Page 5 of Kings & Carnage

Don’t say anything too revealing.

And for fuck’s sake, don’t tell her how much you fucking love her.

"I knew Roberto was dangerous,” she said. “I knew it and I was just so happy to be having a normal conversation with my mom that I practically drew him a map to us.”

"Look at me," Drago said to Willa. I felt like I should leave. Like I was witnessing something intimate, something that hurt me to watch because I wanted to be the one comforting Willa and instead all I could do was tell her to relax and call her Jezebel while I tried to silence the screaming in my head at the thought of something happening to her. "The only person to blame for what happened to all of us is Roberto. He's already done enough damage. Don't let him make you feel guilty on top of everything else. Don't give him the satisfaction."

She drew in a shuddering breath and nodded. "You're right. It doesn't matter now anyway. All that matters is that we’re all okay." She glanced at Rock, who looked about ten years younger in his sleep. "That Rock is okay."

"The doctor said the next twenty-four hours are critical," Drago said. “She said if he wakes up by then, the odds of a full recovery are good."

"Then we’ll wait,” Willa said. “And he'll wake up. He has to.”

I didn’t want to hear the note of desperation in her voice. Would she be as worried about me if I were in Rock’s shoes? It wasn’t like I’d done anything to deserve her concern. We’d fucked — although it would never be just that for me — but I didn’t know how to take care of her like Rock, didn’t know how to talk to her like Drago.

“I’m just so fucking glad you're okay, tiger," Drago said.

Willa looked from Drago to me. “What happened to you? Did they try to run you off the road too?"

"Tried and succeeded," I said, glad to be back on safer ground. Feelings weren’t my strong suit. "Not sure they were happy to get what they wanted though."

"What do you mean?" Willa asked.

"Neo nailed one of them in the head before he even got out of the car," Drago said.

"You… killed him?" Willa asked.

"Yeah Jezebel, I killed him. That tends to be my gut reaction when someone's trying to off me."

"How many of them were there?" Willa asked.

“Two," Drago said.

“Same with us I think,” she said. “What about the police? Won’t they ask about the dead guy?”

“He was in the car with the other one,” Drago said. “He drove off when a car stopped to see what was going on, but you’re right about one thing — the cops have already been here.”

Alarm was written on Willa’s face. “At the hospital?”

Drago nodded. “We told them we had no idea who the other men were, but they’d already run our names. They definitely didn’t buy it.”

Drago was underselling it: the cops thought we were full of shit. And who could blame them? We were both sons of notorious mafiosos — my father was the New York boss for fuck’s sake — who’d just been involved in a roadside shooting.

The movie practically wrote itself.

“So what now?” Willa asked. “Will they be back?”

“They’ll definitely be back,” I said. “They told us not to leave town.”

She stood. “We have to get out of here. Like… as soon as Rock is awake and the doctors say it’s okay.”

I’d never been fucking prouder. The rule-following wallflower Willa had been wearing as a disguise was dissipating before our eyes.

She was remembering who she was.

And she was right. The more the cops dug, the greater the risk one of us would be arrested. If that happened, we’d be sitting ducks.

My father had people everywhere.

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