Royal Bully (Mafia Royals 0.5)

With a sigh, I moved to stand in front of him. “Do I want to know?”

“I don’t even want to know.” He rasped, and then looked up at me. “I would have killed every fucking person in this godforsaken world to get you free of this life, but of course, I was cursed with a younger version of myself, wasn’t I?”

I smirked. “Did you just call your favorite child a curse?”

He groaned. “Did you just call yourself favorite?”

“I won’t tell the others.” I uncrossed my arms and then moved to sit next to him on the couch. He had at least twenty pounds of muscle on me, and I was still a big guy, but my dad had learned a long time ago the only way for him to fight his demons was to literally beat the shit out of a punching bag and lift so many weights that he could compete and win against most guys his size. “Why are you really here?”

“I need my best,” he said with a hint of sadness. “And the others don’t have the stomach for it yet since you and I made a pact to protect them as much as possible.”

I sighed as heaviness washed over me. “Junior already down there?”

“Yeah.” He didn’t look at me. “His intel’s right, it’s always right, the little shit lives and breathes for his intel.”

“I’m not the only apple who fell directly off the tree into madness.” I agreed. “Can Vic watch the house while I go in?”

“Already on it.” My dad waved a hand behind him as Vic made his way stealthily into the living room, gun raised. “Give us a few minutes, Vic, try not to scare the shit out of Claire if she wakes up.”

Vic rolled his eyes. “I’ll do my best.”

“Well—” I held out my hand while my dad put the knife in my palm. “—let’s get this over with.”

My dad snorted. “Yeah, yeah, you have fun, remember, I didn’t see anything… I’m clean now that I’m in politics.”

Vic burst out laughing behind us.

It was rare to hear him laugh.

Then again, that was fucking hilarious.

I gave my dad a yeah right look and then grabbed the gun from him as well. “Go back to bed, hug Ma, you know I’ve got this.”

My dad put his hand on my shoulder and then gripped it, pulling me in for a tight hug. “I’m proud of you.”

My throat almost closed up. All I’d ever wanted was to be him, and all he’d ever wanted was for me to run away.

We don’t always get what we want.

But I did, in this life, I did. Because when I looked in the mirror, I saw him, and I was proud to be his son.

“Thanks, Dad.” I hugged him back. “I’ll be quick, you know how it is when you have a naked woman waiting for—”

He slapped the back of my head.

I laughed and then winked at his amused expression.

With a sigh I walked around the house, the suits all gave me a wide berth, they knew what I looked like when I was given a job.

Complete focus.

Lethal.

I made it to the side of the house, typed in the code for the metal door, and waited for it to click open.

There were twenty-two stairs leading down to our dungeons.

Really, they were just bulletproof, soundproof, rooms with drains for all the rivers of blood. It was like a playroom for assassins.

My dad had taken me down there when I was eleven.

And at twelve, he gave me a choice.

Run or shoot.

I didn’t run.

“Junior.” I nodded to my cousin, who was flicking a knife with his fingertip and then Serena, who looked like she was just getting ready to sneak out to a club. “Serena.”

“Stop looking at me like that, I’m wearing leather, hardly a crime.” She snorted.

“You’re two years older than me and look like a prostitute.” I pointed out.

Junior gulped and averted his eyes. When I looked closely, I could see the smudge of lipstick on his neck.

Interesting.

Junior never looked unsettled. He and Serena were the oldest, which meant I looked to them for calm, and right now, they looked caught.

Ignoring it for now, I peeled off my t-shirt and handed it to her. “Even so, put this on before Uncle Nixon comes down here to murder Junior and me for having eyes, all right?”

“Gross.” She shuddered like we both didn’t give orgasms with one wink, and put on the t-shirt. Junior sighed like he was relieved, and I didn’t miss the way his jaw tensed when his eyes flickered back to mine.

Well shit. Didn’t see that coming.

We would have words about this later.

Because that was the one rule our uncles gave us growing up.

Fight, kill, bleed, destroy—but never, ever, look at any of the uncles’ kids in any way other than like your own brother or sister.