The Elite Kings Boxset Vol. II

by Amo Jones

  “Did you see that?” I ask Nate, but his head is turned to the other side.

  “See what?” he asks, his face turning to me.

  “Never mind,” I grumble. I swear to God if this me seeing people thing is going to be a thing I’ll check myself into a fucking psychiatric ward.

  His hand comes to my thigh. “You’re not going crazy, baby. Yeah, I saw her.”

  Adrenaline crashes through my body. “Who is she?” I want to know everything.

  Nate shrugs. “Don’t know. That was the first time I have ever seen her, but when we had that party, Brantley was acting on some next level feral shit. So I’m not very keen on raising the topic with him.”

  I snort, turning the radio on. “SOS” by Avicii starts playing softly in the background. The deep base shaking through the car like small thunderbolts. These fucking lyrics. We all merge onto the main highway and I watch behind me as the Raptor’s angry front follows close behind me. I stick close behind Brantley.

  “Whose Raptor is that?”

  “Jase’s. We would tease him about the size of his cock, but we’ve all seen it.”

  I laugh, just as a matte black Maserati flies past us and slips in front of Brantley’s car.

  I roll my eyes. “What about Bishop’s?”

  Nate laughs, leaning back in his seat. “Definitely not.”

  The song moves on and Nate’s hand comes to my thigh. “No doubt we will be staying out here the night.”

  “I wore Jimmy Choos!”

  He rolls his eyes, sliding his phone unlocked. He presses his phone to his ear.

  “Yo, can you bring Tillie some normal shoes, and a change of clothes, and her little pink lace panties with the letters S E C R E T over them?”

  I shove him.

  He laughs. “Oh, and her toothbrush.”

  He hangs up his phone. “Done.”

  “Who was that?”

  “Relax, like I’d let any of the boys near your fucking panties. It was Bailey. She’s coming tonight too.”

  I smile. “Really?” Excited I’ll have another girl with me—for once. I like Bailey a lot. I think she’s smart for a young girl, but I can see the bitch beneath the sweet.

  “Yeah,” Nate murmurs and his head tilts. “And I’m pretty sure I saw two people in Bishop’s car.

  Madison? “No,” he cuts into my thoughts. “It’s Abel.”

  It doesn’t matter that he corrected me. Now my thoughts are with Madison. “Did she run with Tate again?”

  Nate shakes his head. “Nah. Tate is getting ready to start NYU. I think, for the most part, their friendship is slowly drifting apart. Tate has new friends, friends of her caliber.”

  Lucky Tate. Living a normal life and whatnot, but even as I think that, I feel guilty. I love my friends. “So she doesn’t give a shit that Madison has run again?”

  “She doesn’t know. She thinks Madison is ghosting her.”

  “Well,” I say, readjusting myself in my seat. “I’d be pissed at you guys for that.”

  “You wouldn’t run,” he adds matter-of-factly.

  “True, but in any case.” I can’t help but feel hurt that she didn’t at least try to reach out to me before she ran. I kept her secret. Through it all I kept it, but she still couldn’t trust me?

  Then realization sinks in. “You’re acting rather blasé about the whole thing.”

  Nate snorts, his finger running over his upper lip. “We know where she is, Tillie. Make no mistake, we will always know where either of you are.”

  I lick my lips. “And?”

  His jaw clenches. “She’s in New Zealand.”

  We stay quiet the rest of the drive. Four hours later, we’ve pulled off the main highway and onto a private road. Trees burst out the soil that lines the perfectly manicured road.

  “I don’t remember it being this well kept out here.”

  Nate exhales as we all pull to the front of the cabin. The same cabin we were all at when Nate and I first got together and the same night I found out about my mother.

  Heavy logs act as pillars and surround the wrap-around porch, to where I know floor to ceiling glass walls line the front of the main living room inside.

  We climb out, shutting the door. I walk forward, my heels clicking across the road.

  “Little terror, wearing heels to a cabin?” Brantley quirks his eyebrow at me.

  “I know,” I murmur, my eyes going to Abel briefly as I give him a soft smile. “Bailey is bringing me some more.”

  Brantley chuckles. “That cousin of mine is a royal pain in my fucking ass.”

  “Daddy Bran Bran. So full of secrets….”

  His eyes turn to slits and I quickly run up the front steps.

  “You can’t run fast in those heels, Princessa! I would put that smart mouth on a leash if I was you!”

  I giggle, pushing the front door open and step inside. The fireplace is going, candles lit around the room and the mantels all polished.

  “Who came and set it all up?” I ask, looking around the large space.

  The stairs that lead up to the bedrooms are directly to the right as you walk in. A large U-shaped leather sofa sits in the middle of the main living room, a massive open fireplace built into the wall behind the sofa. The trees look magnified from behind the large glass walls, and the kitchen is all varnished wood and marble. It’s a clean fade between traditional and executive. I love the cabin, and start to realize none of them spend much time here. What an absolute waste.

  I pick up one of the photos that are sitting on the mantle above the fireplace.

  Hector and Scarlet with Bishop in Scarlet’s arms. I put it back, not wanting to touch anything to do with Hector. Except Bishop.

  Nate flops onto the sofa and kicks off his Adidas Original shoes. “I’m so fucked.”

  “Yeah, because you got fucked last night.” Eli kicks his legs.

  “Pretty sure I did the fucking,” Nate snaps back quickly.

  “Really?” Hunter chuckles. “Because I’m pretty sure that black eye speaks otherwise.”

  They all burst out laughing and I ignore them, making my way into the kitchen while removing my shoes. Total waste of shoes.

  “Are you okay?” I ask Bishop as he pulls down a bottle of scotch and a couple of glasses. The rest of the guys bring their shit inside, making their way up to the rooms. I haven’t even thought about where I’m sleeping, but I know that it won’t be with Nate again. We had a promise. We have to keep that promise.

  Bishop pours the liquid into my glass and slides it over to me. “Not really. But I’m giving myself the two days we’re all spending out here to pull my shit together.”

  I swirl the scotch around in my glass. “To pull your shit together, one has to completely fall apart. Put yourself together different this time, B. Better.”

  He shoots the drink back and slams his glass onto the table. “Can I ask you a question and will you be honest with me?”

  The TV goes on in the background, an NBA game playing.

  “Yes,” I answer, taking a sip of the strong liquid. I swear I hate whiskey. It is not my drink. I toss it back anyway and gag when it all slides down my throat.

  Bishop laughs, shaking his head and stands from his seat, making his way to a small bar that’s on the other side of the kitchen, behind the dining table. He comes back with a bottle filled with dark brown liquid.

  “What’s that?” I ask.

  “Old Fitzgerald Bourbon. I think you might like this one more. It’s still whiskey, but it’s bourbon, so it’s not distilled in Scotland, but in Kentucky. One’s made with barley and the other, corn. It’s all boring, but usually if you can drink scotch, you can drink bourbon, but if you don’t like scotch, you usually like bourbon. Also, it costs four g’s a bottle.”

  I screw off the cap and pour it into my empty glass. I take a sip and my cheeks heat. The sweet bitterness stings my mouth but soothes my taste buds. “Much better.”

  He smiles. “Did Madison ev
er tell you about the time she spent in New Zealand?”

  I take a gulp of the bourbon, slowly swallowing it and bringing my knees to my chest. “A little.”

  I remove my jacket when I feel my blood heating. Raking my hand through my long hair. “Why?”

  “Did she mention a guy named Jesse?”

  I curl my lips under my teeth, placing my glass onto the granite table. “Briefly. She said they were friends. Is that who she’s with?”

  Bishop nods. “Yeah, and I’m struggling to stop myself from flying over there and dragging her back by her fucking hair.”

  I sink the rest of my drink, Nate comes into the kitchen behind Bishop. Grabbing chips and chocolate from the cupboard.

  I pour more bourbon into my glass.

  “Easy, tiger.” Nate points to my glass with a Twinkie in his mouth. He takes it out and tears the wrapper off with his teeth. “Don’t put yourself in a position where I can take your ass for granted.”

  I roll my eyes, another sip, and then go back to Bishop as Nate sinks back into the lounge, throwing bags of potato chips at the back of Eli’s head.

  “Don’t,” I say, and Bishop’s eyes come to mine. “She’ll come back when she wants. No point bringing her back. A lot has happened. She has changed the most out of all of us. If this is what she needs to do for herself right now, then let her do it. I’ll make sure I’m here if and when she comes back.”

  Bishop swallows his drink and tilts his head, removing his T-shirt. Bishop shirtless is not a good thing. Because it’s a very good thing.

  “For fuck’s sake,” I growl, diverting my eyes.

  He chuckles, tossing his shirt behind him. “My blood’s running hot. Guessing yours is the same.” I don’t miss the dip in his tone.

  It is. It’s rushing around me at speeds and a temperature I can’t grasp.

  “Yes—”

  “—Don’t even go there,” Brantley interrupts, yanking out the chair on the other side of Bishop while snatching my bottle of bourbon. He pours into his glass, his eyes on Bishop. Something passes between the two of them. Bishop’s eyes narrow on Brantley and then come back to me.

  Bishop laughs, his straight teeth flashing as his head tilts back. “You don’t fucking say.”

  Then he turns his head over his shoulder, his eyes going to the back of Nate’s head, Nate who has also ditched his shirt and has put a backward cap on.

  “I’ve been told Tillie’s color is red.” Bishop teases.

  Nate turns to face us, standing to all his six-foot-two-inches. His tattoos sprawling out over his tanned and shredded skin. His Calvin’s peek out from under his jeans. Jeans that are unbuttoned and hanging off his hips. He cranks his neck.

  “Yeah, fucking aye it is.”

  My eyes dart between the two of them, like I’ve missed something.

  “Just because my car is red doesn’t mean it’s my favorite color,” I say defiantly.

  They all burst out laughing. Nate’s eyes come to mine. “We know, baby. Chill.”

  Then he drops down onto the sofa, his eyes back on the game.

  Brantley and Bishop chuckle, and Bishop stands up, ruffling my hair with his hand. “You’ve been a good friend to Madison, Tillz. And to us… can’t imagine this life without your pink hair in it.”

  I clutch my chest, batting my lashes. “Aw.”

  His eyes roll. “Don’t get used to the sweet nothings. You won’t hear them again!” He disappears through the room and up the stairs, bottle of scotch between his fingers. Scotch, not bourbon.

  I lick my lips, the alcohol slowly coating my fear. “You okay, little terror?” Brantley asks behind his glass.

  I nod. “Hey,” I lean forward. “The Tesla?”

  He freezes, his eyes cutting to mine. “You saw her?”

  “Yes,” I hiss, whispering. Why am I whispering?

  Brantley’s eyes come to mine, darkening. “Why do I trust you?”

  I tilt my head. “The feeling is mutual, Brantley.”

  “No.” He shakes his head, tipping his head back to sink the rest of his drink. “Why do I trust you with the knowledge of the one person I don’t even trust myself with?”

  Because I’ll protect her. I want to say.

  Because I want to shield her. And you. And destroy anyone that comes near whatever it is that you both share. I also want to say.

  “I don’t know,” I whisper instead. “Why do you?”

  He pauses and then licks his lip. “I don’t know. When I know, I’ll tell you.”

  He leans over, kissing my head and I play with my glass as I watch Nate get riled up in the lounge, shoving at Eli who is making jokes about the LA Lakers beating the Golden State Warriors. Who knows. I’m bored. But within my boredom, I see these Kings as an outsider. They’re the most feared individuals by anyone with half a brain in this world or the knowledge of who they are, but really, through my eyes, they’re still a pack of boys, just with extracurricular activities, and who wouldn’t flinch at tearing a head clean off the shoulders of anyone who dared hurt anyone they cared about.

  Does that make them bad people? I think it only makes them bad to people who have ill intent. I scoop up my drink and run my fingers through my hair, swiping my hair out of my face. Padding around the space, I take in things that I maybe didn’t notice the first time I was here. Like the fact that there’s a sharp tower sticking up in the middle of the forest in the mess of treetops. Or that there’s an array of photographs scattered all over the place, not just of Bishop’s family, but of Nate, too. And Eli, and Hunter and Jase and Cash. There are old black and white photos of other families, people who I’m guessing were also a part of The Kings. I stop in front of another image. It was of Hector, alone, cradling a baby.

  “Who is this?” I nod my head at the photo that’s on one of the many small mantles nailed to the feature wall.

  “Must be Abel,” Nate states, tilting his head. The baby isn’t wearing blue or pink. It’s colored, but old. Nate’s eyes scan it a beat longer and then he puts it back. “Definitely Abel. Way too fucking pretty to be Bishop.”

  Bishop flips him off, parading down the stairs as Nate takes another seat on the sofa and goes back to watching the game.

  I stand, my eyes scanning them all.

  Do they think I’m fucking stupid?

  I want to say that Hector isn’t supposed to know that Abel exists. That that is what they had told me, but I find my mouth glued shut. I’ll gather my information and hit them when I need, there’s no point announcing that I know this, because that gives them time to change their story, maybe throw a few lies around.

  I’d rather play dumb.

  I shrug, making my way back to the sofa and take a seat beside Nate.

  He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, looking at me over his shoulder. Half his face is covered by that shoulder, but his eyes scan me up and down.

  “You good?”

  “Peachy!” I smile, batting my lashes. He goes back to the game and my smile falls. Asshole.

  My eyes swing around to meet Abel and he’s watching me closely. It’s scary how much he looks like Bishop. I’d bet my ass on the fact that they’re twins had they not had an age gap.

  He grins at me like he knows what I’m thinking.

  I wink at him.

  The thing about fucking with people is that that person begins to learn the art that you fuck, and they fuck you back harder, with perfect precision and execution.

  The sun has set a burnt orange hue in the sky, and I’m feeling itchy to get off this couch.

  “Is there food in there to cook?”

  Nate slaps my ass as I get up and I turn around, glaring at him.

  He blows me a kiss. “Yeah, there should be.”

  I round the sofa, still glaring at Nate, who is still smirking at me. When I enter back into the kitchen, the front door swings open.

  “Sorry I’m late!” Bailey hollers.

  The boys don’t move from their spot
s.

  “Thank god!” I wave her into the kitchen. “I’m starting to grow a dick.”

  Bailey laughs, removing her large puffy jacket and placing it on the hook.

  “Oh, I can assure you, I’ve fucked that pussy way too hard for it to turn into anything other than a drippi—”

  I slap the back of his head as we head into the kitchen.

  Bailey rolls her eyes, laughing.

  “Okay, so I figured we can all eat outside tonight because I did say I wante—”

  I turn around, and Bailey has stopped. I follow her line of sight, and hello, Abel.

  I lean into her. “Oh I see…”

  She flinches, turning to look at me. “What?”

  I chuckle. “Nothing. Come help me before you kill yourself with all those hormones.”

  She blushes. Straight up blushes. Sweet, sweet girl. That boy will eat you alive. But she’s a Vitiosis, so maybe not…

  Bailey gets started on the salad as I pull out all the freshly cut meat. Steaks and marinated chicken.

  I point to the alcohol. “Pour yourself a drink, young one…”

  She laughs. “Okay, since you insist. How has everything been? Sorry I’ve been absent around the house.” She pours some gin into a glass and then tops it with juice. “I’ve been studying my ass off so I’m ready when I start RPA, and when I’m not studying, I’m dancing, so it has been a little jammed in my schedule.”

  I raise my eyebrow at her as she sips on her Snoop juice. “Alright, Snoop Dog, not too many of those. I still feel somewhat responsible for you. Don’t think that will ever change.”

  And it won’t. I feel connected to Bailey, so it’s natural. Effortless. I look at her like a little sister. She plays the part well too because I feel like she looks at me the same way. Therefore, I’d rather not get her blind drunk. Maybe I’m still a mother after all…

  “It’s fine,” I murmur, heating up two large frying pans as she gets back to tossing grapes and pineapples into the colorful salad. “I’ve had a few things to deal with so I’m glad you didn’t see me in that state.”