The King Brothers Boxed Set

by Lisa Lang Blakeney

  "Well?" I say.

  "Oh, I thought that was a rhetorical question," he says after a few deep chuckles.

  I grab a bottle of water from the fridge, pop an eight-hundred-milligram pain killer, then pick up my cell to start checking texts.

  "Is there anything else I can get you before you leave?" I ask him nonchalantly. Hoping he'll take the hint and scram.

  "I feel like I just got here."

  "You came here to check on me and I'm fine. I cleaned your cut for you, and so you're fine, although I highly recommend that you get some stitches. Our business is finished."

  "Did I overstay my welcome?"

  I stand with my arms crossed. Staring at him silently with turned up lips.

  "Oh, I'm sorry," I finally say after a long pause. "I thought that was a rhetorical question."

  Cutter belly laughs and there's something about it that I admittedly like. This time his laugh makes the smile on his face actually reach his eyes in the most genuine way. It's not the kind of fake smile he gives his minions at the club. This one is different. Softer. Almost kid-like.

  "That's fine," he says. "I've got some business to take care of anyway. Make sure that you take a day or two off of work, stay in bed, and I'll be back to check on you soon."

  "I'll be fine. If I need anything–"

  "Elizabeth can't run errands for you, she's way too pregnant, and that sister of yours doesn't seem too dependable."

  "If you'd let me get a word in edgewise, you'd know that I wasn't going to bother Elizabeth at all. I was just going to say that if it's important, my neighbor will get me what I need. Anything else I can just order online. So don't concern yourself."

  Cutter's voice immediately drops two octaves.

  "I don't know who the fuck Kyle is. So like I said, I'll be back. I'll even cook you dinner. I can grill the hell out of a steak."

  I sigh to myself. I meant one of my other neighbors, not Kyle, but it'll probably just be easier to agree with the caveman, so that he'll finally just go.

  "Fine."

  He gets up to leave.

  "Remember, no work for a few days. Just rest. Your face will heal faster."

  "I heard you the first time, Grandma."

  "That's the king to you."

  "Yada. Yada."

  "Later, princess," he says on his way out the door.

  "And the name is Sloan!" I yell down the hallway as I watch his majesty's body quivering with raucous laughter.

  Eleven

  Cutter

  "Things have to change," I say to my brother after slamming down a plastic cereal bowl on the kitchen island and pouring myself a bowl of Raisin Bran–the only edible thing left in our kitchen. Apparently, his girlfriend doesn't think we should eat eggs and bacon for breakfast anymore.

  Jade's the devil.

  "I know, Cut." Camden chuckles. "Jade's on a vegan kick lately. I'll talk to her about it when she gets home. She's at the gym right now. And where the hell do you buy Mickey Mouse Band-Aids?"

  "No, I'm serious, and hand me the fucking milk if that even is milk."

  My brother knows perfectly well that my bad attitude has nothing to do with breakfast. We haven't talked or seen much of each other in the last few days, and if I didn't know better I'd swear that he's been purposely ducking me. Probably a smart idea on his part. The way I've been feeling lately, I would have definitely taken a swing at him.

  "It's cashew milk and I promise I won't leave you hanging like that again."

  "That's not good enough. I want to talk about a restructuring. The fuck is cashew milk?"

  "Restructuring what?" He stops to ask while staring hesitantly at a putrid green colored smoothie in the same blender that I use to make my infamous old-fashioned vanilla shakes. He's totally cross contaminating the blender. I'm never using that thing again.

  "Lately I've been doing the work of three men and getting paid for one," I gripe.

  "Not true."

  "True as shit."

  "Not fucking true."

  "True as all hell! You both are so busy getting your dicks led around by your women that you're forgetting that we have a business to run." I open the fridge and stare blankly inside of it. "Do we have one thing left in this house to eat that had parents?!"

  "If you'd get your own girl, you wouldn't be so wrapped up inside of your feelings like this."

  "I get a different girl of my own every single night, and then I send them right back home where they belong."

  Camden's body stiffens. "Do you have some sort of a problem with my woman living here?"

  "I'm not sure that you've noticed lately, since I've been cleaning up this Newman mess for the last few days, but do you see what my normally pretty face looks like? What I have is a problem that one side of it is black and blue and sliced open. What I have is a problem that I had to fight, knock out, tie up, and move a fat ass federal agent out of a hotel and into the trunk of my brand-new Mercedes Benz by my fucking self. What I have is a problem that a gun was pointed at my head by said fed. What I have is a problem that Newman was not an easy fix like you said he would be. In fact that fix required me to pull off some James Bond-esque shit. So the answer to your question is no. My problem isn't with Jade or the fact that she lives here with us. My problem is with you!"

  Camden doesn't even blink at the fact that I'm raising my voice, and continues to calmly stuff a handful of spinach into the blender with the rest of his goo. I don't know why I bother yelling at him. He rarely gives a damn.

  "Obviously Newman didn't tell me that he fucked around and killed a woman. If I had known that, I would have dropped everything and been there to assist. You know that."

  "You should have been there regardless. It's our business. A joint partnership. I don't work for you or Roman. I'm not your employee. Just because I'm laid back doesn't mean I'm easy."

  Camden exhales deeply. "One thing that you're definitely not is easy, Cut, and I've never once thought of you as anything less than my partner. Ever. You're my brother and my best friend, but you're beating a dead horse at this point. I don't know what more you fucking want. I've already said I'm sorry, and that it won't happen again. I'm not going to apologize twice."

  "No? Well that works out then, loverboy, because I'd really rather not hear your half-assed apology again. I want a restructuring."

  He runs the blender again for a moment and then stops.

  "Explain."

  "I'm leaving."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Leaving town. I'm sure that fat fed is gunning for me ever since he woke up in the trunk of a car, somewhere in New Jersey, with a lump on the back of his head. I figure I'm going to need to get out of dodge for a while. While I'm gone, I think the three of us need to figure out a better working arrangement."

  "The fed isn't going to be a problem. Roman's on it. You don't have to leave town."

  "You're not understanding what I'm saying. I want to go. I need to go."

  My brother stares at me and his posture stiffens for a moment. It's the first honest reaction I've gotten out of him today. Then he pours and takes a swig of the disgusting green goop he's made, grimaces, and asks me a question.

  "Is this your way of punishing me, little brother?"

  I sit down with my soggy cereal and start talking with a spoonful of it in my mouth.

  "I think that vegan smoothie Jade makes you drink every day is punishment enough. So no, I'm not trying to punish you. I just need a break."

  "A break from me."

  "From everything. I'm being pulled too thin right now. The club. The restaurant. The fixes."

  "So you need a vacation." He takes a long final swig of his smoothie and plunks the cup down on the counter. "Done."

  "That's not exactly what I meant, Cam."

  "I heard you loud and clear. You need some time off. Done."

  I shake my head to myself. It's my brother's one shortcoming. Sometimes he only hears what he wants to hear. It would be pointless to argu
e him down. So I just let it go.

  I get a call from one of "my" kids from the old neighborhood. A boy named Johnson who I pay sometimes to gather a little intel for me. I'm hoping he can tell me a little something about the dude who hit Sloan.

  "Let me take this," I say to Camden then I answer my cell. "Hey, Johnson."

  "Hey, man."

  "What's up? You find out anything?"

  "So he's not from around the neighborhood."

  "I know that already. I would have recognized him. I told you that he looked tweaked. Did you check with some of the corner boys? See if he buys from anyone. Sells for anyone."

  "I put a call out. Based on your description nothing came up yet. I've got eyes everywhere though."

  "Then what are you calling me for?" I say raising my voice.

  "You told me to keep you updated."

  "Call me when you've actually got something."

  I end the call abruptly.

  Frustrated with Johnson.

  Pissed at Camden.

  Wondering how Sloan's doing. What she's doing.

  "You probably can't find him, because he's not on anyone's radar. He's just some random kid who thinks he's a tough guy. Did you go on the girl's social media to look for him?" Camden asks.

  "I know how to do my job and yours. Obviously, I already did that. She has nothing up about him. No pictures. No posts. In fact she hasn't posted anything at all in about six weeks."

  "That's weird for a seventeen-year-old kid."

  Yeah, it is.

  "On another note, during my time off, I'm going to work on a little research project that you may be interested in."

  "What is it?"

  "I got something else from Newman other than three wasted days of my life."

  "I hope we got paid."

  "We did. It's in the account. An extra thirty percent by the way, and you're welcome, but I'm talking about something else. He sent me a file of an investigation that he did on the three of us, and get this–it supposedly includes information about some long-lost brother you and I have. He was probably just feeding me some bull to ensure that I'd take care of the body, but just in case he wasn't–"

  Camden goes stock still, and I swear he starts turning the color of the green crap he just drank.

  "I'm not understanding your reaction," I say suspiciously. Wondering why he's so quiet. "Tell me you don't already know something about this."

  He exhales painfully. "Maybe a little something."

  "A little like . . . we actually do have a brother and you failed to mention that shit?"

  "I didn't think there was any truth to it."

  "Truth to what?"

  "Something that Joseph said in passing when we were in the middle of a heated discussion. I thought he only said it to get a rise out of me. I didn't think for one second that it could actually be real."

  Joseph Masterson is Roman's father, our former boss, and most times a domineering asshole. It's totally plausible that he was trying to get under Cam's skin, but he usually does that with hard truths. Not lies.

  "When did the two of you have this heated discussion?"

  "At least two years ago."

  Two fucking years ago?!

  I'm so angry right now that I can't see straight. My brother blatantly broke several of the King brother rules. Rules that the hypocrite himself has spent half of our lives enforcing.

  1. Family comes first

  2. We do not lie to each other.

  3. We do not keep secrets from one another.

  4. We do not fight about money.

  5. We do not fight over women.

  I pick up the closest thing to me, which is my mushy bowl of Raisin Bran, and sling the entire thing across the room at Camden's head.

  He ducks just in time.

  Bran flakes and cashew milk drip down the wall directly behind him.

  The big fucker has always had quick reflexes.

  "The only reason why you're getting away with that–" He points his finger at the wall then at me. "Is because you already got your ass kicked once this week."

  My eye starts to twitch. If ever I have felt close to wanting to pummel my brother into next month, it's at this moment, but I might really hurt him if I did that. We're not kids anymore. We're grown men. We don't need to fight. That would be disastrous.

  What we need is space.

  If I wasn't sure about it before, I am crystal clear about that right now.

  "I'll be out of here by the end of the week."

  "Do what you gotta do," Camden says in his bitter I don't give a shit voice, as if I'm the one being unreasonable.

  No remorse.

  No apology.

  So I pack my two large black duffels and walk out on my brother for the very first time in our lives. If the one brother I've loved all my life treats me like this, I've decided that I'm definitely in no rush to meet another.

  Twelve

  cutter

  "Hey, man, it's me again."

  My phone rings through the Bluetooth activated sound system in my car. I've basically been driving around the city in a fog for an hour trying to calm myself down. Worried like an imbecile about things like who's going to schedule the waitress shifts at the tapas lounge or who's going to make sure that Marco remembers to put in those extra orders of vodka at the club. Then realizing that it's not my problem anymore. Somebody else is going to have to step up while I sit on my ass for a while. Maybe then Camden and Roman will realize how they've made the mistake of taking my kindness for weakness.

  "What's up, Johnson."

  "I think I've got something."

  "What."

  "A flag went up at your lady's job."

  I pull the car over.

  "Explain."

  "A kid fitting your guy's description just applied for a mailroom position in her building."

  "Did you get a name?"

  "No, my contact saw the guy go in for an interview. No names yet."

  "What businesses are in the building?"

  "Only the drug company. They own the whole thing."

  Fuck me.

  "He's doing a piss poor job of it, but he's fucking stalking her."

  "We won't know for sure that it's him, boss, until we get the name. Probably half of the mailroom there fits his description. Give me another day or so. My guy's uncle works in the IT department there. He has to try and pull the human resource records without leaving a footprint. In the meantime, you keep trying to get some info on him too."

  "Who's hiring who, Johnson?"

  "Sorry, boss. I'm not telling you what to do. Obviously, you're still working your magic on your end. Just want to make sure we get this scumbag for you."

  I'm just giving Johnson shit because I'm mad at myself. What kind of fixer can't find a twenty-one-year-old kid.

  "Gotta take another call. We'll catch up later."

  It's Roman.

  "What's up," I answer flatly. Already assuming that I know what this call is about. Roman doesn't do chitchat.

  "I talked to Camden."

  Of course he did. That little snitch.

  "I hear that you're taking some time off."

  "That's right."

  "I know what happened at the hotel, and I feel fucked-up about it, Cut. Normally I would have been there, but Elizabeth was having something called Braxton-Hicks contractions that night."

  "Uh-huh."

  "We thought she was having the baby early. She was scared out of her mind. I was shitting bricks. Wasn't going to leave her by herself, brother."

  "I'm not trying to be an asshole, Rome, but that wasn't the only night you and Cam both left me hanging. I understand that there's going to be a lot of things that come up now that you're getting married and are about to have a baby, but me carrying all of the weight isn't the solution. We need another plan if this is going to be a true partnership moving forward. Otherwise it feels more like my business instead of our business.

  "You serious?"


  "Fuck yeah I'm serious."

  I hear muffled voices in the background. He's apparently distracted by something or someone around him. Probably Elizabeth as usual.

  "Listen, brother, we can talk about the inequality of how we're dividing up work later. Just trust that we'll fix this. Right now I'm calling about something else, and then I've gotta go."

  The blow off as expected.

  "What."

  "It's the glamazon."

  "What about her?"

  "I heard about the black eye."

  My chest tightens. I can tell by the tone of his voice that he's going to say some shit I don't want to hear.

  "And?"

  "And I called you because it's no secret that you've been scaring away dudes at the club who even think about looking at her two seconds too long. Not totally sure I understand why, but understand this, Cut–she doesn't belong to you. You haven't made a claim. I'm not even sure that's what you're planning to do. So I wanted to make sure you understood that she's my woman's best friend, and I'll take care of it. It's nothing. The scrawny kid that bags my groceries at the mini mart could deal with this asshole. So don't worry. He won't hit her again."

  "Do you know who he is?"

  "Not yet."

  "Do you know where he is?"

  "Not yet but like I told you, I'll handle it."

  "Do you seriously think you can just call me up and order me to stay out of this? You're not her father or her brother. In fact, from everything I've observed, she doesn't even like your ass."

  "Well from what I hear, she doesn't like you very much either."

  "Listen, asshole–"

  "I didn't call to argue, Cut. Just stay out of my way."

  "You arrogant mother–!"

  "Bye, Cut."

  Click

  I rake my hand across my head several times in frustration. This day is going to complete shit. Until the best idea I've had in a long time pops into my head. I'm going to beat Roman at his own swinging his big dick around game.

  "How did you know about the opening in our downtown property, Mr. King? We haven't even posted it publicly yet."