A Kingpin Love Affair (A Kingpin Love Affair #1-5)(65)

I had tried—fuck, had I tried. I had done everything in my control to force her out, to make sure she was never brought into this shit. Try as I may, I knew, at the end of all of this, it wouldn’t be love that conquered all. No, it would be death. I may love her, but if her father killed my mother, it made us enemies. No amount of love could make up for the hate surging through me.

The dust picked up around my feet as I walked up the long driveway. My mind wandered aimlessly about all the things it shouldn’t be. Like how many times Bree had walked down this same road as a child. She had run and skipped or simply walked with her head held high.

In no time at all, my mind was coming back to the present as I came around the bend and had my first glimpse of the dilapidated farm house. It needed work, like serious work. The gutters looked as if they hadn’t been cleaned in months, and the shutters were falling from the windows. The once white paint of the house had peeled away and made the house look like a grayish speck.

If he was a farmer, why did his house look like this? Why did all of this seem ridiculous? Unless he wasn’t a farmer, he wasn’t this poor old man he made himself out to be, but instead, maybe he was working for the FBI. My mind whirled as I grew closer to the house.

There was one single truck parked in the driveway. It was his. I knew from the rust liable to fall off if you breathed on it the wrong way. I knew it was his because I knew the people who owed me money.

Slowly, I walked up and around the truck, my hand on my gun. I wasn’t concerned with killing someone. No, I knew someone was going to die.

Walking around the house slowly, I crept up the front steps of the porch. I knew the fucker was here and was probably sitting in this house, watching and waiting.

The boards underneath my feet creaked with every step I took, giving away my presence. Why I cared, I wasn’t sure. Even as the King of a Mafia crumbling around me, I felt I still needed—no, wanted the element of surprise.

“I knew you would come.” His voice was raspy, and cigar smoke filled my nostrils. I wasn’t even inside the door yet and my gun was drawn. I wouldn’t have been surprised if I had put the bullet in his head that second and walked away. Small talk wasn’t my thing.

Stepping over the threshold, I took in the house again. It looked very much the same and the mystery of who John was grew deeper and deeper. How could someone like him allow his daughter to live in these conditions?

“If you knew I was coming, then you should’ve prepared yourself.” My voice was full and angry. Not just because of my feelings toward him—for something he may or may not have done, but because of the situation he had brought Bree into. He was reckless, careless, and it was a fucking load coming from someone like me, but even I knew it.

“Prepared for what exactly?” he retorted, smirking at me as he blew a puff of smoke out. I stood just before the entrance to the living room. He was dressed in a suit and was sitting casually as ever. Long gone was the poor, helpless farmer. Fuck, I should just kill him right now—after all, this was all just a ploy.

“You’re dressed for the occasion now, aren’t you?” I mocked back. I wasn’t fucking stupid. I had no one behind me anymore. Everyone had crumbled, fallen, or fled in the end.

His eyes grew large as he set the cigar down on an ashtray. This man was the father of the woman I loved and was the only reason he was still standing and not dead at my feet.

“You know then, don’t you? You know I took your mom’s pathetic fucking life well, she hid you from us.” He laughed and it caused my insides to quake with anger. My finger was getting really fucking trigger happy.

“Cut the shit. I know you fucking did it, but what I don’t know is why. What I don’t get is who you work for, and if I don’t get the answers I want, I’ll put a bullet in every single person’s head until I do get an answer,” I spat at him. My gun was aimed and ready. I didn’t even give a shit anymore. I would take the world down in a burning blaze if I had to in order to find the answers.

He shifted in his seat before standing. His eyes showed nothing but hate and anger. Not an ounce of remorse could be found, and for a smidge of a second, I wondered if this would be what I looked like the moment before I put a bullet in someone’s head. Shaking my head, I pushed the thought away—I wasn’t a monster. I wasn’t a ruthless killer. When I killed, it was because the person deserved it—and I knew my mother didn’t deserve to die.

Laughing, he said, “You’ll kill everyone? Every single person who may or may not have an answer? What about my daughter? She has answers. She knows shit, but yet you still wanted between her legs. Was it good?” He was a sick fucker, and when he finally had his chance at death, I would make sure it was painful.