The Elite Kings Boxset Vol. II

by Amo Jones

  I roll my eyes. “Yes. Follow me, but these bullets can’t kill anything that might try to kill us, so if like, a mountain lion or anything comes after us, I can’t help us.”

  Tillie pauses just as we make our way through the clearing. “But you don’t actually hunt mountain lions and stuff, do you?”

  I stop and turn to face her. “Of course not! But I would shoot to kill any human who does.”

  Her mouth slams shut and then she laughs me off. “Oh, you’re not being serious.”

  I laugh with her, though I’m very serious. My dad had to physically restrain me after some stupid bimbo slut and her bimbo-ass family uploaded a picture of them on Facebook with a dead lion that they had killed, holding its lifeless body proudly. One day, I’m going to reenact that very photo, only holding their first-born child.

  Okay, so that was too far.

  Yeah, that was a little far, but alas, whatever people think about hunters, I love animals. More than I love people. I—me and my family—have only ever hunted deer, unless it was duck shooting.

  “Madi!” Tillie whispers into the back of my neck, her breath misting across my neck.

  “What!” I hiss back, drawing my gun up. Tillie is following closely behind me, her chest rubbing against my back every two seconds. If we were in a horror movie right now, she would be the death of us.

  “It’s getting dark.”

  “Well, that’s what happens when it’s almost 8:00 p.m. Chill out.” I go to step over a fallen log, when I slip and fall to the ground, just as a bright green splatter of paint shoots over the trunk that’s near us. Tillie snaps out of her questionnaire, looks to the green paint, and then screams out in shock just as another splatter of paint hits her square in the jaw. I slam my hand over my mouth in shock. That could have easily knocked out some teeth. Rolling onto my stomach, I prop my gun up against my shoulder and peek through the scope, the diameter giving me zoom view. A bush rustles opposite us, but I know that’s too easy and was obviously set up. Noticing the bush moved from the right first, I whip the end of my gun toward the right where, sure enough, Brantley and Ace’s faces come into view, where they’re laughing at Tillie’s—and possibly my—stupidity.

  I grin. “Boo-yah motherfuckers.” And then I squeeze the trigger, my gun pointing toward Brantley’s smug-ass face first. When I see the bright pastel pink splatter all over his shocked mug, I quickly point it toward Ace and squeeze again, this time getting him exactly where they got Tillie, on the corner of her jaw.

  They both scream aloud. “Fuck!”

  I laugh and turn back to Tillie, who’s weeping up against the trunk of the tree, tears pouring down her cheeks, smudging the green color on her face.

  “Hey.” I shuffle closer to her. “It hurts, huh? Don’t worry. I got them.”

  She shakes her head, the tears not threatening to leave. “It’s not that, Madi.”

  “What’s wrong?” I ask, shuffling closer to her, but my finger still trigger ready.

  “My dad. Well, um....”

  “Your bruises?” I whisper, more to myself than to her, putting two and two together, her being upset, and then the first thing she says is her dad.

  She nods. “He’s a drunk. My mom left when I was two, and he has always reminded me about how I owe him because he stuck around when she didn’t.” She swipes the tears off her cheeks again. “He gets rough most nights.”

  “You don’t need to talk about it if you don’t want to, Tillie. It’s okay.”

  She smiles, pushing her long mousy brown hair away from her face. “Anyway, I just wanted to explain why I overreacted about that.”

  Footsteps get closer, the crunching of their closeness vibrating out, and I quickly stand, shielding Tillie and raising my gun to whoever is coming.

  “Whoa!” Bishop grins, his hands raised. “Just me, baby.”

  I narrow my eyes. “Oh yeah? Last I checked, you said I wasn’t allowed to come and play. So, um...” I look down to Tillie, and she smiles at me with a knowing twinkle in her eye. I wink at her and then look back to Bishop. “That makes it us against you.” His smirk drops, and then just as he’s about to pull the trigger, I squeeze mine, and bright pink paint splatters all over the front of his hard chest before I turn the tip to Nate, giving him two solid shots to his chest. Grinning, I drop my gun. “See—”

  Black paint hits me across my chest just as a sharp sting plows into me. “Oh my God!”

  Bishop keeps grinning and then lowers his gun. “For a trigger-happy chick, you sure bitch like a girl.”

  I go to whack him with the back of my gun, when he pushes it out of the way, his hand coming to my throat. He drops me to the ground with a thud, his grip still around my neck like a collar. He runs the tip of his nose over the bridge of mine, his waist pinning me to the ground and a smile tickling the corner of his lips. “See, baby? Don’t get fucking cocky.”

  Nate rolls his eyes just as Brantley and Ace come around one of the tree trunks. “Fucking bitch,” Brantley grumbles, wiping the pink paint off his jaw.

  Bishop grins devilishly before correcting it. He gives me a slight kiss on the lips, ever so softly, before he jackknifes up and turns to face Brantley. “Strike two, pup. Don’t let it get to three, ‘cause I’ll enjoy ruining your pretty little face way too much.”

  I get up from the ground, swiping the dirt off the back of my pants. Taking Bishop’s hand in mine, I pull him closer to me. “It’s okay.” Whatever problem Brantley has with me, he obviously thinks it’s valid.

  Slinging the gun over my shoulder, Nate bends down to pick up Tillie, cradling her into his chest. I watch them closely, slightly confused, until Bishop catches me. “Yeah, I think it’s safe to say the playboy has found his chick.”

  “You think?” I ask, head tilted.

  Bishop scoffs. “Yeah, pretty much.”

  Bishop is talking on the phone when I come out of the shower, clutching my towel. He eyes me walking in, but continues to answer questions on his phone, watching me closely.

  “Yeah,” he says. “No, she’s fine.”

  I pause, grabbing my clothes out of my bag. “Yeah, I’m fucking sure, Dad. Call it off.”

  Hope flares up in my chest, but I bend down and slip my underwear on under my towel, trying to be as quiet as possible. “Okay,” he murmurs. “Yeah, deal.”

  Deal? What deal?

  He hangs up his phone and then stands, walking toward me. The late afternoon sun setting shines through the windows, glowing against his tanned skin. “It’s done. He knows. I have to talk with him when I get home, but I think I convinced him enough to not chase you.”

  I drop the towel. “Shall we celebrate, then?”

  He smirks, walking toward me and pulling off his shirt. “Abso-fucking-lutely.”

  I’M DRUNK, AND AS MUCH as I’ve tried to give myself a pep talk, there’s no denying that.

  No, Madison, the ground is not supposed to spin like that. And, no, Madison, there are not two Bishops. But I’m happy and in good company. Since Bishop got off the phone with his dad, everything has calmed down significantly. The tension Brantley has been throwing my way has died off immensely, so much so I’m pretty sure I’ve caught him smiling at me a couple of times.

  We all decided to spend one more night here and head back to The Hamptons tomorrow, and then back to school the next day. If I’m honest, I have a lot of bookwork to catch up on when I get back, so to say I can’t wait to be home, in my bed, is an understatement. Not that I haven’t enjoyed being here with Bishop and, admittedly, the other guys, but home is home, and my bed is far too amazing to swap for something in the forest.

  “Hey.” Tillie nudges me, taking a seat on the log beside me.

  “Hey back.” I smile at her, moving my hair out of my face and letting out a long breath. The flame from the bonfire heats my flesh, and I close my eyes, a smile spreading across my face. I open my eyes, bringing my drink to my lips.

  “So you and Bishop are a thing?” she ask
s with a quirked eyebrow, taking a small sip of her drink.

  “Well, I mean... you and Nate?” I retort.

  She smiles. “Touché.”

  “Just be careful,” I whisper to her. “I know. He’s Nate, and he’s very charming... and he has that damn tongue ring.”

  She bursts out laughing and then covers her mouth with her hand to keep from spitting out her drink. “Sorry, but word! It’s the tongue ring,” she teases. Though we both know that’s not true. She looks across from us, and I follow her line of sight, my eyes falling on Bishop, who is staring at me so intently it has me shuffling in my seat—or log. “Seriously?” Tillie shakes her head in disbelief. “It should be illegal for any man to be that good-looking.”

  “Who, Nate?” I ask, because yes, Nate is very pretty.

  “No.” She shakes her head, swallowing her drink. “Bishop. I see the appeal and why everyone—and I mean everyone—wants him. I mean”—she rolls her eyes—“look at him. Who wouldn’t want him?”

  “I’m hoping you.” I laugh sarcastically before turning serious. “Seriously, I have enough girls to worry about chasing after him. I don’t want to have to worry about my friends too.”

  She laughs, her head tilting back. “No, you don’t have to worry about me.” I look back at Bishop again to catch him still staring at me. The orange hues of the flame ignite his cheeks, adding a blush to his tan complexion. Tillie leans into me. “And I wouldn’t worry about him, either. I mean, he’s never been a whore anyway, always selective and secretive. He’s always had the unattainable reputation. But with you, though?” she murmurs, almost to herself. “I don’t know. It’s different. You’re different to him.”

  “Well, I hope so!” I laugh her off, averting my eyes from Bishop and his intense gaze. “All things considered.”

  She smiles. “So have you heard from Tatum?”

  “Yeah.” I lean forward. “She texted me the other night. She’s fine... just same old Tatum. I’ll text her and tell her we’ll be back tomorrow.” She takes a stand from the log and my hand goes out to her. “Seriously, Tillie, just be careful, okay? I love him; don’t get me wrong. He and I... we grew close quite quickly, and although he has done some questionable things to me, I know he wouldn’t intentionally hurt me.”

  “I know, Madi. I’ll be fine. I promise.”

  An arm wraps around my waist and I grin, knowing who it belongs to. Tillie smirks too and then winks at me. “Seems we’re both going to be a little busy tonight.” Then she walks back to Nate, who is waiting for her with open arms. They’re so cute, yet different. Nate, though... I don’t know. He’s never had a relationship before, according to everyone I’ve talked to, so that worries me. It worries me that I can feel he’s going to do something bad to fuck things up with this girl one day, but I know for a fact I will be there for both of them.

  “Come on.” Bishop nudges his head, a bottle of Macallan in his hand. I stand, wiping the dirt off the back of my pants just as Pretty Ricky’s “Get You Right” starts playing on the sound dock, floating through the dark forest and hidden behind the laughs and drunken slurs of my friends. Yeah, friends. Some weird friendship we all have going on. “I wanna show you something.”

  “Oh?” I prompt, settling into his step and snuggling into the warmth under his arm. “Another firefly night?”

  He smirks. “Not quite.” We head farther and farther away from the group and toward the back of the cottage, until darkness floats all around me. He pulls out a mini flashlight from his pocket and turns it on, shining it toward an overgrown bush area. “Come on.”

  “What?” I ask in disbelief. “In there?”

  Shining the light under his chin, he nods. “Yeah, in there,” he whispers scarily.

  I shove him. “Can you try to not be like, the boogie man?”

  That earns me a throaty laugh. “Baby, I’m much worse than the boogie man.”

  “How so?” I follow him anyway.

  “Easy, the boogie man isn’t real.” He runs his rough fingertips over the inside of my thighs, dragging them over the zipper of my short shorts, and rubbing my clit through the denim material. “Feel that, baby?” he whispers into my ear. “That’s real, and that’s how I’m much, much worse than the fucking boogie man.”

  My breath catches in my throat, but I swallow through it. “You’re such a fucking dick.”

  “Yes, but I have a fucking monster one.” He yanks me, so I quicken my steps. “Come on.”

  “Where’re we going?” I ask, following him through the overgrown shrubs.

  He pulls me and I fall forward, the bush I stepped through swinging back into place. “It’s not far.” I swipe away the broken little twigs that cling to my shorts and follow him. “I inherited this house from my parents. When my dad was fifteen, it was his, and then when I turned fifteen, it came to me.”

  “Hmm.” I grin. “That’s some family heirloom, though, right?”

  He chuckles as we keep walking. “Yeah, that’s one thing you’ll come to realize. Nothing is done in halves.”

  He stops, and I almost crash into his back. Stepping around his body, I walk forward and follow his sight. “Holy crap, what is it?” I whisper.

  Bishop looks down at me, bringing the rim of his bottle to his lips and taking a swig. “Hmm, I’m not really sure how to answer that.”

  I step around him, walking toward the cave that looks to be made of stone. There’s a dark door entrance with no windows, and the cave is surrounded by loose, overgrowing vines and shrubs.

  “Have you been in it?” I ask, looking back up toward him.

  “Never.” He shakes his head. “It’s just some old shit my dad used to talk about when I was a kid.”

  “Kinda like the boogie man?” I tease him.

  He takes my hand in his, and I ignore how my chest contracts and my core tingles at our contact. “Something like that,” he murmurs so lightly I almost miss it.

  “So why did you bring me here, then?”

  He grins. “‘Cause we’re going in.”

  I shake my head. “I don’t wanna.”

  “Baby?” He smirks—at least I think he’s smirking. The small light coming off his flashlight is hinting at a smirk from the crisp, sharp shadows over his cheekbones and jawline. “You’re coming.”

  “Fuck.” I snatch the bottle out of his hands and bring it to my lips, swallowing the harsh amber liquid. Letting out a hiss, I wave toward the entrance of the stone. “Lead the way!”

  I follow as he walks toward the dark, gloomy rock. Goose bumps break out over my flesh just as we near it. It feels haunted, as dark shadows are dancing around in the silence.

  “Did you hear that?” I whisper to him harshly.

  “What?” He grins over his shoulder. “Naw, babe. Come on.” Pulling me into his warmth, he throws his arm over my shoulders as we walk into the entrance. I hold my breath, ignoring how the damp, congested smell of lake water engulfs my senses.

  “Won’t there be like, bats in here or something?” I whisper.

  “Probably.”

  “You’ve been here before, haven’t you?” I call him on it because he’s way too calm.

  “Meh.” He shrugs. “Once or twice.”

  The dusted rocks and loose gravel crunch under my feet as we get deeper and deeper into the cave. The oxygen thickens, making it harder for me to breathe the farther we go in. “Bishop, it’s fucking with my breathing.”

  He pulls me under his arm. “Woulda never pegged you as a chicken shit, Montgomery.”

  I shove him playfully and then we stop, looking toward a large opening. There’s a massive hole above us where the moonlight shines directly in and onto a stage-like platform. “Creepy,” I whisper, rubbing my hands over my arms. Tilting my head, I look at all the dark stains that spill over the rock. “Really fucking creepy.” He steps up onto it, the light from the full moon lighting up his body, shadowing his face. “Is this the part where you tell me to ask you what you eat?”


  He chuckles. “No. This is the part where I tell you my dad is a dangerous man. My family are dangerous people, regardless of what you hear or see in the media. All of that is just shadowed by my mom because of who she is. It’s why my dad married her probably, to keep the spotlight off what he does.” Bishop pauses and tilts his head at me.

  “Sounds like you’ve thought long and hard about this.”

  Bishop laughs, jumping off the stage and stepping toward me. “I know a lot of things that would shock you, kitty.” His hand comes up as he runs the back of his knuckles over my cheek. “I do a lot of things that would undoubtedly repulse you.” He takes a short breath. I hold mine, trying not to think too much into what he’s saying or what he’s implying, because truthfully, a big part of me wants to know more about Bishop. Why he does what he does, why he’s so mysterious, why he and Khales broke up. Where is she, and why do people think she just went missing off the face of the earth?

  But I know Bishop enough to know he doesn’t just give straight answers. He’s too smart for that, too many steps ahead of everyone to make an amateur move like say something he shouldn’t. Sometimes I wonder just how old he is, because he’s so smart. Not book smart, but street smart, and that’s not something you see in people our age.

  He continues, breaking my train of thought. “I can’t let you know.” His fingers wrap around the back of my neck possessively. “I can’t take the risk.” His thumb spreads over my bottom lip. “I can’t lose you to this.”

  “You won’t lose me, Bishop.” I take his hand in mine and search his eyes. Eyes that have seared through mine with so much hate it could light up the gates of hell. But right now? Right now, they’re mixed with something else. Confusion, lust, want?

  He shakes his head, the corner of his mouth hinting at a smirk. “Yeah, I will, kitty. When all is said and done? I will.”

  SCRUBBING THE LOOSE DIRT OFF my skin, I let the hot congestion of the shower engulf me, embracing just how amazing it is to be back in my room. In my shower, about to get back into my bed. Smiling, I turn the faucet off and step out of the shower, moving the glass door out of my way.