Prologue

It’s like Dejavu.

I stand outside her club and look up at the sign. The only difference is tonight it’s pouring rain. It’s almost as if the universe knows the mood I’ve been stuck in since she left.

When I woke up in Germany without my leg, she was like my avenging angel. Asking all the questions, I couldn’t. Helping to arrange my care in the States. She stuck by me until I finally pushed her away.

All because I felt unworthy.

She was a Queen even then, and I was nowhere near the level of matching her. I’m ready now, and hopefully, I’m not too late. I’ve been waiting for them to open, but there still aren’t any lights on.

I frown and walk around the back into the alley and see the back door propped open. Maybe they’re running late. Although, if memory serves, this place was a hot spot last time we were here.

“Excuse me?” The man smoking a cigarette next to the door jumps.

“Sorry, I was just wondering when you would be open?” The guy stomps out the smoke and walks into the street light so I can see him.

“Bruno?” I ask, and he nods.

“The Pearly Gates closed down two months ago.” He whispers, making me frown.

“Why?” I glance around, seeing all the other clubs in the downtown LA area thriving.

“Gianna,” He choked, and I stepped closer to him.

“WHAT?” I growl, and he shakes his head.

“She’s gone missing.” I stumble back and throw my hand out to catch myself on the brick wall.

“You’re him, aren’t you? Her King.” I nod and hold my chest.

“Then we have time. Come, I will show you.” I follow him into the empty club and straight to her office.

When the door opens, my senses are overwhelmed with her. Pictures, smells, memories. Bruno goes to sit at her desk but stops at the look on my face.

“Apologies,” He steps out of my way, and I sit in her chair.

“I’ve been paying the girls from a slush fund, but it’s almost dry. I stopped all the deliveries and placed our accounts on hold. She owns the building, and taxes are paid until next year. I didn’t know what else to do.” Bruno succumbs to the tears he’s been holding back.

I look at the papers on her desk.

Bruno collects himself and points at a pile of open envelopes stacked neatly in a basket. I pick one up, open it, and read the single line written on it.

Your time is up.

- IB

I pull out my phone, snap a photo, and text it to Abel.

“Bruno, do we have the supplies needed to reopen?” I look around and know in my bones Gianna would be furious that her business was suffering.

Not for the money but for her girls. They depended on a safe place to work and have families to feed.

“For a week at least. I can get the supplies coming back in.” I nod.

“Call the girls and tell them we’re opening tomorrow night.” My phone rings as he leaves to do as I ordered.

“IB, Ignacio Baez?” He yawns through the phone.

“That’s what I thought too. He’s got my girl Cannibal.” He whistles.

“That asshole kidnapped a mafia princess?” I look at a photo of us on her desk.

“He took my Queen. I want her back.” I hear tapping on his end.

“On it, Prez.” I snort at the way that sounds.

“Weird, huh?” Abel laughs at me.

“Good. Get fucking use to it.” I smile, agreeing wholeheartedly with his statement.

“I’m staying in LA. Someone needs to oversee her business in her absence. Send a few members my way as backup. And Cannibal?” I hear him stop typing.

“Yeah?” He sounds a bit worried, and I appreciate his concern.

“Thank you from both of us. I’m not sure if Dad ever had a chance to tell you.” I listen to him sniffle and then curse.

“Fuck you, Lucas. Go find your girl.” He hangs up on me, and I chuckle at his reaction.

I’ll find her and bring her home or die trying.

BEEP, BEEP, BEEP!

The alarm clock blaring wakes me out of the dream of the night I arrived in Los Angeles.

I sigh and stretch out my back before grabbing my crutches to go over to the dresser across the room to shut the fucking thing off. It’s my way of dragging my sorry ass out of bed for my morning run.

I make it to the alarm and slam my hand down on the off button.

My eyes catch on the date flashing brightly on the screen now, and I frown. Has it really been four months? I groan as my morning wood reminds me of the fact that I need to pee desperately.

Turning for the bathroom of the small studio apartment Gianna kept at the club that has become my temporary home, I use the toilet before returning to get my prosthetic on so I can get outside before the sun becomes oppressively hot.

I strap my phone to my arm, put in my earphones, and opened the door to a very surprised face.

“Gavin?” He looks at me from head to toe before grabbing me in a hug.

“You fucker! Would it kill you to call your mama?” I chuckle as he pats me back.

“I talked to her last night. Try again,” He made the trip from Reno here for a reason, and it’s not to check up on me.

“Um, there have been rumors,” He trails off when he sees me narrowing my eyes.

“About?” I press as his cheeks turn crimson.

“Are you selling drugs?” I sigh.

Not that it’s any of his or the club’s business, but Gianna’s club technically is a money laundering sight for the fucking mob. So, am I selling drugs?

No.

Does the money from the sales come through our doors nightly?

Yes.

“Who sent you, Hooper?” I fall back to his club name since we are now talking business.

“Abel, apparently, the shit you’re running out of place is killing people, Lucas.” I pinch the bridge of my nose.

“I’m not selling it, dammit.” A throat clearing from the hall makes me look up.

“Semantics. You’re funding it, and we’re here to help you stop it.” Gavin’s older brother Noah is leaning up against the wall, watching us closely.

“Jester,” I greet the man, slapping the hand he offers me and drawing him into a hug, too.

“So the Phillips brothers are going to do what exactly?” They smile at each other and then turn to me.

“We’re going to take them down.” I narrow my eyes in suspicion.

“How?” I can’t upset the delicate nature of Gianna’s mob connections.

“Make you the Kingpin.”