Black Jack (Advantage Play #5) - Kelsie Rae Page 0,48

out for you, Jack.”

“Care to expand on that?” I grit out.

There’s a slight pause as Kingston addresses someone else before he tells me, “Look, I gotta go. We’ll talk more later.”

Then the call disconnects, and an uneasiness overwhelms the high I’d been feeling with Bianca.

This isn’t over yet.

19

Bianca

My knee bounces beneath the vanity mirror as I finish gliding the dark red lipstick across my bottom lip for the final time. The damn burner phone has been haunting me for days, but I can’t avoid it any longer. With a deep breath, I set the tube of lipstick down, then pull the small drawer on my vanity open. The screen lights up a few seconds later. I grimace as the messages start rolling in. One after another. Making me feel more and more dirty––and numb––as the notifications vibrate through the palm of my hand. But it’s one particular number that catches my eye.

555.843.4192: It’s Dominic. Call me.

I swallow back my nerves and reread the ominous message a dozen more times. What if I ignored it? Pretended my burner got lost? Or that I forgot to charge the damn thing? Maybe I could tell him that it fell in a lake or something. Maybe I could erase my past. Maybe I could give my future a real chance. Maybe Jack could even forgive me if I ever got the courage to tell him everything.

And maybe pigs could fly in another life. But not this one.

As if he has some crazy sixth sense, Dominic’s name flashes across the screen, notifying me that he’s calling.

My mouth feels like the Sahara desert as I force myself to answer it. “Hello?”

“Took you long enough,” Dominic growls, keeping his voice low.

“How did you––”

“You always check your calls before going to the gym. I know you, Bianca. Better than anyone, despite how much you like to argue that I know nothing at all.”

Holding my own gaze through the reflection of the vanity’s mirror, I sigh, “What can I do for you, Dom?”

“Is it official?”

“Is what official?”

“Don’t play dumb, Bianca. It doesn’t suit you.”

My lips are a slash of crimson across my ashen complexion, so I give the mirror my back while a resigned shame floods my system. I can’t stand to look at myself right now. “Yes. It’s official.”

“Good. Now, I want to know why I’m still behind bars.”

“Dom––”

“Don’t give me bullshit excuses right now, Bianca,” he growls. The sound brings back memories of my childhood. Our childhood. One that wasn’t exactly filled with rainbows and butterflies, but the truth is simple. He sounds just like our father.

“I’m not giving you excuses,” I whisper.

“Bullshit. I should be out of here by now.”

“I’m working on it.”

“Are you?” he demands, his tone dripping with contempt.

“How’d you get a phone?”

His laugh causes goose bumps to pickle along my arms. “You’re surprised? The Castello name still holds weight in this world, Bianca. I suggest you use it. And quickly.”

“If it holds so much weight, then why do you need me to do your dirty work?” The question slips out of me before I can reel it in, but I know the mistake I’ve made as soon as I realize I can’t take the words back.

Shit.

He’s going to kill me.

Refusing to cower even though he can’t see me, my spine straightens.

Then I wait.

“A phone is a little different than freedom, don’t you think?” he murmurs.

I stay quiet.

“I’d be careful if I were you, Bianca. Your clients aren’t the only ones with dirty laundry. In fact, I think you both share the same load of dirty little secrets. I’d hate for your new husband to see the video tapes of you spreading your legs for all of Burlone’s associates, being passed around the room like a bottle of beer. Or maybe we can show him the one with you and his buddy, Reed.”

My hands tighten around my cell, but it doesn’t stop my entire body from shaking. “How do you––”

“How do I know he was one of your clients?” Dominic’s dark chuckle makes my stomach churn. “You might think Burlone kept your clients confidential, but I’m your brother. We’ve already discussed how well I know you. You should stop underestimating me.”

The threat is clear in his voice, turning my warm blood into a slush of ice and hate. For my past mistakes. My own brother. And for the woman my mom would be ashamed to claim. Me.

My gaze shoots to the entrance of my bedroom, terrified I might find Jack in the doorframe, but