Shattered Prince

It wasn’t like I didn’t understand. Jules’s leg hurt all the time, and obviously she’d need something to take the edge off. But it was the baggie that got me, like it wasn’t a prescribed medication but something she stole from a pill pusher. Street drugs, illegal shit, the kind of stuff that would ruin her and leave her an addicted, twitching mess.

She needed help and oversight, not some stash of opiates. But then again, she wasn’t my problem. I had to keep her safe and make sure she went to class, but beyond that, she didn’t matter. She was just a girl staying in my apartment.

A beautiful girl that distracted me. That made my blood rage and boil. That would get me killed if I touched her.

There was a spark between us. I couldn’t deny it, and I knew she felt it too. She orbited around me like an asteroid looking for an impact zone, and it was only a matter of time before we smashed together—and when that happened, there’d be a massive explosion.

I had to hope I’d survive.

But I couldn’t go down this road. Not even in my fantasies. I needed her father’s support and his drug connections, and if he found out that I wanted to fuck his daughter—let alone that I was actually fucking her—then this whole arrangement would be over. Balestra would take control of San Antonio, and I would be fucked.

All of Mal’s work. All of Cap’s sacrifice. My dead parents. All the men and women that relied on our family’s strength. All of them would be let down.

All because I couldn’t keep my hands off of Jules.

It was a goddamn mess. I couldn’t stop thinking about her, even with Iago sitting next to me, and he was her father’s goddamn cousin.

Then there was the guard, Oscar. I thought he’d make her feel safer and more at home, but he seemed to have the opposite effect. Whenever the guy was around, she was a twitchy mess, and I had no clue why. I couldn’t place it, but there was a strange dynamic happening between them that I needed to solve.

It was a problem. The whole damn thing was a problem. Jules could ruin me, and all I wanted was to pin her down and kiss her soft lips anyway. Some insane part of me wanted to throw it all away for one taste of her, one intense night of sweaty, rough fucking.

All I wanted was to hear her scream and to make her come.

And I couldn’t.

Hours passed. The sun went down. More cars parked in the lot. Iago went to get some food and we ate in silence, sitting down further in the lot. We moved the truck a couple times to avoid being too obvious, but I wasn’t too worried. Balestra and these Smierc guys seemed pretty full of themselves, and I doubted they’d expect something like this.

Two bikes showed up around eleven that night. They roared down the street and pulled into the small parking lot. They parked up front and the riders got off before heading inside. I exchanged looks with Iago and he nodded once.

He’d recognized the closer motorcycle too.

It was Demian’s, Cezary’s cousin. I recognized it from that first meeting and from the attack on Cap and Mal’s wedding. Iago must’ve spotted it from the roof when I sent him up there to snipe their stupid little skulls off.

“Cover me,” I said, getting out.

He grunted and pulled a rifle from behind his seat.

I went around the truck and leaned over the bed. I pulled back a tarp to reveal a big, red gas cannister with a long black spout. I grabbed it and walked across the street while Iago opened the driver’s side door and used the open window to steady his rifle.

My heart beat a sudden thunder in my chest but I kept myself calm.

Cezary attacked Cap and Mal’s wedding. He had the gall to scare half the power brokers in San Antonio, and he caused a fuck-ton of problems for me. I’d been spending half my time reassuring the business leaders and politicians that I had this under control and that Cezary and Balestra would pay for their violence.

It was only partially working. I could feel the cracks forming all around me. Cracks in the foundation and cracks along the walls.

And I still could only think of Jules.

I reached the parking lot, unscrewed the lid of the gas can, and began splashing it all over the motorcycles. I doused them nice and good until the can was nearly empty. I used the last of the gas to make a long line to the other side of the lot.

I took a lighter from my pocket, flicked it, stared at the flame, and dropped it into the gas.

The fire whooshed to life and sped away. I watched it with a smile as it reached the motorcycles and took hold of them. The fire was hot and I felt it stinging my face and chest as I drew a weapon and crouched to wait.