Page 8 of King's Barber
“I’m thirty. I could have a teenager, but I would have been about twelve or thirteen when I impregnated a woman.” I cocked my head toward him and noted the frustrated sigh he let out. Shaking my head, I answered his question. “KC isn’t my biological son. I caught him trying to pickpocket me and gave him a choice. Either move in with me and go to school, get an education, or go to juvenile detention. He chose the former.”
“And you adopted him? You would have been fucking young at the time. How did they allow you to adopt him?” Luke gave me a slow once-over, and I didn’t miss the way his gaze stopped on my mouth longer than necessary.
My lips curled. “Because I know how to get what I want, Mr. Booth. You should learn more about charisma.”
“I’m charismatic as fuck,” Luke grunted out, running a hand over his hair again and flicking water over me.
I glared and held my tongue about what he actuallywas. I could give him a long list of adjectives, but I didn’t think he’d react kindly to them. “So yes, KC is my son in every way but by blood.”
He nodded, puckering his lips in thought. “That’s fair, I guess.”
“And you, Mr. Booth. Do you have family?” I already knew what relatives he had, of course.
He fell against the couch, and my arm touched the back of his neck. I didn’t move, and he didn’t seem to care I was touching him. “Yeah, I got an uncle and cousin I live with. Some family back in Los Angeles. No kids, though.”
“Not that you know about?” I offered.
He snickered. “Don’t know. Can dudes have babies? Because if they can, I’m fucked.” Luke glanced at me with an amused twist of his mouth, his hazel eyes sparkling with a joy I’d never seen in anyone else. He actually seemed like he was enjoying life to the fullest, living on a permanent high, and I was jealous of that freedom. I’d never met many people who were that happy with their circumstances. “I’m gay. I only fuck dudes. Never even been near a pussy.”
“Not even a taste?” I teased with a grin.
“Nope. I knew from the start I wasn’t interested. I watched straight porn once, but all I cared about was the guy’s cock. What about you?” Luke raised his eyebrows and seemed genuinely interested in my answer. I didn’t like that. He was too attentive to what I liked and didn’t like, and I wasn’t stupid enough to miss his attraction to me. One firm rule I had was not getting involved with my targets, even if I was protecting this one rather than killing him.
“I had a couple of women when I was younger. I didn’t particularly enjoy it, but it wasn’t horrible. I came.” The one thing I’d learned on assignments was to tell the truth, even if it was the partial truth. Lies were too easily forgotten. “But yes, I prefer men.”
“Top, bottom, or switch?” Luke grinned.
I made a noise of disbelief. “You have no propriety, do you?”
“I don’t even know what that means.” He laughed. “But it’s no worse than what they ask on Grindr.”
“And that is why I don’t have a Grindr account.” I sighed and shook my head at him. “What position I prefer is none of your business since we won’t be having sex.”
Luke turned his head and was too close. “Come on. No strings attached. I’ll insert my objectAinto your slotBand we’ll both get off and enjoy it. I’m a real nice guy like that.”
I pursed my lips to stop the laughter that threatened to burst out. “For Christ’s sake, Mr. Booth. Do you have no manners whatsoever? My son is currently fixing your bike. The least you could do is be a polite guest and not mention your object in my slot.” Shoving myself to my feet, I spun on him, ignoring the mirth dancing in his gaze. Flirty asshole.
“Hey, I offered to get you off. That makes me the perfect kind of guest.” He waggled his eyebrows. “I bet you don’t get guys like that in here often.”
The back door opened and we both looked in that direction as KC trudged through, mud stuck to his boots and leaving a mess in his wake. His red hair was still wet, clinging to his forehead. I cringed and sighed, and KC glanced behind himself and then gave me an apologetic smile.
“I’ll clean it.”
I doubted that. Shaking my head at him, I said, “Well? Did you figure out the problem with his bike?”
KC nodded and rubbed his hand on a piece of cloth I hadn’t realized he was holding. The material was already covered in oil stains, but I suspected it’d be filled with more after he wiped down his dirty hands. “I checked her over and I was right. It’s the starter motor. You’ll need to put a new one in. She’s wrecked.”
“Damn.” Luke rose to his feet and stretched. “How much do you think that’s going to cost?”
“You’re part of the Kings, right?” KC nodded at Luke’s leather jacket. “Don’t you have guys in the club who are mechanics?”
“Yeah, we do.” Luke frowned at him. “How did you know that?”
KC laughed deeply. “It’s pretty obvious that at least some of your brothers would know how to fix a bike. Can’t you get them to repair it?”
“Sure, I guess I can.” He paused then grimaced. “Except one of them warned me she was shot and to get her looked at. Scar would be pissed if I brought her to him.”
I rolled my eyes.Scar.I’d done research on him. Hell, I’d researched every King to judge the level of risk they were to Luke, and Scar had nearly come out on top, close behind King. His real name was Colton Hebb, and he’d gone to prison for the motorcycle club. When he left his victims alive, he had a nasty habit of leaving scars on their neck as a warning. The ones who ended up in ditches usually died from a cut artery, too. His danger level was high, but even though Luke obviously annoyed him, I didn’t see any chance of Scar hurting him. That guy was all about rules and his brothers.
