I snorted in amusement. “We piss off a lot of people. But I can’t talk to you about it. Club business.”
“I won’t say a word,” he murmured, but there was something in his gaze. Anger…? No, that was an understatement. Fury. He hit a particularly sensitive spot with the alcohol wipe, and I hissed as pain shot through me. Leaving me where I was sitting, he exited the room and came back a few seconds later, the secret whiskey held in his hand as he passed it over. “Drink this. It’ll help.”
I laughed. “I didn’t expect I’d need my stash for this.”
He rolled his eyes. “You shouldn’t have a stash in the first place. You don’t have a liquor license, and if you were caught—”
“I’m not selling the fucking stuff. Are you going to rat on me to Henry?” I teased, and the amused smile I got in response made my dick twitch. Even in agony my dick didn’t disappoint. I wanted Quain.
“No, Luke. I’m not. I happen to like having you here.”
I touched his wrist and pulled his hand around, laying a kiss on his palm. “I like you, too, Quain.”
He huffed. “I didn’t say I like you.”
I laughed harder, at least until I winced in pain.
Someone was going to die for this.
8
Quain
Someone is going to die for this, and I knew who. I didn’t have to investigate much to figure out that the dead guy on the floor was from the Reyes Cartel. The tattoo of a crown on his arm gave it away. It was ironic in a way that Reyes meant “king” because he was now facing off with a King, too. Every one of these stupid mobsters thought they were royalty, but they had no idea how to act like true leaders. It was like watching children in the playground slapping each other and crying at the same time.
Either way, I was going to take out the prick who’d ordered the hit, whether it was Reyes himself or someone else. I knew he had cousins and a brother working for him. I didn’t care if I started a war with these assholes. Someone was getting a bullet.
The Kings arrived twenty minutes later, driving into the back alley on their bikes. The door was propped open, I assumed to let in a breeze, and that was how I’d heard the commotion of Luke fighting for his life. I’d moved quicker than I ever had before, grabbing my gun from the salon before running into Luke’s shop, then putting a bullet in the Reyes prick. Watching him collapse dead on the floor had sent exhilaration through me, a reminder of how much I enjoyed killing.
It’d been too long since I’d taken someone down.
I’d missed this.
King and Luke spoke together quietly, and King’s face turned red with anger, his fists clenching at his side. Grant, King’s brother and a physician’s assistant at Walnut Creek Hospital, had taken over for me, checking to see if Luke needed stitches, which apparently he did. I’d known that, but to these guys I was a hairstylist, so I had to at least act clueless about these types of things, even if I had patched myself up more times than I could count on two hands.
Undertaker was here, too, staring around at the mess and cursing Luke’s name in ways that had me holding back a smile. With blood splattered across the floor, it would take a while to clean, and no one could do it better than Undertaker. My surveillance of the club told me that. He was the one they turned to for cleanup and body disposal.
“Did you do this?” Undertaker asked, waving at the dead man.
I shrugged. “He was going to kill Luke. I did what I had to do.”
He brushed his dark hair off his face and gave me a narrowed look. “Why didn’t you call the cops?”
A trick question. He wanted to know more about me. The suspicion in his eyes said he didn’t trust me and that was fine. I didn’t need him to trust me—only Luke. “I don’t like police. They’re corrupt.”
He snorted and then glanced toward the back door when his sub came in. Lee was a bigger man, with a lot more bulk than Undertaker, but he was good at listening to Undertaker’s directions. He followed orders naturally, like a man born to be obedient, and even though I wasn’t into the BDSM lifestyle, I couldn’t help but think his submission was beautiful.
He had a tarp in his hands and laid it on the floor. Between him and Undertaker, they had the body rolled onto the tarp in seconds, and then Undertaker was searching the man, checking his pockets and the wallet he pulled out of his pants. He opened the leather wallet and hummed.
“Benito Arroyo—if that’s his real name.” He scrunched up his nose. “License says he lives in San Diego.”
“What’s he doing all the way over here?” Lee asked, his brows furrowing in confusion.
Undertaker grunted and grabbed Benito’s languid arm, staring at the same tattoo I’d sighted earlier. “This is the Reyes Cartel ink.”
“Reyes Cartel?” King moved from Luke over to Undertaker, crouching down beside his friend. “What the fuck do they want? I know they’ve got a beef with Killough, but it doesn’t have anything to do with us.”
“No idea. If he was alive, we could probably get answers out of him.” Undertaker gave me a flinty look over his shoulder, and King’s gaze followed his to land on me. He stood and grabbed my arm, manhandling me over to the side of the room. If this was a different situation I would have stuck the knife I had in the ankle of my boot into his eye.
“Want to tell me what happened?” King crossed his arms and glared. The silver in his hair was more prominent than ever and he looked like a man ready to rain hell on someone. King was scary to a lot of people, but I’d dealt with scarier. A leather jacket with a club patch, a gun stuffed into the belt of his jeans, and a mean expression weren’t going to terrify me.
“I’m sure Luke told you everything that occurred. Why do you need me to tell you again?” I asked bluntly.
His mouth curled and he reminded me of an angry snake I’d encountered in Texas during an assignment, rearing its head to bite me. I’d shot it before it could. “Because this is my brother we’re talking about. It’s my job to protect my men, and you, a simple hairstylist, don’t look very upset about killing a man.”
“I did what I had to do.” I raised my chin. “That man was going to kill Luke.”
“Why?” King’s eyebrows rose. “What did Benito Arroyo have against Barber?”
Pursing my lips, I copied his stance and crossed my arms. “Shouldn’t you be figuring that out yourself? It is your club after all. Like you said, I’m a simple hairstylist, who happened to save your brother’s life. I’ve said it to Luke before, but I’ll say it to you, too. The words are thank you.”
Someone nearby coughed and I glanced at Bishop, the Englishman, out of the corner of my eye. He had his hand over his mouth like he was trying not to laugh. One glare from King, though, and he grew very busy with grabbing the bat Barber had abandoned.
King turned back to me. “I’m not going to thank you, Beaumont, because I don’t think you’re telling me the truth. It’s strange that all of a sudden you move next door to Barber’s shop and you’re on his ass for bullshit reasons. You were there when his bike broke down, too.”
I snorted. “The bridge he broke down on was on my way to visit a friend. Coincidence. And anyone could have moved into the salon next door, but I bought it. That doesn’t mean I’m up to anything suspicious.”
King didn’t look like he believed me. “Where’d you get the gun?”
“I might not like them, but I had a Glock in the salon for safety reasons. I’m entitled to have one. I’m sure you’re aware of the second amendment.”
He grunted, and I expected more questions, but Undertaker called his name to get some help, and he left me there with another narrowed stare. I sighed and walked back over to Luke, who sat in one of his customer seats with Grant finishing up on his stitches.
“They’ll need to come out in a week or so,” Grant said, rubbing comforting circles on Luke’s shoulder. I didn’t like the way he touched him, even with the mental reminder that Grant was in a relationship, and jealousy weaved its way throu
gh me like acid—deadly and potent. It took all my effort not to knock Grant’s hand off him. “I think you might have a concussion, too, but keep an eye on it. If you feel disoriented or dizzy again, call me right away.”
Luke nodded and smiled at Grant through the mirror. “Thanks, Little King. ’Preciate it.”
Grant’s lips curved into a small smile. “You call me anytime, okay? Take care of yourself, Barber. I don’t need you getting killed.”
“I got a hard head, Doc. Been injured before.” He laughed, and Grant shook his head, then nodded at me as he swept past to help his brother and Undertaker.
I sat down in the seat beside Luke’s and crossed my legs, staring into the artistic mirrors with gold frames, which were beautiful and surprisingly elegant for a shop like this. “One of your club brothers said he’s from the Reyes Cartel.”
“Fuck, seriously?” He shook his head, then winced. Grabbing his ribs with a cringe of pain, he sighed. “No idea what’s happening there. I have nothing to do with the cartels.”
He did, he just didn’t know about it. I’d need to call his father and update him, which really chafed my balls. I hated that the bastard was right and Luke was in danger. “The Kings didn’t piss anyone off? What about family?”
He frowned for a moment before recoiling in discomfort. “Nah. My family ain’t got nothing to do with drugs. Uncle Errol’s a crazy asshole, but he doesn’t sniff or cook anything.” Snorting, he said, “You’re taking this well.”
I smiled. “I’ve lived in New Gothenburg for most of my life. This city has always been riddled with crime and drugs. It’s not new.”
“So you’ve handled cartels before?” he teased, his eyes sparkling with mischief.
“No, and I haven’t killed anyone before.” Lie. I gave him my best concerned expression and worried my bottom lip between my teeth. “Do you think they’ll try and kill me?”
Luke dragged my chair closer, which wasn’t easy because it was heavy with my weight, but he managed to get it close enough to cup my cheek and kiss me. I leaned into the touch of his mouth against mine, moaning softly. “I’ll keep you safe, Quain.”
I fluttered my eyelashes at him. “You will?”
He grinned wickedly. “I’ll help you out. The words are thank you.”
Rolling my eyes, I poked him in the side, and he laughed loudly, earning a few looks from his club brothers. “Are you still coming to my place later tonight?”
“Do you want me to?” He licked his lips and his grin turned seductive. “Because I might have stitches in my head, but not even that will stop me from getting into your pants.”
I chuckled. “Who says you’re going to get laid?”
He smirked. “But I nearly lost my life today. I could have died without getting a taste of your sweet ass. Do you want that to happen?”
Someone nearby grunted in amusement, but I ignored them. I traced the lines of the ink on his neck and sighed. “Fine. I’ll let you get into my pants. I suppose you deserve it.” It wouldn’t hurt to get laid, even if Luke was a target. After today’s attack, I wasn’t going anywhere, and this dry spell had gone on for too long. I needed a dick and I’d take Luke’s, even if he was an annoying bastard.
His grin went feral. “I’m gonna rock your world, baby.”
I rolled my eyes at the erupting laughter nearby, while Luke glared at his brothers.
“Shut up, you assholes, and clean up the mess.”
That only made them laugh harder.
Later that evening, after the Kings had the blood cleaned up and the body left with Undertaker, I took Luke back to my house in the BMW. By the time we got to Vert Island, he was in pain and muttering about fucking Mexican cartels. I fed him some painkillers in the kitchen before I went to check on KC. He was already sleeping, but when I opened the door, he jerked awake slightly to say hello before he collapsed back into dreamland. I kissed him on the forehead and made sure his blanket was covering him properly before I left his room again. I could fill him in on what had happened early tomorrow morning when we were alone.
Luke was still sitting on the chair at the kitchen island when I got back downstairs, with a bottle of rum in his hands. We’d stopped to buy a few bottles on the way over. He drank straight from the bottle, and I winced at the sight.
“How can you do that?” I teased when I reached him.
He held the bottle out to me. “Have some. It’ll calm the nerves. Always does for me after I shoot someone.”
“Do you shoot people often?” I asked seriously, although I already knew the answer. Hairstylist Quain didn’t, though.
He hesitated. “I’m not a good person. I kill when I need to. Been to prison, too, for the possession of an illegal firearm.”
I nodded and took a sip of rum, cringing at the burning sensation that slid down my throat. I didn’t drink alcohol often because I hated how vulnerable I felt. As an assassin I needed to be ready for anything, even people attacking me in my bed, and alcohol in my system meant my reaction times weren’t functioning at their full capacity.
“Do you like it?” he whispered, slipping his feet to the floor and standing. Luke wasn’t much taller than me, but he was at the perfect height where I didn’t have to push myself onto my toes to kiss him. Leaning forward and pressing my mouth against his didn’t take much energy, and he kissed back eagerly, tasting of cinnamon and tangy spice. His lips were rough and demanding and he always ate at my mouth like he hungered for me. The feeling was refreshing, and I couldn’t remember the last time I needed someone this badly.
He shoved me against the island, and I went, letting him crowd against me as he cupped my face and pushed his tongue into my mouth. The scent of blood tickled my nose and pleasure zinged through me. I’d seen and smelled so much death that it had a predatory effect on me. I was an animal who wanted to fuck and kill, and this time was no different. I’d killed a man and now I wanted to fuck like it was the end of the world.
I slid my hand down his body and grabbed his half-hard cock. He groaned, rutting against my palm.
“I want to suck you,” I whispered, and without waiting for permission I forced him back a few steps and fell to my knees. I worked on the button and zipper of his jeans while he grabbed the hem of his shirt, dragging it up and over his head, leaving him shirtless for my hungry gaze. I’d seen him like this before but never up close, and I wanted to trace every tattoo on his chest and belly with my tongue. The ink on his torso was black, like on his neck, and there were flowers as well, which extended across his pecs and down his stomach. The patterns were intricate with enough detail to make them appear real. The nipple ring glinted tantalizingly at me.
Licking my lips, I yanked down his jeans and boxers and he stepped out of them, kicking them to the side, and I stared at his cock like it was the first time I was seeing it. In a way this was the first time because I hadn’t seen it up close. I could guess an approximate size from where I’d spied on him at Kings’ parties, but being in front of him meant I could see every vein and bump on his hard flesh, as well as the tattoo I didn’t know he had.
I frowned, running my nail over the rose that had been inked onto the underside of his cock. “Is that a…?”
He laughed. “Dick tattoo? Yeah.”
I blinked up at him. “Did it hurt?”
Shaking his head, he grabbed the base in his fingers and wiggled it at me. “Nah. It stung, but I got hard when PD was doing it. It’s a weird sensation. Why? Want one?”
I snorted and wrapped my hand around his meaty erection. “No one is going near my cock with a needle.”
He winked down at me, and I rolled my eyes before I took the head into my mouth. I sucked teasingly, digging my tongue into his slit before I slid my mouth farther down onto his hardening flesh. He wasn’t the biggest I’d had, but I’d learned quickly in life that it wasn’t always about the size. Luke wasn’t small, though. I usually found his length to be the best to take in the ass.
Cupping his ball
s, I massaged them in my palm as I slid my mouth to the base, gagging slightly at the feel of the head touching the back of my throat. I sucked hard before I started bobbing my head back and forth, applying pressure with my lips when I felt it was needed.
He held himself up with a hand against the kitchen island, while the other went into my hair, grabbing a chunk and tugging. I groaned at the sting from my scalp.
“Fuck yeah.” Luke moaned above me. “Here. Hold still.” His grip on my hair tightened and he made me stay that way before fucking into my mouth roughly, his cock pounding into my throat with enough force I would feel it for days. He didn’t take any prisoners, and his animalistic thrusts had my cock throbbing with the need to escape the confines of my underwear and jeans.
He fucked me like a man possessed, and there was something extra sexy about seeing him above me, his muscles straining and his face twisted in desire and need as he shoved his hips forward, his cock stuffing my mouth.
I tapped his thigh and he slowed down, unscrewing his eyes to stare down at me. “You okay?” he panted.
I slipped my mouth off his stiffy and licked my lips. “How about we take this upstairs? I have lube up there, and I want you to fuck me.”
His pupils dilated and he grinned. “Fuck yeah, let’s do that.” Reaching down, he hauled me to my feet and nearly dragged me up the stairs. I couldn’t help but laugh, even if the sight of him naked with his hard cock bobbing while he walked happened to be one of the sexiest things I’d seen in a long time.
“You better hope KC doesn’t wake up. You’ll give my son nightmares.”
Luke chuckled. “More like wet dreams.”
I rolled my eyes and led him to my bedroom, shoving him inside, turning on the light, and closing the door behind me. Spinning toward him, I hooked my fingers under my turtleneck and slid it up and over my head before I worked on my jeans. He watched, mouth wet from where he’d licked his lips. He stroked his cock slowly as I dropped my jeans to the floor, leaving me in my favorite pink briefs with a strawberry print.
King's Barber Page 12