Ruthless King (New Orleans Malones #4)

Prologue

PROLOGUE

T hirty-five years ago . . .

Eddie’s eye was melting.

Regent stared at the flames and fought against letting any emotion show. But he couldn’t stop his hands from clenching into fists.

A cold, dark feeling enveloped him as his father placed his hands on his shoulders.

“You can’t get attached, son. I know it’s a hard lesson to learn. But if you don’t care, you can’t get hurt. Understand?”

Regent nodded and looked away from the fireplace and the remains of his beloved teddy bear.

He headed upstairs to his bedroom, where he found a piece of paper sitting on the bed. It had a colorful scribble on it.

A picture from Victor.

Even though his brother was too young to realize what today was, it still felt good to get something on his fifth birthday.

Twenty-seven years ago . . .

Regent heard a scream and turned, looking through the window into the garden. His heart leapt as he saw Lottie lying on the ground.

Had she fallen out of the tree he’d told her not to climb? Where the hell was her nanny? Regent started to walk out of the study, needing to check on her.

“Where do you think you’re going, son?”

Freezing, he stared over at his father. The man who had given him life. And who was slowly trying to bleed the humanity out of him.

“Lottie hurt herself.”

“So?” his father asked coldly. “Your siblings will get hurt, but that isn’t your problem. Glenda will take care of her.”

Lottie was his daughter. His only daughter. She was three. She could have hurt herself badly.

But Laurent Malone didn’t care about anything but business—his legacy.

Regent’s siblings were just fodder to him—things to be used. Victor was to be Regent’s bodyguard. Jardin, his brains. Maxim, the charm.

And Lottie? Well, she was unplanned and a surprise. The first Malone girl to be born in years.

And ever since Regent first held her, she’d become the person he loved most in the world. Who he had to protect.

Lottie was his. And he would do whatever it took to keep her safe. Even if that meant having to pretend that she meant nothing to him in front of this evil, rotting piece of flesh that was his father.

“I thought I would go and tell her to stop screaming. It’s annoying.”

His father watched him. “Careful, son. A weakness can be used against you. Exploited. If you have someone you would do anything to protect, you can be easily manipulated. If Lottie is too much of a distraction for you, then I can just as soon make her disappear.”

He was going to be ill.

But he couldn’t let it show or Lottie would be the one to pay.

“I have no weaknesses, father. And I never will.”

Thirteen years ago . . .

He died during a thunderstorm.

Fitting, really.

Her father had created chaos and fear wherever he went. So, of course he would die during a thunderstorm in the middle of the night.

As the doorbell rang that evening, Jilly tiptoed down the stairs. She knew Mama would want her to hide while she answered the door. Nothing good ever came from someone ringing your doorbell at one in the morning.

Although this was New Orleans. Sometimes, it could be someone just wanting a cup of sugar.

Not in this weather, though.

Peering out of the shadows, she saw him.

He stood straight and tall. He looked older than twenty-seven. Or maybe that was due to how he carried himself. Confident. Dominant.

Every time she’d seen him, it was like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. Jilly couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen him smile.

If ever.

“Mr. Malone.” Mama didn’t sound surprised. But then, she’d been married to Jilly’s father for over twenty years, a man with no morals or conscience, so it was probably hard for her to be surprised by anything anymore.

Who was the right-hand man to Laurent Malone.

The most feared man in New Orleans.

And this man’s father.

“Regent,” he said in a surprisingly gentle tone.

“Please, come in.”

He stepped inside, water dripping off his jacket, though he didn’t seem to notice. He wasn’t even shivering. Should she go and get him a towel? Surely she didn’t have to hide anymore now that they knew who was at the door.

But she didn’t move. Because she didn’t want to risk either of them sending her away.

Jilly was almost seventeen; she wasn’t a child anymore.

“He’s gone, then?” Mama asked in a strange voice. She sounded almost detached.

Who was she talking about?

“They both are,” Regent replied.

Hmm, he sounded almost like Mama. Who was gone? Where had they gone?

Mama slumped against the wall and Jilly jumped to her feet, ready to race down there and help her. But Regent leaped forward and grabbed her mother, swinging the older woman into his arms and carrying her into the living room.

Jilly tiptoed down the stairs, shivering slightly. It was cold tonight. Peeking in, she saw that Regent had laid her mother down on the sofa and was pouring her a drink.

That was Father’s Scotch.

He wouldn’t be happy if any of it was missing.

Jilly moved her weight from foot to foot worriedly. Father wasn’t a person you wanted to anger. Although she couldn’t see him getting mad at Regent.

Regent Malone was going to take over the family business one day. He was a man to be feared.

He was not a man that you got mad at.

Not unless you were stupid.

Walking over to her mother, he handed the glass of Scotch to her.

Jilly didn’t think she’d ever seen Mama drink. But she sipped the liquid.

“How?” her mother asked.

“It’s best you don’t know.”

What did that mean?

“Both of them, though? Together?”

“Orlando was trying to protect my father. He was shot first, then my father.”

“The shooter?”

“Disappeared. Don’t worry about them, I’ll figure it out.”

Shot?

Did that mean . . . was her father dead? Regent’s father too?

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Mama said.

Again, her voice was off.

“Thank you.”

“I . . . I suppose that you would like us to leave this house.”

Leave? They had to leave?

Wasn’t this their house? Her family had lived here for generations.

She didn’t understand any of this.

“Why would I want that?” Regent asked calmly, straightening. “I would prefer that you and Jilly stay here. I need someone I can trust here to guard the tunnels.”

Tunnels? What tunnels?

“But I’m not a man. Neither is Jilly.”

“Are you going to betray me? My family?” Regent asked in a cold voice.

Jilly had to slam her hand over her mouth to hold in her shocked gasp.

But her mother surprised her by standing, a fierce look on her face. “You know I would never betray you.”

“Then I see no reason for you to leave. You would actually be doing me a big favor by staying.”

“Then we will stay. You know I would do anything for you.” Her mother reached out and squeezed his forearm. “I stand with you.”

Regent leaned forward and kissed Mama’s cheek. Something warm filled Jilly.

Whoa.

Was she jealous of her mother?

Now she was acting crazy. But . . . sigh, she would really love a kiss on the cheek from Regent Malone.

Yes, she was aware that he was ten years older than she was. But she was nearly seventeen. That wasn’t too big of an age gap, right?

And she was mature for her age.

“Thank you.”

“I’m not sure why you’re thanking me when you’re doing me a favor,” he said.

Jilly was confused. It was like they were having a whole other conversation that they weren’t saying out loud.

She knew that she should probably feel bad that her father was dead. But he’d always been a violent, mean man who had hated her just for being born a girl.

When he’d been home, she’d spent most of her time hiding from him. He’d always find some reason to be upset with her. He’d yell and curse, throw things. Mama tried to protect her as much as she could.

Thankfully, he’d spent most of his time with Regent’s father.

So, it was quite hard to feel sorrow over the loss of a man who had despised and terrified her.

“I need to go.” Regent turned to the door.

“I understand. Anything you need, let me know.”

Jilly stumbled back and moved up the stairs as he walked out of the living room. Her mother didn’t follow. Regent paused at the door and looked straight at her.

“You should be in bed, Jilly. Not listening in on conversations.”

Guilt filled her. She hated that the first time he’d spoken to her in months was to scold her. Tears stung her eyes.

“Be a good girl for your mother, okay? Support her. I know you’re clever and smart.”

It was almost like he was trying to take the heat from the sting of his previous words. And she took them to heart.

She was a good girl.

Clever and smart.

She wasn’t sure that anyone other than her mother had ever called her those things before.

Regent was out the door before Jilly could reply. Then her mother was standing in the foyer, staring at the door.

“He’s going to be a force to be reckoned with. I just hope that running this city doesn’t do to him what his father failed to do while he was alive. Turn him into a monster.”

Jilly frowned at her mother. “How can you say that? Regent isn’t a monster.”

Mama turned to give her a solemn look. “Not now. But being who he is . . . that changes a person.”

“I thought you liked Regent.”

“I do, Jilly. But he’s dangerous, ruthless, and intelligent. And he’s just been handed the keys to a kingdom. What he does with it will make him into the man he will be.”

Jilly already thought he was a man.

A good one.

Sexy and intelligent. Dreamy.

“I know you have a crush on him, but Regent Malone isn’t for you, my Jilly.”

Jilly frowned. She didn’t care what Mama said.

One day, she was going to marry that man.

She would be his queen.

Five months ago . . .

The bills were piling up.

Jilly stared down at them all, fighting back the heat of tears. She was so tired. Tired of fighting. Of trying to keep her head afloat.

This was useless.

She always tried to be positive, to see the good side of things. But this . . .

There was no way she could get her head above water.

“Surely you can go to the police about this,” Scott said, frowning down at the papers strewn across her worn table. “This is illegal. He can’t just open accounts in your name and then rack up bills like this!”

Sasha shook her head. “Fucking Lowell! He’s a con artist. I knew I didn’t like him as soon as I saw him.”

Jilly sighed sadly.

“Sasha, that’s not helping,” Dan scolded. “Do you think Jilly needs to hear how you never liked her boyfriend? No. What she needs is a solution to get out of the mess she’s now in.”

“You should go to the police. I’m telling you, this is illegal.” Scott scowled. “If I could get my hands on that bastard . . .” He curled his hands into fists, his muscles bulging. Dan put his hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder.

The two of them were like night and day. Scott was huge. Muscular and tanned with blond hair. While Dan had midnight-colored hair and a slim build. They’d moved in next door three years ago.

“I have some money I can lend you, dear,” Mrs. Yards said as she sat in her chair, knitting.

She looked like everyone’s favorite grandma in her floral dress and white apron with her gray hair back in a bun.

But appearances could be deceptive.

And Jilly knew that whatever she was knitting was unlikely to be a scarf or hat.

“I can’t take your money, Mrs. Yards. Thank you, though.”

The older woman lived in the house across the street. It was stately and beautiful but practically falling down around her. She’d had to rent a room to Sasha to help pay the property taxes, so Jilly knew she didn’t have much to spare.

Mrs. Yards grunted. “Well, I’m knitting a voodoo doll of Lowell. I’ll be sure to give him a good pricking each night.”

Jilly sniffled. “Thank, Mrs. Yards. That means a lot.”

See? No hat or scarf from this old lady.

“Unfortunately, pricking that dick . . . and make sure you get him in the dick, Mrs. Y . . . isn’t going to make these bills disappear,” Sasha said. “Some of these credit card rates are high. Just paying off the interest alone will take you years.”

Sasha was about the same age as Jilly but utterly different in personality and appearance. She had her black hair piled high on her head. Red lipstick and smokey eye make-up gave her a sexy, sophisticated look. She had on a tight top and a short skirt.

Sasha was so utterly gorgeous and always looked amazing.

Jilly was in awe of her.

“I can’t go to the police. That’s not an option,” Jilly stated.

Not if she wanted to keep breathing.

Mama had told her the rules so many times there was no way she’d ever forget them.

No cops.

No talking about the secret tunnels.

No talking about the Malones.

No telling anyone who her father was and his connection to the Malones.

If she wanted to live in this house, she had to abide by the rules.

Jilly swallowed heavily. It had been just over a year since she’d returned to New Orleans. Sometimes, she wished she hadn’t come back.

After graduating from college, she moved to Houston. She’d needed to forget about who she was, about her father.

And about Regent Malone.

But she’d come home, disillusioned with her life. Wanting to be close to Mama, who’d had a health scare.

However, it hadn’t been the wonderful homecoming she’d been anticipating.

Instead, she’d met Lowell and moved in with him shortly after. And that had been the beginning of her issues.

“I can make him disappear if you want. I know some people who know some people,” Mrs. Yards said, reaching out for a cookie to dunk in her tea. “If I was a few years younger, I’d take care of him myself. You know, this asshole once tried to rape one of my friends. I tracked him down and cut off his willy.” She sighed. “Good times.”

Dear Lord.

She noticed that both Scott and Dan covered their, uh-hum, willies.

Mrs. Yards’ husband had been British and she’d picked up a few words that he’d liked to use.

“Thanks, Mrs. Y,” she said. “But I’d rather not do anything illegal.”

“I don’t see why it’s illegal when he’s a bastard. One less asshole in the world is never a bad thing if you ask me.”

Scott sighed. “Well, murder is out. All willies need to stay attached to their bodies.”

Sasha snorted.

“And if you won’t call the cops, I can’t make you,” Scott added with a scowl.

“Ease up, babe,” Dan chided Scott. “Jilly has her reasons for not wanting to call the police.”

She did. She just couldn’t tell them what they were. Sometimes, she hated living in this house and having to keep secrets.

And other times, you love it. Because it gives you a connection to Regent.

Not that she ever saw him.

Well, other than when she’d first moved back to New Orleans and had been staying at home. Before Lowell. Mama had been out for the night when he’d called because his sister had to use the tunnels to escape the FBI in a hurry, and Regent was coming here to get her.

Since then . . . crickets.

But just the idea of seeing him, yeah, that’s what she lived for.

God. That sounded pathetic.

She wished she’d never met Lowell or moved in with him. Nothing good had come out of that relationship. Even worse, now she had to deal with all of this.

She’d lived with him for eight months and had thought he’d made good money as an insurance broker. She’d had no clue about any of this.

Now she knew he’d been racking up her credit card debt as well as taking out personal loans by faking her signature.

This was . . . it was ridiculous.

Mama was off traveling the country with her new boyfriend. And Jilly was left with this mess that Lowell had created.

“Do you think he goes around doing this all the time?” she asked. “To other women?”

“Yep,” Scott said, folding his arms over his massive chest. “Which is why he has to be stopped.”

“I can’t call the police.”

“Have you got any money, love?” Dan asked with concern.

“A small bit.” If she didn’t eat and didn’t cool the house, she might be able to pay some of these off. Over about five years. Maybe ten.

With a groan, she leaned over the table. “I’m doomed.”

“What about a mortgage on this place?” Dan asked. “Does your mom own it? Would she let you do that?”

“We don’t own the house.”

“I’d hate to lose you as a neighbor,” Dan said. “But perhaps you could find a cheaper place to live.”

“You could move in with me, dearie,” Mrs. Yards said.

Sasha nodded.

With a sigh, Jilly straightened. “Thanks, you guys are the best. But my family has lived here for generations, and the owners give Mama a really good rate on the house. I don’t even pay anything.”

Sort of lies.

Sort of the truth.

Sometimes she lost track of what was what.

“You might need a second job,” Sasha said, looking at Jilly pointedly. “One you can do at night so it doesn’t interfere with your other job.”

Was she suggesting that Jilly . . . that she become a stripper like Sasha? That was nuts.

“Don’t worry about me. I’m sure this will all work out,” she said, smiling.

“Damn it, Jilly.” Scott pounded his fist on the table, making her jump and her heart race.

Don’t show any fear.

He didn’t mean to scare you.

She glanced up to see that Mrs. Yards was watching her closely. If anyone had any idea of the monster her father had been, it was this woman.

“This isn’t one of your books,” Scott snapped. “There isn’t always a Happy-Ever-After. Not unless you make one.”

Everyone stared at Scott in shock.

Shoot, she was going to cry again. What was wrong with her?

Scott wasn’t wrong though.

Jilly loved to read. Books had never let her down. Sure, sometimes, she got upset over what happened to a character. But she only read romance, so there was always a happy ending.

It was guaranteed.

Unlike your life. Where there is no guarantee.

Scott’s right.

Time to grow up and live in the real world.

“You’re right,” she said, interrupting Dan who was busy scolding Scott. “I have to stop thinking that everything will work out and make sure that it does. I need a second job. Being a librarian doesn’t exactly pay well.”

“Dancing at the club does,” Sasha said. “You can work a couple of nights a week and pay off all these bills in probably eight to ten months.”

That would be amazing.

And it was completely impossible.

“I can’t,” she whispered. “I’m not confident or gorgeous like you.”

“Jilly, you’re a knock-out,” Sasha replied. “You just have to stop hiding.”

Jilly didn’t really know what she meant. Maybe it was the oversized cardigans and long skirts she liked to wear. Or her habit of letting her mousy-brown hair fall forward to cover her face. Or that she spent most of her life with her face in a book.

Any of those would work.

“Wait. A strip club?” Dan asked, sounding like he was choking. “You want Jilly to work at a strip club?”

“Jilly?” Scott asked. “Our Jilly? Librarian Jilly? Who barely shows any ankle, even in the middle of summer, Jilly? You want her to strip?”

“I was a stripper once,” Mrs. Yards said. “Once I was hired to dance on this private yacht. Some rich royal owned it. Can’t say who it was, but he was a great tipper. And the food was amazing. That’s how I bought my house. But after that, I met my beloved Teddy. And he wasn’t fond of me stripping. So I just used to do private shows for him. Really got him going, especially when I tied him up and used a flogger on him.” She sighed. “Good times.”

Jilly and Scott gaped at her while Sasha giggled. Sometimes, it was hard to know whether what Mrs. Yards said was actually true or not.

“I could teach you how to use a flogger if you like, dearie,” she offered.

“Thanks, Mrs. Y. That would no doubt come in handy.” Although Jilly couldn’t imagine how. “But the truth is, I can’t dance. Plus, Scott is right, I can barely show off my ankle in the middle of summer so how, would I show . . . show . . .”

“Your boobs?” Sasha asked dryly. “It’s easy after a while. You haven’t got anything against stripping, have you?”

“What? No! Of course not. What you choose to do with your body is your choice. But I just don’t think I can do it. I’d probably fall on my face and show everyone my hoo-ha.”

“Well, that would be a way to get good tips,” Mrs. Y said.

She wasn’t joking.

“Seriously, I could teach you some moves.” Sasha leaned forward. “And I think you’d be better than you think you are. It’s really just like acting. You’re pretending to be someone else. You’re playing a role.”

Right . . . she could understand that.

“But pretending to be someone else isn’t always that easy. And what about the fact that I’m not very good-looking?”

They all stared at her.

“Not good-looking?” Sasha asked. “Didn’t I just tell you that you’re a knock-out? With the right outfit and makeup, you’ll be a huge hit.”

It was nice of her to say . . . but Jilly still didn’t believe it.

“Oh, I could help with the outfits!” Dan said. “You can fit into some of my Madam Dangerfield outfits. We’re about the same size.”

Jilly looked down at her boobs and hips, then over to Dan’s lack of boobs and hips.

“Sweetie, you know I pad when I’m on stage.” Dan put his hand on his hip, cocking it as he grinned at her. “I can help with moves and your stage presence too.”

“What if someone sees me? It’s not that I think there’s anything wrong with stripping, but . . . my job . . . if Margaret found out, she’d do everything she could to get me fired. And then there’s my mother. She wouldn’t understand, either. She can be very conservative.”

“Anne needs to relax a bit,” Mrs. Yards said. “Get her knickers untwisted.”

“A mystery dancer.” Sasha snapped her fingers. “I think I could get my boss to go for it.”

“Really? I thought your boss was a complete sleaze and jerk,” Jilly said.

“Oh, not Carlos. He disappeared. There are some rumors that he pissed off the wrong people and they killed him. His nephew has taken over. He’s only been in charge a few weeks but already things have improved. Santé actually hired bouncers who take care of us, rather than forcing . . . you know what? I reckon he’ll go for it.”

Forcing? Had someone been forcing Sasha to do things she didn’t want to do? Jilly stared at her friend. “Are you all right?”

Sasha smiled. It didn’t really reach her eyes, though.

“I’m fine. And I swear, I wouldn’t suggest this if I didn’t think you would be safe. Santé really does make sure we’re safe and I think he’ll dig the idea of a mysterious dancer. Someone people can look at but not touch. Although the tips won’t be as good, it will take you longer to pay off all these bills. Lap dances are where the money is at.”

“I don’t think I could handle lap dances.”

She wasn’t sure she could handle any of this. She already felt like she might throw up and they were only talking about it.

“Yeah, I figured.”

A secret disguise. Dancing. Stripping. It was all crazy.

“I can’t do it. There’s got to be another way.”

There just had to be.