Page 93 of The Lost Kings
It felt ridiculous to sum up so much pain and hurt into a miniscule sentence. But how else could I explain a lifetime of memories and the taboo relationship we’d developed? I had no idea what really happened, so how would I explain it to a man I was trying to convince to potentially marry me.
Adrian placed his fist under his chin, watching me, but before he could ask anything else, I shot off my own question.
“What about you…do you have any siblings?”
I watched carefully as his blue eyes flicked over my shoulder then down at his plate. He sipped his wine, then cleared his throat. “I do not. I sadly was raised as an only child.”
I had to take a moment to compose myself as I watched the lieslip from his lips. “Oh…well that’s too bad. What about people you grew up with, anyone that’s like family but might not be blood-related?”
My smile was warm and reassuring as I tried not to seem too overeager.
He repeated what he’d done the first time. Flicked his eyes over my shoulder and then glanced down at his empty plate.
“No, unfortunately I wasn’t lucky enough to have a life as colorful as yours.”
He changed the subject to swimming and the yacht. We laughed and he sipped more wine while talking about Italy, his grandmother, and a few stories from when he was a child. But all the while my heart began to weave itself a tiny cocoon, protecting and shielding its tender spots from Adrian Adesso because as much as I wanted to believe differently, it seemed he was hiding something.
Which meant Kingston was right.
Chapter 34
Gio
ONE YEAR AGO
“Are you ready?”
I didn’t look at my brother or acknowledge his question. The longer we were out here, away from home, the more lost I felt, and the tighter my chest became.
The men who once served my father now served my brother and me. Their dedication was to the name of El Peligro, not the vision or the person leading it. It’s why they were so quick to abandon the charity work my mother had started, and the dream developed by my father.
I didn’t blame them, not when my parents chose to take a gang, that had as much if not more power than a leading organized crime family, and turn it into a soup kitchen. The soldiers who had followed from the time my grandfather started things had all been forced to tuck away their guns and knives. They were handed hairnets and aprons and told to serve a community they didn’t give two shits about.
Deep down, people wanted power, money, and security. Of course, they had a sense of loyalty but not of altruism. It was to blood, those willing to take a bullet for you, and those willing tostand when others would run. No person standing in line for a handout would care enough to have our backs. We helped a community that still saw us as rich pricks who didn’t really understand their struggle.
Which was true.
We didn’t understand it, nor would we ever. My brother and I were born into wealth, more wealth than we’d ever know what to do with. Being forced to serve in a soup kitchen might develop character, but it didn’t have shit on the people who actually relied on that food to survive. Our parents were doing the best with what they had, but Kingston and I saw a tool rusting over due to neglect. Instead of allowing it to ruin, we chose to utilize its resources and create our own source of power.
Henry, one of the men who had helped us realize the potential to take over for our father, had laid out a map for us to inspect. We were in a warehouse; the heat soaked through the tin roof and the men bustling around the room were mobilizing on our behalf. I wasn’t sure how we’d gotten here, but we’d gone too far to step back. Henry wanted to explain how a neglected piece of land could be earning the gang millions, if we’d only forcefully take it back.
Kingston glanced up at me and I remembered his question.
Was I ready?
Fuck if I knew, but there was no turning back now. Gesturing at the map, I encouraged Henry to begin.
His tattooed fingers spread out over a pair of red dots and then he pointed at the city of New York.
“The first thing we need to do is go through all the old places that we made runs. El Peligro has been around for a long time, and throughout the years we’ve acquired routes and even chunks of certain cities. Your father, in the past eighteen years, has given almost all of them up but legally most of them still belong to us.”
Kingston glanced at the map and back up at Henry. “So we start reclaiming these spots?”
“As a start. You need to rebuild your manpower, and in order todo that you’ll need cash flow. Get the routes back, start moving product again, and you’ll start rebuilding that power. The good news, you have a whole ass army at your beck and call, ready to take up the colors for this gang again; they’re just waiting for the go-ahead.”
Kingston paled the smallest bit. “We’d be running something illegal I take it?”
Henry waved his hand over the map. “Don’t worry about that part. Mostly guns, and a little cocaine. Nothing crazy but we need that route, the location of the supplier drops is imperative.”
