Page 44 of The Kingpin's Omega Lover
King cherished it, because he knew it wouldn’t last.
Once the picnic was eaten, cleaned up, and everyone had changed into swim suits and t-shirts, they assembled with Hartford and rode the public elevator down to the fifth floor “resort.” All five of them had building resident cards that allowed them entry, one at a time. Fudging Kensley and Malori’s identities to get those cards had been easy with enough money.
The spacious indoor pool was to the left, visible through a wall of plexi-glass. The spa and sauna were to the right. The sharp scent of chlorine stung King’s nose when they passed through the wide doors to the pool. He didn’t understand the engineering required to put a pool anywhere except the ground floor, but this one was impressive. Forty yards long, twenty yards wide, and eight feet at its deepest end, the rippling water appeared perfectly aquamarine because of paint and filters. Not a chip in the surface or a single faded depth marker.
The building’s superintendent took pride in maintaining the grounds to perfection.
A young male pool attendant strode toward them with a stack of white towels, and he greeted them with a smile. Offered to bring them anything they needed, from drinks to snacks to paddle boards. Hartford accepted the towels and sent the young man on his way.
A few clusters of swimmers and folks relaxing on lounges were scattered around the perimeter of the pool. Kensley chose a row of four lounges at the far end nearest the wide bank of windows that overlooked the busy city streets. It wasn’t a great view, but real sunlight streamed in those windows most of the day. Kensley immediately sank down on a lounge and put his feet up with a groan. Bishop tucked a folded towel behind his head.
Malori walked to the edge of the pool. The depth marker said six feet, which would be over his head, but there were two lifeguards, one at each end of the pool. He stared down at the constantly moving water, ripples splashing against the concrete sides, sent from swimmers splashing in the shallow end. King could only see his profile, and he looked…wistful.
He slipped off his boat shoes and slowly approached Malori’s right side. “Penny for your thoughts?” King asked.
“Thinking about something.”
“Something good or something bad?”
“Something sad.” Malori’s fingers plucked at the drawstring of his swimming trunks. “My father taught me how to swim in a pool like this. An indoor one, I mean, but not as big, and definitely not with drink service.” The corner of his mouth curled up in a smile. “I think it was a public pool. My father made me wear these orange floaty things on my arms so I didn’t sink. Floating with him felt like flying. I’d forgotten that.”
“We never know what will trigger a memory.” King took a quick count of the strange faces in the room. Sixteen. Twelveadults, four children. “You know, there’s something we’ve never talked about, because it’s never come up before.”
“What? Whether or not I can swim?”
“No, but I suppose that’s a good question. Can you?”
“Well enough not to drown. What’s your question?”
King glanced between them, where their hands dangled close together without touching. “Being open about us as a couple. Touching each other in public.”
Malori looked directly at him, eyes twinkling. “I didn’t hear a question.”
“Will you freak out if I hold your hand?”
“No. Will you?”
“One way to find out.” King slipped his hand into Malori’s. The slow, warm smile that spread across Malori’s face settled a tiny spark of panic in King’s chest. He wasn’t used to public displays of affection with anyone; he had an image to protect, after all. But this was right. This was his future. He never wanted Malori to doubt his feelings.
Malori squeezed his hand; King squeezed back.
TWELVE
After exhaustinghimself swimming eight laps across the pool’s longest stretch, King pulled himself out of the water and collapsed on one of the lounges. He needed to try and use the pool more, if possible, before they moved out. His arms and shoulders were burning, and his legs were a bit jelly-like, but he felt amazing. He and Malori had raced a little, but Malori wasn’t a strong swimmer. He much preferred floating on his back, ears beneath the water, as if meditating to the rhythmic, muffled sounds.
Kensley and Bishop were in the pool, too, and had been for much longer. Bishop had wrapped his bandaged wrist in plastic, and he’d been doing a good job of keeping it out of the water. Kensley said it was a great way to exercise without putting too much stress on his back and joints, especially this late in his pregnancy. King made a mental note to see about renting the whole pool for a private hour, so Kens could exercise regularly until the baby was born.
Good health was good for them both.
An attendant came over and inquired if King needed anything. He asked for an Old-Fashioned. One drink wouldn’t hurt him. While he sipped the slightly-sweet beverage, hewatched his family enjoy themselves in the water. Hartford was nearby, seated at table with a tablet, pretending to read while observing everyone in the vicinity. He was due to switch shifts with Garvey soon.
As King gazed around the cavernous pool area, watching families splash together, couples swim in circles, and his own trio of loved ones exist in a newfound state of peace…King wanted this to be his future. He couldn’t imagine it any other way: the four of them living somewhere fun, exciting, and most of all, safe. This complex was safe enough, considering the people who lived here, but the city wasn’t safe. He didn’t want Malori and Kensley to feel like prisoners for the rest of their lives.
Maybe spending extra months, possibly years, hunting down Marta and her crew shouldn’t be his priority. After all, Oswald, his contact on the west coast, was also working to take their organization down in retaliation for kidnapping and selling his sister. King could send him resources, maybe even some of his trusted employees, once he retired. After they took down Yovenko and found Malori’s kids…that could be enough.
King closed his eyes as fleeting, haunting images of his horrendous childhood tried to surface. Images that had fueled him for decades, pain he never seemed to be able to soothe, no matter how many criminals and sex traffickers he punished. Maybe he’d never be able to punish enough; maybe vengeance wasn’t the path toward true peace.
Maybe…
