King's Barber

by M. D. Gregory

  The thought caused a shiver to run down my spine. Fuck, I wanted that so bad. It’d been too long since I was screwed against a wall. I’d had some quick hookups at the local bars, but nothing much more than that—not while my life revolved around Luke and keeping him safe. How did I go from being a killer to a babysitter?

  Right.

  Money.

  Lots of it.

  I shook my head and opened the door, walking into the foyer. The living room was straight-ahead, attached by one step down into it, while the kitchen was immediately to the left, wide and spacious and the perfect space to cook when I had time. Cooking made sense to me in a world of irritating people and jobs. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d made a large meal for me and KC. There’d been no time to relax since I’d started chasing Luke around. The guy didn’t know how to sit still.

  Luke whistled again, staring around at the white walls, lilac U-shaped couch, and the wide-screen TV that filled the wall above the fireplace. Now that he was under light, the thin silver ring in his nose glinted. I’d always hated facial piercings, but it matched his personality and I liked it on him. “Christ, this is nice.”

  “Of course it is.” I sniffed at him and took off my jacket. The nights had started to cool to the point of needing warmer clothes; even when it was summer I was always colder than everyone else. My dad used to joke that I had cold blood. I was an assassin after all, so maybe he had a point. I murdered without remorse.

  Luke shivered, reminding me he was still wet, his short hair dripping like the rest of him. His clothes stuck to his body, and it was a shame he had his leather jacket on because I couldn’t see the way his shirt clung to the tight abs I knew he had. I’d seen him shirtless more than once at a Kings’ party no one knew I was at, including the actual King’s birthday party. When they had gatherings at the clubhouse, I had a special spot outside where I liked to sit. There weren’t many windows to look through with my high tech, night binoculars, but the one I’d found, with a large crack in the paint slapped over it, had a good view of the entire barroom.

  I sighed and gestured at him to follow me. We walked between the kitchen and the dining room and down a hallway to the bathroom. I opened the door for him and pursed my lips. “I’ll go get you some clothes. I don’t think anything I have will fit you, but KC’s will.”

  Luke’s eyebrows furrowed. “Are you planning on kidnapping me? No one would know to look for me at your house.”

  I snorted to hide my laughter. I was not going to laugh at one of his jokes. “You are too annoying to kidnap, and I highly doubt any of your family members have money for you, so no, I am definitely not planning on abducting you.”

  Luke hummed like he didn’t believe me, but I didn’t miss his grin as I stalked out of the bathroom and toward KC’s room. He had the biggest room in the house, and I’d never regretted giving it to him when we moved in. Not only did he need all the space he could get, but he’d never had nice things, much like myself when I was a teenager.

  I knew he’d be out in the back garage checking over Luke’s bike, so I strode straight into his walk-in closet to find clothing that would fit Luke. While he wasn’t small himself, compared to KC he was an ant, and I was even smaller.

  I found something KC used to wear when he was fifteen and resisted the urge to chuckle. It was a pink shirt with a tongue sticking out printed on it, and it belonged to some band. I didn’t know who they were, but I remembered KC had been obsessed with them before he chose to concentrate on football rather than the emo life; his words, not mine. I didn’t know how pink was emo, but I never wanted to understand what went through a teenager’s mind these days. Times had changed.

  I grabbed a pair of pants, too, but avoided any underwear. Nice-natured or not, KC would not want me going into his underwear drawer, and I doubted Luke wanted to wear another man’s briefs.

  By the time I arrived back at the bathroom with a towel as well, I cautiously knocked on the door. “Are you decent?”

  “I got my dick out, want to see?”

  He was so… uncouth. It made me smile. “I’m sure there’s nothing to see there.”

  “I can prove otherwise. I’m ten inches, at least,” he said through the door.

  I rolled my eyes. I’d seen him naked, too, because if you were a King, fucking where everyone could see you was a thing, apparently. Luke—Barber, as they called him—liked fucking whores over the couches. He definitely wasn’t a ten-incher, but if I had to guess, it was either seven or eight. He was wide, though, and the width alone had made my mouth water. I imagined the burn that would come with the stretch of his cock in my asshole.

  He opened the door a smidge and held out his tattooed arm. The ink on his skin was artistically done—an array of red roses on a field of black with a couple of circles the same color as the flowers. His neck had roses, too, but they were completely black, with an eye beneath them. I didn’t understand the significance of any of his ink, but the more I learned about Luke, the more I realized he probably didn’t know what they meant, either. The one time I’d asked him why he’d gotten a Hebrew word on his upper cheek, he’d frowned at me and said, “It’s Hebrew? Fuck, I just told PD to slap some writing on my face.”

  He took the clothes and closed the door again, and I frowned at it. I doubted Luke was shy about his body, and he had no reason to be. Maybe he thought I was a virgin. I snorted at the thought because I was far from it. “I didn’t get you underwear.”

  “Yeah, thanks for that. I’m not wearing another dude’s nut huggers.”

  “Not even KC’s?” I teased.

  “Fuck that. No offense.” The door opened and Luke stepped out. Much to my surprise, he didn’t look annoyed at wearing a light pink shirt. He took it in stride, opening his arms and doing a twirl. “Is it my color?”

  I laughed and didn’t have time to hide it. Luke’s eyes widened and he grinned.

  “Holy shit. He does something else other than whine.”

  I stuck my nose up at him, and he chuckled. “Pink does suit you. You should wear it more often. The black is boring.”

  “Says the dude who’s wearing a black turtleneck.” Luke winked at me and turned his head, glancing toward the open plan kitchen and living room. His nose ring flashed under the light again.

  “Leave your clothes in the bathroom, I’ll wash them early in the morning and put them in the dryer.” I glanced inside the door and noticed he’d left his gun hanging on the holster on a towel rack. He’d left his wallet and keys on the sink. “And you can leave those there, too. I don’t want the gun anywhere else in my house.” He didn’t need to know that I had weapons stored in all sorts of niches. Hairstylist Quain hated guns, or at least wasn’t a fan of them.

  He chuckled and saluted me before he looked my way with a thoughtful expression. “So KC’s your kid?”

  Ah, so he was looking for KC before, to make sure he wasn’t asking anything inappropriate. I bent my finger at him and turned, leading him past the kitchen and down the step into the living room and to my favorite couch. I sat at one end, and out of all the spots he could have chosen, he sat beside me. My gut clenched far too pleasantly.

  Luke was an enigmatic mess, the type of guy who didn’t know anything about tact. He was the last person I should have found attractive. I prided myself on how neat I was—at everything, from my house to my kills. Luke was like an awkward teenager with every person he murdered. He got the job done, but not without bringing chaos with him. I was surprised King hadn’t slit his throat.

  “To answer your question, yes, KC is my son.” I kicked off my shoes and pulled my legs up onto the couch and under me.

  “How’s that?” He sat forward, his elbows on his knees as he eyed the living room carefully. I wasn’t sure if he was casing my house for something to steal or just looking. From what I knew about him, though, he wasn’t a thief. Murderer? Yes. Gun runner? Definitely. Drug dealer? Sure—all Kings were—but not a petty thief.

  �
�How’s what? Use your words.” I rolled my eyes and laid my arm over the back of the couch, behind his neck.

  His focus finally returned to me and the cute bastard quirked a grin in my direction. “How is he your kid? You don’t look old enough to have a teenager.”

  “I’m thirty. I could have a teenager, but I would have been about twelve or thirteen when I impregnated a woman.” I cocked my head toward him and noted the frustrated sigh he let out. Shaking my head, I answered his question. “KC isn’t my biological son. I caught him trying to pickpocket me and gave him a choice. Either move in with me and go to school, get an education, or go to juvenile detention. He chose the former.”

  “And you adopted him? You would have been fucking young at the time. How did they allow you to adopt him?” Luke gave me a slow once-over, and I didn’t miss the way his gaze stopped on my mouth longer than necessary.

  My lips curled. “Because I know how to get what I want, Mr. Booth. You should learn more about charisma.”

  “I’m charismatic as fuck,” Luke grunted out, running a hand over his hair again and flicking water over me.

  I glared and held my tongue about what he actually was. I could give him a long list of adjectives, but I didn’t think he’d react kindly to them. “So yes, KC is my son in every way but by blood.”

  He nodded, puckering his lips in thought. “That’s fair, I guess.”

  “And you, Mr. Booth. Do you have family?” I already knew what relatives he had, of course.

  He fell against the couch, and my arm touched the back of his neck. I didn’t move, and he didn’t seem to care I was touching him. “Yeah, I got an uncle and cousin I live with. Some family back in Los Angeles. No kids, though.”

  “Not that you know about?” I offered.

  He snickered. “Don’t know. Can dudes have babies? Because if they can, I’m fucked.” Luke glanced at me with an amused twist of his mouth, his hazel eyes sparkling with a joy I’d never seen in anyone else. He actually seemed like he was enjoying life to the fullest, living on a permanent high, and I was jealous of that freedom. I’d never met many people who were that happy with their circumstances. “I’m gay. I only fuck dudes. Never even been near a pussy.”

  “Not even a taste?” I teased with a grin.

  “Nope. I knew from the start I wasn’t interested. I watched straight porn once, but all I cared about was the guy’s cock. What about you?” Luke raised his eyebrows and seemed genuinely interested in my answer. I didn’t like that. He was too attentive to what I liked and didn’t like, and I wasn’t stupid enough to miss his attraction to me. One firm rule I had was not getting involved with my targets, even if I was protecting this one rather than killing him.

  “I had a couple of women when I was younger. I didn’t particularly enjoy it, but it wasn’t horrible. I came.” The one thing I’d learned on assignments was to tell the truth, even if it was the partial truth. Lies were too easily forgotten. “But yes, I prefer men.”

  “Top, bottom, or switch?” Luke grinned.

  I made a noise of disbelief. “You have no propriety, do you?”

  “I don’t even know what that means.” He laughed. “But it’s no worse than what they ask on Grindr.”

  “And that is why I don’t have a Grindr account.” I sighed and shook my head at him. “What position I prefer is none of your business since we won’t be having sex.”

  Luke turned his head and was too close. “Come on. No strings attached. I’ll insert my object A into your slot B and we’ll both get off and enjoy it. I’m a real nice guy like that.”

  I pursed my lips to stop the laughter that threatened to burst out. “For Christ’s sake, Mr. Booth. Do you have no manners whatsoever? My son is currently fixing your bike. The least you could do is be a polite guest and not mention your object in my slot.” Shoving myself to my feet, I spun on him, ignoring the mirth dancing in his gaze. Flirty asshole.

  “Hey, I offered to get you off. That makes me the perfect kind of guest.” He waggled his eyebrows. “I bet you don’t get guys like that in here often.”

  The back door opened and we both looked in that direction as KC trudged through, mud stuck to his boots and leaving a mess in his wake. His red hair was still wet, clinging to his forehead. I cringed and sighed, and KC glanced behind himself and then gave me an apologetic smile.

  “I’ll clean it.”

  I doubted that. Shaking my head at him, I said, “Well? Did you figure out the problem with his bike?”

  KC nodded and rubbed his hand on a piece of cloth I hadn’t realized he was holding. The material was already covered in oil stains, but I suspected it’d be filled with more after he wiped down his dirty hands. “I checked her over and I was right. It’s the starter motor. You’ll need to put a new one in. She’s wrecked.”

  “Damn.” Luke rose to his feet and stretched. “How much do you think that’s going to cost?”

  “You’re part of the Kings, right?” KC nodded at Luke’s leather jacket. “Don’t you have guys in the club who are mechanics?”

  “Yeah, we do.” Luke frowned at him. “How did you know that?”

  KC laughed deeply. “It’s pretty obvious that at least some of your brothers would know how to fix a bike. Can’t you get them to repair it?”

  “Sure, I guess I can.” He paused then grimaced. “Except one of them warned me she was shot and to get her looked at. Scar would be pissed if I brought her to him.”

  I rolled my eyes. Scar. I’d done research on him. Hell, I’d researched every King to judge the level of risk they were to Luke, and Scar had nearly come out on top, close behind King. His real name was Colton Hebb, and he’d gone to prison for the motorcycle club. When he left his victims alive, he had a nasty habit of leaving scars on their neck as a warning. The ones who ended up in ditches usually died from a cut artery, too. His danger level was high, but even though Luke obviously annoyed him, I didn’t see any chance of Scar hurting him. That guy was all about rules and his brothers.

  “I can fix it for you. Not tonight, too late to get a starter, but I have a friend on the east side that has Ducati parts, even for the newer bikes. I could get you one for cheap.”

  “Tomorrow?” I eyed KC. “Aren’t you supposed to be going to your grandfather’s tomorrow?”

  KC shrugged with a wince. “I’d rather not. He always gets me to go hunting with him, and I fucking hate killing animals, Pa. I can call him and tell him something came up. Or… you can?”

  I squeezed the bridge of my nose, hard, and stared at KC’s pleading eyes. “Fine.”

  He pumped his fist and turned to Luke. “I can do your bike. I’m not a mechanic, but trust me, I’ve pulled apart and put together more motorcycles than you probably have.”

  I gave Luke a nod. “He’s good at it. He’s fixed the truck more times than I can count.”

  Luke stroked his chin. “All right. How much are you asking?”

  KC chuckled. “Nothing, man. You got me out of going to my grandpa’s. I’ll do it for free, but you gotta come with me tomorrow morning and pay for the starter.”

  “Deal.” Luke held out his hand to KC, and my son grabbed it, shaking. “I like your kid, Quain. He’s a lot nicer than you.”

  KC snorted. “You should stay here tonight. We could go first thing in the morning to buy the part.”

  “What?” I snapped.

  “Here?” Luke glanced around the living room again.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea, KC. Who knows what will go missing if he stays the night?” I made a show of sniffing in disdain. What Luke didn’t know was that the house was rigged with cameras in every room, expertly hidden in case someone—namely another assassin or hitman—came into my home. No one threatened my safe space, especially not when KC lived in the same house.

  “Hey, I’m a King, not a thief.” Luke rolled his eyes and flashed KC a grin. “Your dad worries too much.”

  “We’re on Vert Island.” KC shrugged. “We get all kind
s of cretins trying to rob houses around here. Not very smart considering the tech we have around this place. It’s Animus Tech security. I wouldn’t want to be trying to rob a place with that setup.”

  He was lying, of course. Living on Vert Island made it harder for criminals to steal. The houses here all had high-end security and it cost a toll to get across the bridge. There was no other way to get here unless they wanted to go through the trouble of a boat. Thieves didn’t bother trying, and the ones who did usually ended up in prison. The mayor liked his rich friends and he made sure they stayed safe.

  Luke frowned. “First time I’d heard of that kind of tech. What is it?”

  I huffed and crossed my arms. “He’s not going to tell you what we use to keep our home safe. If you want to stay here, that’s fine, but don’t touch anything that doesn’t belong to you.”

  He held up his palms toward me, the corners of his eyes crinkling in amusement. I hated how attractive he looked when he smiled. The dimple in his chin just made it better—or worse. “Scout’s honor. I won’t touch so much as a pretty hair from your brush.”

  “You weren’t a Scout,” I muttered, waving my hand at him. “Fine. KC, get him some of your boxers.”

  “Mine?” KC’s eyes widened and his gaze jumped back to Luke. He looked him up and down and realization dawned in his eyes. “He’s wearing my clothes.”

  “Yes, he is.” I sent my son a smug smile. “And since you invited him to stay the night, he needs more.”

  “Why my clothes, though?”

  I waved my finger at him. “I was the one who taught you actions have consequences. Your action was inviting him to stay the night, your consequence is that you have to share your clothes now. Mine won’t fit.”