Page 33 of The Kings of Kearny

I shook my head to clear it and nodded toward the motorcycles behind him. “Subtle.”

He had his shades on, but from the way his brows drew together, I knew he was scowling. “What?”

I raised my voice over the roar. “Subtle!”

He turned a little and made a slashing gesture, and the engines around us cut off one after another. As they died, he faced me. “I’m not trying to be subtle.”

No shit, Sherlock. I eyed the other bikers. “They can’t come in.”

“I know,” he said. “But they’re going to sit their happy asses out here while we talk with management and look mean.”

“Fine,” I said. “Are you ready?”

“One sec.”

He strolled over to a large black man wearing a sleeveless leather vest. The man flipped up the visor of his helmet, and I recognized Rob, the same man who’d given Jakob his still-healing shiner from the other night. The two of them exchanged words for a few minutes. There didn’t seem to be any lingering resentment between them as they talked. Rob nodded one last time, and Jakob came prowling back to me, his long legs eating up the pavement.

“Let’s get this over with,” he said.

“Try not to insult anyone,” I told him as we made our way inside.

He let out a low grunt. “You’re one to talk.”

Ugh. Had I really been ready to throw myself at him last night?

Like yesterday, the bullshit started the second we stepped inside. Today it wasn’t Hank who barred our way but a younger, more heavily muscled white man I’d never seen before. If he were ever cast as a movie extra, the character name that scrolled through the credits would read “Blond meathead.” He looked like a man with more muscles than brains.

“He can’t come in here,” he said, jerking his chin toward Jakob.

“I think there’s been a miscommunication.” I took a step toward him but froze when his hand dropped to his gun. What the hell? “Dr. Perez should have called down to have him cleared ahead of time.”

“Stay right there,” he ordered, lifting a two-way radio from his belt. The radio crackled to life, and he spoke into it. “There’s a young woman here with a King. Says he’s been cleared.”

Static sparked over the line, but the response came through crystal clear, an immediate “Negative.”

How’d they even have time to check?

The guard put the radio back in place and stared at me. “He’s not getting in here.”

“Let me just call Dr. Perez,” I said.

He seemed trigger-happy, so I gestured to my purse. He nodded, and I reached in slowly and pulled my phone out.

The line rang for several moments before going to voice mail. I left a message. “Hi. It’s Krista Evans. The guard downstairs won’t let Jakob in, and it seems like he was never cleared.” I hung up and turned toward the guard again. “She wanted him to come in and speak to management with me about my grandmother.”

The guard crossed his arms over his chest. At least his hand wasn’t on his gun anymore. “Until she calls down here and tells me that herself, he’s not getting in.”

Jakob tugged on my arm and pulled me back outside. “Do you know that guy?”

I shook my head. “I’ve never seen him before.”

He stared past my shoulder through the front door. No doubt the guard was just on the other side, glaring right back at him. “I don’t like this.”

“Me neither,” I said.

“Where the fuck is the good doctor?”

“I don’t know. Let me call her again.”

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