The Dark Protector (Kingpin's Property 1)

I wince when he says her name, realizing just how strong Tallulah’s grip on me is. “That’s right. Now, why would you go up against me and do the exact opposite of what I asked you for, Antonio?”

“I’m sorry, Don Xavier.”

“You can apologize as much as you want. I’m sure you will,” I smirk. “But that doesn’t solve your fuck-up. What do you suggest we do about it?”

“Don Xavier?”

I raise my eyes to the door where Hugo is watching me.

“What?” I hiss.

“The dogs are here,” he mutters, pointing downstairs before he leaves the room.

“Well, you heard the man,” I sigh, shrugging. “The fucking dogs are here. So I need to get going.”

I stand up, buttoning my blazer and watching Antonio with a disinterested smile. He’s nervous, but seems willing to accept whatever punishment I throw at him. He doesn’t even move as I walk up to him and nod at the guards to let go of him. Maybe there’s hope for him yet.

“Remember your only order, Antonio,” I tell the younger man. “And don’t make me break your legs next.”

I grab his arm and twist it into an unnatural, painful angle. Antonio curses out loud when we hear a bone pop. I force his hand on the ground and step on it with my steel-heeled boots. More bones crunch beneath my weight.

“I really like you, Antonio,” I say to the youth, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t make me do this again.”

I fix my cuff links as I walk downstairs, two guards hot on my trail. I can’t be too careful with these death threats flying around.

“Here they are, Padron.” Cristiano points to a large cage on the floor.

Inside, two Rottweiler puppies play with each other. They’re fucking tiny.

“What the fuck are they?” I hiss. “Fucking teacup Rottweilers?”

“They’re only a month old, Don Xavier,” Hugo hisses from the other end of the room, taking a drag from his cigar.

“Well, I didn’t fucking ask for puppies, did I?” I snarl. “Goddamn it, are they even old enough to be without the bitch?”

“Sorry, Padron,” Julio mutters from the other end of the room.

“Is this your work?” I shake my head at him. “Your brother already disappointed me today, and now you?”

He blanches and doesn’t say another word. In his mind, he’s probably imagining all the fucked-up things I could’ve done to his brother. To be fair, I’m pissed with myself for not doing more. The way he said my angel’s name is still ringing in my mind, reminding me I should’ve knocked at least two teeth out for that alone.

“Either fucking way,” I continue in a low growl. “These so-called dogs are fucking useless. I don’t want them here.”

“What do you want us to do with them, boss?” Julio asks.

“I don’t give a shit. Just get them out of here. And don’t let Tallulah see them,” I grunt. I know my ward has a soft heart. The moment she sets her eyes on those supposed beasts, she’ll fall in love. But I don’t need puppies, I need guard dogs. And the two fuzzy puppies playing in their cage are about as far from that as you can get.

“Mail for you, Padron.” Julio interrupts my thoughts and hands me an envelope. My posture stiffens, half-expecting another black envelope amid the pile, but there is none. Just a hand-written note with the Gunn emblem on it - not the one I use. The Serpent cartel one.

I groan, checking the letter. Heath is demanding a meeting with me. He’s already set a time and place for it, and it’s in an hour.

“Hugo,” I mutter. “You’re coming with me. Let’s go. The rest of you, deal with this mess.”

I gesture toward the puppies before walking out of the house. My driver is already waiting, opening the car door for me and then Hugo. I get in and spend the ride there, pensive despite Hugo’s attempts to talk to me.

I don’t want to meet with Tallulah’s father. The last thing I want is Rain and Heath finding out I have their daughter. They’ll stop at nothing to get her back. But I can’t risk them taking her back now. Not when she’s in danger. The safest place for Tallulah to be right now is with me.

We walk into the building. Heath swore in his letter he’d only have one man with him, and I’m pleased to see he’s kept his promise. The office space is luxurious, with a water feature and expensively upholstered leather chairs framing a long conference table. Heath is sitting at the head of it, with his right-hand man, Liberato, by his side. Neither of them stands up when we walk in.

“Thanks for the warm greeting,” I hiss, taking a seat on the other end of the table, as far away from Heath as I can. We’re each on one end now, fighting for our supremacy. “What is this about?”