Page 27 of Kingpin's Secret Baby

“No problem, boss. And Fantasia?”

“Nah, she’s good… courtesy of Achilles. And make it quick,” I mutter, keeping my voice low. “This place is crawling with problems I don’t need.”

“Alright, alright,” Roger grumbles as he continues clacking on his keyboard, punctuated by the occasional curse under his breath. “You know, for all the genius-level IT work I do for you, I should be living in luxury. Instead, I’m stuck at Wesley Hall, choking down the chef’s weird experiments.”

“Hey, it’s part of the perks of being my guy in the chair. Besides, it’s a hell of a lot better than pickpocketing to make rent.”

“Pickpocketing?” Roger scoffs. “I wasn’t just pickpocketing, alright? I wasresellingphones. Big difference. And yeah, I’d much rather be doing that than eating goat cheese with edible flowers that I swear is trying to give me a headache.”

“Better get used to it,” I say. “Chef Rocco’s not one to tone it down for complaints.”

“Fantastic,” Roger mutters. “I’m gonna die of starvation in a damn castle. A tragic end to my legacy.”

I chuckle as I quietly open the door to check on Fantasia. She's still curled up in bed, but has shifted onto her other side.

“Got something,” Roger says. “It's a bit bougie, but that's what you wanted, right?”

“What is it?”

“Rental cabin in the Appalachian mountains. Three bedrooms, two bathrooms, private chef service available. Fully furnished, including a hot tub. Best part is it's totally isolated. Nearest neighbor is two miles away.”

It sounds perfect. Almost too perfect. “What's the catch?”

“Price tag's steep.” He groans, and I hear the sound of shuffling papers. “But, let me tell you- Marcus left you in a better position than I thought.”

Roger rattles off numbers- bank accounts, liquid assets, safehouses, resources- and it’s staggering. Despite the chaos the Warwick family has endured, there’s still enough to build an empire. Enough to keep Fantasia and me off the radar.

“You’ve also got that cabin in the Highlands, but it’s not exactly accessible right now.”

“Book the Appalachian cabin,” I tell him. “For the rest of the year if you can.”

Roger snorts. “Someone's optimistic. Alright, give me a sec.”

“And we need a car,” I add, glancing toward the parking lot.

“Already ahead of you,” Roger says, his fingers tapping furiously. “I’ll send you the address and details. It’s about twenty miles from your location. There’s a bus stop a couple of blocks away- take it most of the way, then grab a cab. I’ll smooth things over with the dealership, so you won’t have to flash a single piece of paper.”

I’m about to respond when movement snags my attention. A sleek black car rolls into the lot, its engine purring low like a predator on the hunt. The tight knot in my stomach twists as the doors swing open, and three men step out.

I freeze. My blood turns to ice as recognition settles in.

Two of the men are from the airport.

They’re dressed down, no visible markers of allegiance, but I’d know those faces anywhere. Even without their signature white handkerchiefs with the gold stripe, they’re unmistakably Crowes.

“Did you know you also have a yacht? I mean, of all the- ”

I cut him off, my lips curling into a humorless smirk. “Remind me to name it Lucky Bastard if I survive this,” I say quietly.

“Something up?”

“You could say that. Gotta go, Roger.” I hang up and tuck my phone away, watching as the men head straight for the motel office. The desk clerk looks up, pale and nervous, as they start asking questions. I can’t hear what they’re saying, but it doesn’t matter.

We’ve been made.

I push off the wall, adrenaline spiking.

We need to leave.

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