Sighing, I sat up straight and tried to be a good rider, leaning with Undertaker when I should, and doing my best not to be a problem as we navigated the sleepy late-night streets of New Gothenburg. Not much later we were driving past the glittering night-dark lake. He pulled smoothly into the driveway of King’s cabin and planted his feet on the ground.
“Thanks.”
“Mm-hmm. I have to go back. Can’t leave Lee alone for too long.”
“Why?” I asked and handed him back his helmet.
He smiled, but it wasn’t the kind that looked happy. “Pretty man like that on his knees in a room of thirsty fuckers?”
“He’s the size of a mountain. Three mountains.”
“Yes, but I’ll break the fingers off any man who lays one on him.” He gave me the scariest smile I’d received tonight, and that included the one from Derek.
“Go get ’em, tiger.” I swung myself off his bike and took a second to get my land legs back.
He cracked up at that and waved as he backed his motorcycle toward the road. The engine roared and he took off. King’s front porch light was on, and I took my time walking up to the door. I spent a few minutes knocking, off and on, worried I was interrupting sleep, or something that would make them even less likely to answer. The door was yanked open and Dallas stood there in his boxers. I let myself ogle him because he had nice trim muscles, but I quickly forced my eyes to his face.
“Hi, are you doing all right?” He looked me over and sucked in his cheeks. He hadn’t been the hugest fan of the wholewalk right into the lion’s den with no backupplan.
“Yes. I’m alive, obviously. Where’s King?”
Dallas threw a dark look over his shoulder. The place didn’t seem very big from the outside, I was guessing since it was dark, but I thought maybe there was a healthy chance he could see King from where he stood.
“Dallas?”
“He was stressed so… well, he’s been trying to stop drinking.” He frowned and rubbed at his collarbone, glancing back again.
“Send him in” came a drunken yell.
“This is our home,” Dallas snapped. “I’m not a prospect here.”
“Please, won’t you escort River inside, sweetness?” King roared with laughter and there was a clink.
Dallas rolled his eyes but stood aside so I could go in. I took one look at King, head lolling and sprawled on the floor with his back against the front of a couch, and then turned to Dallas, who shrugged helplessly.
“Okay, so he’s drunk.”
Dallas only nodded, and the tilt of his mouth let me know he thought I was a fucking moron for stating the obvious.
“It all went… fine. Fine? I guess I’d call it a win. Derek is going to take care of it. Mitch, Derek’s shitstain evil fuck of a cousin, was selling people out of the casino, along with a fucker named Brickton, who technically has nothing to do with the casino. I think that Mitch might….” I hesitated because even though Dallas stared at me with those big, soulful brown eyes of his, he used to be a fed. My self-preservation skills might be rusty, but they quickly reared their head. “I’ll call King first thing in the morning and fill him in.”
“River, stay!” King called cheerfully as he sort of slithered farther to the floor and his bottle rolled away from him. The delicious spicy perfume of good rum filled the air as the last of the bottle spilled on the floor.
“Why is he so fucked-up?” I whispered to Dallas, who sighed and ran his fingers into his hair where they stayed. He pulled at the brown strands as he stared hard at King.
“He hasn’t been drinking alcohol, and he had that bottle stashed in our closet. He slugged half in about twenty minutes. That’s good shit, expensive shit. He used to be able to handle that.Used tois key here. He’s lost some tolerance.” He waved a hand at King, who had nodded off with his chin on his chest and his head pressed in the world’s most uncomfortable angle against the leg of the couch.
“Uh… is he going to be okay?”
“No, I’m going to kill him. He promised me he wouldn’t drink anymore.” Dallas sounded all sad, and I didn’t have any tact left in me tonight, so I awkwardly patted his shoulder.
“Right. Well…. Maybe he can’t do it by himself. Or maybe he doesn’t really want to do it at all.”
Dallas fought for a smile, and I just felt bad for him. It was so obvious he was worried about King, but I’d known him for years, seen him fall asleep in a pile of his own puke. This was nearly restrained for him when he really went at the booze. “Yeah, fine,” he said after a few seconds. “The gist from everything tonight is the bullshit is taken care of?”
“Mostly. I’m assuming he tells you everything?”
Dallas only lifted an eyebrow. “Brickton, another lawyer in town—who is a fucking treat, let me tell you—is apparently the main sex slave merchant in the city. Well, maybe. We’re not sure. I’m assuming he also made things look as legal as possible for prospective buyers, but he wasn’t the big fish. The person who was making real bank is still out there, and I’m sure they’ll just find another seller with Brickton and Mitch out of the way.”
