst into a cesspool. Noah Fond, that slimy bastard, had Eve and Sky, and here he was, trying to blackmail me into handing over Royal Road. Like hell I would. The rage boiling in my veins wasn’t just hot, it was fucking nuclear, ready to blast anyone who got in my way.
Us Royal Bastards hit Shakey’s like a hurricane, ready to tear the place apart. That shithole strip club was one of the mobs but in particular, Ralph Getty’s den, a pit of despair masquerading as entertainment. The stench of stale booze and desperation reached my nose, as usual. The grimy lights barely cut through the smoke-filled air. Joint was filled with the dregs of humanity, all there to ogle at strippers who looked like they’d rather be anywhere else.
We didn’t bother with niceties. Chairs flew, tables flipped, and the sorry sons of bitches inside got a quick lesson on what happens when you mess with my family. The panic was visible, spreading through the crowd like a disease as we made our way to Getty, the man who might have the key to saving Eve.
Finding Getty in his so-called office was like stepping into a parody of a crime lord’s hideout, cramped, cluttered, and reeking of cheap cologne and cheaper morals. His expression fell when he saw us, fear flashing as clear as a neon sign on his face.
“Getty,” I barked, my voice cutting through the bullshit like a knife. “You’re gonna spill everything you know about my girl’s disappearance, and you’re gonna do it now.”
His stammered denials came quick, hands up as if to ward off the storm bearing down on him. “Kingpin, I swear on my mother’s grave I got no part in this. That ain’t my style.”
But his pleas fell on my deaf ears. The urgency of the situation, the need to find Eve and Sky before it was too late, fueled my rage. I snatched him up by his wide collar, ready to shake the truth out of him by any means necessary. Yet, even as I threatened, coaxed, and cut through his defenses, a nagging sense of doubt crept in. Getty was a lot of things, but the fear in his eyes, the desperation in his voice, it started to dawn on me that we might be barking up the wrong tree.
Cutting him loose, literally and figuratively, didn’t ease the knot in my gut. If Getty didn’t know anything, then we were back to square one, with the clock ticking louder by the second. The realization didn’t slow me down. It only added fuel to the fire burning inside me.
“Ralph, if I find out you know anything, I’ll knock your teeth so far down your fat throat you ain’t gonna know whether you’re spittin’ or shittin’. And if you had any part of this, I promise I’ll kill you dead,” I said as I turned to leave.
“I never said I didn’t know about it,” Ralph quipped. “But I didn’t ask for it.”
Ralph’s admission landed like a dick punch. The fumes in that grimy office turned even fouler. Something stunk to high heavens.
“I didn’t do it,” he rasped, eyes darting to the knife I suddenly had pressed against his throat.
“A dirty dog howls the loudest, Getty.”
“I know about it. Fond got my son back… handed him over as payment for intel on you,” Ralph admitted, his knees knockin’ like a Jehovah’s Witness.
His confession sent a wave of disgust through me.
“Then you better start talking,” I growled, pressing the blade just a tad closer, drawing blood to remind him of his precarious position. “Tell me everything or I’ll gut you like a pig. Serve you up in one of your disgusting milkshakes.”
Ralph’s next words were a jumble of desperation and calculation. “I have what I want. My child. Sky’s got no right keeping my boy from me, but I’ll share custody. I swear.”
“Do you want the boy’s mom to die, Ralph?” I shot back, the menace in my tone as clear as the steel at his neck. “You realize that’s Fond’s move, don’t ya?”
He swallowed hard, the fear in his eyes giving way to a grudging realization. “The mob won’t move against Fond,” he conceded, defeat lining his words. “But if you’re offering to take Fond out, then maybe… maybe there’s a way.”
The mention of an alliance, however tentative, didn’t curb my appetite for revenge. But I had no choice. I couldn’t kill him. I needed the asshole. “Then make it happen. Arrange a meeting with your uncle. We do this, and we do it now.”
