AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Going unnoticed is hard as fuck when most of the people present either work for me or used to work with me, but the cake—and the birthday girl herself—have them preoccupied. I’m safe. For now.
I find King in his kitchen, rummaging for beer bottles in the fridge and giving distinct, methodical orders to the catering staff. Now, that’s the King I know. Clear-cut and precise. Which is one of the reasons I got along with him in the first place.
After all, devils recognize each other.
Or maybe he’s an ex-devil now, considering all the mushy shit he does whenever his daughter is involved.
I lean against the counter and cross my legs at the ankles. “You’re only short a maid’s outfit to complete the role.”
King turns around holding two cases of beer and his expression immediately sharpens. Gone is the soft man who was singingHappy Birthdaynot too long ago.
He straightens to his full height, but no matter how much he tries to get more on me, his six-foot-two is still an inch shorter than me. But he’s more buff.
Aside from boxing with him for old times’ sake and doing some hiking, I’m not as obsessed as he is with sports.
“You can go.” He hands the beer to one of the staff and they all scurry out of the kitchen at his order.
After slamming the fridge shut, he retrieves a Zippo from his pocket and flicks it open, then closed. He quit smoking a long time ago, soon after Gwyneth’s birth, but he’s never lost the need to have that lighter. “I thought you weren’t coming.”
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
“Nice save, because I was planning to kick your ass.”
“You can’t win against me. Not in this lifetime, at least.”
“Last week’s match says otherwise.”
“In last week’s match, you cheated by throwing the towel in my face.”
“It’s called street fighting, not noble martial arts. I’ll let you win this week.”
“Fuck you. Don’t act benevolent when you’re going down.”
“We’ll see about that. Now, why are you late?”
“It’s just a birthday, King. I don’t see what the big deal is.”
“My daughter’s birthday. That’s the big deal, Nate.”
I resist the urge to tell him it’s still just a birthday since those words will definitely get me punched. My face is kind of real estate now and can’t be bruised in any way. King’s, too. Which is why the face is a red zone in our fights.
King flicks his lighter shut, slips it back in his pocket, and reaches into the cabinet. He retrieves a bottle of The Balvenie 21 Year Old PortWood Finish and pours two glasses, then slides one across the counter to me.
“Drinking this early?” I swirl the contents.
“It’s a special occasion.”
I take a sip to hide whatever grimace my mouth was about to make. “Because it’s her birthday or because it reminds you of her mother?”
“Her mother can go fuck herself. That woman doesn’t exist.” He downs the whole glass.
“Clearly. Judging by the million PIs you’ve hired over the last eighteen years.”
“There’s no harm in knowing one’s enemies' whereabouts.”
“You want me to believe that you won’t do anything once you find her? Really, King?”
The corner of his lips curve in a smirk as he pours himself another drink. “I never said that.”
