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“Doesn’t matter. Take it up with Maeme if you have a problem with it. She paid for it, and good luck getting her to let you give her any more money.”
I peeked into the next bag, and there were the Oreos he’d spoken of, along with a multitude of other items I hadn’t asked for. “This is too much food for one person, King.”
He frowned. “No, it’s not. You don’t have to eat it all today. Pace yourself.”
I would not get upset about this. It was done, and I needed to be thankful. Let it go. If this was what Maeme wanted, then there wasn’t much I could do to stop her. She had made it clear that when she wanted something, she got it. And I couldn’t even be upset about that. This house was more than I would have ever dreamed up in a million years.
“One more thing,” King said and pulled out a phone from his pocket, then held it out to me. “You need a phone. My number is in there, and so is Maeme’s. It’s untraceable, and before you argue with me, this is something Maeme ordered. You might as well take it.”
I reached out and took the phone from him. “Thank you, really. I know I’ve been difficult, but I have reasons. I just didn’t want to bring anyone else into my mess. But I appreciate it.”
He smiled then. That distracting one he had. The one in the photos on the wall at Maeme’s. “You’re welcome, sweets. If you need anything, call.”
I nodded, and then he turned and headed out the door. Leaving me here in my new sanctuary. It all seemed too good to be true. I’d never known people this kindhearted existed in the world. I just had to be sure I didn’t take advantage of it. I would do everything I could to make it up to Maeme and King.
But first, I was going to settle into my temporary home.
• ten •
“They see your cocky ass coming a mile away.”
King
Sitting across from the man who had been the cause of my name, I took a drink of the whiskey in my glass.
Barrett Kingston, Storm’s father, had made a bet with my father thirty-four years ago that my dad lost. Technically, my dad was supposed to name me Kingston because he’d lost to Barrett, but my mother had been furious, seeing as she had planned on naming me Bash. In the end, she had settled for King. It was one of those stories I’d heard a million times, and I couldn’t say I was mad about it. I liked my name. What kind of fucking name was Bash anyway?
“Where is Stellan?” my father asked as he stepped into Stellan Shephard’s office.
He seemed annoyed that we had all been called here, and Stellan not being here yet was going to be an issue.
“Pour yourself a drink and stop scowling, Ronan,” Barrett said to him. “Stellan is on his way. He went in the lead car that escorted Blaise back to the airstrip. Before you ask about their whereabouts, Thatcher and Storm are in the follow car, and Monte is in the library, downloading files that Wilder sent him.”
Dad sighed and shrugged out of his jacket, then made his way to the bar, only giving me a brief nod as he passed. I didn’t bother to respond. I just took another drink and cut my eyes over to Wells, who was arguing with his father, Roland, about the fact that his younger brother, Teller, wasn’t more involved yet in the family business. Teller was only nineteen, and, sure, we’d had to step up at that age, but why make Teller? He could actually enjoy college without the stress of the life he’d been born into just yet. Wells saw it differently though. He’d not gotten to finish his four years at the University of Alabama as QB one because of his responsibilities to the family. He was still fucking bitter about it too.
“Maeme tells me that the wife was abused regularly,” Dad said, taking the seat to my left.
I turned my attention to him. “Yeah, the X-ray is fucking brutal.”
Dad’s scowl deepened. “Should have let Thatcher kill the bastard.”
“He will, but first, we need to get the money,” Barrett pointed out.
“We got all his money and his wife. A week is more time than he should have been given,” Dad replied.
“We left him bleeding out, Dad. He can’t do much at the moment. He’s in the hospital,” I reminded him.
Dad took a drink, then put a cigar in his mouth to light it. “Pansy-ass,” Dad said, his teeth clenched around the cigar.
“We also need more information from him,” Barrett added. “We need names, other properties he sold and profited from that he didn’t own.”
“We can find that out while he’s strung up in the cellar,” Dad said.
Barrett shrugged like that was a given. Which it was. I myself was looking forward to getting my own revenge on Churchill Millroe. I wasn’t going to tell them that though. They’d get the wrong idea and assume I was planning on fucking Carmella Millroe—or Rumor, as she wanted to be called. It was her name before she changed it after all. But Beauregard wasn’t. She’d thrown that name out there, and I was curious as to where she’d gotten it from. I couldn’t exactly ask her that though.
“Maeme has her settled in the shotgun house then?” Roland asked, walking over to us and leaving Wells looking annoyed.
I nodded. “Yeah. She seems less like a flight risk now. She likes the place. Doesn’t mean she won’t try and run as soon as she’s healed.”
