by Danah Logan
Another surprise was Miss Turner's physical state, as you can easily see in the pictures taken at the wedding. This causes several questions. How did this transpire? Who is the father of the baby? How did Miss Turner get an in with the McGuires?
"What is this?" My heart is beating in my throat.
Wes doesn't get to answer. He opens his mouth but is interrupted by banging at the front door. He scrambles out of bed, refusing to look at me. He bursts out of the room, and before I'm off the mattress, I hear Lilly and Rhys in the house.
"Dude, why didn't you—"
"Rhys, stop!"
"How the fuck did he get those pictures?" Wes.
Everyone is talking over each other. Only wearing one of Wes's shirts, I pull on a pair of shorts and pad down the hallway. They quiet as soon as I enter. I'm still holding Wes's phone in my hand. "Anyone care to explain?"
The fifteen steps it took me to get to the living room, I did something I never wanted to do again: I brought the old King back to the surface.
Three sets of eyes drop to my other hand—the one not holding the phone—and Wes slowly approaches me with his hands up. "Princess, give me the blade, please."
Huh?
I follow their line of sight, and sure enough, the Du Hoc is clenched between my fingers. Shit. Why does this keep happening? I stretch my arm out and let Wes take it from me. He interlaces our fingers and leads me to the couch, where Rhys and Lilly already took over one side.
"I'm so sorry, King." Lilly's sincere apology might as well have been her choking me. My throat constricts while the old King and the new King battle it out in my mind.
Wes pulls me down next to him, and I hand him his phone. I have zero desire to see the pictures of myself again. One as I'm walking to my seat with Elle before the ceremony. The next was taken during the reception—through one of the floor-to-ceiling windows. And the last one, where Wes has his arm around me, walking me to our transportation back into town.
"How the fuck did he get these?" Wes demands from his two friends.
"George thinks he came through the woods. They did perimeter sweeps, but let's be honest, who expected Lancaster to track miles through the snow for a picture? I'm not that in the spotlight anymore."
Rhys wraps his arm around Lilly as she speaks.
As soon as they mention the name, something clicks. "Wasn't that the reporter that was obsessed with your case?" I ask Lilly. I did get through some of his videos before I got cut off. He covered it all from start to finish.
"That's him," Rhys speaks up. "He's been a pain in the ass since, but always stays far enough away—knows exactly what to do to not break the law. Drives G insane."
"Do I have to be worried? What does this mean? I'm supposed to be in hiding." My pulse begins to throb. Gray is going to lose his shit over this. "I'm going to have to leave again." My eyes frantically start looking around the room. I need to pack, get Echo. Technically, I still have my lease in Arizona. I need to find a new—
"KING!" Someone shakes me.
—job. Maybe Eddie from the hotel can help. He was always nice and—
"PRINCESS! Jesus, look at me." Wes grips my chin and forces me to look at him.
When I finally meet his eyes, he continues, "We will figure this out. George is already looking for Lancaster."
"Marcus will take over your security for now," Lilly amends.
I gape at her. "What? What about you?"
"I'm fine. George has half his team here," she assures me.
I drop my head in my hands. Why? Why does this keep happening?
Marcus shows up with two of his team members shortly after. It takes some back and forth, but everyone eventually agrees for me to keep going as usual. No one asks me, though.
I become invisible as Wes and Marcus begin to form a plan, figuring out who would be with me when. Wes still has to attend class.
Lilly pulls out a laptop from God knows where, and Rhys is on the phone with first Denielle, then George.
As of now, there is no reason to suspect that anyone is looking for me for the murder of E. But Lilly promises to do some research regardless. Just because there have been no Wanted posters with my name on them, doesn't mean they are not searching.
"I want you to stay here," Wes announces.
"What do you mean?" My question is shrill, and I wince. A flutter in my belly makes me wrap my arms around my stomach and bend forward. It's not Nugget, but the sensation of being kicked in the gut/organs is almost identical.
Marcus had been leaning against the wall opposite the couch, scowling ever since Denielle walked in. His arms were crossed so tight I could see his bulging biceps under his long-sleeve shirt. He pushes off and comes over to where I'm still sitting on the sectional. Sinking down next to me, he explains, "The townhouse is easier to secure. The entrance is elevated, and there is no back door. The balcony in the back is too far off the ground for anyone to gain access unnoticed. I'm going to have someone on both sides of the property. We will look for reporters or anyone with interest to take pictures. If Wes can't be with you, I will."
The longer he speaks, the harder it becomes to concentrate. Adrenaline steadily rising, I itch for my knife. Where did Wes put my blade? A hand touches my knee, and I fling my head around.
"It'll be okay." Marcus levels me with a look that is meant to calm my ass. It does the opposite.
"This all seems like overkill." They are starting to freak me out with their overprotectiveness. I've taken care of myself for years and never felt this helpless. It was three photos, for Christ's sake.
"More reporters will show up, probably in the next day or two." Lilly puts her computer on the coffee table. "They'll try to get to you, figure out why you're here, how you and Wes got together, why I'm letting you into my inner circle when I've kept it to the same few people for years."
"They're vultures," Rhys interjects, and Lilly throws him a narrow smile.
"You're pregnant. I won't risk you or the baby's safety. We can go pack your stuff and bring Echo over later." Wes settles on my other side, interlacing our fingers.
I notice how everyone follows his movement. Lilly and Denielle have almost heart-shaped eyes and a goofy grin, versus how Rhys just smirks.
None of this makes me feel better, but my shoulders slump. There is no point in fighting them, and I see their point. "Okay," I concede.
The next few days continued as normal as they could. Reporters did slowly trickle into town. However, they kept their distance. Lenses the size of a small space telescope didn't require for them to come near me. Between Marcus, Wes, and Kai, who was ecstatic for Echo to be back, I was never alone. I anticipated for it to annoy me, but after spending my entire time in Arizona by myself, I enjoyed the constant company. Kiwi showed up with Zeke, and the guys would make a game out of getting Nugget to kick. I laughed a lot, and for the first time in…probably years, a sense of peace settled in my chest. There was no urge to run, no looking over my shoulder, no fear someone would find out about me. They kept me safe. I could just…be.
Lancaster was more determined, but even that didn't bother me. He would park outside the townhouse at night, follow me to work and to my checkup early the following week—for which Wes and Marcus equally cursed him out. When Marcus threatened to forcefully remove him, Lancaster finally drove off—for a little while. Wes mentioned that he had camped out for weeks in Rhys's front yard three years ago. Not a comforting thought.
It is Friday morning when everything comes crashing down, and my safety bubble pops.
Wes leaves for class, and I plan to take Echo for a walk. Marcus is waiting for me outside, as has become our new routine. Lancaster is in his usual spot across the street.
Just as I reach the bottom step, Echo pulling me to get to our companion, a local sheriff's car and a dark SUV stop in front of us. Marcus immediately stiffens and reaches with one hand behind him.
"Marcus," I hiss. When his eyes meet mine, I shake my head at him imperceptibly.<
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A guy in uniform gets out of the first car, and the doors of the SUV open, revealing two men in civilian clothes. Despite their casual appearance, it's clear who—or what—they are: feds.
"Miss Turner?" the taller one addresses me.
I nod. No point in denying who I am.
"My name is Agent Oatis. Would you please hand over the dog to Sheriff Hansen?" My grip on Echo's leash tightens as the man in uniform steps forward.
"I'll take her." Marcus intercepts him by blocking me.
"Who are you?" The second fed scans Marcus up and down.
"A family friend, but I'm pretty sure you know who I am and want to act like you have a pair of balls," Marcus sneers and reminds me of the man who entered my apartment in Arizona.
"Watch your mouth, Baxter," the first one barks.
Marcus sends me a knowing glance. "See. Everyone knows Lilly's security detail."
His attempt to lighten the mood fails miserably as Agent Number Two—he still hasn't introduced himself—pulls out a folded piece of paper. "Miss Turner, we have a warrant for your arrest. I'm asking you to come with us willingly."
Warrant?
Dizziness forces me to reach for the rail. No.
"Warrant for what?" Marcus has Echo's leash in one hand and his other reaches behind me.
When did I hand over my dog?
I expect him to settle his hand on the small of my back for comfort, or maybe wrap his arm around my shoulders in a protective gesture. Instead, his fingers shimmy under Wes's oversized sweater I borrowed and between my leggings and bare skin. What the—?
He nudges Echo with his foot, who jerks toward the agents. She doesn't growl but is on alert. The three men stiffen and stare at my dog, waiting for her to attack. The sheriff even positions his hand over his gun, and I fight the urge to scream. Don't hurt her. Marcus shifts, his movement swift, and I don't realize what he's doing until the sheath with my knife has left my possession and is tucked in his coat pocket. That was his plan all along. As soon as the exchange is complete, he tightens the leash. "Heel." And Echo sits at his feet, looking at me for confirmation.
He leans in for what must look like a hug to the men across from us. "I got her. Do what they say. Don't talk. Stay quiet. Everything will be okay."
His words are for my ears only.
My heart jumps. Do what they say? Does he think I'm going to make a run for it? I'm fucking six months pregnant. My body temperature rises, and the pounding in my veins quickens. I'm as pissed as I am terrified. Stay quiet? I don't want to go to jail. I've finally found my happy.
On the other side of the road, Lancaster has gotten out of his car with his camera propped on the hood. Shit. My first thought is Wes. Because of his relationship with me, he will get dragged into this—his future potentially on the line again. Tears well in my eyes at the same time as my fingernails dig into the palm of my hand.
I turn and lock eyes with Marcus. "Protect Wes. Don't let him go down with me. He needs to be there for our baby when the time comes."
Marcus studies me before he eventually nods. Once I have his promise—his agreement is equal to a blood oath—a switch inside of me flips. The fear and anger dissipate, and a heavy hollowness settles in my chest.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
The second Rhys shows up in the doorframe of my class, dread settles in my stomach. Something is wrong. No, not wrong. I can feel my world being ripped from under me. King. My daughter. Something has happened to them. Kai straightens next to me. His gaze flits back and forth between Rhys and me several times before he stands up.
I'm frozen in place. The pounding in my ears muffles the question my professor directs at Rhys. There is movement at my side—Kai stuffing my shit from my desk into my backpack. All I can do is stare at my friend. My lungs begin to burn, and black spots appear in my vision. My girlfriend. My daughter. I can't lose them. A hand grips my upper arm, and I'm being dragged out of my seat.
"Mr. Raynolds. Mr. Sheats. What is going on?"
Marcus appears behind Rhys, and I notice a blonde head of hair behind him. My knees buckle, and Rhys races into the room, taking my other side. I can't form the question that the voice is screaming in my head.
Where is King?
Outside, Kai and Rhys let go of me, and I drop like a rag doll. I fall on my ass, not caring that I'm landing in a pile of snowy slush.
"What's going on?" Kai is the first to speak.
I peer up at the five figures above me. Five? Slowly, I scan everyone present and realize George has also joined the party. Lilly squats in front of me, waiting for me to give her my attention.
"Wes?" She reaches for my hand and squeezes.
I open and close my mouth several times before I ask the question that will determine what happens to me. "Are they okay?" The three words are no more than a rasped whisper.
Lilly hollows her cheeks and peers up at Marcus before she faces me once more. "She is healthy, Wes. They both are." She chooses her words carefully. "King has been arrested for the murder of Isaiah Ellis."
Arrested.
"Arrested?" I find Marcus's eyes. I've never seen this guy emotional, but at this moment, his expression ranges from worried to wanting to commit murder. He cares for King.
Hands reach under my armpits and drag me to my feet. Someone turns me to George, who starts to bark orders at everyone.
"Lilly, call Camden. She can find out what they have against King. Marcus, you stay with Lilly. Rhys and Wes are coming with me. We're going to the station." We're about to walk when he swivels around and levels Marcus. "I don't want Lilly anywhere near that place—not until we have more details."
"George, I—" Lilly starts, but he silences her with a hand motion.
"You will follow my orders, Lilly Ann. I will not explain to him…" He trails off. "I need to know you are safe."
Lilly's shoulders slump, and she bows her chin.
"Thank you." George's tone takes on a gentler note, and he looks at me. "Let's go."
The drive to the local police station seems to take hours when, in reality, it can't be more than fifteen minutes. I'm in the back seat of George's decked-out SUV, and I briefly wonder if they ship their tanklike vehicles to wherever they go or if one can rent a car like this. Anything to keep my mind off what's happening to my girls.
Fuck taking it slow. Fuck figuring out if we can make it work for our daughter's sake. When this is over, we will be together, and she will not just be my girlfriend.
The car comes to a halt, and I'm out the door before George can put it in park.
"Shit!" Rhys curses.
"Do not let him talk until I'm in there!" George shouts after Rhys, who is on my heels.
"Wes. Dude, you need to wait up."
I jerk around. My fists are so tight the skin over my knuckles burns. "Wait? How long did you wait before you followed George for Lilly, huh?"
Rhys halts, and his features harden. "You cannot compare—"
"THE FUCK I CAN'T!" I'm getting in his face, grasping the front of his jacket. "My family is in there." I point at the building behind us before latching back onto him. Family. My voice is shaky as I feel like my heart is about to burst out of my chest. "The mother of my child is somewhere in this building. What if something goes wrong with our baby because of what she's going through?" I'm nearly hyperventilating. I can't draw the necessary air into my lungs.
Rhys's hands land on either side of my head, and he forces me to look at him. "Listen to me. King will be okay. Your baby will be okay. We never leave one of ours behind." His hands drop to my shoulders, shaking me until my teeth rattle. "Do you hear me? They will both be fine." This situation can't be easy on him either. It's too similar to what we went through—almost losing one of ours.
Finally able to inhale, I force myself to jerk my head up and down.
"Good. I'm not going to fail you again." Several emotions cross Rhys's features, and I crumble. I step into him and let him hug me. Rhys and I have offici
ally found our way back.
"Let's figure out what's going on." George's voice comes from behind us, and Rhys and I step apart.
I draw in a slow breath, but it's no good. As soon as we take one step toward the double doors leading to the station, I take off again.
Inside, George passes me quickly before I can lose it on the first person I see—a middle-aged, wannabe cop whose circumference is longer than he is tall.
"I would like to speak to someone regarding the arrest of Kingsley Turner," George addresses the man behind the glass.
"Are you her legal counsel?" the guy questions, not looking up from his phone.
"I'm Miss Turner's security guard," George deadpans.
That gets the asswipe's attention, and he does a double take. "Security guard? Why would a murdering stripper need a—"
"Watch your fucking mouth, you fat—" My palms are pressed against the barrier that protects the useless piece of shit from me wrapping my fingers around his triple chin.
A hand clamps over my mouth before I can finish my threat, and I'm dragged backward.
George blocks my view, and he says something in a low tone. I can't make out his words, which pushes my adrenaline level even higher. King is my girlfriend.
Rhys tightens his hold on me, and I strain my ears to hear what George and Fuckface discuss. When George turns toward us, Rhys loosens his grip slightly, although not enough for me to escape him.
When did he become so freakishly strong?
"He will locate the sheriff who was with the agents during the arrest. King is still being processed, but from what he knew, she was fine." He looks at Rhys. "Take him to the waiting room." He points down a hallway. "I'm going to call Lilly and see if she got ahold of Camden and then wait to speak to the sheriff or one of the agents."
Rhys starts manhandling me down the corridor. My legs won't cooperate, and he's switching between pushing and pulling until we reach the small room with two rows of plastic chairs. He deposits me in one and then plants his ass in the one next to me, clamping a hand on my shoulder again to keep me rooted.