Page 75 of Exposed

He bops the tip of my nose with his index finger. “I’ll do my best.”

“You didn’t answer my question, King.”

“We need to talk about that,” he takes another sip before setting his beer down on the coffee table. “We have meetings at the DEA tomorrow. I need to know everything you know about Dex and his organization. And The Pink for that matter.”

“I’ll tell you anything you want to know.” I don’t care if I come across anxious. I am.

King reaches up and fingers a lock of my hair but never takes his eyes off mine. “I appreciate that, but it can wait until tomorrow.”

“You don’t seem to be in much of a hurry. Why are you so calm?

“Baby, I’ve been trying to nail the Carter Cartel for years. I am not patient or calm in general, and I’m really not when it comes to them. But tonight was a lot. You’re not used to any of this. We’re taking a break until tomorrow.”

“A break,” I echo. “There’s a lot of excitement when it comes to you and not in good ways. What exactly does a break mean?”

He stretches an arm behind me on the sofa and does the thing with my hair again, wrapping his finger around the end, but this time not letting go. “Don’t stress, Goldie. You want to talk, we’ll talk. You want to watch shit TV, we’ll do that. You want to go to bed and ignore me for the rest of the night because you’re sick of me creating havoc in your life, I won’t be happy, but I’ll understand.”

“So you admit to creating havoc in my life,” I deadpan.

He has the nerve to smirk. “Absolutely.”

I push back against his utter and total arrogance. “And you haven’t apologized for it.”

“That’s because I’m sitting right here. I’m not sorry about that. I just hope you don’t lock yourself in your bedroom andignore me for the rest of the night. I’m also not leaving you here alone for the time being since the cartel insists on tormenting you.”

At the reminder, I drop the flirtatious banter. “Oh, they want to do way more than torment me.”

That wipes the smirk right off his face. “I want to know more about that, but tomorrow. Talking about the Carter Cartel right now is not giving you a break.”

“You were the one who brought it up.”

“Fair enough. Pick a new topic, Goldie. I’m up for the challenge.”

I take a sip of my wine and lick my lips. “I want to talk about you.”

He shrugs a shoulder and takes way more than a sip of his beer. It feels like he’s killing time or putting me off. “What about me?”

“Tell me something about you that most people don’t know.”

“You’ve got to have people in your life for them to know shit about you. I don’t have a lot of that.”

“Why is that?” I demand.

“You’re one to talk.” He turns the tables on me, and it’s his turn to push back. “Remember, I investigated you. Other than the Carter Cartel, you’ve got your downstairs neighbor. It’s not like you’re hitting South Beach with a posse of friends.”

“A posse?” I mock. “Are you from the wild, wild west? You’re really showing your age, and it’s not a good look.”

He narrows his eyes. “That’s the second time tonight you’ve given me shit about my age.”

I shake my head. “No. I gave Daniel Armstrong crap about his age. You’re the one using words like posse.”

His exhale is heavy. “What can I say? It’s a habit. I blame that on Trippy.”

“Oh, yes. Old, dying Trippy. I want to know about her, and whyyou threw her under the bus as being on her deathbed the day we met.”

“Trippy is my great aunt. She raised Laken and me.”

“Oh.” I’m taken aback but don’t ask why. It’s not like I grew up in a two-parent home. My father paid child support, but being financially cared for is much different than being present.

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