A Dirty Business (Kings of New York #1)(15)

Family rules. I couldn’t say anything. She didn’t either. Whenever he did whatever he did, he did it in private, and she never talked.

I wished she had.

The only grace from her death was that he’d stopped, and I could tell that he’d never touched my sister. If he had, she wouldn’t have grown up a pampered, privileged brat. Love my sister, but she was, and it made me breathe easier.

But, seeing my father watching me, reading me, maybe he was seeing my temptation to try an order that I knew would turn my soul, but my god—I was still tempted.

For once, he kept his mouth shut.

“Bobby is downstairs. He’s waiting for—”

“Goddamn, you motherfucking piece of—” My father flew past his guard, who had eased up on his alertness. Dominic got past him, and he was coming right at me.

Marco started to step between us at the same time the guard tried reaching for him, and Ashton was coming in from the side. I sidestepped around Marco, which Dominic had been anticipating, turning to meet me head-on, but as he swung, I stepped back, evaded, and stepped behind him, then pushed his body down.

I followed him, punching as he went so he hit the floor. He was getting it from front and back. He lost his air for a moment, and I rained down another punch, and another.

I didn’t think I could stop. I knew I didn’t want to.

When he ceased moving, Ashton and Marco pulled me off of him.

“Like that move, Dad?” I was breathing hard but barely noticing. I had no trace of him on me. Nothing. Not one hit, but he was the one bleeding. “It’s one I learned from you, you fucking piece of shit.”

Ashton went still. He’d known. He’d been there when I’d had the bruises on my arms. He’d seen them at recess, but he hadn’t known the extent, and he’d never asked. He was getting a picture of it now.

It was the one thing he and I didn’t talk about.

He was writhing around on the floor now, trying to get up. The guard kept him down. Dominic was still glaring at me, and I knew, I knew right there that if my father could kill me, he would.

My demeanor changed in that instant. The hate was so clear. I stepped back, feeling a calming blanket settling over my insides. I narrowed my eyes and asked as the elevator opened again, this time bringing Bobby, “You regret it, don’t you?”

My father was barely paying attention to Bobby, who had stopped just inside the floor. Buddha was with him. They took in the room before going and hauling Dominic up to his feet. Each had a hand on his arm, and before they could take him out, he held his ground. “Regret what?” He raised his chin up.

“Not finishing the job one of those times when I was a kid? When you could’ve.”

He knew what I meant, and his eyes flashed.

He got my meaning.

Bobby and Buddha tried taking him again, but he held them off, twisting around until they had to stop. He held his arms up, their hands on them, but he looked me dead in the eye. “Yes, son. I regret that.”

Right.

My gut flared, but I stomped it down.

I would not let him do any more damage to me. He was done. He was so far done that I didn’t want to ask what Stephano was going to do with him.

“We’re taking him.” Bobby gestured to the elevator.

I lifted my chin up, just barely, to acknowledge him.

They were gone soon after, and that’s when Ashton grated out, “What the fuck was that about?”

I met his gaze, letting some of my anger deflate. As much as I could because we still weren’t done. “What’s between him and me is better left unsaid.”

He kept watching me, intensely, but he nodded, a faint up-and-down motion.

Marco cleared his throat. “Right. Well, we have one more girl to take care of. It’s your call, Tristian.”

I already had my mind made up.

“We’ll take her with us.”



Ashton never argued with what I proposed to her and for her friend, who I promised that we could get from the hospital if she wanted.

The friend was collected. Ashton’s family didn’t protest. They had not notified Nemah about her, so as far as he knew, she was gone to Dominic West. Nemah could bring it up to Stephano, but he wouldn’t because another silver lining about my uncle—he hated Nemah.

There was a strict order that if Nemah came into our territory, he’d be killed on sight. Made this even easier.

But it was the next day, the girls were taken to a hotel, and we left. Or we were supposed to leave. Ashton and I watched from our SUV across the road in another motel’s parking lot.

We saw the group arrive, the ones I’d reached out to. A few females slipped into the room.

Within minutes, they were all leaving.

They were fast and efficient, and they were good at their job.

They’d help those girls disappear. That was the point of their entire program, but they were not friendly to Ashton or me. Not as long as we were tied to our families. But I’d still approached, explained the situation, and they’d agreed as long as we weren’t around.

“If this gets back to either of our families . . . ,” Ashton started.

I gave him a look. “It won’t.”

Stephano would conclude that I’d had both girls “taken care of,” which was how the family business usually “took care of things.” He’d be satisfied.