Chapter 41 Kingston
Kingston
After Lou got me Burlone’s contact information, I sat in my chair for a solid five minutes, staring into the empty space of my office like it just might hold the answers I’m looking for.
Unfortunately, Regina didn’t appear from thin air, no matter how hard I wished she would. My entire body is vibrating with tension that I’m anxious to release as soon as I know who to project it on, though I think we might already know.
Steeling my shoulders, I dial Burlone’s number and wait for him to pick up.
I put the call on speakerphone as D, Lou, and Stefan are all sporadically positioned in the office, listening in on the conversation to stay up to date.
I’m grateful for their presence because, whether I want to admit it or not, I need them right now.
A soft click cuts off the foreboding ringing on the line, only to be replaced with Burlone’s voice.
“I was wondering when you’d call. To be honest, Kingston, I’m a little disappointed.
It’s been nearly four hours. Four hours where your baby sister could’ve had anything happen to her.
” He tsks, and the sound grates on my nerves, making my knuckles turn white as I grip the pen on my desk, strangling it while simultaneously wishing it was Burlone’s sausage neck.
I’ve always hated the guy, but I’ve never loathed anyone with every fiber of my being until this moment.
“I mean, what would your father think?” he pushes.
“My father’s dead, so he isn’t your concern anymore. Now you get to deal with me. I appreciate the condolences, though. Very thoughtful.” My voice is confident, lackadaisical. Exactly what I need it to be, no matter how hard it kills me to talk about my deceased father with so much forced ease.
In response, Burlone laughs deep and hard. D’s jaw clenches.
“Aw, Kingston. I’ve missed these conversations. We should have them more often.”
“Sure, we should. Unfortunately, I’m a little busy at the moment but would appreciate if you could help me out by returning my sister.”
Again, that deep laugh. “I’d love to, Kingston. Really, I would. But you see, I’m a big fan of games. There’s just something about the competition and the strategy that brings out the worst in people. And you see, if I hand over your gorgeous little sister, then where will that leave me?”
With gritted teeth, I offer, “With more time and a few less gray hairs?”
And maybe even alive, I add to myself, forcing a slow breath between said gritted teeth.
“I never pegged you for a funny man, Kingston. Are you saying your sister is a bit of a handful? Because I’d have to agree with you.
She’s given my men quite the treatment since she’s been in our custody.
Don’t worry, though, we’ve dealt with many…
,” he pauses in search of the right word.
“Sei, what’s the right word?” he calls to someone on the other end of the line.
“Undisciplined? Naughty? Stubborn? Feisty? Yes, I like that one. We’ve dealt with our fair share of feistiness.
But we’ve long since understood how to transform those behaviors to more favorable ones. Isn’t that right, Regina?”
Hearing him address my sister makes my heart stop and my breathing stilted while the rest of my men lean closer, being pulled into the conversation even further. Unfortunately, our straining ears can’t hear whether or not she responds.
I need to get her out of there. The question is…how?
“So, my sister’s there with you?” I prod, distracting him from any further contact with Regina.
“Obviously. My associate had a grand old time this evening as he picked her up, along with a handful of other girls to keep her company. That is, until we find them more suitable homes…for the right price.”
My stomach bottoms out at the prospect. No. Not her.
Narrowing my gaze, I probe, “So, that’s your plan then? To sell my sister?”
He tsks. “Kingston, Kingston, Kingston. I don’t sell women. I sell fruit, and your sister’s as sweet as they come.”
The promise in his voice makes my skin crawl, finally pushing me over the edge.
“Don’t fuck with her, Burlone. I swear to God, it’ll be the last thing you do.”
“Maybe you should’ve thought about that before you fucked with me first, Kingston. I had a plan that was supposed to come to fruition last night, but someone intervened, and one of my men disappeared. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”
Marty.
My gaze shifts to D then glides over to Stefan and Lou, but I keep my mouth shut.
“I’m sure you recall him,” Burlone continues.
“But let’s stay on topic, shall we? We were talking about your pretty little sister with her pretty little face, her pretty little body, and her pretty little virginity.
Am I right, King? Is that precious little hymen still intact?
Dominic said that was your dad’s favorite selling feature for her.
She’s a virgin! Don’t you want a virgin?
” he mimics my dad’s voice. “I can tell you from personal experience, Kingston, a virgin can go for a pretty penny.”
I bite my tongue, tasting the tangy metallic flavor of blood to keep from yelling at him.
“You asking for money, Burlone?” I’m done dancing around with this shit.
A loud, obnoxious scoff greets me. “I always want money. But, no. That’s not what I’m asking from you. All I’m asking is for you to play a little game with me.”
My suspicion spikes, but I press forward with my gaze zeroed in on that damn pen being squeezed to death in the palm of my hand.
“And what kind of game is that?”
“As I’m sure you know, I played a little tournament last night with your girlfriend.
Low blow, by the way. Sending her to take my money?
Not what I was expecting, but I’ve got to give you credit for your balls.
With how much you say you respect women, putting her in such a risky position was bold.
Stupid, but bold. Has she told you yet that I had one of my men say hello? She really is a pretty thing—”
The last thread of patience is severed the moment he brings up Ace. I’m seconds from cracking a molar and can’t take his voice for much longer. “You’re awfully talkative tonight, Burlone, but maybe we could get to the point.”
“See? This is why I like you. Your father never would’ve spoken to me like that. But you? Your generation? You don’t care about disrespect, and I find it…refreshing. Yet, you must understand why I feel the need to put you in your place.”
“I’m sure you do. Is my sister there? I’d love to talk to her.”
A strange echo bleeds into the speaker seconds later, and my brows furrow in confusion.
“Sorry about that, Kingston. I had to put you on speaker. I’ve got a handful of ladies in my office now, but your sister is definitely included. Ladies, can you say hello for me?”
A chorus of sobbing ensues, followed by my sister’s expletives that bring a soft smile to my face, along with the rest of the guys in my office.
The strange echo is cut off seconds later, bringing me back to a more private conversation between Burlone and me.
“See what I was saying about that feistiness? It’s just so…
refreshing. Both of you are exactly that.
Now, back to what I was saying. Your girlfriend beat me in the tournament last night, and my ego’s a little wounded, so I was thinking…
what if I throw another one? Only this time, I’ll invite my associates who also deal in fruit, and we’ll have a unique buy-in.
You might be too young to remember, but in the good old days, I used to throw these things quite often. What do you think?”
As a child, I remember my dad mentioning Burlone’s tournaments.
They were vile. Despicable. Depraved. They were something my father wouldn’t touch with a ten-foot pole, and I don’t plan on changing that any time soon.
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I try to pull myself from the past and focus on the conversation at hand.
“I don’t play poker, Burlone.”
Recognizing a soft creak from the call, it makes me assume that Burlone just took a seat in his chair, his weight testing the strength of the furniture.
“But you should,” he argues. “It’s all about reading people.
And you’re good at that, aren’t you? I’ve been told it’s one of your most unique assets, and I’d love to see it firsthand.
Anyway, play if you want. Or don’t. But if you want to get your sister back, then you’ll want to come.
Meet the gang. Have a beer. Consider this my grand invitation.
However, like I mentioned before, there’s one minor catch. ”
I’d give anything to rip the office phone off my desk and throw it against the wall to end this conversation, but I can’t.
Not if I want to save my sister. I feel like I’m in the middle of a bullfight but wasn’t given a sword or red flag to defend myself.
And now, the damn psychotic bull is racing toward me full speed ahead, and I’m helpless to fight him off.
“And what’s the catch?” I voice, mimicking my casualness from earlier when my blood is boiling.
“I’m afraid you’ll need the proper buy-in.”
The tension spikes, followed by a sense of foreboding that’s so thick, I’m afraid I’ll be suffocated by it.
Shifting my gaze to D, I ask, “And what’s that?”
I’m afraid I already know.
“Your little girlfriend.” The smile on his face is clear in his voice. And I want to slit his throat for it.
“Cut the shit, Burlone,” I spit, my wavering patience from earlier obsolete. “I don’t mess with women. I leave that enterprise to you, remember?”
“Yes, just like your lack of interest in gambling. But I’m afraid this tournament will be your only opportunity to see Regina before she’s out of my hands––and into someone else’s. So, for her sake, I think you’d be wise to reconsider.”
You’d think my father’s office was an exhibit at the Met with how silent everyone is. Hell, my men are practically made from marble as they digest Burlone’s terms, feeling as squeamish as I do.
“If you touch one fucking hair on her head—”
“Two weeks, Kingston. I’ll try to remind the men to keep their hands to themselves but…you know how they are. Boys will be boys, am I right?”
Seconds later, the call ends with a soft click that sounds louder than a damn blow horn.
Two weeks.