Page 126 of Ridin’ Dirty

He didn’t let me finish, taking hold of my shoulders in order to spin me around to face him. He was in a muscle shirt, the front still clinging to his soaked chest, while his massive arms were out on full display. I almost forgot what we were talking about, distracted by the damp curls drooping across his forehead. He sort of needed a haircut, but I really hoped he wouldn’t. Not yet.

“Angel,” he began, his scowl bringing me back to the conversation at hand. “Tell me you’re not thinkin’ of crossin’ into King territory.”

I bit the inside of my cheek, unwilling to lie to his face.

“No.”

“No?”

“No—you’re not goin’.”

I blew out a sigh, understanding he needed more words to come around to my plan. “Look, I get that things are tense, but he’s still my brother. My showing up can’t possibly be considered a threat. And it’s his birthday.”

“Don’t give a fuck what day it is⁠—”

“He helped us, remember?” It was my turn to interrupt. “He didn’t have to, but he did. I want to know why. I need to know why. The thought of him being one of them—being the kind of man who would not just condone but participate in the selling of women into sexual slavery? It kills me. But if there’s even a little chance that’s not who he is, that he’s still the man I thought he was deep down, I have to know. It might not change anything, but I still need to know.”

Riley stared at me for a few deep breaths, and I found myself holding mine in anticipation of his response.

“You’re not crossin’ into King territory on your own.”

My eyes danced across his face, searching for evidence he was saying what I thought he was saying. Except, his expression had not softened in the slightest.

“Does that mean—does that mean you’re going with me?”

“This is not a good idea, Ly,” was all he said in reply.

I pinched the front of his shirt, taking a step closer as I murmured, “I already sent him a text letting him know I’d stop by.”

“Did he respond?”

Dropping my eyes to avoid his gaze, I reminded him, “He might have helped us save Max, but he’s still an asshole.”

“So, no.”

“I have to know,” I whispered.

Riley pulled away from me, mumbling something under his breath as he made his way out of the kitchen and toward the bedroom. I stood frozen, wondering if we’d come to an agreement or not. When I heard the shower turn on, I reached for my coffee and hoped for the best. Ten minutes later, he was back and dressed in a pair of jeans, a white tee that fit him like a glove, and his kutte. He smelled as good as he looked—his curls now damp and clean.

He only stopped when he reached the back door. He twisted his neck, pointed at me, and warned, “I even smell trouble when we roll up, we’re turnin’ around. You hear me?”

I flashed him a grin then raced to grab my purse.

Twenty minutes later, we were pulling onto the Kings’ compound. I knew there was no way Riley would let me walk into the clubhouse, so I hoped Carmine would answer me when we parked and I gave him a call to let him know I arrived.

To my surprise, when we came to a stop, I found he was already outside, propped up against the side of the building, waiting.

It was stupid—so epically stupid—but that filled me with more hope than I previously let myself have.

As I dismounted, Carmine began to make his way toward us. He stopped halfway between the clubhouse and Riley’s Road King, silently indicating that was as far as he was willing to come. I nodded to myself, then glanced at Riley. He dismounted and stood with his arms folded across his chest, obviously intent on standing guard. I nodded again, understanding the situation, then started for Carmine.

I was just about halfway between the two of them when Riley called out, “That’s close enough.”

Carmine rolled his eyes, and I frowned as I looked back at my man from over my shoulder. “Baby, he’s⁠—”

“Still a King, angel,” he finished.

I wasn’t sure if he knew how much I loved it when he called me that. I was positive he didn’t know how much I adored his protectiveness over me—but both were true, working to his advantage. And as much as I wanted to fight him on this, one look at his handsome face with his cocked eyebrow, and I knew there was no fighting it. No fighting him.