Page 19 of The Kingpin's Omega Lover
“That was kind.” And exactly like his brother. He had a generous, nurturing soul but also a fierce spirit. “I’ll see you at five then.”
Bishop quirked an eyebrow at him as he stood and left the office, used to the abrupt ways King dismissed him when he needed to be alone. They had a shorthand that had worked for them for years, which was half the reason King was willing to get out of his current life. He’d never have another lieutenant he trust the way he trusted Bishop. King would rather separate himself from the life he’d built than try to exist alone in a crowd of people.
He worked until dinnertime. Kensley had put together individual taco salads, which was an interesting choice, but Kensley often said he made what the baby craved. Tonight was tacos. It wasn’t King’s favorite, but he adored how Kensley tried to cook for his family, so he’d never complain. Malori offereddull smiles and few comments during their inane dinner chatter. King wanted Malori to smile for real. For yesterday’s genuine emotions to rise above the bland politeness.
Malori had agreed to tomorrow’s shooting lesson, though, so hopefully they’d have a chance to talk about more than how to figure out which was his dominant eye, so he could properly aim a handgun.
At six-thirty, King and Bishop left for their meeting. King drove to the agreed-upon spot on the south side of town, near a series of interstate over and underpasses, which butted up against an industrial park and several self-storage facilities. A service road ran beneath one of the underpasses with low visibility from most sniper positions, which made it a good meeting spot for business. King had worked with Remington before on several profitable projects, and while he didn’t completely trust the man, this was another step toward getting there.
He exited to the service road and parked beneath the underpass. They had another hour-plus of sunlight, but the highway ramps above cast shadows he studied carefully while they waited. A blue SUV joined them. The passenger front door opened, and Remington climbed out, dressed in a familiar black suit. It didn’t matter where they’d met or for what purpose, Remington always wore the same suit, no tie. Bishop nodded at King, and they both got out of the car.
“Everything we talked about is in order,” Remington said as he came around the front of the SUV. He walked with a sure, steady gait, both hands loose by his sides, no sign of hostility or weapons. Bishop stood behind King, and King didn’t have to look to know Bishop had a hand on his own gun. “They agreed to the terms of the deal, and I even got a down payment.”
“Without requesting it?” King asked.
“I think she wanted to make a good impression.” Remington made a show of opening his jacket with his left hand, while exaggerating the reach into his pocket with his right. He removed a flat black box and held it out.
Bishop took the box and opened it. Showed the contents to King. Nestled in a bed of red velvet were five small, uncut diamonds. “Can they be traced?” King asked. He didn’t often deal in precious stones or jewels, but Remington’s contact had agreed to a generous split if King helped fence the product. He also needed to establish trust with Lynn, so they could do future business on a much more valuable product than diamonds: information.
“No serial numbers, no way to trace them,” Remington replied.
“All right.” He nodded at Bishop, who slipped the box into his own pocket. “Once I verify these are legit, I’ll contact you. We can proceed from there.”
“Sounds like a deal, boss.”
“And so you know, if these aren’t legit, you and I will never do business again.”
“I understand. I wouldn’t have brought this to you if I didn’t think it was legit. I’ve known Lynn for a long time, and she knows her stones. I also know she’s good for the information you’re looking for.”
They held eye contact but neither had to say the name. All the heavy hitters in the underworld knew of King’s interest in locating Marta. She was a big piece he was willing to pay heavily for, in cash or in favors. But no one outside of King’s tightest inner circle knew how he was maneuvering the chess board to create a safe exit from this life. No onecould.
“Okay,” King said.
King waited until Remington returned to his vehicle and drove off before retreating to his own car. Simple meet, as hepreferred. Now he had to make sure the rough rocks in Bishop’s pocket were actual diamonds, so they could move ahead with the deal. The influx of cash was exactly what he needed, so King could continue to divest himself of his current business and set up a new life elsewhere.
He turned off the maintenance road toward the freeway on-ramp. He barely registered the glare of a vehicle’s high-beams or the fact that it was barreling toward him from the wrong direction. King slammed his foot on the brake, wrenched the wheel, and braced for the inevitable impact.
Malori was doing his absolute best to keep his pregnant friend from going out of his mind with worry, while also keeping his own head on straight as the time inched past midnight, and the only communication they’d gotten from Bishop had been a crypticHad a snag, home latetext sent a little after eight p.m..
The only thing keeping Kensley inside the penthouse was Conklin, the evening guard, who had not moved from his position in the lobby, blocking their access to the elevator. A guard was always there if both King and Bishop were away from home, like tonight. Malori hadn’t given it any thought, because in the six months he’d lived here, Malori had always seen King come home. Sometimes meetings ran late.
Malori had a sense that something was wrong, and he wasn’t sure if it was his own intuition, or if his fears were feeding off Kensley’s. Kensley had a unique emotional bond to Bishop, as the pair was each other’s charus. The other half of their soul. And Kensley had been restless since the start of the second evening game show they typically watched on TV.
They’d spent their evening together in the main living room, since it was closer to the elevator, with Malori fetching Kensley anything he wanted from the kitchen, which ended up being a steady supply of ginger ale and spicy corn chips. Malori didn’t understand how the combo settled Kensley’s uneasy stomach, but it’s what Kensley needed, and Malori wouldn’t deny him snacks during a time of high stress.
Malori had also helped himself to two beers from the collection of artisan brews King kept in the lower level kitchen. The beers were spaced out enough that he was perfectly sober when Conklin strode into the living room, cell phone in hand.
Kensley instantly muted the movie they were trying to watch. “Any news?”
“King and Drew are on their way home,” Conklin replied. “They’ll be here in about twenty minutes. Drew said to try and relax, they’re both okay.”
Malori stared at Conklin, briefly confused, until he remembered that he meant Bishop when he said Drew. Two-and-a-half years ago, Bishop had nearly been killed in an explosion. King had manipulated things so that to the wider world, Bishop Anders had died. Bishop had reconstructive surgery, which changed his face, and he’d adopted the persona of Drew Burton. Only a scant handful of people knew Drew/Bishop were the same person.
Most of the guards, except for two of King’s most trusted men, Garvey and Hartford, thought Kensley loved a man name Drew.
“Tell Drew to fucking try and relax!” Kensley yelled.
“Hey.” Malori reached over and squeezed Kensley’s shoulder. “Breathe.” His own relief had released the steel band from around his chest, allowing him to breathe a little easier. Now he needed Kens to breathe and not send himself to the hospital.Kensley’s blood pressure was already slightly elevated, and all this stress wasn’t good for the baby.
