Page 19 of The Kings of Kearny

I signed us in and led Jakob away, praying that no one else tried to stop us. Hisfuck youface was back in full force, and from the way his jaw was clenched, I worried he might hit the next person to look at him funny.

This right here was why I wasn’t looking for anything more than a one-night stand with him. This was why I didn’t want to be his girlfriend. I didn’t want to worry about his moods. I didn’t want to smooth the way for him, and I didn’t want to be annoyed when people treated him like he had rabies. They had every right to be afraid of him. He was in a gang, for fuck’s sake. Try to dress it up however you wanted, but regardless of the fact that every King was a veteran, every King was also part of a criminal organization.

I strode toward Gran’s room, wearing my ownfuck youface, regretting my decision to let him come. This was why I shouldn’t agree to anything right after sex; the hormones left my brain dick-addled and incapable of making good choices.

The hallway was empty around us, the sound of our shoes loud on the tile floor. Suddenly there was a jerk on my arm, and I found myself pressed against the wall, Jakob looming up in front of me. Here, in broad daylight and when I was already annoyed with him, it wasn’t nearly as hot as it had been last night. I put my hands on his chest and shoved. My leg might give me hell, but I still made it to the gym four times a week, and I had enough muscle and knowledge to move someone even as big as Jakob when I put my mind to it. He stumbled back a few steps, caught off guard. Surprise lit his eyes before he locked his expression down.

“What’s the problem?” he growled.

“We’re not in your apartment anymore,” I said, voice low so it wouldn’t carry. “You do not have permission to grab me whenever you want.”

The look he gave me was pure King. “Fine. But what the fuck is theactualproblem?”

“I shouldn’t have agreed to this,” I said. “Everyone here is going to treat me differently from now on because they’ll think we’re dating.”

Once the words were out, I realized how much they made me sound like an asshole. Like I was ashamed of him. That wasn’t it. I couldn’t give a shit what anyone thought; I just didn’t want to listen to everyone’s judgment. My blunt mouth meant that I would call them on it at some point and make the situation even worse.

“Jakob, I—”

“Of fucking course,” he said, cutting me off before I could apologize. “Wouldn’t want anyone to think America’s sweetheart was slumming it with a King.”

I stared at him. “What isthatsupposed to mean?”

He waved a hand at me. “You look like you’re ready to go to church.”

I glanced down at myself. I wore a high-waisted, ankle-length flowy skirt with a fitted tank top tucked into it that made my boobs look amazing. I thought I looked pretty good, and part of the reason I chose this outfit was because of how I thought Jakob might react to it. This was not the response I hoped for. His words left me cold, and now I felt like an idiot for wanting to impress him.

“You’re one to talk about clothing choices,” I said, my temper flaring to life. “You’re wearing head-to-toe black leather in eighty-degree weather.”

“To keep me safe if I wreck the bike,” he bit out.

I spread my arms. “We’re inside. No threat of a fall here. Yet you keep that jacket on twenty-four seven because heaven forbid people not recognize you as a King.”

He stepped in close, voice low with anger. “I am a fucking King whether I wear the jacket or not.”

I opened my mouth to snap at him and realized it wasn’t worth it. “You should go,” I said instead.

His eyes bored into mine like a subarctic drill. “No.”

“I don’t need you here to get Gran tested, and the thought of playacting like you’re my boyfriend in front of her after this makes me want to puke.”

He dropped his voice even lower. “You need me, and you know it. You’re poking your nose into some shit here. Get over your pissiness with me and think about it, Krista. You say anything to your doctor about a drug dealer on staff without a King to back you up, and you’ll make a huge target out of yourself. Anyone stupid enough to fuck with the Kings will have no problem silencing one nosy woman.”

“I can take care of myself,” I said.

He snorted. “The fuck you can. Any fighter worth their salt could spot that bum leg from a mile away. It’s the first thing I’d hit, and you know if a man my size landed one good kick, you’d be fucked.”

I curled my fingers into fists, nails digging into my palms. Goddamn him. “You aresuchan asshole.”

His answering grin was as cold as his eyes. “I never claimed to be anything else.”

No, he hadn’t. I was the idiot who’d misinterpreted a few moments of basic human decency as evidence that there was more to Jakob Larson than met the eye.

I wouldn’t make that mistake again.

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