Corrupt Prince by Ivy Mason

Sixteen

I couldn’t stop thinkingabout that kiss. The look in Coulter’s eyes before his lips connected with mine.

The promise in his gaze when he pulled back. The flash of vulnerability, the hope in his eyes.

So, he wasn’t an emotionless robot after all.

I was beginning to doubt he had it in him, especially after his words in the garden.

My musings fled as I waited at the back edge of the fence and a horde of headlights advanced down the long driveway, straight for the house.

I anxiously watched as they swarmed the house. When Coulter didn't come out after a few minutes, I knew something was wrong.

Creeping back through the large, fenced in area, I raced towards the old, leaning barn, searching inside it.

I swear I wasn't a pyromaniac, but if duty demanded it, I was happy to lend a hand.

I mean, they had exactly what I needed, almost feet from each other. It's like they were asking for it.

Happy to oblige, motherfuckers.

Dragging one of those wooden pallets, I shoved it under the gas tank of an old, paint-chipped Ford truck. The thing looked like it was from the eighties; it would burn nicely. As I poured a twenty gallon tank of gasoline on it, I wondered if it would blow up like it did in the American movies.

I wasn't going to stick around to find out.

Checking one last time to make sure that Coulter was still stuck inside, I pulled the lighter out of my pocket.

"You've been a good toy," I purred to it, then blew it a kiss goodbye, throwing it onto the bed of the truck.

I only waited a second to make sure it lit, then nearly burned my eyebrows off as it immediately caught.

I turned, sprinting back to the hole in the fence, grinning wickedly. It only took seconds to shove myself through the hole in the fence and the loud bang made me jump but I didn't look back to admire my handiwork. I had to get the hell out of here before I got caught.

I drove randomly for ten minutes, telling myself I wasn't getting myself lost, before pulling over. Punching in the security code on Coulter’s phone, I scrolled through Coulter's contacts, easily finding Dante's number.

Tapping my foot and biting my nails nervously, I waited for him to answer. The shitload of trouble we could be in had sunk in, and I kept shoving away the image of the girl with the dead eyes from my memory.

“Coulter," a rough voice answered.

"Um, actually, it's me."

"Aster?"

I nodded, even though he couldn't see me. "I need your help.'

“Where's Coulter?"

“I think they’ve got him."

Dante let out a string of curses, then finally, “I’m already on my way. Where are you?"

"I have no idea, can I send you a ping or something?"

"A ping? This isn't the movies, Aster."

"Idiot," I sighed, pulling the phone away to look at it. I pulled up Coulter’s text messaging app, realizing that he didn't have any of them saved.

There went my plans to spy through his phone later.

I easily maneuvered through his phone, then put my phone back up to my ear. "There. You should be able to see me."

"Got it,' he said. "I'll be there in ten. Don't go anywhere!" he growled before hanging up on me.

"Duh." I said to a dead line before sighing. I disappointingly found nothing of interest on Coulter's phone in the seven minutes it took Dante to reach me, biting my nails the whole time.

Another tinted Range Rover SUV pulled up next to me, and I grabbed the gun strapped on my thigh. When I saw Dante jump out, the SUV speeding off, I put it away, relieved.

"We need to get you back to the house.” He jerked open the car door and began prodding me over the console.

“What about Coulter?”

“He’ll be okay. I’ve got someone helping him.” He pushed the gear into drive, then, tires squealing, sped down the highway. His dark eyebrows were furrowed but a small smile played on the corner of his lips. “I heard about what you did. You probably saved his life.”

“Oh well, that,” I waved him off, though I was secretly pleased. “It was entertaining.”

“Entertaining.” He chuckled darkly. “I don’t want to know what you would think is fun.”

“Dancing. Singing to music at the top of my lungs. Throwing myself down a giant slide and off a cliff.”

Pressing his lips into a thin line, he shook his head. “Just like your sister.”

“Must be in the genes.” We were flying down the road and I rolled down the window, sticking my head out to feel the rush of air on my face. After a moment, Dante grabbed my arm and pulled me back in the car. “Please don’t kill yourself before I can get you back to Coulter. Because he will kill me.”

“What? It’s a good distraction. I’m worried about Coulter.”

“When I say he’ll be fine, he will. Okay?”

“If you say so.” I nodded, not believing him. “What we need to do is find that notebook. They’ll be busy for a while putting out the fire. Then they’ll have to deal with the firemen and police. I wouldn’t be surprised if Nero’s hiding other stuff there. There’s no way he’ll take a chance and leave it up to someone else to take care of things."

Dante didn't answer right away, just stared at the road flying by as if it had personally offended him.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m going to take advantage of the opportunity. And,” I kept on eagerly, “two hands make faster work than one." I hoped I wouldn't have to physically fight him on this, because I was willing to throw down on this.

"Knight is already on his way to the house, making sure your ass doesn't get caught when we get there."

“You act like I’m the bad guy here.”

"You insisted on working with Coulter. That not only puts yourself in danger, but Coulter, too."

"I--" I bit down on my snarky response, realizing that he was right. We were quiet the rest of the way to Coulter's house and I readily climbed into the back seat as we approached their gate.

The guard was a bit growley with Dante but Dante seemed to have some kind of authority around here because the guard waved us through. When we pulled around to the side, I prepared myself to argue my case once more, having thought of several good reasons on the way.

"Don't even--" Dante held his hand out, cutting off my beginning arguments, "If it were up to me, you'd have been sent back to Mexico by now. But," he grit out when I tried to protest, "for some reason, Coulter trusts your crazy ass, so I'm going to, too. For now."

“Admit it. It’s a good idea,” I sassed.

“I’ll do no such thing.” He grabbed my arm, pulling me close to stare deep into my eyes. They were a dark brown, hardened and steely. In that moment, I knew I was staring into the eyes of a killer.

My throat was suddenly dry, filled with a stone lump.

"If you betray him, I don't care what Coulter wants, I will kill you."

"I believe you." I stared into his eyes as I said it. “But if you hurt me, I will punch you in your nuts so hard, your grandchildren will feel it."

We stared each other down, him with a vicious look on his face, me with a determined one. Then suddenly, he broke out into a grin. "I like you."

“Like I care…”

I petered off because he was already walking away. He lead me to the side door where Knight was waiting for us with a joint in between his lips. For the first time, I noticed that two of Knight’s fingers were missing, and I wondered if that had anything to do with the three bullet-sized scars on Coulter’s chest, or if it was common in the life of a Mafioso to have such severe injuries.

Dante grabbed the blunt, snuffing it out right outside the door. "You’re going to give yourself away, numnuts."

Knight shook his head, grinning. "Nah, Wyatt smokes them every day, and he's usually out here this time of night.”

"How'd you get him to leave his post?" Dante asked him.

"Let's just say, I gave him one of his favorite presents."

"Tatiana."

Knight nodded, the light overhead catching the gleam in his copper hair.

“Gross,” I said to him.

His eyes finally fell on me, roaming over me in appraisal. “Nice to see you with clothes on.” His teeth flashed in a grin. “Should we do something about that?”

Dante punched his shoulder. "Coulter will kill you and I won’t do a thing to stop him.”

"I don't need Coulter to defend me," I marched up to him but Dante grabbed my arm, pulling me away before I could do anything to permanently damage Knight’s future children. "Come on, little she-devil."

Knight had done his job and the pathway through the halls of the large mansion were clear. We spent two hours meticulously going through Nero's office, moving slowly but thoroughly, making certain it looked the same as it had before.

The office had a black, marble desk and a black leather, straight back chair with a matching sofa across from it. Similar to Coulter’s room, there were no personal photos. The guy was also a neat freak, every single thing had its place.

After going through it a zillion times, I slumped on the uncomfortable couch. “It's clearly not here. Where else could he be hiding it?"

They paused to think, and Dante's eyes moved to Knight. "You were the one assigned to watch over him. Where else would he have kept it?"

Knight dropped onto the couch, laying down with his head in my lap. “It’s not like I watched him all the time. Just when he was with Coulter’s mom. Only the ten minutes a week they spent fucking.”

“When he what?!" I couldn’t have heard him right.

Knight shrugged. “Coulter was worried about her.”

"Oh, Dios," I sighed, rubbing my hand across my face, "you guys are disgusting."

"It's not like I wanted to do it. Take it up with Coulter."

No one mentioned the fact that he'd been right to be worried about her, since she was now dead.

“And Bourbon? Was he worried about her too?”

“They didn’t have the same mom. The only woman who’s been here for a long time is the cook. Probably longer than Bourbon.”

“Mmm, I see.” I put my hand on his head, running my fingers through his copper hair. "Where else would it be?" I asked, trying to think. If this were my dad's house, and if my dad was a psycho, where would I keep stuff to blackmail others?

Dante scowled down at Knight. “Get your fucking head off her lap, or I will snap your neck.”

“You’re just worried about Coulter.” Knight smirked up at him, his brown eyes filled with mischief, but he sat up. “God you’re such a pussy.”

“No, I just want to keep my head attached to my neck—”

Their arguing became background noise as I tried to think. We had a barn out back of our property, but I didn’t think the Kings had anything like that.

“Are there any other buildings on the property?" I asked.

Leaning back and spreading his arm across the sofa behind me, Knight took a piece of my hair and began to play with it. "There's the old maid's house, plus there's another one where the security stays overnight, but I’m not going in there. Too many of Nero’s guards are in there. Plus, Nero wouldn’t trust anyone enough to leave it there."

“What about his room? Or another room in the house."

"It would take us all night to search the whole house." Knight pulled the strand of hair through his lips. “He might not even have it here. There’s probably a million other places it could be.”

"Knight," Dante growled, “you must have a death wish. Quit touching her hair."

"Coulter isn't here, is he? So he'll never know, unless someone suddenly becomes a tattletell."

"I won't have to tell on you for Coulter to know. He’ll just know.”

"No he won't," Knight scoffed, dropping my hair. “You happy, you dick?” Then he turned away, not waiting for an answer. “Is anyone hungry?”

I suddenly sat up. "That's it!"

Dante reached forward, and, grabbing Knight's ankle, he yanked him off the couch, throwing him onto the floor.

Knight landed on his ass with an oomph, then growled and grabbed Dante's leg, jerking it. Dante fell on top of Knight, and they began to wrestle.

I stood up, sighing heavily and rolling my eyes. "Men."

I walked out the door, leaving them to ruin all the hard work we'd done trying to keep Nero's office neat and began to roam the hallways.

Within seconds, they were both marching by my side.

Dante, of course, spoke first. "Where do you think you're going?"

"I'm going to figure out where the notebook is.”

"And how do you plan on doing that?"

"She's a girl, and girls have smarts," Knight said. "I'm sure she's got a plan."

"If she had a plan, she would've told us it from the start."

I ignored them as they continued to bicker, wandering the floor I was on, then headed towards the stairs.

Dante was right, it would take forever to find anything in a house this large. Fortunately for us, I had a better idea.

I walked down the stairs, and ambled around until I found the kitchen. The whole house was decorated with white marble, black framed masterpiece art on the walls, and bronze statues. It was all very sterile and impersonal.

The kitchen was a total contrast, the warmth in it almost at odds against the rest of the house. I could tell by the colorful back splash, intricately carved wooden cabinets, and the large, silver—and well used—stove, that Marisol had influenced the design of the place. I immediately knew I was on the right track.

Opening the refrigerator door, I began to pull stuff out. It was all random shit and had nothing to do with each other. Pickles, cheese, some green sauce, some red sauce…

“Mmm, I don’t know what this is all for but I'm in." Knight was immediately by my side, except he opened the freezer and pulled out some ice cream. “Reeces. My favorite.”

“I need something stronger to deal with you two.” Dante grunted, opening a cabinet to pull out some whiskey. “Told you she didn’t have a plan."

“Maybe she’s keeping it a secret. Women like to…”

If they’d bothered to ask, I would’ve told them my plan, but, since they didn’t, I kept my lips sealed. Ignoring them, I knocked around the kitchen as loudly as I could until, finally, Marisol came rambling in.

"Excuse me." Her eyes landed on me harshly, her hands on her hips. “How did you get out?” Then she took in Knight pulling a spoon out of the drawer, and Dante pouring his drink. Her throat bobbed, and she swallowed down the chastisement she was about to give me. "I see you're with Coulter's friends. That's okay then.”

“Mmhmm,” I just smiled at her, then began shoving everything back into the fridge.

Knight smiled, then walked over to Marisol, giving her a hug. "It's my favorite cook. Cómo estás?"

"Bien, bien," she nodded, biting down on her smile at Knight's compliment. Then she shook her finger at Knight. "You know I don't like it when you're in my kitchen."

Knight gave her a pouty look. “But I’m hungry."

“It’s because you smoke too much pot. It makes you hungry,” she pat his nonexistent belly, “going to make you fat."

He shook his head, “It won’t, but your cooking will." He bat his eyes at hers. “How about making some flan for me? You know it’s the best.”

She sighed loudly. "Fine, but you stay out of my kitchen, you hear? I will cook it for you tomorrow, I don’t have what I need tonight.”

Sighing loudly, I closed the fridge door. “I’ve changed my mind. I’m not hungry after all.” Opening the cupboard Dante was just in, I grabbed a bottle of tequila and waved it at Marisol, batting my own eyelashes. “I’m going back to my prison. Walk me there to make sure I don’t run away?”