Page 163 of Lethal King

At least, that’s what I’m hoping.

When I receive my second whiskey sour, I take a small sip and look up. Above the stacked bottles of liquor at the back of the bar is a long mirror. In it, I can see everything going on behind me and everyone.

I spot some big-time athletes, and a few small-time actors I recognize from TV shows, but it’s not who’s already here that concerns me. It’s who hasn’t shown up yet.

At La Forcina, empty tables are an oddity. Tonight, though, there are two of them, not including mine. They stand out like big red flags, calling my attention to the danger that could be on the horizon.

Taking another sip of my drink, I crack my neck.

Bring it on.

“Don Kilpatrick? Is that you?”

The voice comes from all the way back in the coat check area. Placing my drink down, I brush the back of my hand over the gun-shaped bulge in my pants, then look over.

To my disappointment, I immediately recognize the face poking around the corner.

Leo Camporese.

“Fuck,” I grunt, turning away from him.

The last thing I need right now is a distraction. And the last kind of distraction I want to suffer through is a pushy Italian don.

But Leo Camporese doesn’t take the hint.

“Don Kilpatrick, I can’t believe the coincidence. What an honor it is to see you here,” the don grovels, coming up to bother me.

“I own the place,” I remind him.

“Of course, I know that. It’s why I always come. Not that you need my business, but rather because I trust that anything you’re involved in will be of the utmost quality.”

“Are you sure you didn’t get a tip that I’d made a reservation?” I accuse, finally turning to face him.

The thin Italian is momentarily taken aback by my forwardness. Usually, I wouldn’t be so direct. But I have too much on my plate to entertain this bullshit.

There’s no doubt in my mind that Leo wants something. The Italians never talk to me unless it’s to ask or take.

“If only I were that resourceful,” Leo forces out a laugh. He’s about to pat me on the shoulder, but he wisely thinks better of it. “No, I’m just here to treat my daughter for her birthday. Oh, there she is now. Would you mind saying hello? I know it would mean the world to her.”

Looking over his shoulder, Leo gives an aggressive wave to the two women nervously shuffling into the dining hall. One of them I recognize as his wife. The other seems vaguely familiar as well. I figure I must have seen her at my coronation.

She looks young enough to have been one of those poor girls dressed in white. Too young to be put in such a situation.

“How old is your daughter?” I ask, looking back up at the clock above the flickering television.

8:50 pm.

“She’s just turned eighteen!” Leo excitedly announces.

“Was she at my coronation?”

“Yes, and she was so disappointed that you two didn’t get to meet before… well, before it ended.”

“So, she was underaged when you tried to pawn her off on me?” The disdain in my voice is so sharp Leo winces against it.

“I… uh,” he stammers, before his wife comes to his rescue.

“Don Kilpatrick. It’s so nice to see you here. This our daughter—”