Page 90 of Claimed By the Ruthless King

“Do I get exclusive access behind those locked doors?”

David ignores my comment, moving on. “I’m in negotiations with the police. The Moretti Building Attack case will be closing soon.”

“Which you started and proceeded to raise money for.”

How fucked in the head is this guy?

“Never let them know your true colors,” says David, his leather-gloved hands sliding over the wheel. “I like to play dangerous games, and I win the games each time. The vast majority of people like to play it safe, and when they have something to lose, they hide. Alas, hiding still makes a statement,” explains David. “Your Aunt Vivian is lucky to have gotten this far.”

I press my temple into the side door, blowing out a long breath. City lights fade, darkness stretching in every direction as we head further away from the city, past neighborhoods until buildings become trees. They stand tall in the night, leaves blowing in the breeze.

My heart picks up in my chest, the reality of this situation dawning on me. I’m alone in a car with the new Crow leader, about to be used as leverage.

I glance into the front, trying to work out the logo on the steering wheel. I should have checked the car model before stepping in.

This man really knows how to break a person down, making them easy to manipulate.

“Why drop a note out of the car, indirectly telling me to stop searching?” I hold David’s gaze through the mirror. “Why bother sending me to a journalist? Why waste time breaking into my apartment, stealing my mother’s things, when you could have simply held a gun to my head?”

David frowns, watching me carefully through the mirror. “Who said I broke into your apartment?”

“Lying is better than murder, remember?”

“Yes,” says David. “But I would never lie to you.”

“Right, just the entire nation.”

“You saw an investigative journalist?”

He wasn’t the one who sent me there?

I glance at the steering wheel again, struggling to see the logo. “Move your hands.”

“Why? So this car veers over onto the train track? If you’re looking for a quick, painless death, you might be in luck. My Crows don’t have the patience for slow, painful deaths. They see someone they hate and pull the trigger, too reckless to take their time with anything and appreciate the art form.” David consults the dashboard. “The Long Island Express should be passing in a few minutes. You should see how fast they fly.”

“What car is this?” I say, changing the topic.

“BMW Series One. Imported straight from Germany.”

“You happen to drive a black Toyota sedan?”

“I only drive German cars.”

I stare vacantly into space, my chest tightening as I wonder who could have been following me. Aunt Viv? Salvatore? This driver was warning me to stay away.

Both of these people would have a motive.

“Is there a problem, Miss Bennett?” asks David, the car rolling to a stop. He kills the engine, looking over his shoulder. “You look perplexed about something.”

“I’m perplexed about a lot of things.”

“Everything will make sense very soon when Salvatore’s empire is dismantled, and New York City belongs to me.”

“What?” I say, the seatbelt snapping back as I release the buckle.

“The Crows is how I build a lasting legacy.”

“As a philanthropist.”