Twin Tango

by H Q Kingsley

  I shook my head, pushing away the thoughts before I let them gnaw at me yet again. It was my birthday. If I wanted to drive myself crazy about my marriage, it’d have to wait until tomorrow.

  I trudged down the hallway, feeling antsy about getting a cup of coffee in me. My entire body felt like dead weight. I was a nine-to-five kind of guy. Getting Quinn to work by six thirty and Greyson to school by seven was going to require at least three shots of caffeine.

  Dragging my feet, I rounded the corner to the kitchen.

  “No, I’m for real. Ask your dad. I scored mad pussy in high school.”

  I furrowed my eyebrows as I watched Quinn excitedly recap his teenage escapades to my son.

  It was way too damn early. “I don’t know how this conversation started,” I said with a sigh as I made my way to the coffee maker. “But don’t talk to my son about your sex life. Past or present.”

  Quinn’s bright blue eyes rolled as he ran a hand through the tousle of strawberry curls wildly brushed on top of his head. I never knew what kind of look Quinn was going for. It was too upscale to be hipster and too messy to be classy. But whatever it was, he did not look like a teacher. If I’d met him on the street, I’d guess he was an artist of some kind, obscure and brooding.

  “Look at this kid.” He smacked his hand on Greyson’s shoulder. “He’s like a Friday Night Lights cliché. You really think he’s not getting laid?”

  I put my fingers to the bridge of my nose. Way. Too. Fucking. Early. “Don’t talk to me about my son’s sex life either. Honestly, Quinn, I can’t even believe some of the things I have to say to you.”

  Quinn pursed full, pouty lips. “Wow, you’re in a mood this morning. The one-pump wonder couldn’t get it up for a morning romp?”

  “Quinn!” I snapped, stilling for a moment and hoping his voice didn’t carry. Karlyle and I had enough problems.

  You’d think after thirty-plus years, I’d have learned not to tell Quinn all of my secrets. He had no filter and didn’t seem to understand the concept of “between you and me.”

  The coffee maker beeped, and I slowly poured an obscene amount into my thermos. “Okay, let’s go,” I said, screwing on the top.

  I turned to see the surprised look on Greyson’s face as he bit halfway into a pancake.

  Quinn let out a huff of air. “We’re eating breakfast,” he whined, shoving a piece of bacon into his mouth. “What’s the hurry?”

  “The hurry is you’ve annoyed me. I’m annoyed and I still have an hour of traffic to sit in with you, so you lost the right to breakfast.”

  I took a long drink from my cup as I moved for the front door, sighing in satisfaction even though it burned off all of my taste buds.

  “But, Dad, what about me? I didn’t do anything!” Greyson’s soft brown eyes flickered over to me.

  “That’s the price of family. You can eat breakfast at school. Thank your uncle.”

  Greyson grimaced. “I hate school breakfast. Everything is vegan and gluten-free.” He shoved the rest of his pancake into his mouth, tipping a bottle of syrup to his lips after.

  I pulled open the front door. “Good. Sounds fancy. For what we pay in tuition, they should serve it on gold plates. Now, get moving.”

  Greyson grumbled something through a mouthful of food as he slid off the barstool with his backpack.

  Quinn sighed as he followed suit, climbing off his chair and heading for the front door, both leaving their mess behind for me to clean up later. I rolled my eyes. I’d demanded they get moving, but I’d thought at least one of them would have put his plate in the sink.

  As we made our way to the car, I smiled at the oversized gift in the driver’s seat. “What is this?” I pulled open the door to grab the wrapped orange and yellow box.

  “Happy birthday, Dad.” Greyson grinned from ear to ear at me. His eyes sparkled with pride and, even though he was nearly an adult, I saw him just as I had the first day I’d seen him. In my eyes, he was still that sweet six-year-old boy looking up at me, asking me to love him.

  I sniffed as my eyes watered. “Son,” I squeaked, my throat tightening with emotion. I extended my arms, inviting him into them.

  He rolled his eyes as he moved into my embrace. “All right, Dad. It’s just a birthday present. It’s standard practice. Don’t make a whole thing out of it.”

  “Right.” I blinked back the tears welling in my eyes. “Forty is about the age that a man should stop crying in public.”

  Greyson chuckled as he pulled out of my arms. “Probably,” he agreed as he yanked open the door to the back seat and slid in.

  I grabbed my gift and set it in the back with him. “I’ll open it tonight with Karlyle’s.”

  As I climbed in behind the wheel, I glanced over at a very guilty-looking Quinn.

  “My gift is still in the mail,” he said.

  Laughing, I nodded. “Well, I won’t hold my breath while I wait for it.”

  Quinn wasn’t that friend. He wasn’t the friend who remembered birthdays or bought you thoughtful Christmas gifts, or even the friend who would remember to pick you up from the airport. But that wasn’t the kind of friend I needed. I needed the kind of friend who would hitchhike to Mexico because I was having an episode and no one else could get through to me. And that’s who Quinn was. He was always there when I needed him. He’d follow me to hell if I asked, but he wouldn’t bring a Christmas gift.

  “So, does that mean there’s a party tonight at yours? I sort of promised Bobbi I’d stay home tonight.”

  I shook my head. “Not at all. We’re just going to have dinner. Nothing special. You should stay at your place. Honestly, I see you way too much for someone who allegedly moved out a year ago.”

  Quinn let out an exasperated breath. “Please, you love seeing me.”

  “I never said I didn’t. But…” I turned to him as I pulled up to a red light. “Bobbi is madly in love with you. It’s far time you decide if it’s mutual.”

  Quinn frowned, and I could see it in his eyes—he’d been thinking the same thing. He’d been stringing Bobbi along for the better part of two years. He cleared his throat with a nod. “I know,” he said softly.

  I reached out to place my hand on his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze as I left him to his thoughts. I knew Quinn; he wasn’t intentionally misleading Bobbi. Hell, he probably had no idea why the man was so in love with him, but Quinn had a knack for not knowing what he wanted. In most instances, it made him kind of fearless. Who else but Quinn could be a teacher by day and a bartender by night? But in other instances, it left him as the bad guy breaking someone’s heart.

  I turned up the radio to fill some of the silence as we made our way through traffic. Only the sounds of MC Lyte and Greyson’s constant texting floated through the car until we pulled up to Quinn’s elementary school.

  “Thanks for the ride,” he said as he climbed out of the car. “Happy birthday, bro!” He turned his gaze to the back seat. “Stay out of trouble,” he said mockingly.

  “Always.” Greyson grinned after him as he headed toward the building.

  “Why don’t you hop up here,” I said, patting the empty passenger seat.

  Greyson gazed skeptically back at me before he stepped out of the car with a sigh. He opened the passenger door and plopped in.

  “Cool, cool,” I said, as I pulled away from the curb, trying my best to be casual.

  “Dad, it’s cool,” Greyson said with a groan.

  “Huh? What’s cool?”

  “Quinn said that I’m getting laid and you’ve been freaking out about it ever since, right?”

  I blinked over at him before turning my eyes back to the road. “Uh, well, yeah.” Jesus, the kid was too smart for his own good.

  “I’m not having sex, Dad,” Greyson said calmly.

  I slowly nodded my head, trying to collect my thoughts. My own father hadn’t been around when I was Greyson’s age, and I was determined to be better. “Are you…sure?”

 
; Greyson chuckled. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure I’d know.”

  I laughed. “Fair point.” I sucked in a breath. “Okay. Good. Because you know you can talk to me if you’re thinking about—”

  “I know, Dad. But I’m not. I’m fine.”

  I cringed. Could that really be true? What teenage boy wasn’t thinking about having sex? Especially my teenage boy. He was smart, charming, and handsome. I shook my head. Was I actually upset that my sixteen-year-old wasn’t getting laid? I was losing my goddamn mind.

  “So, you’re not even considering it?” I asked, wondering why the hell I was pushing it. “Because you know you can talk to me about…if something else is going on too.”

  Greyson groaned. “I’m not gay either, if that’s where this is going.” I opened my mouth, and he cut me off. “Or questioning, or anything else you’re about to hint at. I’m just not interested in the girls at my school.”

  “Oh.” I nodded, considering whether I should circle back around to the gay thing. I hadn’t been interested in any of the girls at my school either. I looked over at him as I pulled into a line of traffic.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” Greyson protested. “Look, I love you, Dad, and I love Karlyle, but you guys sent me to a private school that’s very, very rich and very, very white.”

  “Ah,” I said, some of the pieces falling into place.

  “I’m the adopted black athlete. Every girl in my class at best thinks of me as a prop to mess with daddy and at worst, a sideshow act, which doesn’t exactly make me want to bone.”

  I held up my hand. “Got it.”

  “Great. Can we be done talking about this?”

  “Yes.” I shook my head as I let out a breath, pulling into the drop-off line. “Well…”

  Greyson groaned. “Dad, no! It’s too early.”

  “No, this isn’t about the sex thing, it’s just…your two red-headed uncles? That was my family. Someone as dark as me, standing next to them growing up… Well, we just all have our crosses to bear. It takes a while to find your place in the world, Grey.” I grinned at him. “And I found mine in a Brooklyn brownstone, so I’d say I did pretty good, huh?”

  Greyson laughed. “Yeah.” He met my eyes. “Thanks, Dad.”

  “Anytime.”

  The drive to my office was shorter than I expected. I let myself in, arriving long before anyone else. That was the thing about driving in New York. You never really knew if getting somewhere would take you two hours or twenty minutes, and there was absolutely no way to predict it.

  It wasn’t the worst thing in the world. I liked having a little extra time in the morning to get myself together. I was at the top of my game and, to stay there, I had to micromanage. An extra hour in the morning to double-check everyone’s work was a gift…sort of.

  I didn’t exactly love my job. Being the director of accounting wasn’t the glamorous lifestyle of the rich and famous, but I was doing better than I’d ever thought I’d be. My childhood self couldn’t have even dreamed up the life I’d built for myself.

  I settled in at my desk and took an appreciative look around. The flawlessly cleaned glass doors, the neat, matching furniture set strategically, placed off-center in the corner. I’d done all of that. I’d made it.

  I had the corner office, the beautiful family, and yet there was still this constant pit in my stomach telling me there was more. Telling me to keep moving. Telling me I wasn’t good enough yet.

  I swallowed it down, sitting up straighter to type at my computer. I wouldn’t let my doubts drown me today, or at least not first thing in the morning.

  My phone chimed in my pocket, and I reached for it, instinctively putting it to my ear before checking the caller ID.

  “Hello?”

  The silence on the other end gave me pause, and I pulled the phone away to read the number on the screen. Two, one, zero. San Antonio. It was a life I’d long since left behind.

  “Hello?” I said again, preparing to hang up.

  “Hello, Antwon. How are you, nephew?”

  A lump formed in my throat, and I tried to clear it. “Auntie Beth?”

  “Oh, good. You remember my voice.”

  I frowned. I hadn’t, but my mother had no family, and Beth was the only person still alive that would call me nephew, unfortunately. She was just as big a mess as her brother. Neither one of them came with anything but damage and heartache.

  “What do you want?” My voice had gone cold, but my heart raced in my chest. I hadn’t spoken to my aunt since I’d left Texas, and I never expected to hear from her again.

  “Still the same old Antwon, I see. Right to the point.”

  I rolled my eyes, nearly ready to hang up on her. My father brought out the worst in me. His family, his associates, everything he ever touched, he left a little bit of poison on.

  “You need to come home,” she said, making me roll my eyes again.

  “New York is home,” I countered.

  She grumbled something I didn’t catch. “Your father’s dead.”

  I stilled for a moment. “No, he isn’t,” I said with a sigh.

  “Antwon, he’s really gone this time. You need to come home.”

  I opened my mouth to argue with her, to tell her she was delusional if she actually believed Malik was dead, and twice as crazy to think I’d ever go back to Texas. I took a deep breath, ready to hand her ass back to her until she spoke again.

  “It’s time you meet your brother.”

  Get the book now: Buy Now!

  Excerpt of Reluctant Mate

  Elspeth Callum

  “What will we do next, Alpha Callum? There isn’t a clan left we can subjugate and take from.”

  My council of four—led by my Beta, Dimitri—was gathered in my study as we deliberated over our next line of attack. We had a reputation throughout the territories. We were the warriors, the pillagers, the fighters. And anyone foolish enough to stand against us… well, they didn’t live to tell the tale.

  But we were running out of land to cover. We were running out of clans to pillage, and my wolves were counting on me to keep them busy. They were ruthless savages, and savages didn’t do well if kept idle. I knew because I was the most savage of them all.

  “We’ve covered a lot of ground across the southern expanse of the continent,” Dimitri noted, his thick Russian accent dripping over every word. He dragged his fingers along the map, his nails scratching along the wood of the table beneath it before he paused. “There were four clans total in that area,” he said, reaching up to push his dark brown hair behind his ear.

  “And they didn’t put up much of a fight, either,” Alfred added with a grin. He was the aged member of my council, but he still had a hell of a lot of fight left in him. Salt-and-pepper hair spiraled across his head in sporadic patterns, falling into his eyes with every movement of his head. He pushed it to the side with a sweep of his hand as he turned to look at me with a wide, smug grin.

  “And what if any of them plan to retaliate?” Jonah asked, his tiny button nose scrunching in thought.

  I smirked. I’d specially selected Jonah for the council. He was a gentle soul born into the wrong clan, and despite my every effort to harden him, he remained stubbornly docile. At some point, I’d accepted him, even grown to appreciate his delicate nature. He was the little angel on my shoulder… the one I never listened to, of course, but it was nice to get an angelic perspective from time-to-time.

  The council roared with laughter. They had less tolerance for Jonah’s caution. A cup went flying through the air aimed for Jonah’s head, and he quickly ducked with a frown.

  “Let them try,” Mark shouted as he shot to his feet. “The Shadow Moon Clan would love the fucking challenge!” He bared his teeth and beat against his bare chest. It was his trademark. I wasn’t even sure Mark owned a shirt.

  Jonah folded his arms over his chest, his shoulders sagging as he sank into his seat. “I was just saying ‘what if’ you barbaric ape,” he grumble
d, and I bit back a smile. Maybe there was a little Shadow Moon in him yet.

  I cleared my throat for their attention and received it instantly. “We’ve attacked nearly every clan in the area—”

  “And all thanks to our dear Alpha,” Dimitri interrupted, grabbing his mug from the table and lifting it. “A true and fearless leader.”

  The others lifted their glasses and roared in agreement.

  I grinned. “If you want to be the best, you need to let everyone know exactly who the fuck you are and what you're bringing to the table.” I shrugged, letting the praise go to my head. I’d had a point to make. I’d gone into the meeting meaning to tell them about the shortage of places left to pillage, but my ego, as always, had gotten the better of me.

  “Here, Here!” Alfred exclaimed before tipping his mug to his lips.

  “Speaking of ‘bringing things to the table,’” Dimitri leaned back in his chair. “Anyone up for a game of poker after this? I want to win back the five hundred dollars I lost last week.” He smiled before pulling a toothpick from his pocket and placing it between his teeth. He was the perfect picture of confidence. Ironic, since he was a shit poker player. I could never tell if he actually had a good poker face or if he simply didn’t understand how the game worked, but he was constantly making bad bets and the man never knew when to fold. Luckily for me, he’d never fold on me, either. He was my right hand. I trusted no one above him, even when he was a pain in my ass.

  “Why? So you can cheat again?” Alfred said, his eyes narrowed in accusation.

  “Alfy...” Dimitri gave an exaggerated gasp and placed a hand on his chest. “I would never cheat with our great Alpha watching. How could you even make such an accusation?”