He laughed, but it sounded desperate and nervous. “I’ve got an automatic, you’ve got a Beretta. You’ve got no chance, hermano.”
“Did you not see what my friend did to yours?” I licked my dry lips, adrenaline surging through me and making my blood turn to fire. Moments like this got my body pumping and I either wanted to kill or fuck. That’s why I’d joined the Kings. They understood this feeling and enjoyed it, just like me. We fucked, killed, and drank—the true biker life. “Do you want to end up like Juan, buddy?”
He murmured in Spanish, and I’d bet my ass he was cursing to whatever god he believed in.
“Come on. Put down the gun.” I peeked around the couch, and he wasn’t watching this time. The barrel of the rifle was lowered toward the floor and his brows were furrowed in thought, so I took my chance. I shoved off the floor and rushed at him. By the time he realized what was happening, it was too late. I crashed into his chest, tackling him. He swore and spun us. His heavier weight made the fight easier for him, and he smashed the butt of the gun into my head, making my world tilt and spin. The back of my head where my stitches were hit the hard floorboards, and agony sparked through me. But I wasn’t going to let him win. I swung and got a jab into his jaw, sending him flying backward.
A scream in the kitchen had me freezing long enough that Number Two got an advantage over me. He punched my cheek, sending my head flying back, slamming against the wood again. He wasn’t done. He hit me again, but this time I ducked and his knuckles met the floor. He hissed and yelled out in pain, and I took the chance to roll us and smash him against the solid wood.
I punched and punched until my right hand was covered in the fucker’s blood, and then I hit some more. His nose caved under my fist, and it wasn’t until someone touched my shoulder that the anger rushing through me washed away. I glanced at Quain holding a Glock, the same gun he’d used in my barber shop, and frowned as I stood.
“What are you doing here?” I snapped, but the groan on the floor had my gaze snapping back to Number Two. I snatched the Glock out of Quain’s hand and spun it on Number Two, firing two bullets into his head. He stilled—dead.
“Did that make you feel better?” Quain asked, a hint of teasing in his voice.
I scowled. “Fuck off.”
He nodded, understanding in his gaze. “Point made. Your cousin and uncle are safe.”
“What do you want, an award? I’m sure Father will give you one if you go to LA.”
He grunted, mouth twisted in disgust. “I understand your hatred for him, Luke, but I had a job to do.”
I laughed cruelly. “Does he know you fucked me?”
Wincing, he glared. “That wasn’t my job. I did that because I wanted to.”
“Well, if I’d known who you were, I wouldn’t have.” I glanced toward the door at Sophie and Errol, who stood looking out of place. Their obvious fatigue had me striding over to them, and I gathered them in my arms in a hug. Kissing Sophie’s forehead, I whispered an apology to her and turned her head so she didn’t see the blood and brains splattered across the far end of the room. “This won’t happen again.”
She smiled so sweetly it nearly broke my heart. “It’ll be a fun story to tell at school.”
Errol grunted out a laugh. “No one will believe you.”
“Come on.” I guided them out into the hallway, ignoring Quain. We were done, and whether this had been all about protecting me or not, I had no plans on sticking around with him. We’d made it halfway to the door when a guy I hadn’t seen yet came running from one of the rooms I hadn’t looked in, gun raised and a crazed expression on his face. I turned, raising the Glock, but I didn’t get the chance to pull the trigger.
Quain came out of the living room faster than a copperhead and moved as graceful as I’d ever seen a man. One minute he was standing behind the Mexican, the next he had his legs around his neck, twisting the man’s body and knocking him on his ass before slamming a knife into the guy’s throat. It was like something from a kung fu movie, and all I could do was stare with wide eyes because it happened so fast.
Sophie screamed and buried her face into my chest, and I hugged her closer, kissing her head.
“Stay there, don’t look,” I whispered comfortingly.
The Mexican gurgled, blood bubbling at the wound in his throat as Quain yanked the knife from it. Quain stood, brushing off his thighs as though he hadn’t just killed a man in a matter of seconds, and glanced in our direction.
“I’ll swap you.” He tugged out my Ruger from the back of his jeans and held it out to me, and I took it, throwing the Glock into his hands. He nodded and then strode toward the back of the house.
I let him leave.
12
Quain
The one thing I hated every time I made the decision to leave was the expression on KC’s face. Sadness seeped into his eyes, his mouth downturned in displeasure. He always looked like a kid whose candy had been ripped from his hands.
“Do you have to go?” He curled his fists on the table. “You told that district attorney it was over, right? Your cover was blown, and you couldn’t be Luke’s protector anymore. You don’t have to have anything to do with him. Pa… you don’t have to go. You could stay here and actually be a hairstylist.”
I laughed and nudged him on the shoulder with mine. We sat at the dining table together because I knew now was the time to deliver the news. It’d been a week since the kidnapping went down, and I hadn’t seen Luke since. Either he was avoiding me, or he hadn’t gone to the barber shop at all. “Hairstyling and owning a business doesn’t pay as well as being an assassin, KC. You know that. I want you to go to college and not have to worry about a job.”
“I don’t need to, though. I don’t want the best of everything, Pa,” he said desperately, giving me those wide eyes he liked to use to get his own way. “I’d be happy to live on the streets with you if it came down to it. I just… want you to stay here, Pa.”
I cupped his head and dragged him to me, laying his cheek against my chest. Pressing a kiss to the top of his forehead, I sighed. “I know you do, but that’s not how this works, and you know it. I have a job to do. You can stay with your grandpa until I come back.”
“Don’t leave. Please. I fucking hate it when you go.” He yanked himself away from me and twisted his lips downward. “It’s dangerous, and I never know if I’m going to get a call from someone to say you’re dead.”
“Me, dead? Never.” I winked at him. “I’m damn good at my job, and I promise you I will always come home to you.”
“You can’t promise that.” He ducked his head, running his hand through his red hair and dropping his gaze to the floor. “I hate it when you say that because one day you’re gonna be caught off guard, or encounter someone better than you, and you’ll be dead, and you won’t come home.”
I grabbed his chin and raised his head, frowning. “Have I ever not followed through with a promise? You’re my son—”
“If you cared about me, you wouldn’t be leaving,” he snapped, shaking my hold off him. “You’d stay here and do something safe.”
I wished more than anything I could be that kind of father for KC, but I’d tried once before, when I’d first adopted him. It never worked out. I craved the thrill of a fight or taking someone’s life who deserved it. Sitting around in an ordinary job was boring and I slowly went crazy. At least Luke kept things interesting.
I sighed. As much as I hated to admit it, I was going to miss that insane motherfucking King. He was one of a kind and kept me on my toes in ways others hadn’t. He was even more intriguing than Dean. As far as fiancés had gone, things were fun with him, until he broke two of the few golden rules the Society had.
“I can’t stay here, you know that. I love you more than life.”
“But not enough to quit being an assassin.” He gave me a sardonic smile. “Thanks, Pa. I love you, too.” Shoving himself to his feet, he glared at me and stormed past my chair and out of the
kitchen toward the back door. All I could do was watch him because when he got in these moods, it wasn’t worth trying to talk to him. Even though he was mature for his age, he was still a teenager.
I sighed and grabbed my phone, messaging my dad to let him know it was time for me to move on. He’d know what that meant.
Then I called the Society’s number.
“Hello, you’ve reached the Radio Hut. Unfortunately we are not available right now. If you leave your name and number, we will return your call. Thank you.”
I sighed. “This is employee 777 with a completion.”
The phone beeped and I waited as the speech-recognition software analysed my voice.
After another beep, a man spoke. “Hello, Quain. Has your assignment been closed?”
“To an extent. My cover was blown due to unforeseen circumstances,” I said quietly, glancing around the kitchen. I’d miss this place, it was a home I’d built with KC. Depending on what Luke decided to do, I may not be able to come back here. “The client no longer requires protection of his son. The threat has been neutralized.” In every possible way. I’d contacted the Reyes I’d dealt with before—Rafael, Thiago Reyes’s cousin—and we had a very serious conversation. When he realized Luke was under my protection, he’d reluctantly agreed to back off. They didn’t want to get on my bad side. They’d seen what I’d done to my targets.
“Very well. Would you like a new assignment?” the rough male voice asked. All we knew him as was Sir.
“Yes, sir.” My mind screamed no, though.
“Fantastic. We will call when we have another suitable assignment. Goodbye.” The line went dead, leaving me in a silence that was no longer comfortable.
The next day was a Monday. I hated the start of the week with a passion, but now that I had another assignment given to me by the Society, all I needed to do was go through a few more things with Jorge, my new manager, who’d worked in the salon since the beginning. Then I’d be off to Dallas, where my next target waited. Sir had called me back this morning with an assignment. It was quick, but I expected no less since I was highly sought after.
I’d made it to the front of the salon, when I ran into Luke. He was opening his own shop, his back to me as he cursed about fucking employees not being reliable. I paused behind him, taking in the strong lines of his back and shoulders, the desire to touch him making my fingers twitch. I missed his warmth in my bed, even if it had only been there for a few nights. He’d seen me in my weakest moments, where I’d been comfortable enough that I sleep talked. That didn’t happen often and certainly not when I was chasing a target.
“Barber.”
He glanced at me, eyes narrowed. “Beaumont.”
“So, I’m no longer Quain?” Something ached in my chest, but I ignored it.
“I’m not Luke, am I?” He grunted and made a noise of triumph when he finally got the front door unlocked.
“Would you like me to call you Luke?” I stepped toward him but stopped when he gave me a dirty look.
“I’d rather you not call me a fucking thing.” He shifted closer, standing right in front of me, his tone dropping dangerously. “I told you, we’re done.” This was the real reason he was a King. He might have been a shit-stirrer and prankster, but he was still a killer. Like me.
“And I accepted that. Now get out of my face before I slam you through that window.” I nodded at the glass of his shop with his business name stickered onto it.
His lips curved almost teasingly, and for a brief moment I saw the Luke I was used to seeing. “I dare you, assassin.”
I stepped closer and then backed away again. As tempting as it was, I was still undercover with my own employees, and as far as they were concerned, I was an uptight man who definitely couldn’t take on a biker in a physical fight. “I’ll be seeing you around, Mr. Booth. Just so you know, I’m going out of town for a while.”
“Another assignment?” His voice had softened, and if I looked really hard, I could see the concern behind his words.
“It’s my job.” I swiped my tongue over my dry mouth and sighed. “I don’t say this often, and you will never get it again, so listen carefully.” I cleared my throat. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about your father. It was my job to stay undercover, and… the sex wasn’t part of it. I’d been following you long enough that I could stay in the shadows and you wouldn’t have known.”
He laughed. “That makes me feel so much better. Thank you for that.” Leaning closer until his breath tickled my mouth, he added, “Did you enjoy watching me fuck other people? Is that your thing?”
“No.” I raised my chin and laid my palm on his chest, and surprisingly he didn’t back away. The blue cotton shirt he had on was soft under my fingers, and the navy suspenders matched it well, but while Luke was many things, he’d always been more stylish than he knew. He was a hip guy, not that I’d ever say that to him. “I’ve seen people fuck before, and at first it meant nothing to me. But when we started having sex, I didn’t want to see you with anyone else but me.”
The vulnerability of the statement surprised me. Telling Luke this was presenting him my heart on a platter, and he could do whatever he wanted with it.
Surprise washed over his face, his eyes widening. He stepped away from my hand and shook his head. “Get the fuck out of my sight. Tell Father I said fuck off, too.”
“I’m done with him, Luke. I ended my contract last week.”
He wasn’t listening, though. He pushed open the door of his shop, the bell tinkling, but I grabbed him before he could get any farther. Spinning on me, his face turned thunderous.
“I haven’t finished talking.” I leaned closer. “Now that this is over, stay away from KC, or you’ll live to regret it.”
He shook off my hold before he closed the door behind himself—nearly hitting me in the face. I sighed and massaged my temples before heading to my salon. All I needed to do was work out a few things with Jorge and then I was gone. Next week I’d be heading to the airport, away from New Gothenburg again.
Running from my heart.
With the last of my bags packed into my car, I turned to KC and held out my arms. He glanced away from me for a second, his jaw quivering, before he strode toward me and let me wrap my arms around him. I kissed his forehead and he sighed into my embrace.
“Come home, Pa. You and Gramps are all I have.”
“I promise.” I tightened my hold, not willing to let him go just yet. The hardest part of leaving was because of KC. I hated saying goodbye to him more than anything. “Be good for Grandpa, okay? Do as he says, and if you don’t want to go hunting, tell him.” I gave Dad a glare over KC’s shoulder and he laughed, holding up his palms toward me.
“Yeah, I will.” KC sighed as he extracted himself from my hug and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He stared out toward the rest of the neighborhood with their big mansions and high gates. “Call me every couple of days?”
“Always.” I cupped the side of his neck and squeezed it in reassurance. “I want you to keep your grades up, Mr. Beaumont. If I hear you’re being lazy, I will fly my ass here and kick yours, am I clear?”
He laughed, gaze brightening as he nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Good boy.” Warmth filled my chest as I dragged him in for another hug. I’d miss him more than anyone. Giving him one last kiss on the forehead, I dragged myself away and went to give my dad a hug, too.
“Stay safe,” Dad said with a pursed mouth.
“I will. You keep my son safe.”
“You say that like I’d ever let anything happen to him.” He patted me on the shoulder. “Take care. Kill those fuckers and don’t get caught.”
I laughed and shook my head. Giving them each one more smile and hug, I finally made myself walk to the BMW, sliding into the red and gray leather seats. I honked the horn on the way out of the driveway and guided the car onto the road that led away from Vert Island. The airport was on the west side of the city, and I too
k the highway that led straight to it.
The cars around me moved fast, filtering into different lanes and dodging other vehicles. I stayed put in the middle lane, content to take my time. My flight didn’t leave for another three hours, but I liked to get there early for a stiff drink and a chance to relax. Sometimes I took private Society planes if I felt like it, but that meant I had to be more alert to my surroundings, and after the last few weeks, I needed the tranquility.
I peered into my rearview mirror when someone honked and frowned at the black Audi weaving between cars like a NASCAR driver. A red pickup needed to swerve to avoid being hit by it. Alertness seeped into me, and I placed both hands on the wheel, caught between focusing ahead of me and looking into my mirrors. The car positioned itself beside me, and I glanced out my window into the black tinted Audi, and I knew he was here for me.
Slamming on my brakes, I took a sharp turn onto an exit I hadn’t planned on taking, and he did the exact same thing, causing cars to smash into each other when they tried to avoid him. I raced down the exit ramp and onto another highway, but he was right behind me, the car veering to the right and left of my trunk as though he was trying to get around me. I weaved with him, blocking him from coming up beside me again, and his frustration was clear when he finally knocked the front of the Audi into my rear.
My BMW swerved and I grabbed the wheel, nearly losing control of it completely. On my feet I was a master assassin, but my weakness was cars. I fucking hated them.
I avoided a car that had braked in front of me, veering off the road and back onto it again, but my attacker did the same thing on the other side. He came back at me, and I yanked on my steering wheel, missing another hit from his car.
Frustration welled up in my chest and I reached over to the glove box, pulling out the Glock I kept there. I tapped the automatic window control, putting it down, and aimed the gun at the Audi. He veered away from me when I pulled the trigger, shattering his passenger window and giving me a fast peek at who was driving the other car. What I did see told me it was another Latino. A Reyes Cartel boy, no doubt. Probably a scout who hadn’t been at the house. And apparently he hadn’t gotten the message to stay away.
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