Kings of Blood and Money (Underworld Kings)

“As you wish, brother.” He grins, nabbing his plate back and making a quick exit.

Having gone through the small memory stick Antonio gave me in the envelope yesterday, I learned our guest will be bringing three of his security guards, and only Antonio, Mateo, and Little Tony will be in attendance, as well as ten of their men. It should be straightforward. The sooner it’s over, the better.

Twenty-Four

Freya

Dropping Midnight on my bed, I close the bedroom door and go to my desk. After spending the night in a bubble of lust and sensation, I’m sore, in an exquisite way. But now, back in my room, the thoughts about Father and my old life plague my mind.

A soft pounding in my head beats behind my eyes as I try to focus on my past, dive into the memories, pull something from them. But the voices are silent, the space dark.

Bringing up the article from yesterday, I print the page out. If I want answers that aren’t bias or corrupt, I’ll have to seek them out for myself.

Taking a shower, I dress in jeans and a t-shirt, thankful they still fit. I braid my hair down one side and search my room for my phone, finding it buried under the book I never got to finish.

There are ten texts from Ivy, and the battery is low. Crap. Plugging it into the charger, I flit my fingers over the screen, replying with a generic: I’m good. Nothing much happening.

I’m not ready to tell her about what’s transpired here. I want to remain in this bubble with them. A churning in my gut tells me things will change if people find out. To the world, I’m their sister. Unease washes through my veins, making me feel lightheaded. Another text comes through, and I welcome the distraction.

So, Dad said I can be a lesbian. Like it’s a choice!

He thinks it will make him look sympathetic to the LGBTQ community and get their vote!

If I had access to a gun, I’d do us all a favor and put a slug between his eyes. He’s such a fucking asshole. I’m going to find some cock to ride. He can fuck off.

I wish I had her problems. What would she think of Father’s job? Maybe I could send Father down there to see how many people he could sell the politian’s insides to. Acid chases up my throat. A soft knock at my door keeps me from replying. Remi opens the door, coming inside with an envelope.

“Hey, Dad left this for you,” he says, dropping it on the bed, his hair all messed up from my hands running through it all morning. I could run away with that man, live in a beach hut, and take up surfing. He suited that lifestyle.

What about Noah?

“I’d have loved to come with you today, but Noah needs me,” he says, running a hand across the back of his neck. If I close my eyes, I can conjure the scent of his skin on my mouth.

“It’s fine,” I assure him, patting the bed for him to sit next to me. I can’t have him coming with me today anyway. I don’t plan to buy panties.

“You want me to call Dominque back to take you?” He rests his elbows on his thighs, watching me pick at a thread on a fluffy bed pillow.

Rolling my eyes, I stand, pushing between his legs and slinging my arms around his neck. “I’m not a child, Remi. You should know that better than anyone.”

“Oh, I do.” He tugs me against his body, breathing me in. “I just know you haven’t done this stuff much and I worry.”

He’s so perfect, so caring, how did he come from Father? I would have loved to have met their mother. I can tell Remi is her, through and through.

“I’ll have my phone with me. If I get overwhelmed or needy, I’ll call you to come get me,” I placate him, brushing my hand through his hair.

“That sounds fair.” He grins, looking up at me.

“I’m just waiting on my phone to charge.” I bite my lip. “I need to kill half an hour.”

Realizing what I’m hinting at, his pupils dilate. “We could do a lot in half an hour.” His hands grip my ass cheeks, squeezing.

“Oh yeah?” I breathe. “Care to show me?”

Punching the destination of the church my mother used to do charity work for into my GPS, my fingers tremble as I start the car. No one will know I went there. I’ll use a fake name and make up a story of why I’m asking about the Gallos. It will be fine.

I offer an awkward hand wave to Roman in the security house as he opens the gates for me.

I’m driving for forty minutes when the atmosphere alters. The streets shift from expensive houses and clean, well-maintained streets, to rundown houses, boarded-up buildings, graffiti covering the sides, shutters on some of the shop windows. We were poor. If we lived here, it was completely different from how I grew up with the Remington’s. How can these different worlds be so close to each other?