“He did what?” King bellowed and turned entirely out of his seat to crouch in front of us. His eyes were wide and his jaw tight. I recognized a man in the grip of adrenaline but reacted too late by feebly putting my hands up. He charged and slammed me against the side of the van so hard it rocked, and I knew I’d be bruised.
“Whoa, Aaron,” Undertaker said, but he was obviously no help. Hunter tugged on King’s arm with a surprising amount of strength and dragged him off me. The collar of my shirt ripped as King didn’t let go of it and part of the material came away in his hand.
“Don’t touch him!” Hunter yelled.
“You did what? I purposefully keep you out of shit like that!” King whirled on Hunter, and they were nose to nose, lips curled in a mirror of each other.
“I never asked you to do that.”
“You didn’t have to ask,” King hissed. “You’re my kid, dumbass.”
Hunter huffed and pushed him, and King made landing on his arse look graceful as he leaned his back against the seat in front of him.
“Gonna have to ditch this van,” I told him.
He snorted. “Nah, we’ll pop the plates and paint it. Good as new.”
Only a few minutes later, gravel crunched under the van wheels and they came to a stop. We got out, and I’d never been more grateful to smack my feet on terra firma. King insisted on giving me horrible, narrow-eyed dirty looks the whole time he showed us around a dusty but perfectly serviceable warehouse that would, in fact, be useful with a few updates. I was relieved he was willing to allow us to use the building for a reasonable fifteen percent of all sales that came through the doors. But then he had to go and say, “I want in on the airport, soon as you nail down a system.” He jabbed his finger against my shoulder and delivered another awful sneer.
“What do ya mean?” I crossed my arms and turned toward him in the middle of a filth-strewn room that echoed with our voices. Some of the windows had been smashed out near the roof on the upper stories, and there were birds in the rafters above us that twittered, disturbed by our volume.
“I’ve been after that airport for a long time, friend, and Killough isn’t the only person I work with.” King hooked his thumbs in his jeans’ pockets and tilted his chin my way. Undertaker took out an honest-to-God pocket watch and checked it, shaking his head at me like I was only delaying the inevitable. His phone buzzed in his pocket and he took it out, too, smiled at it, and then texted back.
“We’re getting company,” he said softly to King, who didn’t acknowledge him.
“Ya haven’t managed it yourself. Why should we give ya this present?” I started to get irritated. It took a lot to ruffle me, but Hunter was an adult, and I’d about had it with King’s shite attitude.
“I don’t know. Because….” He glanced at Hunter. Thankfully he had the good sense to shut his mouth and not bring him up again becauseI wouldshut it for him if he said anything about the relationship we were somehow managing to nurture in the midst of the minefield of our lives. I wouldn’t have it if he threw my love life at me during work hours.
Hunter seemed torn and only flattened his lips into a thin line, not saying much. He slid his hands into his jacket pockets but didn’t go to stand behind King the way Undertaker had. I didn’t blame Hunter, not really. There wasn’t truly a good answer here, and I knew his loyalties lay with the Kings of Men, for now, anyway. I glanced at him, and he gave me a smile.
“Killough won’t like that.” I sighed. “Give me a compelling reason why I should accommodate your request that he will consider of value.”
King tilted his head back. “We’ll provide security for any shipments through New Gothenburg, so long as we have details ahead of time. The Kings aren’t the only club, and not everyone gives a shit about Sloan Killough.”
“Security.” I nodded and stared around the warehouse. “And an operational base. For that, ya want fifteen—”
“Twenty percent.”
I shot him a look. “Twenty percent as a cut, and the ability to use the system we set up at the airport when ya have the need.”
“Exactly.” King stuck out his hand, and I hesitated for a microsecond. Hunter had his gaze stuck on the dirty floor and I wanted him out of here. I wanted him sitting pretty somewhere far away from what happened on the highway. He could have died. Me, who gives a shite if I take a dirt nap, but him? There was only so much beauty in the world. I slapped my hand into King’s. I should have tried to knock him back down to fifteen, but wasn’t sure how badly I wanted to haggle in this instance, especially when I’d just this moment made up my mind that I’d be stealing something even more precious away from him when I left.
There was no way I was leaving Hunter here. Much as King went on about it, he would likely be the one to get Hunter killed.
The main door across the way burst open, and then Sapphira, who I hadn’t seen in a good while, strolled into the room. She flipped on the overhead lights along the way and they buzzed to life, causing us to throw a hand up to shield our eyes. She dazzled her way into my view, all delightful black curls ringing her head, and deep brown eyes and beautiful umber skin. The fact that she was dressed nearly identically to King, except a lot more form-fitting, had me grinning.
“Red says you saved her life,” she called as she got closer to us, and I had to chuckle.
King snorted. “Nah. We just hit some vermin on the highway with our van, that’s all.”
Sapphira slapped his elbow as she came to a stop beside us. “Not how Red tells the story. Boy, you probably got yourself free coffee for life. I told her I was coming to find you, and she said to tell you to stop at Grounds and Gears.”
“We might just take her up on that after this. I made a great deal here—”
King’s and Undertaker’s phones both rang. In an odd synchronization, they put their phones to their ears, and it was unsettling because there was shouting and pops that I thought for sure must be gunfire from both phones, the voices tinny and not discernable from where I stood. My skin crawled as I shuffled closer to them and thought I made out some more loud crackling that might have been from rapid shots fired.
“Fuck, move. The Warriors are hitting the clubhouse. Goddamn it, I just got the last of the windows fixed from last time someone shot the fuckin’ place up,” King snarled, expression indignant. “Bastards.”
