King's Barber
Page 21
I grunted in irritation, and when he careened toward me again, I took another shot. This time it hit and he flopped forward, but the Audi still struck my BMW hard. With only one hand on the steering wheel, I didn’t have the control I needed, and with the force of the strike of metal to metal, my BMW headed straight off the road. There was nothing I could do to stop, not with the heaviness of the Audi against my side. I hit a rail hard and the car flipped like a pancake, rolling in the air as though it weighed nothing. All I could do was hold on for dear life and apologize to KC in my head. I’d really fucked this one up.
The BMW landed on its roof, the airbags exploding in front of me, and my head hit the crushed metal, sending me into a pit of darkness.
13
Barber
“You feeling better?” Oli stared at me from where he sat behind the register, scowling suspiciously. It was the hundredth time he’d asked that exact damn question, and each time I answered the exact same way.
“Fine.” I stretched out from where I sat in the customer’s seat and sighed. We’d had a slow day today, and I felt like it’d taken forever to get to four o’clock in the afternoon. Oli had been here since he’d finished school, and he always got to the shop so quickly that I suspected he ran here. “How’s your mom?”
“Fine.” He grinned at me, and I laughed.
“You mocking me, kid?”
“Why would I do that?” He shrugged and tapped his fingers on the counter in front of him. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure thing.” I straightened in the seat and touched the back of my head, wincing. Little King refused to take the stitches out because I’d busted it up again at the house and it still hurt like hell. “What’s up?”
“What happened between you and Quain?” He leaned his cheek on the palm of his hand and raised his dark eyebrows. “One minute you’re floating on air, the next you don’t even mention him. He hasn’t been in for a while, and I asked Jorge, the stylist next door, and he said Quain’s gone outta town and won’t be back for a while. Said he’s going to be manager, and he’s not gonna come in and lecture you because you make him want to piss his pants.” He frowned thoughtfully. “Actually, pretty sure he said ‘pee his pants,’ but who the hell uses ‘pee’ anyway?”
I laughed and stood, stretching out the crick in my back. Moving over to my cart, I checked I had all my tools ready. Sometimes people came in when it was close to closing time because they’d just finished work. “Nothing happened.”
Oli might know I’m a King, but he had no idea what happened within the club, even if his mom was a friend. He was too young to understand. “Sophie says she was kidnapped. No one really believes her, though. I do.”
I glanced at him, and he gave me a smug smirk. Shaking my head, I pointed at him. “Keep your head down, Oli. You don’t want to get involved in this mess, okay? You’re a good kid.”
“Don’t give me that good-kid crap,” he grumbled, yanking at his curls. “My dad is one of you!”
“And look how that turned out.” I sighed and walked over to him, placing my hand on his shoulder. “I just want to keep you outta prison. Your dad doesn’t want you in the cell beside him.”
“How the hell do I know what he wants? He doesn’t want anything to do with me.” His shoulders slumped forward and he sighed. “He says I’m not his kid.”
Fuck. “He’s mad at life right now. Your mom and he were glorified fuck buddies and they barely had a relationship. He didn’t expect a kid from it. He’s never really known you, and he’s never forgiven himself for it. He wants you to have a good life.”
“I’d have a good life if he’d be a part of it.” He leaned forward on his elbows and stared through the storefront windows out into the street. Office workers went about their day, power walking past our shop. A few stopped in at Quain’s salon, and every time I saw someone head into it, my heart crashed against my ribs.
A small part of me waited for Quain to come into our shop with a smart-ass quip, but it hadn’t happened for a couple of weeks now, and he’d said he was leaving. I hated that I didn’t have the guts to tell him to stay. Anything related to my father, and I reverted back to a teenager, where my anger controlled every action and thought. Quain had only been here for him and that frustrated the hell out of me.
“Cain’s a good man, Oli, and when he’s out he’ll talk to you.” Hell if I knew if that was true or not. Cain had been the vice president of the club, and he’d only gone to prison a few years or so ago for petty theft, and stayed in for stabbing some smart-ass. The law had been on a rampage since Scar, Charley, and Bishop had gotten out of prison. They’d been trying everything to put the Kings back in there. Like the rest of the brothers who’d been sent to prison before, Cain didn’t rat us out and took the hit.
“I hope so.”
My cell phone buzzed and I glanced at it again. Father. Double fuck!
“Be back in a second.” I rose and headed to the staff room, hitting the button to accept the call. “What the fuck do you want? I’m safe, so stop calling.”
“Lucas, I worry about you,” Father said, that always grave voice of his low and serious. He couldn’t take a joke, another reason we never got along. The Kings hadn’t let me live down my dad being a district attorney since we’d rescued Errol and Sophie.
“Well, don’t. It’s done.” I went to end the call then stopped, putting it to my ear again. I stared at the coffeemaker that had barely been touched over the last few weeks. I’d chosen to drink my hidden whiskey instead. “You know what? Are you fucking happy? Your brother and niece were kidnapped because you didn’t have the balls to call me yourself and warn me. You got a babysitter instead.”
“Mr. Ghost was highly recommended—”
“I don’t care about Mr. Ghost.” I snorted. Father had no idea who Quain really was, and I didn’t know whether to laugh over that fact or break something. “You fucked up, Dad, and you know what? I. Don’t. Want. Anything. To. Do. With. You. Stop calling.” I ended the call and growled.
Walking out to the store again, I was met with Oli’s raised eyebrows. I shrugged. It wasn’t the time to explain anything to him.
The front door crashed open, and my hand flinched and reached for the Ruger in my holster, but I stopped when I realized who it was. “KC?”
Oli’s eyes widened and he rushed to stand on his feet. I didn’t miss the blush that swept over his cheeks as he awkwardly held his hand up in a wave. “Hi.”
I would have laughed if I wasn’t so preoccupied with Quain’s son being here. I walked around to the other side of the counter and crossed my arms. “What are you doing here, kid? Your dad made it clear I was to have nothing to do with you.”
“Is that all you have to say for yourself?” KC glared at me, his red hair a mess and his blue eyes full of a fury I hadn’t yet seen in him.
“What do you want me to say?” I asked, curious. “What did… your dad tell you?”
He snorted and crossed his arms, matching my stance. He was tall and wide for his age and nearly bigger than me. It was clear why he was a football player at school. “Enough.” He glanced at Oli from the corner of his eye. “I know what he does and why you aren’t talking, and I came to tell you that you’re an idiot. He didn’t sleep with you because it was part of the job. He fucking liked you a lot. He doesn’t care for anyone like that.”
“You’re too young to understand.” I shook my head and waved my hand at the glass door. “And your dad doesn’t want you here. He made it clear, so leave.”
His mouth parted and he stared at me like a kicked puppy. Dropping his gaze to the floor, he shook his head. “And here I thought you really liked Pa.”
“I did. Do. Fuck.” I sighed and ran a hand over my face. “It’s complicated.”
“What’s so fucking hard?” He stepped forward into my personal space and gave me a stare-down.
The corner of my mouth curved up into a smile. “Are you trying to threaten me?”
“Sex doesn’t involve emotions, kid.” But fuck, I didn’t expect to grow any feelings when I’d first slept with Quain, and now it hurt to even think about the beautiful bastard. “You’ll understand when you’re an adult.”
“I’m seventeen. I know enough.” He glared when he took a step back and squared his big shoulders. “Because of you, Pa left New Gothenburg again and took another job in Pleasant Beach. If something happens to him, I won’t ever forgive you.”
“KC….” I reached for him, but he stepped back.
“And I thought you were cool. You’re just biker scum.”
Oli gasped, but KC spun on his heel and left through the door, trying to slam it shut behind him, but the hinges were made so it would close slowly. He glared at me through the glass and reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone.
I sighed and moved back to the counter in front of Oli, leaning on it.
“Do you know who that was?” Oli bounced on his toes, face flushed and a dreamy smile on his face. “KC Beaumont. The KC Beaumont.”
I cocked my head at him in confusion.
“He’s a football player at school. He’s a jock, but not a jerk like the rest of those dickheads. They don’t even really care for him, but he’s good at sports, so they want to talk to him. But that boy is fucking hot. Can you introduce us?”
I shrugged. “He’s Quain’s kid.”
Oli’s eyes widened. “The hairstylist? Oh my line-dancing God.”
I laughed because I couldn’t stop myself, but my gaze slid back out to KC. His scared expression had me moving before I knew what I was doing. He held the phone tightly to his ear, his face pale as he nodded and muttered something. I didn’t miss how watery his eyes were when I’d finally gotten out the door and stood in front of him. He ended the call just as I reached him.
“What’s wrong?” I grabbed his upper arms, holding him still. “What happened, KC?”
He stared at me, bottom lip quivering. “Pa was in an accident. He’s at Walnut Creek right now. His car rolled.”
“Fuck. Come on, I’ll take you there.” I didn’t wait for an answer. Fear had my gut clenching as I opened the door to the shop and said to Oli, “I need to go to the hospital. Quain’s been in an accident. Can you close this place?”
He nodded fast and grabbed my helmet and keys, passing them to me over the counter. I swapped him for my gun because as much as I didn’t want to give it over, they wouldn’t let me get into the hospital with it. “Of course. I’ll put the Ruger in the safe. Go.”
I guided KC down the street and toward a parking lot where the business owners paid to keep their vehicles. My bike was in the corner with a few other motorcycles. I turned KC toward me and slammed the helmet onto his head. He tried to protest but I didn’t allow him. There was only one, and it was going on him. If something happened to him, Quain would kill me, and probably in a way that’d hurt.
Jumping onto the bike, I said, “Get on.”
KC didn’t argue. Gripping the straps of his backpack, he slid onto the bitch seat. I grabbed his hand and put it on my waist.
“Don’t be shy, kid, hold onto me. Have you ever ridden one of these?” There was a difference between fixing and riding them, and I’d bet my ass Quain never liked KC on a bike.
He shook his head. “No. I only work on them.”
“Then I need you to hold on to me. Move with the bike. If we turn and you lean the wrong way, you’ll upend us. Keep your feet on those pegs. Got it?”
He nodded, fear flashing in his eyes, but he held onto my waist as I hit the Start button of the bike. The engine roared to life and I backed out of the parking spot. I headed out of the lot and onto the busy city streets. I weaved around the cars and KC’s hold on me tightened, but I took my time. I never wanted to hurt him.
By the time we got to Walnut Creek Hospital, he’d relaxed. Until he got off the bike that was. He stiffened again when he stared up at the tall brick buildings that connected, his jaw tight with concern. They had a parking garage, but I’d chosen a spot on the street instead. He glanced from me to the hospital.
“Are you… can you come in with me?” His voice wavered and a protective instinct rose up inside me. My own fear for Quain would have made me go inside anyway, but at this point I cared for KC as much as I did Sophie.
“Come on.” I laid my hand between his shoulders and walked him to the front entrance. We were intercepted by a receptionist who asked where we were heading, and when we told her Quain’s name, she went to the computer behind the desk, typing in his information, and gave us directions. KC’s body shook the entire time, his eyes glued to the floor as he shuffled through the hallways.
“What if something bad has happened to him? What if he’s dead?” he said quietly.
I had the same exact thought. My brothers had made it clear they didn’t want me near Quain, and I’d agreed, but now I wanted to be nowhere else. He’d stolen a piece of me when I hadn’t noticed—sly thief.
When we came to a ward on the second floor, we went straight to the nurses’ desk, and I was relieved to see a familiar face. Grant stood beside a perky blonde nurse with tight curls that bounced as she nodded her head. He was saying something, and she was listening intently, finally giggling after whatever he’d said.
Grant shrugged, smoothing his hands over his green scrubs, and glanced up in our direction, his eyes widening when he caught sight of me. He held up his finger to the nurse and came around the desk, striding straight toward us. His dark blond hair was brushed off his forehead and he looked fresh, not ragged like he sometimes did after a few hours on shift.
“Barber? What are you doing here?”
I thought about something smart-ass to say but pushed it aside. Instead, I smiled sadly. “KC here was told his pa was brought in. Quain Beaumont. He was in an accident.”
Grant knew exactly who Quain was; he’d been there when King told me to stay away from him. Reaper, Grant’s fiancé, kept him up to date with everything, and technically he was one of us in his own way. Being King’s younger brother and our club doctor helped. His expression softened.
“Oh yes, him.”
I cocked my head. “Trouble?”
“You could say that. He refuses to get a head MRI. He says he’s fine, but Dr. Moore doesn’t think he is.” He turned his attention on KC, smiling kindly. “He could have a concussion or a brain bleed because he hit his head, but he refuses to get tests done. As far as we know, he has a few broken ribs and is bruised with some scrapes. But we really need those other tests done.”
“I can talk to him,” KC whispered, his body relaxing. “So, he’s okay?”
“Right now? Yes. We need to keep an eye on him, but he’s very lucky.”
“Do you know what happened?” I asked.
Grant’s gaze slid to me and I knew that look. There were things he needed to say without KC being here. I touched KC’s arm, and he turned his stare on me.
“Go see your pa. I need to talk to Grant.”
“He’s in Room 255. Down the hallway and to the first right you come to. The room’s on the left.” Grant used his hands as he said the directions, and KC smiled in gratitude before he nearly ran down the hallway to get to his dad. Once he was out of sight, I turned back to Grant with raised eyebrows. He cleared his throat. “The cops were here earlier. Luckily it was Jayce. Apparently they found a car near Quain’s with a guy shot inside. Dead. The bullet came from Quain’s gun.”
“Shit.” I glanced down the corridor and back to Grant. “Do they know what happened?”
Grant smiled gently. “According to Jayce—who should not have told me this—with witness reports, and from what Quain told him, this man tried to run Quain off the road. He had no choice but to defend himself.”
“So… they’re saying it was self-defense?” Anger for whoever had the balls to attack him battered at my chest and my fingers twitched, an urge to track them down and kill them flickering to life—except Quain had already put a bullet in him.
“Not really. There still needs to be an investigation.” Grant winced and then frowned. “But Quain doesn’t seem worried about it. He just snorted when Jayce told him he’d hear from them again.”
I nodded. “He’s not weak and he knows his stuff. By the sounds of it, that was self-defense and any good lawyer could argue that,” I whispered, glancing around to make sure no one was listening to us. “Did he know who the guy was?”
Grant pursed his lips. “No, but Jayce said he had a Reyes Cartel tattoo. It was in the database.”
“Fucking fuck.” I reared away from him, my hands curling into fists. Anger vibrated through me and I squared my shoulders. Someone was definitely going to die for this.
Grant patted my chest. “Calm down. Quain called Aaron and told him he dealt with it. He wanted the Kings to know so they could keep an eye on you and the family, though he doesn’t think the cartel will be much of an issue anymore. That’s what Aaron said, though.”
Gritting my teeth, I forced myself to relax. “I need to go see him.”
Grant didn’t stop me when I strode past him, and I didn’t expect he would. He followed me, though, and when I got to the room and entered, I found another doctor already in there. He had a very serious face, sharp nose, and dark curls. Handsome was one way of describing him, but no one drew my attention more than Quain—and the bruises marking his beautiful face. I moved before I could stop myself, walking up to his side and touching one particular discoloration under his eye.
“Are you okay?”