by M. Sinclair
“Do we need to dispose of anything?” I mused curiously. Anyone, not anything.
I grabbed four glasses settled next to a bottle of whiskey on the counter, then poured and slid one across the counter for each of them while awaiting their answer. I wasn’t opposed to having to go out tonight—we would just have to make sure we got her back into her house without waking her up. She would have way too many questions if she saw them now.
It was possible that they even had the body out in the car. Not the smartest idea, but also not impossible to handle. I mean, if we were being honest, with the information we had on everyone, they couldn’t do shit about us killing Greg even if they knew it was us.
My lips pressed up, loving how goddamn terrified the people in this town were of us.
“Unfortunately not.” My twin sighed, looking slightly disappointed. That made me happy. I wondered briefly who’d pulled King back, in that case. Maybe Dermot? Interesting.
“I broke his nose,” Yates announced, shrugging easily. “I thought it was a pretty generous punishment for being a creep all these years.”
That was accurate.
“King?” I asked.
The look he offered me was somewhat blank of emotion while he used a paper towel to wipe some blood from his face. See, this was the side of Kingston that worried me a bit. His normal emotions were predictable—hell, even his temper didn’t worry me. This though? This complete shutdown of emotions was concerning.
I mean, it was a bit hypocritical of me, but there was a bit of a difference between us. I wouldn’t be upset about being covered in blood—I would be relishing in it. That made sense to me. King just appeared to feel… nothing. I might even believe that he didn’t have the capacity to do so if he didn’t keep looking at the doorway towards the family room, a bit of caution in his gaze.
There was one thing he was worried about, and that was Dahlia realizing the extent of his darkness. I didn’t have as much of an issue with that notion. I knew she wouldn’t mind it nearly as much as he assumed. In fact, I was almost positive our beautiful girl had gotten turned on while trapped in my arms as King threatened Greg.
If that was true… well, we were fucked. If Dahlia found our darkness attractive, not just dealt with it but was turned on by it? She was goddamn stuck for life. As if she had a choice before. My lips pressed into a curious smile, wondering how she felt about other shades of that same darkness.
Where was the line with her? I wanted to explore that.
Wanted to explore how she felt about pain with her pleasure.
“He won’t be using his right arm any time soon, and probably has some level of internal bleeding, but that’s undetermined,” he explained quietly. “We did drop him off at a hospital, so he most likely won’t die. Unfortunately. How is she?”
It didn’t surprise me that he’d redirected the conversation right back to her. I knew he cared far more about that than anything having to do with Greg. I mean, fuck—I’d just watched an hour worth of some home improvement re-run because Dahlia had found it relaxing. I would probably sit and watch anything if it meant holding her like that.
Taking a sip of my drink, I thought about the best way to explain what had happened tonight. I did worry King would assume I’d further fucked up the plan, but then again, I wasn’t alone in this… I could totally bust my brother for doing the same. Yeah, this was going to be funny as fuck. Plus, honestly, I wasn’t very concerned, because while she would be confused, the woman was far better at ‘rolling with the punches’ than King gave her credit for. I was going to keep touching her, and if I knew my brother, nothing King said would stop him either.
“I may have lost my cool a bit with the Greg thing earlier,” I admitted, then took another sip. “I kissed her on the way home.”
My words hung in the air before my brother broke the silence with a loud chuckle, my lips pulling into a smile as I shrugged at King and Yates, both looking shocked.
It had happened, and there wasn’t shit I could do about it. Nor would I want to.
Yates scoffed, shaking his head as King blinked before his expression turned surprised. “You fucking kissed her?”
I really didn’t think the concept was all that confusing.
“Yeah.” I nodded, putting my hand in my pocket. “She kept asking me what was wrong, and I wasn’t able to explain without essentially expressing my murderous rage, so I hauled her little ass over onto my lap and kissed the hell out of her.”
“Christ.” King drew his hand down his face, chuckling slightly. I looked at my brother, who offered me a smug grin as I realized the fucker wasn’t planning to say anything.
“King? Sterling?” I stilled as Dahlia’s voice sounded through the house. “Yates? Why are all of you in here… oh my god, why the heck are you two covered in blood?!”
Dahlia Aldridge
Trying to clear the sleep from my eyes, I blinked and ran a hand over my face, frowning as I tried to focus on the scene in front of me with more clarity. Although, the more I looked, the more confused I became.
Lincoln’s suspiciously innocent expression turned heated as my gaze dropped to his lips, where he brought a dark glass to his mouth. I looked towards his brother, trying to ignore the heat that surged through me as he watched me with an amused smirk. His head tilted curiously while examining my expression, probably wondering how I was going to react to all of this.
To be fair, I wasn’t even positive on how I wanted to react yet… maybe I was still sleeping? I suppose that was always a possibility in these situations, right?
Kingston stood in front of me, drawing my attention because of the way his hand hung frozen against his jaw, blood dripping from his hair onto the white surface of the paper towel. His normally spring green eyes were so dark they almost looked black, and they were filled with a coldness that despite not being directed towards me had a chill rolling over my skin. I fought the sudden urge to hug him, because I wasn’t positive how he would react to one right now.
Well, that wasn’t true—it was King. He would let me hug him, right? Maybe I’d wait until he no longer had blood on him…
I finally looked over at Yates.
His entire shirt was soaked in blood, absolutely drenched, and the tips of his blonde hair were shaded in crimson as he ran a hand through it, trying to get it off his face. It was a nervous gesture, but he didn’t look nervous. Rather the opposite. The scowl that he offered me almost made me laugh—as if he had a right to scowl at me! I wasn’t the one covered in blood, now was I?
My brow furrowed, looking at King and then Yates again, mentally assuring myself that it wasn’t their blood on them and that they were in fact physically fine. I mean, mentally was up for debate, although if this didn’t prove how crazy I was about these men, I wasn’t sure what would…
“No? No answer?” I asked curiously.
Dermot’s sexy laugh sounded from behind me where he leaned in the door, gracing the space with his sexiness. I had wondered why he had woken me up, and now I was starting to think he wanted me to see this. To see them. Not in a bad way, just a sorta ‘time to deal with reality’ moment.
I was dealing with it fairly well, and I couldn’t lie, there was a part of me that appreciated that about Dermot. He didn’t have the same shielding habits my boys had, the ones where they tried to protect me from everything, so instead he just exposed me to shit and waited for me to react. Yates did that as well, sometimes. Not that they weren’t protective, they just handled situations differently than the others.
Especially Stratton—he was particularly bad for trying to keep me in the dark. Even in grade school, he had made a habit of it, so much so that King of all people had to talk to him about it. I mean, the man one time intercepted me picking up a test to check to make sure the grade was one I would be happy enough with so it didn’t upset me… I couldn’t lie, this was one of the many reasons I loved Stratton.
I looked up at Dermot, smiling slightly at his grin as ever
yone shifted, seeming to jolt from their surprise at me finding them. I mean, if they had been trying to hide this, they really should have put in more of a concerted effort. Even if Dermot hadn’t woken me up, the boys had been talking rather loud.
“It’s not how it looks?” Sterling attempted, swirling the dark liquid in his crystal tumbler as he winked at me. He looked way too sexy, and honestly, his little cocky smile was very distracting.
“They fell down a set of stairs while fighting about something stupid?” Lincoln offered.
“Right…” I drew out and then arched a brow. “I’m not really buying that, boys.”
King let out a slight rumble, putting his paper towel down while fixing me with a look. “You aren’t screaming. Or freaking out.”
“Should I be?” My eyes widened as I looked back to Yates to see his reaction. “I mean, I’m concerned. Also annoyed, because he’s offering me a look like this is somehow my fault that he’s covered in blood, which makes zero sense.”
Yates tilted his head and offered me an incredulous look that my sleepy brain didn’t register at first. Then a snorted laugh broke from my lips before I could cover it, embarrassed I was moving so slow tonight. “Oh shit. Seriously?”
It was, in fact, my fault. Well, sort of…
Yates flashed a grin as I processed why exactly they were covered in blood, and yet I was still completely unperturbed. I looked up at King and saw indecision turn into resolve as he kept his gaze on me, his words sending a chill of pleasure over my skin.
“It may have something to do with you, princess.”
I looked at the four of them and then up at Dermot, his eyes lit up with amusement as if this was the funniest shit he’d seen all day. I blinked and wondered why I wasn’t more upset. I think there was something wrong with me… or my affection for them was greatly overpowering the reality of the situation. I mean, they were admitting to hurting Greg… or worse.
I lowered my voice in a quiet whisper. “Wait, you didn’t kill him or anything, right?”
I mean, I would have hoped they’d have burned their clothes or whatever you did in that situation to get rid of the evidence, but it was a valid question. Had they gotten rid of the body? Did I need to help them with the cleanup so they wouldn’t get in trouble? Honestly, I wasn’t very knowledgeable on the post-murder schedule, but maybe if my boys were into that type of thing I needed to do more research.
There were documentaries out there about serial killers, I could start with that. Wait, they weren’t serial killers, Dahlia. At least I assumed so… I suppose I didn’t know. That was also on my to-do list of things to find out. I don’t think it would change my opinion on them, but I did like to be informed.
I was clearly very tired right now. And possibly still a tad tipsy.
“That’s your question?!” Yates demanded before chuckling. “Fucking Christ, bunny, you are something else.”
I offered a scowl. “It’s a reasonable one! I don’t want all of you to go to jail or anything, especially for Greg. Although, now that I think about it, Yates, maybe you should go.”
“You would miss me too much,” he countered, flashing me a dirty smile. I would.
“This is why,” Lincoln pointed out to Sterling as the twins exchanged a smile and look of understanding. I was too distracted to ask what that meant, though, by Kingston’s intense stare that was fully focused down on me, so I brought my attention to the man smeared in blood. It wasn’t an unattractive look, honestly.
That should concern me about myself.
“You aren’t upset?” King’s voice was vulnerable, more so than I’d ever heard it before. It was quiet and cautious as well, as the others talked louder behind him. Honestly, it shocked me a bit and made me nervous to see him like this. Why was he worried? The emotional vulnerability pushed me, to be honest.
“Am I upset that you beat the crap out of Greg? For being a jerk and trying to pull some creepy drug shit? Um no.” I shook my head, almost sneering at the thought of him. “His well-being is the least of my worries, currently.”
Kingston broke into a smile as he suddenly tugged me forward, making me melt into his chest as the others began to talk far more openly. Mostly about how Greg squealed like a ‘little bitch,’ as Yates so politely described it.
I wasn’t lying about what I’d said to King. The possibility—well, now confirmed reality—of their violent streak didn’t scare me. I had known their reputation for some time, and while I’d never seen it in action, it didn’t surprise me fully. I had no idea to what extent all of this stretched, but I knew without a doubt that they would never hurt me or our families.
So honestly… it didn’t faze me, and I knew that was messed up and selfish. I mean, I trusted my boys. If there was a reason they felt the need to act like this, then there probably was. After all, these were the same guys that would cuddle with me during movies, entertain my fun holiday ideas, and take me to brunch super early in the morning just because I was craving pancakes.
Sweet men with a violent streak. My favorite flavor of ice cream, apparently.
Then again, I would take these men any way they came, from dark to psychotic. I just had never faced that reality until tonight. Now, more than ever, I felt guilty about not telling them what was going on with me. I knew they could handle it, clearly. But wasn’t there something to be said about handling it myself? Also, I knew they had more things to worry about—but I couldn’t lie, it was very tempting.
My eyes ran over the twins as I considered blurting out that I’d kissed both of them. Then again, what if that made things awkward? Or the others didn’t care? Why did that bother me so much? Lincoln watched me with heat, but I didn’t see any jealousy or anger at the way I was curled against King’s chest. That was good.
Confusing but good. Right?
Did the kiss mean nothing to him, then? Was that what that meant? That didn’t feel right to me. I frowned slightly, feeling flustered with what had happened with both twins, and then overwhelmed for wanting it with the others. The only thing worse than having my guys not feel the same about me was having to choose between them, and that wasn’t something I was willing to face. I couldn’t ever do that, even if my life depended on it.
My thoughts drifted from confused to exhausted as I closed my eyes and let out a small yawn. I couldn’t tell you how long we stayed in the kitchen as the five of them talked, but eventually everything went dark as I literally fell asleep on my feet, surrounded by my boys that were covered in blood.
I loved everything about Wildberry Lane, including these shadowed corners.
Chapter Fourteen
Dahlia Aldridge
“Get some sleep, princess,” King’s voice brushed across my ears as my body was set down in my soft familiar bed. I clung to him, my arms firmly wrapped around his neck. As he finally detangled my grip, his chuckle was soft and sexy. When he kissed my forehead, I mumbled his name, hating that he was leaving me.
I honestly couldn’t tell you if I was sleeping or awake when that happened. Instead, my consciousness drifted between the land of sleep and reality as I sorted through a series of dreams that were like sex dreams for my emotions. If that made sense. They were perfect fantasies.
In one of them, I was on a yacht, except instead of being with just Yates, all of my boys had been there, even Stratton. Also, Dermot… but I wasn’t positive what to do with that. The dreams easily melded into each other, one after another, all peaceful and clearing my mind of anxiety as memories of past vacations shifted into possible future ones. If my future was what I could only dream of.
Still, whether it was a reality or not didn’t matter to my mind and heart. I was just thrilled that I was finally able to sleep, solidly, for the first time in weeks. When I finally woke up, it felt like I was coming out of a heavy fog. My eyelids were almost sealed shut with sleep, and I was wrapped in a cocoon of cool-to-the-touch bedding. There was an honest part of me that was tempted to not get up, to stay in bed al
l day… until I remembered why my alarm was going off in the first place.
I stuck a hand out, feeling around for my phone and turning off the wind chime sound. Muttering a curse, I stretched and my joints cracked, the early morning light penetrating what looked to be a somewhat rainy day. To be fair, we were in the middle of hurricane season, and while I wasn’t directly on the gulf coast, that did make for a lot more rain as the storms dissipated on their northern paths. Something I loved and hated equally. Loved because they were fun to watch, hated because the lack of sunshine usually meant I couldn’t be outside doing something entertaining with my day.
Sunday morning.
Don’t get me wrong, I was thrilled this weekend was nearly over, because let’s face it, it hadn’t been very kind to me… but man did it feel like it was over quickly. I sat up slowly, looking down at my outfit from the night before which was still on, looser and more wrinkled than before, stretched from my tossing and turning. No doubt my hair was a complete mess and my makeup smeared. I felt—and probably looked—just as rough. As much as I wanted the boys in my bed, I couldn’t deny that I was thrilled they weren’t seeing me like this.
Not that they would want to be in my bed… well, except for the twins. And Stratton. You know, I really should just ask them how they felt—it would clear a lot of things up. I scowled at that. Yes, Dahlia, because not only will you probably screw that up by blurting out something awkward… but also potentially break your heart if you realize they either just view it as a physical thing or don’t see you like that at all.
I always felt like I was starting and ending at base one with this issue.
My eyes widened as I stripped the pillow that had been under my head, the soft cream material stained red from where my head had been pressed against King’s shirt. Crap. I had no good reason for explaining that, and I could practically smell the blood that was matted in my hair. Something that should have terrified me.