Page 50 of Making the King

“What does mi rey mean?” he asks as soon as both our breathing has returned to normal.

I try to hide my laughter. “That’s for me to know and you to dot dot dot,” I say.

“One of these days,” he says, but he doesn’t complete the sentence.

Even though I want to ask, I don’t. I already know he won’t answer me until I tell him what I just called him. My king. That’s what Rocco King is. Mine.

Rocco stands and pulls me up with him. He hands me my discarded clothes, and we get dressed together in silence. It’s not awkward, it’s actually nice that we can be together without feeling a need to talk non-stop.

When we’re both dressed, Rocco hovers near the door, and I get the feeling he’s struggling to say whatever’s on his mind.

“What is it?” I ask, deciding to help him along.

“I need to ask you a favor.”

Exhaling slowly, I say, “Okay.”

“Me and Gunner have some shit to do today, but I don’t want to take Gray with us. He’s in a bad fucking mood and needs to get out of his own head.”

“And he needs a fucking haircut,” I mumble like that’s important right now.

Rocco chuckles. “He does. But he doesn’t have his parents, and he’s… well—”

“Gray needs help,” I finish for him. “Okay, I’ll help him.”

The gratitude I expect doesn’t come. Instead, Rocco furrows his brows. “Yes, but I just need you to keep an eye on him. Make sure he doesn’t start a fight or something.”

“Sure,” I agree.

I already know there’s more to the story than what I’ve just been told. But I’m not going to ask Rocco to betray Gray’s trust. Plus, I know a little about what it’s like to be your own worst enemy. And if my hunch is right, that’s exactly what the homeless looking boy is.

Cara

After Rocco and Gunner take off to do God only knows what, I walk back inside Dirty Diamonds to find Tex and Gray at each other’s throats.

“It’s just one fucking beer,” Gray fumes, balling his hands into fists.

“And it was just one fucking no,” Tex smirks. “You’re not old enough to drink, boy. And I’m not fucking serving you.”

Sasha and Alana are still hanging out at the bar, and judging by their cackles they’ve had quite a few drinks.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Gray roars, taking a step closer to Tex.

The bartender shakes his head. “Don’t even think about it, boy. It won’t end well for you.”

As I look at Gray, like really look at him, it hits me what he needs, and it’s definitely not alcohol. He needs an outlet, a place where he can let out the angsty and toxic energy inside him. I should know. That’s how I felt when I was locked up, and it’s the reason I took up kickboxing.

Rounding the bar, I hip-bump Tex out of the way, and glare at Gray. “That’s no way to speak to people,” I dutifully say.

“What’s it to you?” Gray spits, glaring back.

Rolling my eyes, I point at the door. “Let’s go.” When he just stands there, I add. “You can come with me willingly, or I’ll drag your ass out of here. It’s your choice, but believe me, you’re no match for me.”

Predictably, he laughs mockingly at me, which is what I was hoping for.

“I don’t think so. I like Rocco, and he’d never forgive me if I hurt you,” he smarts.

Tex looks at Gray and bursts into laughter. “Oh, that’s right. You haven’t seen her fight. Believe me, boy. You’re no match for her.”

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