King's Barber

by M. D. Gregory

  He winked at Oli, too. “Hello, boy. How’s my nephew been treating you?”

  Oli lit up. Everyone did around Errol. He was the crazy uncle everyone loved, and he’d never really grown up. Give him something to explode in his backyard any day and he was the happiest man alive. “Hey, Errol. How’s life treating you?”

  Errol laughed, patting his belly. “I have food in my belly and whores at my disposal. I’m a happy man.”

  I rolled my eyes and shook a pair of scissors at him. “Don’t be telling a seventeen-year-old boy that. He’s a virgin.”

  Oli’s cheeks flushed red and he glared at me. “I am not a virgin, and I know all about whores.”

  “Do you?” Errol’s grin was mischievous as he leaned on the counter near the register. “Women or men?”

  “Uncle Errol,” I said sharply. Oli’s mother would never forgive me for this type of shit. While Oli had gotten the job himself, his mother was a friend of the club’s. Oli’s father, Cain, went to the big house a few years back for drugs, and as far as I knew, Oli’s parents had a short-lived relationship that had barely made it past a couple months. But Darla was nice. Cain? Not so much. He was an angry motherfucker who wanted nothing to do with his kid. “Come over here and get a haircut, you old bastard. I need to do something with that scraggly beard of yours.”

  Errol howled in laughter, and I shook my head in amusement as he swaggered his way over to my seat. He sat down with more chuckles and slapped himself on his rounded gut. His gray beard was shaggier and longer than usual, and his hair was a wild mess, nearly reaching his shoulders. The only reason he was here was because I’d ordered him to get his wrinkly ass to the shop for a free haircut when he got home.

  “Who was that pretty, young guy who walked out before I came in?” He waggled his eyebrows at me through the mirror. “You doing the hanky-panky with him?”

  “Hanky-panky? What’s that?” Oli leaned his elbows on the counter, squinting in confusion at us.

  I snorted. “Old-timer saying.”

  “Hey now, I’m not that old.” Errol grunted when I grabbed the cape and spread it over his chest, buttoning it up around his neck.

  “Bullshit. You’re ancient.”

  He pointed his finger at me through the mirror. “You don’t forget who raised you.”

  “Raised me?” I laughed. “I came here when I was sixteen. Pretty sure I was past the raising age, Uncle Errol.”

  “Yeah, but I showed you how to blow shit up and hunt. You use those kinds of skills these days, don’t you?” He shook his head and leaned back in the chair, closing his eyes with a sigh. “Which reminds me, your dad called. He asked about you.”

  Ice seeped through my veins and I curled my hand into a fist at my side. Straightening my shoulders, I stared at his reflection. “What did you tell him?”

  “The truth—that you still don’t want to talk to him.” His face softened in sympathy.

  I grunted. “I bet he didn’t like that.”

  Glancing at Oli, I was relieved to see he wasn’t listening to our conversation. He had buds shoved into his ears and his head was bobbing in time with whatever music he had blaring. It was only seven thirty, but he’d be going to school soon. His backpack was beside his feet, near my bag, but it was open, and he had a book out on the counter. Studying, probably. As much as he wanted to be a tattoo artist, he was a genius, too. He aced tests and assignments, and in some ways, I felt like a father to him. I was proud.

  “Your dad doesn’t like anything he has no control over.” He tapped his fingers impatiently on the arm of the chair. Errol got as anxious as me when it came to my father. “It’s why you hit heads all the time.”

  I snorted. “He’s a controlling fucker.”

  “And you’re the younger version of me.” His chest rumbled with laughter. “It’s why your father and I never got along when we were kids, either.”

  I grabbed my scissors from the cart and shrugged as I got to work on his silver hair first. “Yeah, well it’s none of his fucking business how I am. He never cared when I packed my shit, and he has no right to give a fuck now.”

  Errol grunted in agreement. “Are you gonna tell me about the cutie that left your shop?” His brown eyes twinkled knowingly, and I shook my head at him.

  “No.” I smirked.

  “I’m your uncle.”

  “And we both know what you’re like. I don’t want you scheming.” Clumps of hair littered the floor around my feet. By the time I was done, he’d have a neat cut, not the chaos he had now. “I’m not looking for anything but a fuck.”

  “You know, I thought that, too, and look where that got me.” He raised his gray eyebrows and his fatherly gaze drilled into me.

  “You have a daughter?” I winked at him, and he grunted.

  “Can’t deny that, but she’s the daughter of a whore. You know Sophie don’t care about that, but she never grew up with a traditional family. I couldn’t give her that after her mom left her with me and ran away.”

  “I was there, Uncle Errol.”

  Sophie was seven when her mother dropped her off at Errol’s house and told him she was his daughter. Her mother left and we never saw her again. We didn’t know if Sophie really was Errol’s child, but he didn’t care. He fell in love with the little girl and raised her as his, and I helped him how I could. Now she was sixteen years old and our jobs had never been harder. Between boys her age and all the social media pressure, we had an uphill battle with raising a girl on the fast track to becoming a woman.

  “All’s I’m saying is that I want you to be happy, Luke. Holes get old and wrinkly like the rest of the outside. Hearts don’t.”

  I chuckled. “Where’d you get that from? A Hallmark card?”

  “Nah, I think I saw it in a sex shop somewhere. Probably beside the lube.”

  I knocked the back of his head with my hand, and he hooted out more laughter. The bell tinkled again, and I glanced over my shoulder toward the door, a grin immediately plastering on my face when I caught sight of Sophie. She waved as she entered, her backpack hooked over her shoulders as she strode toward us. She wore her Villa Faustina Academy uniform, which consisted of a white collared button-down top, blue-and-silver patterned skirt, a tie, and knee-high socks the same color as her skirt. Black shoes finished off the look. I hated the idea of sending her to a private school, but Errol insisted on only the best for her, and he thought that meant an expensive education. Any money he got from the alcohol he made went straight to her schooling.

  “Hey, sweetheart,” I greeted, holding out my arms to her. She reached me and snuggled against my body in a tight hug. I brushed her blonde hair away from her face and kissed her forehead, then her cheek. “What are you doing here at this time?”

  “I’m meeting some friends at Grounds and Gears. Dad said I could.” She sent me the sweetest smile she had, and I waited for what I knew was coming. “But Dad says he’s out of cash, Luke.”

  “Your school costs an arm and a leg, and I just paid your tuition. Then there was the road trip we took,” Errol said with a sigh.

  I patted Errol on the shoulder in commiseration and headed over to the register. Oli took his buds out and smiled at Sophie.

  “Hey, Soph, big day today?”

  She skipped over to him and leaned on the counter. “Math test and English essay due.”

  “Gross.” Oli scrunched up his nose. If he wasn’t gay, I would have warned him to stay away from my cousin. The overprotective nature in me meant I sometimes got animalistic on boys her age. I was that age once and knew exactly what kind of thoughts went through their heads. But as I got to know Oli better, I realized he wouldn’t have been a problem even if he was straight.

  Opening the register, I pulled out three fifties and passed them to her. “This’ll last you a couple of weeks. Don’t go crazy.”

  “Would I do that?” She gave me an innocent smile, and I shook my head.

  “I mean it, Soph. Don’t spend it on clothes or
makeup.”

  She heaved a sigh. “Fine. I’m going now.” Blowing a kiss in Errol’s direction, she gave me another hug. “Thanks, Luke. Love ya.”

  Then she was gone as fast as she’d arrived.

  “Girls at that age.” Errol shook his head. “She’s a lot more difficult to handle than you were.”

  I snickered. While that wasn’t entirely true, as a teenager, I was into the same things as Errol, like blowing shit up and shooting. Sophie just preferred the more refined activities—like shopping. Destiny and she were shopping champions, and when she wasn’t checking out clothes with her friends, she was doing it with him.

  I shook my head as I walked back over to Errol. “She needs a job.”

  Errol cackled.

  6

  Quain

  Fucking flirty bastard. I glared at Luke as he took the garbage bag out of my hand and dumped it in the can next to my thigh.

  “Well, thank you. I didn’t have the energy to lift a lid and put my trash in there.” Rolling my eyes, I crossed my arms. “I’m not a damsel you can woo.”

  “Woo?” He grinned wide and slid his hand over his inked throat. I’d watched him long enough that I knew his tics by now, and this was Luke flirting. He knew how beautiful his tattoos were. “Never heard of that before. Sounds like something from Disney.”

  I huffed and tapped my foot. “Doesn’t matter where it’s from, this isn’t happening. We’re not going to kiss again, and we’re certainly not going to fuck.”

  “Why?” He stepped in closer, and I shifted backward to keep the distance. “Don’t think you can handle my cock?”

  I pressed my lips together to stop myself from laughing. “I’m sure I can handle you just fine, but I don’t want to because I don’t fuck anyone who has any involvement with my business. In this circumstance, you’re my neighbor.”

  “What’s going to happen? We argue, and after we fuck you complain about my garbage and my weed smoking in the alley?” He grinned audaciously and I couldn’t hold back a small chuckle. “Because, humbug, we already do that.”

  “Humbug?” Frost trickled through my veins, spreading through my limbs. “Why did you call me that? Are you insinuating I’m deceitful?”

  “You are.” He leaned in closer as my heart clattered. If my cover was blown, I’d have to reevaluate the entire assignment, and that wasn’t something I took pleasure in doing. “You tricked me into thinking you hate me, but I see the truth now, Quain Beaumont. You want to fuck me. All you had to do was ask.”

  I scoffed but couldn’t hold back my smile. “You are full of shit.”

  “Tsk-tsk, Mr. Beaumont, I thought a man of your standing wouldn’t swear like that. I thought you had morals.”

  Shaking my head, I didn’t know if I wanted to laugh or deck him. Maybe both at the same time. “You drive me crazy, Luke. Crazy. You don’t know when to stop.”

  “But you like that.” This time when he leaned toward me, I didn’t move away. His face was so close to mine; his breath tickled the skin near my mouth.

  A part of me wanted him to kiss me again, but I was a professional at my job. I didn’t do anything that threatened my assignment’s success rate. The last man who had any kind of relationship to my job was my ex-fiancé, and his body sat at the bottom of Lake Ontario, where I’d left him for the marine life to eat. As frustrating as Luke was, I didn’t want to see him there, too.

  “No,” I said sharply, but I didn’t stop him when he pressed his mouth to mine.

  The faint taste of weed made me grimace, but that didn’t distract from the way his tongue massaged against mine or how his hands went to my back, sliding down slowly.

  I grabbed his wrists before he got to my ass and pulled away. “Didn’t your parents ever teach you what no means?”

  “Yes,” he purred, “but I don’t feel you pushing me away.”

  “And?” I snapped. “What would you say if your cousin said no to a man and he kept going?”

  He stiffened, his face darkening. I let go of his wrists when he stepped back. “I’d fucking kill him. But you’re not Sophie, and I know you. If you didn’t want me to kiss you, you’d make sure I knew it. You’ve let me know about everything else you don’t like.”

  It was true. I’d always been outspoken about what I did and didn’t want. I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. “At least ask me for a drink first, Luke. You’ve been fussing over me for the last week and a half, doing shit like this.” I waved my hand at the trash can with a glare. “I can’t complain because my salon doesn’t smell like your garbage anymore, but the least you can do is actually ask me out instead of acting weird.”

  It also gave me a chance to keep an eye on him. Following Luke became tiring after a while, and having him close would make it easier. I’d let him flirt with me all he wanted so I could watch him, and I’d even go on a date with him, but I would not let him fuck me. That was a rule I had to stick with.

  Barber cocked his head and tugged on his leather jacket, flashing me a charming smile. “Quain, would you like to go out for a drink with me?”

  “No.” I turned my back on him and started to walk away, but he grabbed my arm, spinning me around and hauling me back toward him. I landed against his chest, my palm pressing against one of his pecs. His heart thudded under my touch, a familiar and comforting thump, thump, thump. It was so easy to rip the life out of a man. Slit his throat with one flick of my wrist and the sound of their heart would slow before stopping altogether—also a good sound to hear when I was paid the right amount of money.

  “I want you,” Luke whispered, leaning in closer until our faces were inches apart. “And this is just the beginning, Quain.”

  “Is it?” I pressed my lips together tightly to stop myself from smiling. “You bore me.”

  “I excite you. That’s why you come over to complain all the time. You can’t get enough of me.”

  I raised my eyebrows and laughed. “You are full of yourself.”

  “I’d rather be full of you.”

  Sucking in a rare surprised breath, I yanked myself out of his hold and brushed down my clothes to gather my thoughts. Not many people shocked me, but Luke Booth was an exception to a lot of rules—and I wasn’t sure if I liked that. I knew I didn’t like it.

  “Fine. You can come around for dinner tonight, if you want. KC will be there, and you can thank him for fixing your bike.” I glared at him as I took another step back. My body turned warm, and I hated the heat that filled my cheeks. I was a goddamn assassin, I didn’t do coy, especially not around a target. I was beginning to regret bringing my normal life into this. KC should have never met Luke.

  “I’ll be there. Name a time.”

  “Seven. Don’t be late, or I’ll lock you out.” Spinning on my heel, I stormed into the salon, ignoring the chuckles that followed me.

  I stared down at the food I had spread out across my kitchen island and sighed. I had no idea why I was going to the effort of cooking something extravagant. It was Luke coming over, not the president of the United States. He was the kind of guy who would settle for a beer and a burger, yet instead, I’d made a kung pao chicken and fried rice.

  KC came up behind me, grabbing a fork. He gathered some of the chicken and rice on the utensil before shoving the food into his mouth. He moaned. “Pa, that’s so good. We have guests coming?”

  “I always cook good meals like this,” I grumbled.

  He laughed. “Yeah, when you have time, I know, but that’s not normal.” He nodded at the table I’d set as soon as I’d gotten home. It had one of my fancy linens draped over it—the baby blue tablecloth with intricate patterns woven into the material—and my finest cutlery. “Want to tell me who we’re expecting?”

  I sighed and rubbed my forehead. “Luke Booth.”

  “Barber?” KC grinned at me as he stole another bite. “I thought you said he wasn’t allowed in our lives anymore and that fixing his bike was a mistake?”

  I scowled at him. �
�I did say that.”

  “But he’s coming for dinner tonight?” He smirked. “How is that staying away from him, Pa?”

  It wasn’t in my plans to tell KC what had happened. The last thing I wanted was for him to get the idea that something romantic would occur between me and Luke, because it wouldn’t. Definitely not. I snatched the fork out of his hand and pointed it at him. “No more. You can wait until he comes.”

  “Is that a pun?” He winked.

  I glared. “Don’t be a smart-ass, Kristofer Colt.”

  He winced at his full name. KC had always hated what his mother had called him, and when I’d found him on the streets and he’d told me his entire backstory, I’d agreed that KC would be his legal name from now on. I made it happen, forging a fake birth certificate and identity with the help of the Society hacker, Franco.

  “I hate it when you call me that.”

  “Then don’t act like a child. I need to keep Luke close and inviting him for dinner will make things easier.”

  He snorted. “I don’t believe that. You had no trouble following him before. What changed?” His eyebrows crept up his forehead. “He likes you.”

  “He does not like me.” I turned away from him and checked the clock. 6:56 p.m. He would be here soon.

  “You told me you use everything to your advantage. The stupidest person in the world can tell Barber’s got a thing for you, Pa. He loves it when you go into his shop with complaints, and you know it. That’s why you keep doing it.”

  I hated how intelligent KC was. He hid it well, but when he wanted to use his brain, he did it at full capacity. His intellect was why I wanted him to go to college. He could be anything he wanted to be—anything but an assassin.

  I touched the ring on my chain, thinking about Dean and how it all went wrong. That’s what happened when I got involved with people who were too close to my job.

  “Are you going to leave New Gothenburg again?”

  The question caught me off guard. I frowned at him. “Why would you ask that?”