Page 16 of Claiming What's His


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When I turn to head back with the food, I hear the racking sound of motorcycle pipes. My first thought is one of fear. I look around expecting to see Mason. When my gaze moves across the street and see King, I breathe a sigh of relief. Joy immediately blooms inside of me. I’ve missed him. I didn’t really want him to leave after our date, but I know it’s for the best that he did.

I wonder if he was coming to the hospital to see me. That thought warms me. Maybe he’s been missing me as much as I have him. I start walking toward him. Tacos and seeing him.This day is looking up for sure.

As I get closer, I notice he’s talking with another man. He’s not as tall as King and his dark skin has more of a golden tone to it. They are both muscular, but the man is slimmer than King. They seem very different, but that’s not what stands out. It’s the dangerous energy emanating off them. It weighs the air. Even from here I can sense the tension. The stances they both take as they face each other is warning enough that this isn’t a friendly chat. As I get closer, I slow down. I can hear their conversation. I don’t want to intrude so I stop when I’m right across from King, but all his attention is focused on the man in front of him.

“Wh-why you been avoiding me, K-King?” the man asks.

“We have nothing to say to each other, T,” King says, dismissively. The angry look on his face seems misplaced. The King I’ve spent time with has laughed easily

“Th-that’s not true and you know it. You’ve been av-v-v-voiding me since Tasmin’s birth.”

Something about the man with King is familiar. The way he looks… the stutter…Thomas West!He was a patient at the hospital when I met King. The animosity between them now makes zero sense. King was extremely worried about Thomas. He went so far as to go against doctor’s orders and give more blood than was medically recommended to help. King and the other man shared a very rare blood type.

“I don’t have anything to say,” King says dismissively.

“I d-do!” Thomas yells, clearly frustrated with his stutter.

If I was being yelled at in public, I think I would be more concerned about those around me watching, but King keeps his eyes on the guy in front of him.

“Then say it, T,” King barks out.

“Grunt t—told me you v-v-voted against patching me into the c-club,” T says angrily.

The club?He must be talking about King’s MC club.

King shrugs acting nonchalant, but his body language is saying otherwise. He keeps curling his fists. The hard set of his features are both stoic and cold. “So?”

“Wh-why don’t you w-want me in the DCs?” Thomas asks, throwing his hands out.

“You’re too weak,” King says, before trying to walk past Thomas.

Before I can blink, Thomas grabs King’s shirt. He pulls him back a step and then his fist connects with King’s mouth. When King turns slightly, I watch as he spits down on the ground and blood seeps from his lip. He wipes it away with the back of his hand.

“Motherfucker, w-w-what is your p-p-problem?” Thomas yells, standing toe to toe with King.

I want to go break it up before anything happens, but it is as if I’m frozen. I can’t seem to make my feet move.

“Maybe I don’t want a man in the club whose daddy has to stick his nose in every fucking thing that goes on,” King growls.

“This is about my f-f-father?” T asks. The surprise of King’s answer rolls over his face.

“Dragon West needs to stay the fuck out of DC’s business,” King yells, flattening his hand out on Thomas’s chest and pushing the man hard enough he has to take a step back. “If he doesn’t, I’ll kill that son of a bitch.”

“Go against my f-father and you’ll be the one that’s six feet under, K-K-King.”

“I’d rather be there than lie with the stink of the Savage Brothers in my damn space.”

Thomas strikes again, but King grabs his hand. “That first one was free but that’s over now, T.” King punches T in the shoulder with his free hand. The crack of the knuckles against skin sends goosebumps through my body. The place he hit T seems weird to me, but before I can even think about it, Thomas throws another punch to King’s face. This time it rocks King backwards and he stumbles, falling to the ground.

“King,” I cry out. I drop the food and dash across the street to him—without even watching for cars. Thomas looks down at King for a second. Then storms off before I reach King’s side.

“Are you okay?” I ask, touching his face softly, wincing at the cuts I find there.

Regret flashes through his face as he shakes his head. “You shouldn’t be here, beautiful. You shouldn’t be here.”

Chapter12

King

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