Page 21 of Taken by the Mafia King (Kings of Philly #1)

KILLIAN

J im.

This must be the guy Sera’s friend Emma mentioned during their phone call.

The same Jim that witnessed her abduction.

I couldn’t tell if I was more amused by his heroic, albeit pathetic attempt at a heroic rescue, or pissed.

I had more important shit that needed my attention. This clown? He should have stayed away.

I shoved him on his ass into a seldom used room on the first floor of the house and slammed the door shut behind me. The blue-eyed, blond-haired, all-American poster boy looked up at me and sneered. Blood flowered from a split lip and stained his teeth.

I flipped on the light and crouched in front of him. Overhead, the fluorescent bulb buzzed. I had to admire the way he kept those blue eyes fixed on me instead of looking around to get his bearings.

His hands balled into fists as he pushed himself up to his knees. “Where is she? You piece of shit, I know she’s here!”

My right eyebrow lifted toward my hairline. That settled it. Amusement outweighed my irritation. Look at the little boy, all tough and brave. What a clueless fool. “Shut the fuck up.”

Jim eyed me. Calculating. Assessing. Did he think he could take me? I flashed him a smile and he took the bait. Like a feral cat, he sprang off his knees, fists flying, eyes wild with fury. My fist met his jaw with an audible crunch. He stumbled backward, hissing and moaning.

I flexed my hand, snickering as he spat blood on the floor and tried coming at me again.

My palm pressed against his throat before he had a chance to blink.

I tightened my grip. “Who are you here for?”

His lips peeled off his pearly whites before his voice came out in a strangled croak. “Sera Bianchi.”

“Why?” I squeezed the column of his throat a little tighter, restricting his air. He winced but didn’t flail the way others had in my vise grip. Kudos to him. I imagined him going over his options in his mind. Comply or fight? Back down or continue playing a game he knew he was bound to lose?

I looked him over, taking in the baby blue polo shirt and faded blue jeans.

He wore an athletic watch on his wrist, something that likely kept track of his movements and locations while feeding that data back to his phone.

This motherfucker belonged at a country club with his douchebag friends in argyle sweater vests, not here in my house. My empire.

“Take off your watch and give me your phone,” I said.

“No.”

Fine. Let the game continue.

With a wicked grin that had turned many of my enemies to puddy in my hands before I killed them, I slid my thumb up half an inch, pressing it right under the soft spot of his jaw.

He let out a startled whimper at the fresh pain and some of the ignorant bravery in his eyes snuffed out like a wind-blown candle.

He immediately obeyed and dropped both items into my open palm.

I chuckled deep in my chest and loosened my grip. Just a little. “Good boy.”

“I hired a private investigator,” he growled, puffing up his chest and shoulders as if he thought this was a worthy threat.

“You had to be the one who took her and threw her in that van. The police are probably building a case against you right now, and when they come, they’re going to bring you down and haul you in, and Sera will get the justice she deserves.

Now,” he squirmed in my grip, his bravado turning into a plea, “tell me where she is.”

What about this preppy narc had Sera crushing on him?

Did the blue polo shirt do it for her? Did she want the white picket fence life this poor sucker was destined for?

A three-bedroom house, maybe four if they did well for themselves, a manicured lawn, two kids, a dog, a silver minivan full of crumbs and chaos?

Fuck that. I’d seen a fire in her that didn’t line up with the posh, simple, mundane life a guy like Jim would give her.

Sure, she might be content for a while, but the inevitable dissatisfaction would rear its ugly head eventually.

How many loads of polo shirts could a girl do before she realized she was meant for more?

“How much are you paying this investigator?” I asked, grinning as he blinked and tried to pull away from me.

I followed his retreat until his back pressed against the wall and he had nowhere else to go.

“Hopefully not very much,” I continued, clicking my tongue.

“Seeing as I was not the one who took her.”

His eyes flicked back and forth between mine. “Then why do you have her?”

I shrugged. “Why not? What do you really know about her? Your precious Seraphina. Your messy attempt to break into my home and save her makes me think that you have no idea what you’re dealing with, stronzo .

” I lingered on the last word, keeping my grip strong but not cutting off his oxygen so that he could still speak.

“She’s just a teacher! Whatever she did—whatever deal she made—she’s a good person. There has to have been a mistake.”

“Oh no, she’s not just a teacher,” I corrected, applying pressure again until he winced.

“Tell me, Jim Harrison . Are you enjoying that new apartment on Wendford Street? With that pretty little garden out front? How’s the shop girl you like to talk to at the bodega every morning when you order your vanilla latte with an extra shot and breakfast sandwich for the road on your way to work?

How’s your mother doing? Shelly , right?

She must be thrilled to be a grandmother again.

Your sister and her husband are on their third, correct?

Mason is a very cute baby, from what I’ve seen.

But kids?” I added with a note of distaste coloring my voice.

“Sticky. Messy. Hard to control. Your sister seems happy, though. Good. For. Her.”

The color drained out of Jim’s face, like sand running out of an hourglass.

“I know you,” I seethed, leaning in to rasp the words against his cheek. “Do you know me ?”

“You’re Killian Ricci.”

“I know my own fucking name. Do you know what I am?”

He went still, silent.

I pursed my lips and held his gaze until he cowered and looked away. “Ah, so you do know what I am.”

“The police will be here any minute.”

He still thought idle threats could save him. I gritted my teeth. “They won’t. We both know it.”

He looked away.

“How did you find my house?” I glared at him, ready to snap his throat.

He swallowed around my hand, doing his best to turn his expression to steel.

“I was with Emma when Sera called. We traced it using equipment the investigator loaned us. We thought she’d call if she were alive.

Or that someone who knew something about where she was would call her phone and… ” Jim trailed off and shook his head.

Had he finally realized his error? Playing cop was a dangerous game in my world.

“Careful,” I hissed, my fist ready to knock his teeth out of his skull.

I was sure his parents had paid good money for those when he was growing up.

“Do you really want to incriminate sweet Emma in this stunt? I already know where she is and how to get to her.” I leaned in, laughing.

“Unlike Sera, Emma is of no use to me. Do you understand what that means?”

“The cops are coming and you’re going to pay.”

I punched him in the side of his head and he crumpled in a heap at my feet, clutching his ear.

Sighing, I cracked my now aching knuckles and looked him over. He was brave, I could give him that. Jim was likely the first man to ever approach my property unannounced and survive to see what my front gates looked like, let alone see the inside of my house.

And he was here to save Sera. From me .

The bastard thought he was the prince and she was the princess.

Hadn’t he read the fairy tales? There was always a dragon to watch out for, and unlike in the stories for little kids, good didn’t always triumph over evil.

Not in my world. It was laughable, but I wasn’t in the mood to laugh.

Something bright and hot burned inside me as I looked down at him, and I didn’t like it.

I’d been jealous before, but never of a guy like this.

Blood stained the collar of his blue polo shirt. To his benefit, it looked better this way. Less done-up and desperate.

“You shouldn’t have come,” I grated before turning, moving toward the door, shoving it open, and slamming it behind me. The posted guards turned their heads to me and awaited instructions while I flexed my fingers and waited for the jealousy to pass. It didn’t. Fucker.

The guard to my right tipped his chin toward the door. “Should we dispose of him, boss?”

Yes. Bash his skull in, wrap him up in a fucking carpet, and throw him in the river.

“Boss?”

“Take him back to his apartment and tuck him into bed.”

“Seriously?”

I turned to the guard and met his gaze.

He cleared his throat and nodded sharply. “Yes, boss.”

I moved down the hallway and out to the foyer, where Tommaso leaned against the stair railing and Fred Bagnoli stood with his arms crossed on the other side of the foyer.

Tommaso pushed off the railing as I looked down at Jim’s phone and watch.

I handed them to Tommaso. “Get his previous location data off these and send it to me before you wipe them.”

Tommaso said nothing and turned away, but Fred scoffed. “He’s just some guy off the street.”

“Of course, he is,” I said. I walked past him without a glance in his direction and began to head upstairs, but then a thought struck me as I heard Francesco dragging Jim down the hall into the foyer.

I turned to Francesco, who held a barely lucid Jim up by his waist. “On second thought, there’s someone Jim should see before he leaves. ”