A Royal Pairing in Perish by C.G. Coppola

Author:C.G. Coppola
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: C.G. Coppola
Published: 2023-03-24T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWELVE – BUNKER BLISS

JUNE AKA QUICK CLAW

I’m not sure I believe any of what just happened.

Not the shoot-out across the dancefloor, or watching Nik battle Paccetti’s guards, or even playing my role with the steak knives. It must have happened, though, because I’m here in the van with the others, and not leaving in the Mustang. If everything went smoothly, Nik would be walking me out right now, and we’d be cruising home in style.

Seriously—did all of that just happen?

As if to convince myself, I glance down at Nik’s hand, which is still covering his injury. I hope it’s not bad. I should’ve helped more, even if he looked like he didn’t need it.

Because, my God, how he fights...

Nik is like a lethal dancer, like a predator, his movements so swift and fierce and accurate. Still, I could’ve done more. Helped more. But without my brass knuckles or blades, I had to improvise. I had to use what I could find. I think I helped a little, especially at the end with Jack.

And who the hell is he?

Is he somehow related to Mario Paccetti? And what happened up in the cabana that caused everything to go haywire? When I left, Nik was still Oscar, and it was all going to plan. I have so many questions and no idea where to start.

Still staring at his hand, I wish I could see what he’s hiding. “Does it hurt?”

He shakes his head.

“Did it happen in the cabana?”

Nik pauses. With a glance up at Kato driving, and then at Luis, he looks at me again. He shakes his head but doesn’t elaborate. Something obviously happened, and I’m going to find out what. Before I can ask, he tells me. “I went off script.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean...” He clears his throat, a quick glance up at Luis, and then down at the van floor. “I went off script. I broke character.”

“Why?”

“Didn’t meant to. I just...” He lifts a shoulder, shaking his head again, his focus still on the floor. “Couldn’t help myself.”

“Well...what happened? What made you go off script?”

He exhales.

“Uh-oh. Come on, you’ve got to tell me now.”

Another sigh. “I...broke his hand.”

Confusion clouds my brain because I’m not sure I understand what he’s telling me. Broke whose hand? I want to ask all my questions at once, but only one comes out. “What?”

“Paccetti.” He plants his palms on his knees, taking a deep breath. “I broke his hand. When you left...” He gestures, like I’m supposed to figure out the rest.

I shift toward him, beyond confused. “Nik—I don’t understand. What happened? Why’d you break his hand?”

Another exhale.

I imagine Paccetti’s gross hand with a shudder, and then realize the connection. I draw my conclusion, not sure if I’m making the right leap. “Not because of my knee?”

Eyes averted, he nods.

What?

The rest of the ride is quiet as I try wrapping my mind around what he’s telling me. Nik broke character to break Mario Paccetti’s hand because the mobster touched my knee? Is that—is that right? I need to make sure I’m understanding this, but I can’t do it now.

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