Indebted To A King

by Lisa Lang Blakeney

  He slides another hand behind my other leg.

  "What are you doing?" I whisper.

  "Nothing. What are you doing," he says in a deep voice that makes me tremble. Close to my ear. Being careful to avoid the side of my face covered in gauze.

  "Cutter–" I say unconvincingly.

  "When that kid hit you in the face and I saw you fall on the sidewalk, I wanted to put his ass in the ground."

  "Thank you, but–"

  "Can I have a kiss?"

  His provocative question dangerously tickles my neck.

  I can't talk.

  My only response is to offer him an inaudible head nod no.

  "No?" he chuckles softly. Pressing his lips into my skin.

  "No," I manage to eek out.

  "What's his name then? Can you at least give me that?" he asks as he takes a good whiff of my hair.

  "What?" I ask feeling a little loopy.

  "I was so fucking furious that night, I forgot to ask you," he explains. "I'm going to need the kid's name."

  I close my eyes as he just barely places his lips along my collarbone.

  "If he even breathes in your direction again, it will be the last breath he takes."

  Then my eyes pop back open.

  Cutter's words splash over me like an icy cold jug of water.

  Just when I thought I was patching up my own personal wounded hero, I'm quickly reminded that Cutter King is and will always be a menace to society. He's nobody's hero. He's a dangerous thug for hire, and I don't want to be responsible for unleashing his brand of crazy onto anyone. Even trash like Dawn's boyfriend.

  "Don't touch a hair on that kid's head, Cutter."

  He laughs into my neck.

  "You said that already."

  "I mean it."

  "Or what? What are you going to do if I touch him?"

  "Or . . . or . . . I don't know what. Just leave him alone. Pretend like it never happened. Like you didn't see anything."

  "As if I could ever do that."

  He gingerly touches the edges of my bandages.

  "When did the doctor say these could come off?"

  "Where is this coming from?" I yank my head away from his touch. "You and I aren't even friends. Why do you care about what happens to me so much?"

  "That's a valid question."

  Cutter takes both hands and pulls my knees forward. Lifting then sliding my butt completely onto his lap. As I fall forward I have no choice but to grab ahold of his shoulders. Shoulders so strong that they feel like they could carry the weight of the world on them if they needed to.

  "First of all, I would defend any woman who was sucker punched by a man. Friend or no friend. And secondly, your best friend is about to marry my best friend. In my book that means you're like family now, and a King always takes care of what's his."

  "Like family? That's a big leap," I say while foolishly trying to push against his shoulders and wiggle out of his hold. "I'm not yours."

  "Not yet."

  "Not ever."

  "You should stop fighting this." He grins flashing a couple of teeth. "You're going to regret those words later when we're holding each other post orgasm, and then it's going to be all awkward for you."

  I almost slip up and laugh.

  I've got to admit, the guy is hilarious.

  "Are you going to make a pass at me every time we see each other?"

  "Probably."

  "It's such a waste of his majesty's energy," I tease.

  He laughs out loud.

  "Nice to see you finally recognizing my royal lineage, as well as accepting the fact that we'll be seeing each other again . . . and again. I think I'm growing on you."

  He pulls me in tighter. Staring at me hard. Without even blinking. Gripping the sides of my hips and my ass. The position enables me to feel how hard he's growing through his jeans. Like a stiff steel rod. A very thick, steel rod. It's way more information than I needed to know. I suppose I imagined that he was pretty large down below, but to have proof, to actually feel the proof is a whole other matter. I panic and push on his wound with the heel of my hand, hoping he'll wince, then loosen up his hold on me. It works.

  "Christ! Are you trying to hurt me on purpose?"

  "I'm trying to get you to stop manhandling me."

  "All you had to do was ask nicely."

  "I'm not a nice girl."

  He smirks, then drops his hands away from my hips in a dramatic fashion, allowing me to maneuver myself off of his lap.

  "You're a confusing girl."

  "You're confused about the fact that I don't want to sit on your lap?"

  "You were all over me when we first met."

  "You have quite a knack for embellishing, your majesty. That did not happen. I was cordial. Pleasant. I was not all over you."

  "I'm not imagining it," he says with a clipped tone. "You're just fighting this for whatever reason."

  "Fighting what exactly? Sleeping with you?"

  "Obviously."

  "Are you implying that it's obvious that I want to sleep with you?"

  "One thing I know is a woman's body, and yours definitely responds to me every time I'm within ten feet of it. I'm confident that if I had asked nicely, I could have talked you right out of that pretty dress today."

  "Unbelievable." I shake my head in astonishment. Annoyed with his presumptuousness but mostly angry at myself. "I'm sure my behavior just now confused you, but please understand that I didn't just let you kiss my neck because of some strong attraction toward you. It's because you've caught me in a weak moment."

  "Weak for me."

  "I know this may be a difficult concept for you to grasp, but I'm just not interested in sleeping with you. It would be a waste of time. For both of us."

  "No, seriously."

  "Oh my God, you're so irritating. I am serious!"

  "Seriously stubborn," he scoffs. "I'm attractive, I'm rich, and a damn nice guy. What's not to like?"

  "Plenty."

  "Are you afraid of just how good it could be between us? Is that the real issue?"

  "No, I'm afraid that you need major psychological counseling. There is no issue. I'm just not interested. Do you comprendo yet?" I ask in my version of a bad Spanish accent.

  "Oh, there's definitely an issue." He chuckles.

  "Believe it or not, not every woman is charmed by you."

  He cocks his head to the side, in a quizzical manner, as if what I've just said is an impossibility.

  "No, you're definitely attracted to me. It's something else. Every time I try getting close to you, you run from me like you're frightened."

  Because I am.

  "So then I guess the real question is why do you keep trying to get close to me?" I retort.

  He sits for a moment, as if he's contemplating my question, when really all he's doing is eye fucking me as usual. It's actually disturbing how I'm starting to get used to it. Expect it. Dare I say . . . enjoy it.

  "Well?" I say.

  "Oh, I thought that was a rhetorical question," he says after a few deep chuckles.

  I grab a bottle of water from the fridge, pop an eight-hundred-milligram pain killer, then pick up my cell to start checking texts.

  "Is there anything else I can get you before you leave?" I ask him nonchalantly. Hoping he'll take the hint and scram.

  "I feel like I just got here."

  "You came here to check on me and I'm fine. I cleaned your cut for you, and so you're fine, although I highly recommend that you get some stitches. Our business is finished."

  "Did I overstay my welcome?"

  I stand with my arms crossed. Staring at him silently with turned up lips.

  "Oh, I'm sorry," I finally say after a long pause. "I thought that was a rhetorical question."

  Cutter belly laughs and there's something about it that I admittedly like. This time his laugh makes the smile on his face actually reach his eyes in the most genuine way. It's not the kind of fake smile he gives his minion
s at the club. This one is different. Softer. Almost kid-like.

  "That's fine," he says. "I've got some business to take care of anyway. Make sure that you take a day or two off of work, stay in bed, and I'll be back to check on you soon."

  "I'll be fine. If I need anything–"

  "Elizabeth can't run errands for you, she's way too pregnant, and that sister of yours doesn't seem too dependable."

  "If you'd let me get a word in edgewise, you'd know that I wasn't going to bother Elizabeth at all. I was just going to say that if it's important, my neighbor will get me what I need. Anything else I can just order online. So don't concern yourself."

  Cutter's voice immediately drops two octaves.

  "I don't know who the fuck Kyle is. So like I said, I'll be back. I'll even cook you dinner. I can grill the hell out of a steak."

  I sigh to myself. I meant one of my other neighbors, not Kyle, but it'll probably just be easier to agree with the caveman, so that he'll finally just go.

  "Fine."

  He gets up to leave.

  "Remember, no work for a few days. Just rest. Your face will heal faster."

  "I heard you the first time, Grandma."

  "That's the king to you."

  "Yada. Yada."

  "Later, princess," he says on his way out the door.

  "And the name is Sloan!" I yell down the hallway as I watch his majesty's body quivering with raucous laughter.

  Eleven

  Cutter

  "Things have to change," I say to my brother after slamming down a plastic cereal bowl on the kitchen island and pouring myself a bowl of Raisin Bran–the only edible thing left in our kitchen. Apparently, his girlfriend doesn't think we should eat eggs and bacon for breakfast anymore.

  Jade's the devil.

  "I know, Cut." Camden chuckles. "Jade's on a vegan kick lately. I'll talk to her about it when she gets home. She's at the gym right now. And where the hell do you buy Mickey Mouse Band-Aids?"

  "No, I'm serious, and hand me the fucking milk if that even is milk."

  My brother knows perfectly well that my bad attitude has nothing to do with breakfast. We haven't talked or seen much of each other in the last few days, and if I didn't know better I'd swear that he's been purposely ducking me. Probably a smart idea on his part. The way I've been feeling lately, I would have definitely taken a swing at him.

  "It's cashew milk and I promise I won't leave you hanging like that again."

  "That's not good enough. I want to talk about a restructuring. The fuck is cashew milk?"

  "Restructuring what?" He stops to ask while staring hesitantly at a putrid green colored smoothie in the same blender that I use to make my infamous old-fashioned vanilla shakes. He's totally cross contaminating the blender. I'm never using that thing again.

  "Lately I've been doing the work of three men and getting paid for one," I gripe.

  "Not true."

  "True as shit."

  "Not fucking true."

  "True as all hell! You both are so busy getting your dicks led around by your women that you're forgetting that we have a business to run." I open the fridge and stare blankly inside of it. "Do we have one thing left in this house to eat that had parents?!"

  "If you'd get your own girl, you wouldn't be so wrapped up inside of your feelings like this."

  "I get a different girl of my own every single night, and then I send them right back home where they belong."

  Camden's body stiffens. "Do you have some sort of a problem with my woman living here?"

  "I'm not sure that you've noticed lately, since I've been cleaning up this Newman mess for the last few days, but do you see what my normally pretty face looks like? What I have is a problem that one side of it is black and blue and sliced open. What I have is a problem that I had to fight, knock out, tie up, and move a fat ass federal agent out of a hotel and into the trunk of my brand-new Mercedes Benz by my fucking self. What I have is a problem that a gun was pointed at my head by said fed. What I have is a problem that Newman was not an easy fix like you said he would be. In fact that fix required me to pull off some James Bond-esque shit. So the answer to your question is no. My problem isn't with Jade or the fact that she lives here with us. My problem is with you!"

  Camden doesn't even blink at the fact that I'm raising my voice, and continues to calmly stuff a handful of spinach into the blender with the rest of his goo. I don't know why I bother yelling at him. He rarely gives a damn.

  "Obviously Newman didn't tell me that he fucked around and killed a woman. If I had known that, I would have dropped everything and been there to assist. You know that."

  "You should have been there regardless. It's our business. A joint partnership. I don't work for you or Roman. I'm not your employee. Just because I'm laid back doesn't mean I'm easy."

  Camden exhales deeply. "One thing that you're definitely not is easy, Cut, and I've never once thought of you as anything less than my partner. Ever. You're my brother and my best friend, but you're beating a dead horse at this point. I don't know what more you fucking want. I've already said I'm sorry, and that it won't happen again. I'm not going to apologize twice."

  "No? Well that works out then, loverboy, because I'd really rather not hear your half-assed apology again. I want a restructuring."

  He runs the blender again for a moment and then stops.

  "Explain."

  "I'm leaving."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Leaving town. I'm sure that fat fed is gunning for me ever since he woke up in the trunk of a car, somewhere in New Jersey, with a lump on the back of his head. I figure I'm going to need to get out of dodge for a while. While I'm gone, I think the three of us need to figure out a better working arrangement."

  "The fed isn't going to be a problem. Roman's on it. You don't have to leave town."

  "You're not understanding what I'm saying. I want to go. I need to go."

  My brother stares at me and his posture stiffens for a moment. It's the first honest reaction I've gotten out of him today. Then he pours and takes a swig of the disgusting green goop he's made, grimaces, and asks me a question.

  "Is this your way of punishing me, little brother?"

  I sit down with my soggy cereal and start talking with a spoonful of it in my mouth.

  "I think that vegan smoothie Jade makes you drink every day is punishment enough. So no, I'm not trying to punish you. I just need a break."

  "A break from me."

  "From everything. I'm being pulled too thin right now. The club. The restaurant. The fixes."

  "So you need a vacation." He takes a long final swig of his smoothie and plunks the cup down on the counter. "Done."

  "That's not exactly what I meant, Cam."

  "I heard you loud and clear. You need some time off. Done."

  I shake my head to myself. It's my brother's one shortcoming. Sometimes he only hears what he wants to hear. It would be pointless to argue him down. So I just let it go.

  I get a call from one of "my" kids from the old neighborhood. A boy named Johnson who I pay sometimes to gather a little intel for me. I'm hoping he can tell me a little something about the dude who hit Sloan.

  "Let me take this," I say to Camden then I answer my cell. "Hey, Johnson."

  "Hey, man."

  "What's up? You find out anything?"

  "So he's not from around the neighborhood."

  "I know that already. I would have recognized him. I told you that he looked tweaked. Did you check with some of the corner boys? See if he buys from anyone. Sells for anyone."

  "I put a call out. Based on your description nothing came up yet. I've got eyes everywhere though."

  "Then what are you calling me for?" I say raising my voice.

  "You told me to keep you updated."

  "Call me when you've actually got something."

  I end the call abruptly.

  Frustrated with Johnson.

  Pissed at Camden.

  Wonder
ing how Sloan's doing. What she's doing.

  "You probably can't find him, because he's not on anyone's radar. He's just some random kid who thinks he's a tough guy. Did you go on the girl's social media to look for him?" Camden asks.

  "I know how to do my job and yours. Obviously, I already did that. She has nothing up about him. No pictures. No posts. In fact she hasn't posted anything at all in about six weeks."

  "That's weird for a seventeen-year-old kid."

  Yeah, it is.

  "On another note, during my time off, I'm going to work on a little research project that you may be interested in."

  "What is it?"

  "I got something else from Newman other than three wasted days of my life."

  "I hope we got paid."

  "We did. It's in the account. An extra thirty percent by the way, and you're welcome, but I'm talking about something else. He sent me a file of an investigation that he did on the three of us, and get this–it supposedly includes information about some long-lost brother you and I have. He was probably just feeding me some bull to ensure that I'd take care of the body, but just in case he wasn't–"

  Camden goes stock still, and I swear he starts turning the color of the green crap he just drank.

  "I'm not understanding your reaction," I say suspiciously. Wondering why he's so quiet. "Tell me you don't already know something about this."

  He exhales painfully. "Maybe a little something."

  "A little like . . . we actually do have a brother and you failed to mention that shit?"

  "I didn't think there was any truth to it."

  "Truth to what?"

  "Something that Joseph said in passing when we were in the middle of a heated discussion. I thought he only said it to get a rise out of me. I didn't think for one second that it could actually be real."

  Joseph Masterson is Roman's father, our former boss, and most times a domineering asshole. It's totally plausible that he was trying to get under Cam's skin, but he usually does that with hard truths. Not lies.

  "When did the two of you have this heated discussion?"

  "At least two years ago."

  Two fucking years ago?!

  I'm so angry right now that I can't see straight. My brother blatantly broke several of the King brother rules. Rules that the hypocrite himself has spent half of our lives enforcing.