Page 34 of To Claim A King
I had to hand it to him—this man was feckingvigilant. Even with our additional security detail trailing several cars behind, he hadn’t let his gaze falter once. And with the shitshow of last night, I wouldn’t complain about that either.
“I let my anger get the best of me,” he explained sounding begrudging, not bringing those eyeballs back to mine, choosing instead to stare at a whole lot of asphalt. “I shouldn’t have pushed you.”
This man would stare a barging bull right in the face and not drop eye contact, but he was a twitchy little git when it came to saying sorry to little old me.Too cute,Kell-Bell.
“Conan, I know you’re a big, bad, rage-y machine and all, but you can talk to us, you know.” Carefully, I reached for his right hand rested on the stick shift and covered it. He didn’t flinch or push me away, so I left it there, tracing the lines of his tattoos with my fingertips.
“Trish fucked you over. Your dad fucked you over. Lots of justified rage swirling around in there, mate. It’s okay to unleash it all on the feckers who did this to you. Just maybe keep it for them, yeh, and not the people who are ready to die for you.”
Those dark eyes finally snapped to mine. “Bold words for a conman,Lauchlan.” He raised a bushy brow in challenge. “You’re saying you’d die for me now?”
I doodled the shape of a penis on the back of his hand as I mulled that over.
“Don’t want to die for anyone or anything, really,” I admitted, unashamed to say so. Moral qualms were more of a selective choice than a way of life for the likes of me. “Not really a poster child for integrity, am I? But if I had to choose a cause to fight for, it’d be this one. With you three.” I shrugged as if it was a simple declaration, but really, the only other thing I’d risked my neck for was my sister, and that battle had been won.
Sure, Alvarez was playing the part of master puppeteer, even as a criminal, but he’d been caught—thanks to me and Blackbird—with enough evidence to put him away for a long time. That was what I’d wanted, wasn’t it? Revenge for her, justice for sadistic men who made their livelihood off of innocent women’s bodies. That mission was over. I could hop on a plane, resume a new identity to hide from The Six, and live off of my nest egg on a Caribbean beach until I died of typhoid from drinking the wrong ice cubes, or something equally depressing.
I’d wanted closure for the fucks who’d stolen my sister’s life, and here I was, on the cusp of drowning this arsehole in even more of his dirt, and I felt … nothing. No grand sense ofpeace or satisfaction. Didn’t even get to enjoy the cocky arrogance of winning. There was still a whopper of a hole in my heart where her smile used to be. Maybe I was a foolish fuck, but if I stayed with this lot, I might have a hope of feeling that accomplishment one day.
So—I was here because I wanted to be. I could have died last night, really, if I hadn’tMacGyver’dthe shit out of that garage, or if I’d been a foot to the left when that bullet struck me. What was the difference?
I liked Hillary. Might even be more than that if I really stopped to consider what that woman did to my head, my balls, and my heart. She was a one-of-a-kind catch who’d somehow put up with the likes of me. And, I liked the two sinfully scary trunks of baggage she came with. On the outside, they had the personalities of dull pencils—but on the inside, they were messy, complicated, dangerous men who held a conman captive with curiosity and enough sexual tension to corrupt a monk.
But instead of baring my heart to Kellan on my way to burgers, I just left that statement in the air until he finally remembered he knew how to speak.
“I’m not…” He made an uncomfortable face, like the words tasted funny in his mouth. “I’m not used to having anyone to talk to.”
“Now you have three,” I said simply, squeezing his hand and then removing mine to tap out a tune on the window glass. I had enough sense to back off for now. The diner was in sight and the next conversation with Gertie was important. But maybe he could get out of his head and release some of that pent-up tension without tossing me into another piece of furniture.
We’d talk like two normal blokes with the emotional intelligence of something more than a pickle, and then, like last time, he could fuck it out of me. Or—better thought—I could fuck it out of him. Kellan Carlos was going to bottom for me one day, and he would fucking love it.
Yummy thoughts of me spreading Kell-Bell’s arse cheeks vanished at the sight of neon orange flashing signs in broad daylight. Kellan pulled into the parking lot of the retro spot and turned off the engine. We were twenty minutes early.
“I’ll watch through the windows. Choose one of the booths and keep the blinds open, so I can see you at all times, got it?”
This man’s intensity was so fecking cute. I liked it when he was being an overbearing ogreforme, rather than against me.
“Aye, aye, captain.” I grinned and saluted with my good arm before slipping out the passenger door and into the diner, adopting the casual gait of a man in need of a good, greasy, American lunch.
I took a green vinyl-lined booth with a view of the front door and the bathroom hallway and settled in, accepting the disgusting cup of dirty water from the server with a beaming grin. I immediately added six sugar packets to the ceramic cup and drew a cautious sip. Better.
I hadn’t decided how I wanted to play this yet, not really. Gertie was a sweetheart, and I was convinced she was a patsy, not a key player in Alvarez’ sick operations. The fact she was still out in the land of the living and not locked up somewhere supported that, but a conman learned quickly everyone has secrets. And it was always the quiet ones that surprised you most.
She was a sight for sore eyes when she walked in though, all cherub cheeks and dark hair, her eyes nervously scanning the booths in search of me.
“Oy, Gert!” I called out in a friendly singsong, waving her over to my chosen spot. I leaped out of the booth and wrapped her in my arms for a bear hug when she was close enough, so I could whisperin her ear.
“We may have an audience today, Gert. Not taking any chances with the FBI investigation. Let’s just be two colleagues catching up over lunch, yeh?”
She nodded into my shoulder and clutched me tighter than I thought her wee frame was capable of before letting go and sliding into the booth, removing her scarf and hat as she went.
“It’s so nice to see you, Lauchlan.” She smiled sunnily, playing into the bit nicely. “We have quite a bit of catching up to do!”
“We sure do.” I smiled brightly and stopped talking as the server left a pot on the table. Sobering once the woman headed back to the kitchen, I leaned in and lowered my voice. “How’re you holding up, Gert? What a roller coaster this has been, eh?”
The light in her brown eyes went out like a snuffed candle. “It’s terrible.” She stared at the rim of her coffee mug instead of at me. “I can’t believe he would do those awful things. So many terrible things.” Her eyes flashed up to meet mine, now bloodshot and red-rimmed. “Did you know?”
I couldn’t be sure—no one is truly ever sure about another person—but my gut was telling me Gertie was clean. Innocent.
