Page 3 of Boardwalk Kings

“A girl like you shouldn’t be out here by yourself,” a man said from behind me.

I spun around to face him. He was probably in his mid-thirties and wore a black suit, greasy brown hair slicked to the side.

“I’d like to be alone. So if you don’t mind.”

And then I turned my back to him, hoping he would take a hint.

“Actually,” he said, his voice deep and rough. “I do mind.” He clutched my shoulder and forced me to face him. “When a man tells a little girl like you to do something, you listen.”

I laughed at the audacity of this asshole and shoved at his arm, but he didn’t budge. “Get your hands off me!”

He was about eight inches taller and had fifty pounds on me. So when he wrapped his fingers around my throat, I couldn’t move with his big body pressed against mine.

“Get off me, you creep!”

I wriggled in his arms, trying to break free. He hiked up my dress, and I kicked him in the balls.

“You little bitch,” he snapped, his face twisting in anger. “I’m gonna make you pay for that.”

Before he could make good on his promise, I heard several sets of shoes slap the ground, approaching us with speed.

“Get your slimy fucking hands off her,” a man said, his voice like gravel.

The man holding me tipped his head back and laughed. “This traitorous bitch isn’t yours. I’m just taking what her old man owes us.”

Traitor?

What the fuck?

He had the wrong girl.

What does my dad owe him?

I tilted my head and saw Dante, Angelo, Stefan, and Nico Luciano. Of course, they were here. The four of them were always watching me.

This time, I was glad to see them.

“Ava Vianello belongs to the Boardwalk Kings,” Nico said with fire behind his words. “Bonetti, take your fucking hands off her before we break them.”

He laughed in my face, loosening his grip just enough for me to take a breath. “I’m doing the family a favor.”

Dante grabbed his left arm while Angelo yanked on the other. And before I knew what was happening, they had him over the railing, hanging on for dear life.

Panicked, he clutched the stone for support. “What the fuck? I’m a made man. You can’t do this.”

Dante laughed. “Who fucking made you?”

“We did.” Angelo sneered, making the deep scar on his right cheek more noticeable. “And you’re out of the family.”

Stefan brushed his knuckles beneath his chin. “Vai a farti fottere.”

In Italian it roughly translated to,Go fuck yourself.

“Next time, you’ll listen,” Nico said with a cocky smirk. Then he laughed. “Oh, wait. There won’t be another time.”

Dante peeled his fingers from the railing. “See ya in the afterlife, you cock sucking piece of shit.”

He fell in slow motion, his screams sending a shiver down my spine. My heart raced, clamoring out of my chest with each strangled breath. And when I finally found the nerve to look at them, I couldn’t manage more than a few words.

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