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“Why?”
“Because after King left for the military, Margaret was going to announce her marriage to John Stanley. Then suddenly Margaret called everything off. A few days later, she was dead.”
“Wait a fucking minute,” I groaned. God damn, this shit was giving me a headache. “Margaret was supposed to marry John?”
“Yes.” Devlyn nodded.
“How did I not know this?”
“Because you don’t listen to gossip,” Banks simply replied.
Banks was right.
I hated gossip.
Avoided that shit like the plague.
“I need to get out of here. I need to speak with King.”
“That’s why I’m here, brother.” Banks smiled.
Turning to Dev, I asked, “Are you sure Martha is threatening Sugar?”
“Positive. I’ve heard what that bitch calls her. Sugar doesn’t react because she believes she’s caused enough trouble already,” Devlyn said before adding, “Eugene. Sugar won’t accept your claim. She’s got it in her head that she is no good. Tarnished in the eyes of this town. She won’t ruin your reputation too.”
“Fuck my reputation,” I growled. “Let’s go, Banks.”
Knocking on King’s door, I didn’t wait for permission to enter. The fucker was sleeping on the sofa he kept in his office.
Slamming the door behind me, my brother shot up off the couch, ready for war. “What? What happened?”
“King. We need to talk.”
“Jesus fucking Christ,” King groaned, rubbing his hands down his tired face. “If it’s not Frank, it’s you. You do know this is the only place I can sleep without Bailey interrupting me.”
“Not my problem. You knew what you were marrying when you said I do.”
Shuffling over to his desk, King plopped down. “Shouldn’t you be resting?”
“I can sleep later. What the fuck is going on with Martha Cohen?”
King groaned. “Who told you?”
“Devlyn and Banks.”
“Look, brother, I’ve got it handled.”
“Not good enough, King. I want to claim Sugar, but she won’t accept because that fat cow is threatening her.”
“You want to claim Sugar Potter?” King frowned as Gunner and Scribe walked in, shutting the door behind them.
“What’s going on?” Gunner asked.
“Enigma wants to claim Sugar,” King reiterated.
“Congrats, man!” Scribe smiled, shaking my hand. “Got yourself a good one there.”
“Yeah, bro. Sugar is gonna make a great old lady. Congrats.”
