51. Kingsley
51
KINGSLEY
D ante comes to see me an hour after the procedure. Having extracted said chip, a further scan reveals no further tracking devices. Although in pain, I am glad that the mystery of how Tate has been tracking me has finally been solved. And it also gives me an indication as to how long Tate has been planning and plotting to take over the Murray empire once my father was gone. This has been his plan all along.
“We’ll move as soon as you’re well enough to do so,” Dante says, giving me a long contemplative look. Something in the way he looks at me has shifted, like he is digging deep into my soul.
“Where are we going?”
“Somewhere safe.”
“I think it’s probably time we went our separate ways,” I tell him, meaning every word. No matter how much it hurts me to say it, I don’t know how much longer we can go on knowing what I now know. Dante surprises me with his next words.
“I don’t agree with you,” he says, “but as I’ve always told you, you’re not a prisoner here.”
“Then I’m free to go.”
“If that is what you wish. But not before we put measures in place to ensure your safety, Kingsley. You can go out into the big bad world, but I won’t allow it until we’ve taken the necessary precautions to make sure Tate cannot touch you. I won’t have your death on my conscience.”
“And you’ll let me go, as simple as that?” I find it hard to believe that he would just let me walk away. That he would so easily give up on me. Had I really not meant anything to him?
“If that is what you wish.”
“Dante…” I start, but he cuts me off with a raised hand.
“We’ve got plenty of time to talk after you’re better. We’re flying out of the state for a week. When we come back, you’ll be in a position to take your place as the head of the Murray family.”
* * *
Durian Accardi is a master card player. He throws down his flush and laughs, giggling like a schoolboy, which makes me laugh even harder. I can’t remember how long it has been since I’ve had so much fun. I throw my head back and run my hands through my long tresses, my eyes landing on Dante as I lower them back down to the foldout table sitting between me and his father.
He sits facing me on the other side of the aisle throughout the flight on his family’s private jet. There is a darkness in his eyes, a hypnotizing glare that could have undressed me had I allowed his attention to affect me the way it probably should have. Instead, I hold it together, portraying the perfect poker player with the perfect poker face as I let my glance slide away from his several times.
Durian notices the sudden end to my laughter and looks at me, picking up on my discomfort. Never bullshit a bullshitter. He looks over his shoulder at his son, where his gaze lingers for a few moments, then back at me as he shuffles the cards, giving me a lop sided grin. I have a feeling we’ll keep going until we touch down wherever we land.
“Don’t mind Dante,” he starts “He can be intimidating at times.”
“Intimidating doesn’t start to cover it,” I mutter, which makes him chuckle.
“He’s worried about you. He’s taken it upon himself to make sure no harm comes to you.”
“Why?”
I still don’t understand why Dante would be so invested in my safety.
“It’s in his nature.”
I roll my eyes and scoff. “Men in this line of business don’t protect, they destroy. Even I know that, Durian.”
“He wasn’t always part of this life, Kingsley. You may be surprised to learn he came into this role by default. What’s the saying…” Durian looks around, thinking about something, trying to wrack his brain for the term he is searching for. “An heir and a spare!” he says, snapping his fingers. He appears extremely pleased with himself.
“What are you saying?” I ask, looking at him in confusion. No one has ever alluded to Dante having a sibling.
“He’s the spare,” he grins. “And he was…”
“Father.”
Dante breaks into the conversation, as though some form of telepathic energy has conjured him to cut short this conversation about him. He stands above his father, his lips pressed into a flat line as he gives him a stinging look. When he turns to look at me, I put my cards down and sit back in my seat. Dante has an unexplainable way of making me stop things to give him my whole undivided attention.
“This old man could do with something to eat,” Durian says, standing from his seat. My gaze follows him, knowing he has only vacated his seat for his son out of obligation to him. Durian hadn’t been hungry when the stewardess had passed by with her tray a mere ten minutes ago.
“You and the old man seem to be getting along well,” he remarks, folding the table away and crossing one leg over another.
“Your father is a remarkable man,” I tell him. “I can see where you get your character from.”
“Ahhh…do I detect a compliment?”
“I never claimed there was anything wrong with you, Dante. Contrary, you’ve looked after me and kept me safe, and saved me more times than I care to recall.”
“All in a day’s work, King.”
The way my name slides off his tongue, like it is a sacred gift, causes my insides to do somersaults. I fall quietly into the comfort of his words as he speaks, wanting nothing more than to engage him in endless conversation just so I can continue to enjoy him honoring my presence.
“Where are we headed?” I ask him.
“New York.”
I can feel my brows lifting, can feel the arch of them hitting my hairline in surprise.
“What’s in New York?” I ask, a little hesitant to hear the answer. I’ve never been to New York, but I realize it’s as far away as possible from Tate. I know the tracking device has been left behind in Dante’s house; I don’t know how effective it will be in luring him back to finish the job he started, but I assume he hasn’t given up his quest for domination of the Murray empire.
“The best security firm in the world,” he says, watching my reaction carefully. I don’t know why it matters to him so much what I think about what he is doing. “Ex Navy Seals, some elite who have served in the Russian security services, and a ton of kickass ex-military types who you can’t go wrong with.”
“Me?” I gape.
“I told you I wouldn’t let you out into the world until I was sure you had the means to survive. I wasn’t joking Kingsley; you on your own wouldn’t last a day on the streets.”
“They’re so good, but you don’t use them?”
“I’ve never had to, King. Tate’s actually the biggest threat I’ve ever had to face. There’s never been a need past the professionals I’ve hired. Until now.”
“Until I came into your life,” I mutter, the guilt overwhelming me once again.
“Don’t do that,” he commands.
“Do what?”
“Don’t martyr yourself. At any point, I could’ve walked away from you. I made my choice.”
I almost stop breathing. He’s right. At any point, he could’ve walked away and let me fend for myself. He could have saved himself all this heartache and trouble. He could have easily walked away and would not now be on this plane with me, trying to figure out an exit plan for my troubles. But he didn’t. He stayed. He defended. He got shot. And he persisted. Did not give up when any sane man would have cut his losses and cut me loose.
“Why didn’t you?” I whisper, my breathy voice almost causing me heart failure.
“I think you know the answer to that even better than I do, Kingsley.”