by Danah Logan
Thanks to D and the countless fashion magazines she always carries with her, I've learned more about women's jewelry than I want to know. Lilly has a French Pavé diamond the size of a freaking hubcap on her ring finger.
Rhys smirks, his shoulders relaxing. "I got lucky with an investment. Marcus has been teaching me."
My brow hitches. Marcus? "He has more talents than protecting your future wife?" I remark, arching my mouth up.
"The dude is wicked smart. He could do so much with his life, but he refuses to leave me."
Lilly rolls her eyes. "The two are so obnoxious."
I chuckle at the exchange, then I notice Den next to me is stiff as a board. She has her drink in a white-knuckling grip, and it instantly triggers my protectiveness. Seeing her this way… I what to choke the answers out of Marcus, demand to know why he acts the way he does and why D is this rattled by it. Lilly and Rhys are oblivious or don't acknowledge it—I can't decipher which. Either way, I take that as my cue to change the subject—again. "Where is the wedding?" I'm making small talk, who would've thought.
I knew you could do it, the voice says.
Shut up, shut up, shut up. Jesus fuck, I'm losing my freaking mind. That's what I get for staying sober for almost five days.
"We were thinking of Stonebriar," Lilly says, eyeing me warily, and my jaw drops.
"Uh…" It takes me a second to collect myself. "You want to get married in Montana? Why?" I frown.
"We're kinda tired of the endless summer. I don't want to die of heatstroke in a suit because it's freaking a hundred degrees out," Rhys remarks dryly, but I see right through him.
"They do have something like air-conditioning, you know?"
"Okay, fine. It's supposed to be an olive branch, asshole." Rhys pouts, crossing his arms over his chest.
I can't hold back the laugh bursting out of me, and it feels…good.
"There is a chance of snow in April," I tell him.
"So you did look at the date on the invitation," the smug fuck exclaims.
"Right before I burned it." Two can play that game. Then, I see the hurt on Lilly's face. Shit. "I'm sorry, Lil. I—"
"It's fine." She genuinely waves me off, and tension I didn't realize I was holding releases. I draw in a deep breath. It feels…good to be here with them. Grouchily, I admit to myself that what the unwanted voice in my head said was true: baby steps.
I peer to the side at Den, who's been quietly following the exchange. "What do you think, D? Should we let Kai lose on McGuire here?" I wink at her, and it does the trick.
She feigns outrage. "Don't you dare introduce the two without me." I wrap my arm around her shoulder and pull her close. We have a long road ahead of us to get back to where the four of us used to be, but who knows? If I've learned one thing, it's that the future is never set in stone.
I didn't see Rhys or Lilly again. They left to meet up with friends in Colorado the next day. I wasn't too broken up about it, though. Magnolia's was the first step. I didn't regret meeting them, but it also brought a lot of old shit back to the surface—stuff I thought I had moved past. For whatever reason, the day Rhys let me in on their family secret—and his—kept replaying in my head. It was the first time I felt betrayed by him. He had lied to me since we met. That memory fucked with me more than him bribing my way into an elite school, and the craving for a drink became stronger by the day.
Den and I hung out a few more times, and then it was time to get back on the plane. Saying goodbye to my parents was harder than I expected. Mom blinked franticly when she hugged me during drop-off. I promised I'd be back over the summer, which made the tears spill over.
Placing a kiss on her cheek, I said, "I'm sorry."
She peered up at me, wiping under her nose. "For what?"
"For being a selfish dick and not coming home for two and a half years." I swallowed hard, guilt constricting my throat.
She cupped my face. "Oh, Wes, you did what you needed to heal. I would never hold that against you."
Great, now I was tearing up.
Thankfully, Dad limited himself to a quick handshake shoulder bump—no emotion there.
My 4Runner is waiting for me in the long-term parking lot. I didn't want to rely on anyone to pick me up. Kai should be back, but the chance of him arriving sober is slim to none—especially after spending two weeks with his family. I won't risk his or my life to save money.
Halfway through town, I come to the intersection that leads to King's house. Hesitating one second, I set the turn signal and wait for the light to change. Logic screams at me to keep going, go home, go to bed, drink myself to sleep if needed. I can't. The last time I drove down her street was when I slept in front of her place, avoiding home. I probably would've been back sooner—had I been capable of driving in the evenings.
It comes into view, and I stare at the two empty parking spots. I don't know what I was expecting. King took the Jeep with her, and Mags is at The Grizz.
Why do I care?
I'm almost past when I notice movement on the patio. I hit the brakes and reverse to get a better look. What the—?
I open the door and get out. "Echo!"
The dog's head whips around. Recognizing me, she takes off running. I kneel just as she slams into me, and I fall ungracefully on my ass—right into a pile of snow. Echo sits on my chest, covering me in dog saliva, and I laugh. Arriving in Stonebriar, I was cold and tired as fuck. Now, I'm wet and cold, yet my insides are warm.
I hug Echo close to my chest. "I missed you, too, girl."
She nuzzles her snout to my cheek and gives me one more lick.
"Off," I order her, and she instantly follows my command. A pang of pain slashes through my heart as I remember the afternoon King taught me how to use my voice to emphasize what I want Echo to do. She had explained that anyone could look up dog commands, but there is so much more to it. It's how you use them that makes a dog—your dog—follow you. Echo sits down next to me as I climb to an upright position. Glancing between Echo and the house, I ask, "What are you doing outside?"
I approach the front door, wiggling the knob. It's locked—the fuck?
I make my way to the side, noticing that the gate is open. Rounding to the back, I find a new addition to the patio door—a doggy door. Extra large to accommodate Echo.
"Why did King not take you?" I peer down at her, and she stares into my eyes as if to say, "Where is Mom?"
I lean down and scratch Echo's head. "I wish I knew, girl."
Echo huffs.
"I miss her, too."
Neither of us should, though.
She lied to me and abandoned Echo.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
They told me I wouldn't be this exhausted until the third trimester. Well, fuck all of them. Whoever spewed that bullshit didn't work two jobs at the time or have to be on their feet for twelve hours straight after puking for an hour every morning. Working at the diner has become my version of hell. Food aversions are legit. Who knew you could start retching by looking at the color green. And, of course, every other person wants a freaking salad. Or my newest form of gag-inducing torture: kale smoothies. They're green and already look like someone threw them up.
Fuck my life!
The temperature in this damn state is also proving my point. It's March, and according to the weather asshole on the diner's TV, it's the longest spring heatwave Arizona has experienced in ten-plus years. Just kill me already—figuratively ranting, of course.
I figured it wouldn't be that bad when Gray dumped me here in November. Not literally dumped me, but he didn't stick around for long. He called in a few favors and procured me a studio apartment, furnishings, and a job—more than I expected from him, given his track record.
His connections reach pretty far for a dead man. I guess if you have to remain under the radar wherever you go, you make other undead friends—or criminals.
Gray checks in every other week.
The news of becoming a grandfathe
r had literally shocked him to silence for the remainder of our drive. He didn't mention it again until it was time to look at the apartment.
"This is temporary, baby girl."
We had passed one of my new neighbors as they handed another individual a baggie of white powder two doors down, and I nodded. I had lived in worse places. It would be fine—for now.
"I'm serious, Kingsley." He never called me King. "We will find something better before the baby comes."
I had held his stern gaze for a long moment. "Okay." I think I was still digesting what had transpired over the last seventy-two hours after peeing on the pink stick.
With the air conditioning in the Jeep on full blast, I'm pulling out of the parking lot as my phone starts vibrating in the passenger seat. My heart instantly begins to race. Only a handful of people have my new number, yet every time I get a call, my thoughts immediately go to Wes. God, I miss him so much. Instinctively, I put my hand over my belly.
"Who do you think it is, Nugget?" I whisper, not sure if I'm asking her or me. My checkup is next week, and the ultrasound technician told me I'd probably be able to find out the gender. In my mind, though, I've been calling my little bean "her" since the day the two stripes appeared on the test.
I glance over and see Kiwi on the screen. I smile, but at the same time, my vision becomes cloudy. Blinking rapidly, I try not to lose sight of the road. The last thing I need is to get into an accident. I would never forgive myself if anything happened to our baby—my baby. I'll call him back when I get home.
Home being the studio crapshoot apartment I'm still renting in the apartment complex that's anything but safe. Gray hadn't mentioned finding a more suitable place in a while, so I promised myself—and Nugget—that I'd get us out of there myself. With the number of shifts I've been taking, I can save up enough to move the two of us into a nice(er) area. There is no way I'm going to let my baby grow up here. I turn the stereo on, and my beloved Jeep plays the last song I listened to on my phone's playlist. "Broken" by Jonah Kagen comes through the speaker, and I hit the steering wheel in frustration.
"Really?" I can hear the quiver in my voice. My eyes start watering instantly. There hasn't been a single time in the last few months that this song hasn't made me cry my eyes out. Out of control hormones, leaving behind the man I love, the fear of not being able to provide for my baby, but also reliving the moment he found out who I was…everything comes rushing back, and I have to pull over.
I go through an entire packet of tissues before I can keep driving. Glancing at the dash, it's already ten o'clock, and I'm covering the morning cleaning shift at the hotel—the other job I got myself. My alarm will go off at four thirty—that will be fun.
I pull into my designated parking spot at 10:13 and notice the black Escalade. My first thought is, they found me. Whoever killed Vic finally tracked me down. But then I remembered Gray's call three days ago. He was sure no one knew where I was.
A second thought hits, and I mumble to myself, "Fucking hell, the feds arresting someone else?"
Wouldn't be the first time.
I grip the Du Hoc in one hand, pull the car key out of the ignition, and slip two keys through my fingers, making me look like a piss-poor version of the Wolverine. Better safe than sorry.
It's the same ritual every night, and my skin prickles until I'm inside my apartment. Sliding out of the seat, I groan as my feet hit the cracked cement. There is no way I can keep this up for another four months—not at this rate.
Clutching the knife harder, I dip my chin and hurry past the parked SUV. If anyone is in there, I can't see them through the tinted windows. Hopefully, I can make it upstairs and inside before the shit hits the fan.
I take two steps at a time and fumble with the lock. Everything is quiet, which puts me more on edge. My hands tremble, and sweat creeps on my palms. My keys slip twice before I can complete this simple task. As soon as my door is shut, I flip the triple lock and lean my forehead against it. Sighing in relief, I let my bag drop to the ground next to me.
I'm halfway to the galley kitchen when someone knocks at the door. My heart skips a beat, and my hand flies to my chest. What the—?
Whoever it is, it's not a forceful knock. Not like I'm used to from the cops when they're looking for one of my lovely neighbors. Yes, that has also happened.
This is temporary, I remind myself.
The soft tapping comes again, and I slowly swivel on my heels and walk back. I take a deep breath and peer through the peephole.
Oh, God.
I duck to a crouch, as if that would tell the person on the other side that I'm not here.
"King?" At her voice drifting through the piece of wood, I cover my ears.
No, no, no.
"King? We know you're in there. We saw you walking up."
We?
"We're not going to hurt you," her voice raises.
I can't leave her—them—out there. It'll draw the attention of my neighbors, and that's the last thing I want—no, having her in my apartment is the last thing. My head begins to throb from the internal battle. Neither alternative is any good—not for me. What is she doing here?
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
I untangle myself, my aching legs protesting as I straighten. Nugget probably isn't too happy with me either for squishing her between my thighs. I glance down at the slight but noticeable bulge under my uniform.
Inhaling through my nose, I close my eyes. Just get it over with. Worst case, I will deliver this baby in jail, and hopefully, her daddy will take care of her.
I release the locks and hesitantly turn the knob. I can still pretend that I'm not here. The small gap reveals the last person I ever expected to meet, let alone see knock on my bottom of the barrel, shitty studio door in the middle of the butt fuck, hot as hell Grand Canyon State.
"Hi, King." She smiles softly. Her gentle face stands in complete contrast to her all-black attire of skinny jeans, John Fluevog boots, and shirt. The leather jacket probably costs more than my entire wardrobe.
"Lilly."
No point in pretending I don't know who she is. I open the door wider and step aside.
She doesn't move. "May we come in?" Authority radiates off her, the same way I saw in the videos of the press conference. I glance behind her and notice the two men towering over her. I recognize both.
I nod my head and wave in an awkwardly jerky gesture for the trio to come inside.
Lilly slips past me, followed by her security detail: George Weiler and Marcus Baxter.
Jesus fucking Christ. The Ghost and The Shadow, as Wes called him once.
Wes.
My lips quiver for the second time tonight. The slightest reminder of him, and the hurricane of love, loss, and guilt threatens to overpower me. It's always there, simmering under the surface, and after my earlier breakdown, my emotional state has not yet recovered. Inhaling steadily through my nose, I focus on Nugget. She is my anchor to sanity. I'm doing this all for her. Calmer, and with my back to my visitors, I close the door, not bothering with the locks.
The arsenal on them is clearly visible. I don't know where I am safer: within my four walls with three armed-to-the-teeth individuals who essentially are my enemies, or outside in the courtyard with my drug-selling neighbors waiting for their next customer.
Biting the inside of my cheek, I straighten my spine and turn.
"I don't know where he is."
Lilly arches an eyebrow. "Who?"
I prop my hands on my hips. "My father."
She nods in understanding. "I'm not here for him."
Huh? "Oh."
"We will find him, though," Marcus barks out, which gets him a disapproving look from Lilly and George equally.
Somehow, this one sentence has broken me out of my stupor, and part of the old King rises to the surface. I draw my shoulders back. "What do you want, then?"
Lilly addresses George. "Would you mind waiting outside?"
Her head of security narrow
s his eyes.
"I'm fine, George. King won't hurt me."
Not that I could do much with my curved blade against the Glock 19 tucked in the back of her jeans.
"Lilly, I—" Marcus tries his luck as well.
"Get out," she orders, rolling her eyes. Her tone is easy, but it's an order, nonetheless.
Both men sigh heavily, but understand that this is not a negotiation.
"We'll be in the hallway," Marcus declares, scowling at me. George still has not said a word, but holds Lilly's gaze as he follows the younger man out.
I eye the girl in my living room, and she waves at the pull-out couch.
"May I?"
"Uh, sure." I hesitate for a second after she walks over and lowers herself down. This is my place, for fuck's sake. Get it together, Monroe.
When we're both seated, I open my mouth, but Lilly holds up a hand, and my jaw snaps shut.
"I apologize for ambushing you this late and unannounced. However, I didn't think you would've agreed to meet if I had called ahead."
"Probably not," I snort.
She smirks, and some of the tension melts away. Her personality makes you want to be her friend—cue, I feel like an idiot. I'm King Monroe Turner.
We sit in silence after that, and I wish I had one of my blades to keep my hands busy.
"I've known about you for quite some time," she says carefully.
Her tentative deliverance of the bombshell doesn't do anything to diminish the shock; the craving for my knife is forgotten.
"WHAT?" I squeak and choke on my saliva.
My vision blurs, and Lilly jumps up, filling one of the discarded glasses in the sink with water. She holds it out to me. "Small sips."
I drink half the glass before I can form words. "How long?"
She levels me with a look that tells me this is not going to be good. "Since the day your father disappeared—again."
My eyes widen to the point that I think they will bulge out of their sockets and land in my lap any second. "How?" My question is barely audible.
Lilly reaches into the pocket of her leather jacket and withdraws a piece of paper. She holds it out to me, and I'm not sure what to do. She nods, and I take the note from her.