Malum: Part 2 (The Elite Kings' Club Book 5)

by Amo Jones

  Nate throws his hoodie to the back. “Put that on and don’t say a fucking word. Last thing I need to be doing is fighting motherfuckers who stare at you too long.”

  “Um, okay but what happened to us fucking each other in the bathroom?” I gesture toward Brantley and me from the back seat.

  Eli snorts beside me, Hunter chuckling too on the other side.

  Nate doesn’t answer, like he doesn’t need to give an explanation on why he does or says things. Because he’s Nate.

  Cue eye roll.

  I put the hoodie on, watching as it falls past my skirt and sits just above my thigh-high boots. It smells like him, and the cotton hugs me like his arms. It’s reassuring and safe. He’s never getting it back.

  Eli pulls out his phone and shows us his new pastel green Maserati. Said he’s wanted one since driving Bishop’s. I try not to zone out in boredom as we continue to Bishop’s. I take my phone out and snap a selfie of me pulling a sad face. It looks ridiculous because of the face paint, but I post it to my Instagram story with the caption CUFFED.

  Ten minutes later, Brantley is driving us down into a bright concrete underground parking lot. One of the kinds that have concrete pillars that are holding up—literally—the entire hotel and the contents inside of it.

  “How do they make sure this is safe? The structure?”

  Nate chuckles. “You’re in a car with us and you’re worried about the structure of a building when it comes to your safety?”

  We all climb out of the car and Nate takes my hand with his, leading us toward the elevator. Daemon’s book is still safely tucked under my arm, the confusion of tonight still buzzing in my head.

  Why did I have to bring the book to the meet?

  The elevator dings and soft classical music fills the space between us all. My eyes flick around to all of them and I almost laugh at how funny it feels with the music and their big, broody bodies and personalities occupying the space.

  But then I remember that I’m in a small space with them and that there’s nowhere to run if I piss Nate off.

  The elevator dings on the Penthouse floor after Nate punches in a code. The doors separate and we’re met with darkness. I step out, looking left to right, searching for anything in Bishop’s flashy apartment.

  “There’s no one here!” I state the obvious. “Hell—” I turn around, but they’ve all disappeared, the elevator door now securely closed.

  I don’t like fear. In fact, fear makes me violent. If someone was to sneak up on me, I am not responsible for what happens to their face. OR their dick, for that matter.

  “Really?” I roll my eyes, entering the vast space farther. The moonlight is the only form of vision, beaconing through the large floor to ceiling windows that are in the lounge room. You have to take a couple of steps down to get in there. I turn to the left, to see—nothing.

  Okay. I close my eyes, inhaling and exhaling. I will bite. A little.

  “What do you guys want?” I keep my eyes closed, afraid that if I open them, I’m going to see my life flash before my eyes.

  “Sorry it had to be like this, Tillie, but we can’t do this same song and dance any longer. We’ve waited, fucking god we have waited…” Nate says, and I spin around to catch his voice, but I’m met with nothingness again.

  “What do you mean!”

  “Little terror, wake up….” Brantley’s voice teases, bouncing off the walls.

  “I can’t, Bran Bran!” I yell, squeezing my fingers. “I’m not dreaming!”

  A hood is shoved over my face, blacking out my vision completely. “What the fuck!”

  Handcuffs are clamped to the back of my body and I twist and turn, trying to get out of whoever’s grip is behind me.

  “Move forward, baby.” Nate’s voice caresses the back of my neck.

  I fight the urge to kick back. “I don’t like games…”

  He thrusts me forward as I hear the elevator ding, and then I’m shoved forward again, another hand clamped around my upper arm, the one that’s holding onto Daemon’s book. The lights from the elevator filters through the material of the sack over my head.

  My breathing thickens. “This is a little dramatic,” I deadpan, allowing my fake confidence to erupt in the middle of the small elevator.

  Nate chuckles. “I’m done, Tillie.”

  Done? What does he mean done? We were never together. The doors ding open again and I’m being dragged back into the parking lot. There’s a car idling near us and I feel them all freeze. The car sounds rich, the smooth rumble of an expensive engine.

  More silence.

  “You guys talking behind my back?” I tease. I really shouldn’t. I’m in no position to torment them right now.

  Doors slam shut before the car skids off, the tires tearing up the asphalt.

  “Move, baby.” Nate shoves me into the back of Brantley’s car and we’re off.

  We’re driving for twenty minutes before we slow down, the car turning around sharp little corners.

  The car stops, and I’m being yanked out. If I wasn’t wearing Nate’s hoodie, which by the way, is doing sweet fuck all to comfort me right now, I would be freezing my ass off.

  A lighter flame flicks in front of my face, sifting through the mesh. It’s Nate, smirking at me. “Say her name, Tillie.”

  “What?” I yank my head back. “What are you talking about?”

  The light disappears. “Our daughter died.”

  “Stop it, Nate.”

  The lighter flicks on again. “She died, Tillie. It broke me in half, and she took that half to the grave with her. But listen to me, Tillie. She’s gone.”

  “Stop it…” I warn, my eyes slamming shut.

  I need Daemon. Why did I do this? The first thing I’m doing when I get back is taking him and I back to Perdita. It’s not bad there. At least I’ll be away from monsters that lurk in the dark.

  “Say it, baby.”

  “No!” I snap, my eyes slamming shut again.

  “Why are you holding Daemon’s book?” Nate asks. Is he circling me? Is it just us here? Why is no one else speaking? I feel drops of water pelt down gently on my head through the rag.

  “Because you told me to bring it!”

  “Did you find what you needed?” he asks.

  I shake my head. “No…”

  “Say her name…” Nate mutters again.

  “Nate, please,” I plead, my shoulders shaking. “I don’t want to. Don’t you understand?”

  “I assure you, I do, but say her name. You never say her name out loud. Say it.”

  “Bro…” Brantley’s voice cuts in, but he stops.

  “Say it, Tillie!” Tears stream down my face, my knees weak. “She’s gone. You did what you could, this wasn’t your fault!”

  “It was!” I snap, screaming at him. “It was my fault! I didn’t lock the door, I was the last person to see her, I took her to bed, I read her her last fucking book!” The sobs are unleashed, now my chest is jerking. I fall to my knees, curling over my thighs. “I killed her. I did it. It’s all my fault.”

  Nate must drop opposite me because his face is directly in front of mine. “It’s not your fucking fault!”

  Tears slip over my lips, their saltiness running on the tip of my tongue. “It was.”

  “No, baby.” His hands come to my face through the rag. “It wasn’t your fault. I don’t blame you. No one blames you. The only person who blames you, is you—”

  “—Daemon,” I whisper. “I have to make sure he understands. I don’t think he understands that I didn’t kill her, Nate.” The sobs take hold again, my throat swelling.

  Nate yanks the hoodie off my head and rain falls onto my face. It’s dark, but there are two cars parked behind me with their headlights shining on us. The first thing I notice is Nate is on his knees in front of me, the second thing I notice is all of The Kings, Bishop included, in a half-circle behind Nate, and the third thing I notice is that behind Nate, is a gravestone. D A E M O N
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  My eyes go back to Nate. “What’s going on? Why are we here?”

  Nate licks his lips, his thumb pressing to mine. “Daemon understands, baby.”

  “No—” I shake my head. “He’s different now. Lost. These nightmares—” I pause, my eyes going back to Nate. “Why are we here? This is where my nightmares are.”

  Nate searches my eyes and I tilt my head to study him. “Daemon was never in that cell, baby.”

  I rear back. “What? Yes, he was, and he’s been with me since. He’s in the room beside me at Brantley’s!”

  Nate looks at me, his eyes softening for the first time in a long time. “He was never there. You created his existence as some sort of coping mechanism to deal with Micaela being dead. To deal with the loss, and the pain, the guilt. You grabbed onto the one person who always gave you a lifeline.”

  “You…” I whisper, shaking my head. “This doesn’t make sense because he was there, Nate! He’s been there and now you’re telling me I’ve gone crazy?!” I shake my head again. “If that’s what I was doing, I would have grabbed on to you, Nate. Not Daemon.”

  Nate’s jaw clenches, and then he presses his lips to mine. “No, baby. I couldn’t save you with this one.”

  Tears pour out from me, my face falling. “I saw you both have a fight in front of me in Perdita!”

  Nate licks his lips. “I’ve not spoken to him, babe. How could I?”

  My shoulders slump, the tears free-falling. “I’ve gone crazy.”

  “No,” Brantley murmurs from behind Nate. “You’re not crazy, little terror. You’re human. You reached for something that you knew would help you. Some take drugs, alcohol, sex.” He grins, kicking Nate. “You reached for love. That doesn’t make you crazy. That makes you human.”

  Another round of tears come, but I end up choking on my sobs, falling forward and landing in Nate’s chest. “He’s really not alive?”

  Nate shakes his head, kissing the top of my head. “No.”

  I grip onto his soaked T-shirt, and we sit there for another twenty minutes in the pouring rain while I mourn my Thirteen crush. My crush who has been there for me more times than anyone ever has. Even dead, his spirit was an anchor for me.

  I wipe my face with Nate’s shirt, finally leaning back and expecting The Kings to be gone, but they’re not. They’re still standing where I left them twenty minutes ago, drenched from the rain.

  “Say her name, baby,” Nate whispers in my ear, kissing me gently.

  “Micaela.”

  Nate

  I pick her up from under her legs and carry her back to Brantley’s car, shutting the door behind her. Tillie needed someone to help her mend. Because sometimes you do need someone in order to heal. There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s not a weakness to need another human. It’s humanity, and it’s Tillie. She’s fucking strong, but she’s human.

  “She’s going to be okay?” Bishop asks, watching me carefully.

  “Yeah, she is. Now I don’t feel so fucked up from doing that.” I unlock the handcuffs around her wrists and toss them onto the ground.

  “Oh come on. It was like old times.” Brantley smirks.

  I glare at him. “Until the part that I had to break her open and watch her heart snap in front of my very eyes, over another man, nonetheless.”

  Brantley stiffens. “Yeah, I see your point.”

  Fucker.

  “Good. Because we have another issue,” Bishop mutters, shoving his hands in his pocket.

  “What else could possibly go fucking wrong?” Brantley exhales, leaning on his car. “We still haven’t dealt with your old man, and then there’s The Rebels coming on hard with Tillie, her and Madison whacking off Madison’s side piece, and then there’s that book.”

  “—Madison has run.”

  I sigh, pulling open the passenger door and sliding in. I can’t deal with Madison’s dramatics. If she has run, then I’m not chasing her ass down. Tillie is all I give a fuck about right now. Brantley follows, rounding the car and slipping into the driver’s seat. I run my fingers through my hair, squeezing the water out.

  “Everything okay?” Tillie asks from the back. I’m done with lying to her about fucking everything, so I turn in my seat and look her square in the eyes.

  “Madison has run.”

  Tillie blinks a few times, and then she sighs. “Can everyone meet at Brantley’s? I have something to tell you all.”

  My eyebrows shoot up. “Yeah.”

  Not only did it not send her over the edge into a spiral, but she knows something that we don’t?

  Brantley throws me a side eye, and then we’re boosting forward and out of the cemetery. I press my fingers to my lips and throw up deuces in the direction on the Malum plot where my baby girl lays. Brantley rips up the back tires and takes us out onto the main road. One day we will come back here together to see Micaela. But just not right now.

  Nate

  I take a seat on one of the chairs that surround the main dining room of Brantley’s house. I watch as all The Kings fall to their chairs, Bishop at the head of the table, me at his right and Brantley at his left. The whole drive back here, my mind has been racing about what Tillie might want to say. I spread my legs wide and lean to the side, my finger running over my upper lip. I watch her closely as she paces back and forth like a caged lion. Left, to right, to left, back to right. Once we’re all seated, she exhales.

  “I have something to tell you all and Bishop, please understand why I couldn’t say something earlier.”

  I feel my brows crease as I pin her with a glare. Her eyes meet mine, glassing over in what I can only explain as apologetically.

  I look to my lap.

  She tilts her head in question.

  My lip kicks up in a smirk as I nod to my lap again.

  She gets it, and like a good little girl, she slowly makes her way around the table. Don’t get it twisted, Tillie is not obedient by any means, but I know when she needs me, and right now, she needs me. I push my seat back with my legs, the sound of the stilts scraping against the hardwood floor squeaking through the tension. She sinks into my lap, resting on top of my cock. I fight a groan, my fist coming to my mouth. Brantley kicks my leg from opposite me and I wink at him, blowing a kiss.

  “As you were saying, Princessa,” Bishop murmurs, pouring another glass of whiskey and sliding it over to her. She takes it, her hair dropping low as she shoots it back. My eyes cross as I fight thoughts of wrapping her long strands around my fist and bending her over this table, fucking her little cun—

  “Madison was raped,” Tillie whispers from on top of me.

  I freeze, now fighting the urge to do some jerk notion like pushing her off my lap and raging.

  “What!” Bishop snaps, pushing the chair back and glaring at Tillie.

  Tillie stands up from my lap, but my arm wraps around her waist, holding her to her spot. Her ass in my happy place is the only thing that’s stopping me from losing my shit at her right now.

  “Chill, I’m just grabbing the scotch…” she whispers.

  I release a little as she leans over and grabs it before taking her spot back on my lap.

  Where the fuck she belongs. This queen doesn’t need a throne, she just needs my dick to sit on.

  She unscrews the cap and flicks it off. “Yeah.” She shoots back another shot. “That guy I accidentally killed?” Accidentally. “Well, he’s the one who did it, and before any of you ask me a thousand questions, please understand that I don’t give a fuck what any of you say. Madison is my best friend. I would keep her secrets for lifetimes over if I have to, and before you say anything else—” Everyone shuts their mouths like they do when Tillie speaks. “You all live in glass houses if you hold the fact that I kept her secret above my head, considering you all bathe in the shit.”

  I bite on my cheeks, attempting to hold in my laugh. My eyes find Brantley and he’s the same, barely hiding his smile behind his hand because aside from Tillie finally using her
status to speak, my sister got raped. I need retribution, and Bishop, well—I look up at him and watch as he flops backward, his back hitting the wall. I’ve never seen Bishop like this, in all the years I’ve known him. His face is pale, like all the blood in his system has drained and poured itself into the wrath sector. He slowly slides down the wall, dropping to the floor. Fuck.

  I rub my girl’s leg and then tap her, leaning into her ear. “Hop up, baby.”

  She does, and when I stand, she takes my seat. I slowly step toward Bishop. I have to be careful with how I approach this.

  “Also, I don’t know anything else, other than the fact that she said that he had manipulated her. Used something against her. Every time I would ask her about it, she would shut down. She made me swear to secrecy about it, but let’s be real, she didn’t really have to do that because I would have kept that secret anyway…”

  I drop to the ground. “Hey…” I try to get Bishop’s attention, but his eyes are glassed over, fixed on something in front of him. Totally unfocused and away with the fairies. His face is a symbol of heart-shattering regret.

  Fuck.

  My hand flies to his chin and I grip it roughly, tilting his face to mine. I inch in until our noses touch. “Don’t let this fuck you. We will get her back, you will make it okay, and we will make them pay.”

  His Adam’s apple bobs and he yanks his face out of my grip. “No.”

  I cock my head, my eyes narrowing. “No?”

  His jaw clenches. “This happened because of me.”

  “—Bro.”

  He cuts his eyes to mine. “No.”

  “What the fuck do you mean no?” I snap at him. “We will get her back…”

  Bishop laughs, his dark eyes coming up to mine. “IF she wanted to still be a part of this life, Nate? She would have fucking told me when it happened. We would have been able to deal with it correctly. Instead, she has done what Madison does and she has run. I’m done, dawg. I can’t chase her for the rest of my life.”

  My heart pounds in my chest. There are all sorts of bullshit that is wrong with what he’s saying. First of all, good luck to Tillie if she ever tried to run from me because I’d kill us both before I’d let her live a life that didn’t have my existence around to tease her, second of all, this isn’t Bishop at all.