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“Okay, guess you didn’t find them. Buh-bye.” He goes to disconnect, but Cash pipes up.
“Fine. Could I please talk to my darling little sister?”
King holds the phone out to me, and I wrap a shaking hand around the cool metal.
“What do you want?” Anger seeps into my voice, and I wish I’d let King handle this like he wanted to.
“Your stupid friend Sabby lied to us. Unless you’re straddling the porcelain pony right now. But seems like you’re more interested in straddling the prince instead.”
“Shut the fuck up, Cash,” I snarl into the phone. “And if you ever touch Sabby again, I will let King beat you bloody. Got me?”
“Oh, now you’re a tough little bitch, threatening to send your boy toy over to teach me a lesson.”
“Unless you have something important to say, I’m hanging up.”
“I came by the Tipsy Taco to tell you the good news.”
A gaping pit yawns open in my stomach—Cash and I have very different ideas of good news.
“And what’s that?”
“Jags is getting out early, on account of good behavior.”
The pit sinks like a rock, hot panic rushing through me. I haven’t missed Jagger one little bit. And having him on the outside, roaming free when King and I are just getting started again, is less than ideal.
“Little sis? You still there?”
“When?” I try to tamp down the panic rising in my voice.
“Soon. They said the next day or two. You baking him a cake? Maybe making a ‘Welcome Home’ sign?”
“Fuck off, Cash.”
“I’ll be sure to tell him how excited you are. And that you’re sleeping with the enemy. He’s going to be real interested in that.”
A cold slither of fear winds through my chest, snaking into my gut. Cash and Damon are one thing—Jagger’s a whole different beast.
The line goes dead, a dial tone cutting through the silence. King lifts the cell from my hand, smooths my hair from my face.
“Don’t worry, Jules. I’ve got you. Jagger won’t be able to touch you, I promise you that.”
I huff out a shaky breath, tears welling in my eyes.
“He won’t do anything, really. It’s just—” I shut my eyes, pinch the bridge of my nose to stop the tears from falling.
Why is everything so damn complicated all the time?
“What, baby?” King pulls me to him, stroking my hair, and I inhale his clean, woodsy scent.
“He knows.” I whisper the words into his chest, feel the steady thudding of his heart against my cheek.
“About the trial? How you helped us?”
I nod, my hair rustling on his bare skin. His muscles tighten and flex beneath me, his heart racing.
“Last time I went to see him at the jail—he knows, King. I don’t know how, but he does.”
“I knew I should have stayed away from you.” His voice is quiet, filled with regret.
