Destructive King (Mafia Royals 3)

Twice they tried to nominate him for The Bachelor.

And twice Ash threatened to leave them in tubs of ice with their kidneys’ missing; whatever that meant, sometimes I didn’t understand their sick senses of humor, other times I knew it was probably best I didn’t try.

Ever since admitting my loneliness, it was like he assumed that if he just put people around me, it would be the same thing.

But it wasn’t.

I was just as lonely and just as terrified of admitting to him, telling him I missed laughing with Claire, missed the only true friend I’d ever had.

Because bringing her up was like killing her all over again.

At least that was what it felt like for me.

I wondered if he understood that her death affected me too, in ways I knew I would never come back from. So wanting to cry? To scream into the night air about the unfairness of the world? I felt it too. I felt all of it. Because I’d finally had someone who clicked with me, who made me feel safe, who told me she’d protect me even when it wasn’t her job or her business.

She’d taken one look at the bruises on my arms, expression hardening, and told me that she knew a guy. Obviously, she was talking about Ash, but I kept telling her to keep it to herself. I didn’t trust him, not yet. And not when I saw the way he could turn from loyal boyfriend to ruthless killer in a heartbeat.

With a sigh, I leaned against the tree and pulled my jacket tight around me as I waited for Ash to show up.

Already he was a few minutes late, completely unlike him, which always unnerved me. Because I’d already lost Claire. I wouldn’t survive if I lost the monster that remained because somehow—he’d turned into a protector, an evil anti-hero friend.

My stomach dropped.

What if something happened to Ash?

What if he died not knowing how much he was truly loved? Cared for? But how did you tell someone who used his anger as a shield to keep everyone out—that all you’d ever wanted was to be let in?

My teeth started chattering as my eyes searched the grassy area then the parking lot for him.

It was Friday, and I was feeling sorry for myself. Everyone around me seemed to have plans, and yet my plan was hanging out in the house of someone who probably didn’t even want me there because I was just that desperate for human connection.

“Hey, stranger.” Tank’s voice sounded from behind me. I jumped a foot then smiled as he opened his massive arms wide like he used to before we came to this school, before the mafia took over our lives, before… when it was just us.

With a grin, I threw myself into his arms, loving the smell of his spicy cologne, and I pressed my face to his chest.

It was the first time he’d actually touched me—he’d been so distant, following all of Ash’s rules to a T.

Then again, that was Tank.

A rule follower.

That was one of the reasons we got along so well. We liked coloring inside the lines and were horrified when people did the opposite—on purpose.

Kind of like Ash…

I tried to hide the sadness in my face when Tank pulled back, hands still on my shoulders. “You doing okay? Ash still being a jackass?”

My stomach clenched. “That’s just him being himself.”

Tank barked out a laugh. “If that ain’t the truth.” He looked around him like he was either embarrassed to be seen with me or worried Ash was going to pop out from behind a tree with a gun and say, gotcha!

It was awkward.

Why was it awkward?

Why were tears stinging the back of my eyes? Where was my friend?

“So I was thinking…” Tank licked his full lips and smirked. “We should hang out, my class got canceled, and you’re done for the day, right?”

My heart leaped in my chest. “Wait, really?”

“Shit, Annie.” He hung his head. “Honestly, I’ve been the worst friend, I probably don’t deserve the time of day, but things have been… difficult, not just with Ash and the rest of the De Lange kids, but at… work.”

I frowned. “What’s going on?”

His smile was tight. “Nothing I can’t handle. I just… thought I had more time, you know?”

“Time for what?”

“Don’t worry about it.” I hated that smile, the one on his face that said drop it, that he wouldn’t tell me unless he was getting tortured, which meant no matter how close we were, there would always be a line he wouldn’t cross.

He’d say it was to protect me.

But I’d had enough with everyone’s protection at this point.

“Sorry,” I apologized for literally no reason and smiled. “I’d love to hang out; I’m sorry you’ve been stressed.”

His face lit up. “Really? Just like that? You’ll forgive me?”