“No, he wasn’t. Other than that, we’ve had an uneventful time.” I stared at my fingernails and sighed. “Are you sure this protection is needed, Mr. Booth? While I am not complaining about the money I’m receiving for doing nothing, I am bored of this job. Right now, I don’t see anyone who’s out to get your son.”
“They will come for him.”
“What makes you so sure? You mentioned the Reyes Cartel.”
He huffed out a breath. “It’s my job as district attorney to bring down the most powerful and rich criminals, Mr. Ghost, and in the last year I’ve pissed off a lot of men who’ve promised retribution. My other children are protected, and Luke should be as well.”
“You do realize he’s part of a motorcycle club, right? Tell him the danger he’s in, and his biker brothers can protect him.”
He snorted in disgust, and I knew I’d hit a sore spot. Not long ago he’d taken down a lot of high-ranking bikers near LA, too, so it wasn’t hard to figure out that he hated Luke being in the Kings. “I know bikers, and they’re drunks. They wouldn’t be able to protect my son.”
“But you trust a killer to do the job?”
“I was told by an underground informant to contact that number.” He was referring to the Society. Booth had no idea who he was dealing with, and all he knew was that we were contract killers. “I had no other choice. You were the best option for me, and you have skills many don’t. Your handler assured me of that. You think the way any contract killer would, so yes, with the money you’re getting, I trust you to keep him safe.”
I leaned back into my chair and sighed. “You have another three months, Mr. Booth, that’s it. I’ve stayed stationary for far too long.”
“You said New Gothenburg was close to home,” he snapped back, the obvious tension in his voice trickling through the phone line.
“Be that as it may, I am a killer first and foremost. I don’t do this for the money, although it is nice, but it’s the adrenaline of a chase that keeps me sane,” I said bluntly.
“Mr. Ghost, I’ve paid you a great deal for my son’s protection, and I won’t have you walk away from this agreement. If you even think about leaving my son defenseless, I will find you and throw you in prison with the rest of the men I’ve put there.”
I smiled, a sinister thrill creeping through my body until goose bumps rose on my skin. Normal people never understood me, and what they saw as intimidation, I took as a challenge. He wasn’t the first lawman to threaten throwing me behind bars—and he wouldn’t be the last. All the other men or women who had tried to bully me had done it to my face, though, accidently stumbling upon me when I’d committed an illegal act, and they’d ended up buried beside my target where no one would ever find them.
“I’d watch your tongue, Mr. Booth, unless you want me to rip it out. My handlers gave you my name because I am the best, but don’t mistake this assignment for me being feeble. I could put a bullet in your head from five streets away, and if you threaten me again, I will. We will disappear quicker than you can blink, and everything you know about us will cease to exist, including that special phone number of yours.”
The Society had already informed me they’d rid themselves of Booth’s informant for passing along information that was never meant to be leaked to normal people, especially district attorneys. As far as Booth was concerned, his informant had a lot of unpaid debts that had gotten him killed.
I didn’t have to see him to know he was snapping his mouth closed. The audible sound of his swallow made me grin, pleased with myself.
“This concludes my update. As I said, I will only be available for another three months. Take it or leave it. I will call tomorrow to get your decision.” I ended the call without waiting for his answer and stared down at my phone. The picture of me and KC stared back from the wallpaper on my home screen.
My son. I would do everything to protect him, and while I had so easily chosen to kill Dean, a man I once loved, I wouldn’t do the same to KC. Dean was a hitman, he’d known what world he’d entered into, but my son was an innocent, and I’d be damned if I let anything happen to him. The Society wasn’t stupid, though. My commitment to them was strong, but they knew how far they could push. I’d made it clear to them the moment I’d adopted KC that he would always be off-limits while I was alive. Unwritten rules were in place to protect our family, but there were still idiots who broke them. Going after an assassin’s family easily meant death.
I dropped my phone on the island and sighed. Rising, I walked out the back door into the large yard and toward the garage where I knew KC had gone. While I was tempted to tell Luke what his father was up to, discretion was part of the job. As much of a fool as Luke was, it was none of my business to get involved in family affairs. I’d been paid to keep him safe, not tell him what his father had done.
“Pa, is that you? Come check this out!”
I smiled, my chest squeezing with affection I’d only truly felt for KC. Fatherly love, that’s what Zahra, my older sister, once called it. “I’m coming.”
Two days later, Luke’s bike was ready, and while KC had offered to take it to him after school, I told him I’d handle it. I didn’t know why, considering I spent enough time around Luke at the salon, but I didn’t want KC getting attached, either. He had a tendency to like people, and once he decided that he did, he kept them close. The last thing I wanted was for Luke to be around more than he was already. I spent too many hours watching him to actually have him at my house on my time off. He was a schmoozer, the kind of guy who’d do anything to get free food and drinks, and everything else he could lay his hands on.
The salon was busy that day, however, and from what I’d seen of the people going in and out of the barber shop, Luke had his share of clients, too. By the time I’d finished up with Mrs. Edwards, the shop next door had been locked and the lights were turned off. I didn’t have to guess where he’d be. He spent most of his nights at the Kings’ clubhouse, drinking away a long day with a few cold beers—and a hot ass if there was one available. Luke didn’t care if it was a Monday night, there were times when he drank himself into a stupor.
Rolling my eyes, I drove past the rusted water tower with the faded yellow words New Gothenburg painted on it and toward the junkyard that served as the clubhouse to the Kings of Men. Not surprisingly the gates were still open when I arrived, but I’d never seen them shut, even when I’d come to spy on Luke during the infamous parties the club threw. Hiding in the piles of junk they kept around the place hadn’t been fun. They were a brazen bunch, not scared of being caught doing anything illegal. That wasn’t exactly surprising, either. By themselves the Kings were powerful, but through their partnership with Sloan Killough, the Irish mob boss from New York City, they were now unstoppable.
The dirt drive up to the house was bumpy to say the least, even if it looked like they’d attempted to fill in the holes at some point, and I was grateful I’d taken KC’s truck to work—with Barber’s bike in the back—rather than my BMW. I didn’t think my car could handle a driveway like this.
When I parked outside the busted clubhouse, a row of motorcycles was already lined out front, sparkling under the spotlights they kept on as soon as the sun dipped below the horizon. I sighed as I jumped out of the truck and headed to the front door, but I didn’t fully reach it before it was flung open by one of the Kings, who I knew well from my reconnaissance.
Undertaker.
Real name: Mortimer Wilson.
He was one of the dangerous guys—the kind who had my fingers twitching for the small silver knife I kept hidden in my boot, under the jeans I wore. Leaning against the doorframe, he stared at me with a little too much interest, as though I was a bug under a microscope. His hair was midnight black and wasn’t tipped with a different color like he did sometimes, so I assumed he had a service to conduct at the funeral home he owned.
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the hairstylist.” Everything Undertaker wore was leather, and he had
a bottle of beer in his hand. His makeup was more modest than the usual black lipstick he wore, and there was a suspicious expression on his face, his eyes narrowing on me as though he didn’t fully trust me. Not surprising. Luke was naïve when it came to me, but a guy like Undertaker wouldn’t be so trusting.
“I don’t think we’ve been introduced,” I said in my politest voice. I didn’t need to raise his suspicions even more. “I’m Quain Beaumont.”
“I know who you are, we hear about you nonstop.” Undertaker took a sip of his beer and ran his gaze down me. The once-over wasn’t sexual, but it sent a shiver along my spine anyway. Assassin or not, I knew a lethal man who could give me a run for my money when I saw one. “Barber likes to snivel and bitch about you. It’s absurd.”
“I wish that could surprise me, but it doesn’t,” I said as casually as I could. “And Luke says I’m the whiner.”
Undertaker laughed, and the sound was so surprising I stiffened to stop myself from wincing. I’d handled men like him before, but I also needed to keep my wits about me. The last time I’d dealt with someone this dangerous, I’d ended up needing to be stitched up by Charon, a freelance doctor who worked for the Society just outside of Texas.
“Is he here?” I asked.
Undertaker cocked his head, mouth twisting into a mean smirk as he nodded. “Yeah. Cleaning out the shithouses. King’s orders.” I raised my eyebrows, and Undertaker continued, “You don’t start fights with your brothers unless you like cleaning up another man’s shit.”
“Lovely,” I drawled, before I waved over his shoulder in the direction of the clubhouse. “I’ve got his bike. Can I go in and see him?”
He shrugged and shifted out of my way, and I stepped in past him. The smell of weed permeated the clubhouse and I wrinkled my nose in disgust. I never understood drugs and the need to smoke grass, but then again, I needed to be alert at all times, and marijuana took that from me. When you were an assassin, you always had someone gunning to put you six feet under.
“Through the back and past the stairs. It’s the last door on the left.” Undertaker strode down the short hallway and into the barroom, and I turned to assess the situation in the clubhouse. There weren’t as many Kings as I’d thought, but I also suspected some of them were in their rooms, too. The men who lazed around were either drinking, conversing, or playing pool. A few glanced up at me, but none of them seemed to care enough to approach.
Undertaker sidled onto a bar stool next to a bigger man with wide shoulders and short brown hair cut close to his head, and I racked my brain for his name.
Lee. He was Undertaker’s lover and submissive. I liked him, but he was one of the very few.
Undertaker whispered something in his ear, and I saw the shiver that ran through Lee’s body from where I stood near the stairs. I smirked and left to head down the hallway. I didn’t make it the entire way before one of the doors opened and King stepped out, his boy toy right behind him. They both stopped at the sight of me, and I forced myself to a halt. This was the first time I was meeting the club president, but I’d done extra research on him, right down to his childhood and family members.
He narrowed his eyes on me and I sent him a sweet smile.
“You must be the King I’ve been hearing about.” I held out my hand, then thought better and dropped it again. Playing different characters meant understanding a role’s personality, but who I acted as right now was me in every way—minus everyone knowing I was a Society assassin. I had a trade as a hairstylist and hated everyone I met, unless they gave me a reason not to. Being around the Kings made no difference.
“The King?” King’s lover—former ATF agent Dallas Mickelson—laughed. “That’ll go straight to his head. He’s just King.”
King grunted. “What are you doing here?”
I raised my chin and waved a hand down the hallway. “I’m here to see Luke. His bike is ready and one of your men pointed me in this direction.”
“Who?”
Undertaker hadn’t introduced himself, so I shrugged. “I’m not sure of his name. Dark hair, gothlike, wears all leather and big black boots.”
King nodded and glanced at Dallas. “Go to the barroom, sweetness. I’ll be there soon.”
Dallas’s eyes narrowed in suspicion as he slid past King and me and headed in the direction I’d come from. I shot King another smile, but he stepped in closer, his arms crossed. He was a lot taller than me and had bulk I’d never managed to put on myself. In any other situation I might have pulled out my knife and put it in his gut for his intimidation act, but I kept myself calm and steady as he leaned in closer.
“Who are you, Quain?”
I raised my eyebrows. “I’m a hairstylist who has a salon beside Luke’s.”
He chuckled low in his throat. “You’re more than that.”
“I’m not sure I know what you mean.” My fingers twitched toward the knife in my boot. All I’d need to do is bend down to get it….
“I think you do. I don’t think you’re who you say you are. You’ve been hanging around Barber’s shop a little too much.” He stepped even closer and his breath tickled my cheek. I didn’t back away, rather straightened to get a little more height.
“Are you threatening me, Mr. King?”
“No.” He gave me a chilly smile. “I don’t threaten. I gut people without warning.”
Me too. I bit down on my tongue so I wouldn’t say the words.
He shifted back until he was out of my personal space and dropped his arms. “I’m watching you. Barber might be blind to your act, but I’m not. You fuck with one of my boys, the Kings will fuck you up.”
“How lovely.” I smoothed my hands over my black turtleneck. “If we’re done, I’d like to see Luke now.” I didn’t wait for his answer. Striding past him, I headed to the last door on the left and knocked.
There was a grunt through the door, and then Luke’s voice echoed through the thick wood. “You motherfuckers can wait. I’m cleaning up vomit here. You want to take a piss, go upstairs or outside. Blame Dash, he saw some blood from the injury on Tank’s arm and lost his guts.”
I pressed my lips together to stop myself from laughing as I turned the knob. The door swung open to reveal a tiny bathroom with one toilet, which Luke was currently bent over. He heaved and looked at the vomit splattered around the white porcelain base before heaving again.
“Can’t handle a little bit of puke?” I teased.
Luke spun around on his knees, eyes wide as he stared at me. “Fuck. Quain?”
“No, I’m the Ghost of Christmas past.” I rolled my eyes. “Yes, Quain is my name.”
“What are you doing here?” He rushed to his feet and nearly slid on some of the vomit. Cringing, he lifted one of his shoes to stare at the bottom, but there was nothing on the sole.
“I brought back your bike. KC fixed it like he promised. It’s in the bed of the truck outside.”
“Shit. He fixed it?” He whistled. “Your kid is a miracle worker. If he wants to quit school and get a job—”
“He doesn’t,” I said sharply. “KC is finishing school and going to college.”
Luke held up his hand and laughed. “Okay, point taken. I was just busting your balls.”
My spine stiffened. I didn’t joke when it came to KC and my plans for him. There was no way in hell I was going to let him do anything that didn’t involve a degree. I wanted the best for him.
“Want to get a drink?” he offered with a mischievous grin, gesturing in the direction of the barroom.
I raised my brows and glanced at the vomit still on the floor. “Don’t you need to clean that up first? Who did that?” I already knew the answer, but pretending to not know his brothers meant asking a question like that. “Are they sick?”
Luke winced and shook his head. “Nah, that’s Dash for you. He’s got a thing about blood. Usually he just faints, but this time one of the boys came in with a sliced arm from a fender bender. Dash ended up in here with his
head firmly planted in the bowl. Missed, too.” He laughed. “Guy needs to get a stronger stomach.”
Dash’s history was interesting, though, and I wasn’t sure if Luke or any of the other Kings knew about it, just like they didn’t know about Luke’s past. None of them had any idea his father was a district attorney.
“So, what do you say about that drink?” He didn’t wait for an answer. Striding past me, he tugged on my arm and led me back down the hallway and toward the bar.
I crumpled my nose. “You stink.”
He flicked me a smile over his shoulder. “You’re so sweet, Quain.”
I rolled my eyes, and he laughed again, guiding me toward the bar where guys were already crowded. A few of his other brothers were dotted around the room with their respective significant other or a random groupie—probably a professional from the Courtesan—while some of the other Kings were just chatting with one another, a beer in their hand.
“I don’t really want a drink right now,” I said as we reached the wooden bar and took seats on empty stools. There was a murky atmosphere in the room, with lamps in the corners and stains across all sorts of surfaces. I’d hate to think what they were. The walls were discolored from smoke and the area smelled like piss and beer—a horrible combination. The bar top was the only clean area, but I thought that might have been because of their regular man who kept it gleaming.
Luke shrugged. “Come on, it won’t hurt in unclenching that tight asshole of yours.”
I tilted my head toward him and pursed my lips. “My hole happens to be none of your concern.”
“Not yet,” he murmured quietly. I didn’t think he realized I could hear him, and I smothered a smile behind my hand as I pretended to wipe it across my mouth. I had no intention of sleeping with Barber. Taking that kind of risk had never been my MO, and it wasn’t going to change anytime soon.
“What can I get you?” Josh, the young man who manned both the Kings’ clubhouse bar and a couple of their clubs, was a brother by blood to one of the Kings. I didn’t have much information on him, and I didn’t need to. He was a mouse in a lion’s den, innocent and small, even if he was having a sexual relationship with one of the bikers. He didn’t fit in appearance wise, either. The mesh top and tight leather pants he wore made him stand out, but it was the short, hot-pink hair that really hit the nail in the coffin. Not only a mouse, he was also a bright light in a mass of darkness.
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