Page 70 of King's Barber
“Then I need you to hold on to me. Move with the bike. If we turn and you lean the wrong way, you’ll upend us. Keep your feet on those pegs. Got it?”
He nodded, fear flashing in his eyes, but he held onto my waist as I hit the Start button of the bike. The engine roared to life and I backed out of the parking spot. I headed out of the lot and onto the busy city streets. I weaved around the cars and KC’s hold on me tightened, but I took my time. I never wanted to hurt him.
By the time we got to Walnut Creek Hospital, he’d relaxed. Until he got off the bike that was. He stiffened again when he stared up at the tall brick buildings that connected, his jaw tight with concern. They had a parking garage, but I’d chosen a spot on the street instead. He glanced from me to the hospital.
“Are you… can you come in with me?” His voice wavered and a protective instinct rose up inside me. My own fear for Quain would have made me go inside anyway, but at this point I cared for KC as much as I did Sophie.
“Come on.” I laid my hand between his shoulders and walked him to the front entrance. We were intercepted by a receptionist who asked where we were heading, and when we told her Quain’s name, she went to the computer behind the desk, typing in his information, and gave us directions. KC’s body shook the entire time, his eyes glued to the floor as he shuffled through the hallways.
“What if something bad has happened to him? What if he’s dead?” he said quietly.
I had the same exact thought. My brothers had made it clear they didn’t want me near Quain, and I’d agreed, but now I wanted to be nowhere else. He’d stolen a piece of me when I hadn’t noticed—sly thief.
When we came to a ward on the second floor, we went straight to the nurses’ desk, and I was relieved to see a familiar face. Grant stood beside a perky blonde nurse with tight curls that bounced as she nodded her head. He was saying something, and she was listening intently, finally giggling after whatever he’d said.
Grant shrugged, smoothing his hands over his green scrubs, and glanced up in our direction, his eyes widening when he caught sight of me. He held up his finger to the nurse and came around the desk, striding straight toward us. His dark blond hair was brushed off his forehead and he looked fresh, not ragged like he sometimes did after a few hours on shift.
“Barber? What are you doing here?”
I thought about something smart-ass to say but pushed it aside. Instead, I smiled sadly. “KC here was told his pa was brought in. Quain Beaumont. He was in an accident.”
Grant knew exactly who Quain was; he’d been there when King told me to stay away from him. Reaper, Grant’s fiancé, kept him up to date with everything, and technically he was one of us in his own way. Being King’s younger brother and our club doctor helped. His expression softened.
“Oh yes, him.”
I cocked my head. “Trouble?”
“You could say that. He refuses to get a head MRI. He says he’s fine, but Dr. Moore doesn’t think he is.” He turned his attention on KC, smiling kindly. “He could have a concussion or a brain bleed because he hit his head, but he refuses to get tests done. As far as we know, he has a few broken ribs and is bruised with some scrapes. But we really need those other tests done.”
“I can talk to him,” KC whispered, his body relaxing. “So, he’s okay?”
“Right now? Yes. We need to keep an eye on him, but he’s very lucky.”
“Do you know what happened?” I asked.
Grant’s gaze slid to me and I knew that look. There were things he needed to say without KC being here. I touched KC’s arm, and he turned his stare on me.
“Go see your pa. I need to talk to Grant.”
“He’s in Room 255. Down the hallway and to the first right you come to. The room’s on the left.” Grant used his hands as he said the directions, and KC smiled in gratitude before he nearly ran down the hallway to get to his dad. Once he was out of sight, I turned back to Grant with raised eyebrows. He cleared his throat. “The cops were here earlier. Luckily it was Jayce. Apparently they found a car near Quain’s with a guy shot inside. Dead. The bullet came from Quain’s gun.”
“Shit.” I glanced down the corridor and back to Grant. “Do they know what happened?”
Grant smiled gently. “According to Jayce—who should not have told me this—with witness reports, and from what Quain told him, this man tried to run Quain off the road. He had no choice but to defend himself.”
“So… they’re saying it was self-defense?” Anger for whoever had the balls to attack him battered at my chest and my fingers twitched, an urge to track them down and kill them flickering to life—except Quain had already put a bullet in him.
“Not really. There still needs to be an investigation.” Grant winced and then frowned. “But Quain doesn’t seem worried about it. He just snorted when Jayce told him he’d hear from them again.”
I nodded. “He’s not weak and he knows his stuff. By the sounds of it, thatwasself-defense and any good lawyer could argue that,” I whispered, glancing around to make sure no one was listening to us. “Did he know who the guy was?”
Grant pursed his lips. “No, but Jayce said he had a Reyes Cartel tattoo. It was in the database.”
“Fucking fuck.” I reared away from him, my hands curling into fists. Anger vibrated through me and I squared my shoulders. Someone was definitely going to die for this.
Grant patted my chest. “Calm down. Quain called Aaron and told him he dealt with it. He wanted the Kings to know so they could keep an eye on you and the family, though he doesn’t think the cartel will be much of an issue anymore. That’s what Aaron said, though.”
Gritting my teeth, I forced myself to relax. “I need to go see him.”
