Page 59 of King's Barber
11
Barber
I groaned,stretching out on the couch and wincing at the crick that had formed in my neck from the awkward position I’d been lying in. The familiar weight of Quain’s body half on top of mine made me smile. I ran my hand over his head, smoothing down pieces of hair that stuck up in different directions from sleeping. He was beautiful like this, soft wisps of air escaping his mouth as he gently snored. I’d woken up with different people in my lifetime, but never someone as attractive as the man sleeping here with me now.
“Are the ants stealing your coffee?” I murmured to him, but the only response I got was a soft sigh as he buried his face into my neck.
Laughing as quietly as I could, I glanced around the room. Jester was lying on the floor near us, his favorite whore—Bliss—curled up in his arms like Jester was his teddy bear. My club brother was big enough to hide Bliss from the world. They made a cute couple, and I never understood why Jester didn’t make it permanent. He only fucked the Courtesan these days. Once upon a time he made his rounds with different people, until he met Bliss.
The thought made me shake my head. My happiness with Quain was affecting how I saw things, and I couldn’t decide if it was a good thing or not. As far as I knew, we were only fucking, even though we’d had dinner and shit. I didn’t go into this looking for something, either. We’d fucked twice, yet the need for him grew every passing day I spent with him. While I’d mentioned adopting kids last night, it barely had any reaction out of him, and it saddened me more than it should. We’d only started whatever the hell this was.
The shrill sound of my phone had me nearly jumping out of my skin. Quain groaned, and I smoothed my hand down his head.
“Sorry, go back to sleep.” I tilted backward, careful not to crash off the small couch as I reached for my phone on the floor. After the fiasco with King, we’d ended up here instead. It was safer than poking a lion with a stick, which was exactly what we’d been doing by having sex in King’s bedroom.
Unknownflashed on my phone and I frowned, considering leaving it. If it was important they’d leave a message, but something in my gut told me to answer, so I did. “This better be good. It’s too fucking early on a Sunday morning,” I growled in greeting.
“I’d think this is a good reason for you to listen,hermano.” The unfamiliar voice on the other end had me tensing.
Quain groaned against me and blinked his eyes open, giving me a tired but satisfied smile.
I ignored him, though, as warning bells sounded in my head. Carefully pushing my way into a seated position while trying not to knock Quain off the couch, I frowned. “I don’t know who this is, but I’m not your brother. Do you know who you’ve called?”
Laughter had my muscles clenching tight. “Let me guess. Lucas Jeremy Booth, also known as Barber. Stupid nickname,hermano. Don’t bikers have better ones?”
“Who are you?” I growled out. The warm air of the heater in the barroom washed over me, and I was thankful someone was smart enough to turn it on before the party got started. Sometimes they completely forgot and I ended up half frozen. I slipped off the couch and stood, tugging at my unfastened jeans so I didn’t expose myself to anyone. Everyone had seen my cock before, but Quain had made it clear—he didn’t want to be anyone’s show.
“Doesn’t matter who I am, what matters is whoyouare, and who you’re related to. I’ve got a couple of friends of yours. Would you like to say hello?”
The sound of frightened screams had my hold on the phone tightening. Begging filled the other end of the line, and then a scared, tiny voice said, “Luke? It’s me.”
“I know, Sophie. What happened? Where have they got you?” I ground out, but before she could answer she screamed again, and a crash sounded through the phone. Rage consumed me, and it took all my power not to yell at these motherfuckers, because I needed to negotiate, figure out what they wanted.
“Now, now,Barber, that’s cheating.” The stranger laughed, his accent growing stronger.
“What do you fucking want?” I snapped, spinning on my heel and storming over to the shirt and holster I’d discarded last night when we decided to sleep on the couch. Bending, I held the phone between my ear and shoulder as I checked the magazine of the Ruger—full. I was going to shoot these motherfuckers in the head.
“If you want your cousin and uncle backalive, you will meet us. Alone. If we see any of your biker friends coming anywhere near the location, we’ll slit their throats.Comprende?”
Curling my fingers around the trigger of the gun, I breathed through my nose to stop myself from doing anything stupid like punching a hole in the wall. King would have my ass once this was all over. “I understand. Where do you want me to meet you?”
“I’ll text you the address.Adios.” The phone went silent, and I gripped it hard, forcing myself not to throw it across the room. The cell buzzed and I checked the message. The location was just outside of the city, near the old train trestle we’d fought with the Demons at not long ago.
“What’s wrong?” King’s gruff voice had me turning and freezing in surprise. A few of my brothers were up, King and Undertaker included, and were standing behind me with determined expressions on their faces. Jester was sliding on his shirt and checking his gun, while his whore got dressed, too.
Quain sat on the couch, his elbows on his knees and a contemplative look on his face.
The anger bubbled over. I grabbed the lamp on the little table in the corner of the room and threw it as hard as I could. It sailed past King’s head and collided with the wall behind him, smashing into pieces. King didn’t so much as flinch, staying stock-still, a dangerous glint in his eye. “Those fuckers took Errol and Sophie. They took my fucking family. I’m going after them.”
“We’re coming with you, then,” Rogue said from my left, his arms crossed over his burly chest.
“No. You can’t.” I ran my hand over my head, desire for blood pressing on my chest. “They said if they see any other bikers, they’ll kill them. Fuck!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, fury like I’ve never felt before making my heart pound against my ribs as I imagined all the things I was going to do to them. Blood would run in rivers by the time I was done.
“You can’t go, Luke.” Quain stood, eyebrows dipping low on his forehead. “I won’t allow it.”
I laughed at the absurdity. He had no idea about the club life. None. “You’re funny.” I touched his shoulder and forced myself to smile. Regardless of what was happening, I couldn’t alienate him. I cared for him too much and I wasn’t risking hurting him. “Leave, Quain. This is Kings’ business.”
Quain raised his chin. “It’s my business, too.”
