“And he’s going to go back later.” I reared away and stared around the hallway. How would King deal with this shit? I knew exactly how. They’d be dead as fucking dead and tossed into Undertaker’s crematorium. Cold tingles thrilled through my stomach, so sharply different from the good I’d felt in Jamie’s bed, in his arms—but not entirely bad, either. I licked my lips and met Corbin’s concerned gaze. “Names? Where can I find them?”
Corbin backed off and chuckled, smacking my shoulder. “Come on, now. Who do ya think ya are? You’re not going out there.”
“I’m a King. I’m King’s son.” Cool terror pelted through me as I uttered those words, but I did it because my family ties seemed like they might be something I could use here.
“Bloody fuck, no you’re not.”
Shrugging, I left him there muttering to himself and went back to the pool. No one was out there, so I searched around the Virtue. I made my way down the stairs to the first floor and scanned the foyer with no luck. The differences between the Virtue and the Courtesan in New Gothenburg were wide and narrow at the same time. Both were for rich people. Both were clean and too fancy. I walked across glossy black-and-white marble floors and dodged stone pillars. People lounged and talked on tan couches scattered around the big room, but no one I knew. Finally, I found Scar, Reaper, and Jester hanging out at one end of the gleaming dark bar. I had no idea what type of wood the thing was made from, but it seemed as expensive as everything else in the place.
“Want to party while you’re here?” I asked, snaring everyone’s attention away from their drinks and all the staring they were doing at a couple of men making out at one of the nearby tables. There were four hot guys, and they seemed to be trading kisses pretty indiscriminately.
“What kind of party?” Jester asked. I waited until the bartender was serving someone at the other end of the bar and then leaned in and quietly filled them in on what I wanted to do for Jamie. Not why, exactly, but I think they might have guessed I didn’t want to see Jamie hurt again.
Jester glanced at us and then stood from his barstool. “I’m bored.”
Scar sighed and scrubbed his hand over the short, spiky tips of his brown hair. “Charley’s gonna be pissed at me.”
Reaper finished the last of his drink and then pushed the glass far away from himself on the bar top. “When isn’t he?”
Scar smirked. “When he’s got all ten inches in his ass, he’s happy enough.”
Jester laughed. “You’re so full of shit.”
Scar nudged him with his elbow. “No, he’s full of me.”
“Where’s Grant?” I asked, honestly a little happy that he and Forrest were missing in action.
“With your brother, looking at some painting that Rourke got for his office,” Scar said, not really like he cared much. “They’ll be back soon.”
“Then let’s go while they’re occupied,” I mumbled and walked away from them. To my surprise, all three of them fell in behind me as I stomped toward the front entrance.
Scar snagged my elbow and stopped me when we were almost out of the bar area. “To be clear here, King told us to watch you. This game gonna get the cops onto us?”
“Not if we do it right.”
Corbin appeared in the archway that led into the lobby with such a disgruntled scowl stuck on his face, I wanted to groan out loud. He marched toward me. “You”—he pointed at the others, too—“none of ya are going out there.”
“Yes, I am.”
Jester bumped his fist to my shoulder in a friendly way, and I was awed to realize they were all behind me on this.
Corbin pinched the bridge of his nose and glared. I stared back. His shoulders slumped. “Ah, for feck sake. Fine. Let’s do it right, then, fellas. Come on. Let’s get ourselves armed.” He dragged me closer with a hand on my elbow and dropped his voice. “The Kings have an association with Killough, so if we go afoul somehow, that’s the story we all tell. Especially if this ever gets back to Sloan. You’re Jamie’s men tonight. This isn’t some half-baked revenge because your boyfriend wasn’t paying attention when we was running down an alley.” Corbin said that last part to me directly, slowly, and thumped a fist to my chest while he spoke. I didn’t like that everyone was crowding in around me, but I tried to fight off the jitters.
“Okay. I’m Jamie’s man.”
Corbin’s mouth twisted into a knowing smile and he led the way out of the bar. Jester, Scar, and Reaper didn’t even look ruffled, and I’d never been so happy to have been abandoned by the Demons and found by King.
7
Jamie
Tap, tap,tappingon my bedroom door had me sitting up out of a dead sleep. My head swam for a second and I slapped a hand to it, which turned out to be a mistake of epic goddamned proportions. The sting that tore through my skull fucking hurt, and I took a second to breathe out and worry that I’d had my skull truly cracked earlier when David Nunzio, the adopted son of a real Italian mobster, Alberto Nunzio, got the drop on me.
Corbin would be giving me hell about that single misstep for the next fifty-seven years, I was sure.
The airy knocks at the door continued, polite but incessant as a hornet, and I groaned as I shoved myself to my feet. I went to the chest of drawers and fished out a pair of sweats to slip on before I answered. The door swung open on a beautiful sight.
“There ya are, ya wee imp,” I said, my voice scratchy. I cleared my throat.
