Page 72 of King's Barber
“That’s more like it.” I grasped the back of his neck, careful of his injuries, and yanked him closer, slamming my mouth against his. The taste of him exploded against my tongue. I’d missed this, as hard as it was to admit. No one had my insides turning to knots like Quain did, and that wasn’t something I could say out loud. My club brothers wouldn’t let me live it down. But I’d seen them fall head over heels with their partners, too—King included.
He sighed into my kiss, his eyes sliding closed and his arms curled around my neck. “Does that mean you forgive me,Mr. Booth?”
I snorted. “Yeah, I guess it does. Don’t think this is over yet, though. There’s things you’ll need to do to make up for it.”
He grinned. “I already told you you’re the best barber I’ve met and you’re a god in bed. What more do you want?”
“That was just for a kiss,” I teased with a wicked smile. “King still wants to put a bullet in you.”
Quain rolled his eyes. “That’s nothing new. He’s not the first, and he won’t be the last.”
I was tempted to ask him how many people wanted him dead, but I didn’t think I wanted to know. I suspected assassins and hitmen in the Society had all sorts of enemies, and I couldn’t go around and kill all of Quain’s like I would probably want to. Quain could take care of himself anyway.
“Yeah, well, you’re gonna do some hard time for that undercover stunt of yours.” I slid my fingers through his hair, caressing my thumb over another scrape on his temple near his hairline. I hated to see his beautiful face injured.
“Like what?”
“Eight jobs.”
“What?” He frowned.
I grinned at him, pressing my tongue against the back of my front teeth. “You’ll owe the Kings eight jobs. Whenever we need help, we can ask for help eight times. If we need someone taken out or some shit like that.”
“Two,” he countered.
“Seven.”
“Four.”
“Five and that’s my final offer, humbug.”
He sighed. “I don’t get a choice, do I?”
“You do,” I said with a smirk. “But if you don’t go for it, you won’t be allowed in the clubhouse, and I want you there.”
He snorted. “Does King know that was us in his bedroom?”
I winced. King was adamant on finding out who had the balls to fuck in his room, but he’d yet to discover any clues. “No, and I think we’ll keep it that way. I’m already on shithouse duty. I’ve skipped out on it for a few weeks ’cause of what’s happened, but King’ll put me back on it soon. I don’t want to be on cleaning duty for the rest of my life if he finds out we fucked on his bed.”
He laughed. “Noted. Never mentioning what we did that night.”
“Now you tell me something.” I ran my palm down his cheek, and he sighed, leaning into my touch. He grabbed my hand and held it against his face, his eyes slipping closed. “How are you an assassin, Quain Beaumont? You told King you were still a certified hairstylist.”
“I am.” He looked at me with a gentle but sad smile. “Mom was a scientist who had a primary lab in the basement of our house. She was smart. So smart. I remember when I came out to her, I was thirteen, and told her I liked boys. She smiled and told me she knew, and she was proud of me. She said me I could be anything I wanted, so I chose to be a hairstylist.”
I listened, not breaking my stare from the grief that passed across his face. “She sounds amazing.”
He nodded. “She was. Her main job was working for the United States Army. She was creating pharmaceuticals for them.”
“What kind of drugs?” I asked curiously.
“The kind that shouldn’t be made. Pills to make soldiers stronger and need less sleep.”
“Like something out ofCaptain America?” He cocked his head at me in surprise, and I shrugged. “The guy who acts as him is hot.”
He laughed. “Chris Evansishot, but yes, kind of like that. After a while the negative reactions the soldiers presented from the drug affected Mom. She couldn’t do it anymore, no matter how nicely they paid her. She told them she was done, and they didn’t like that. When I was seventeen, they sent men to kill her. I couldn’t even help. She stuffed me in the closet and I had to watch as they killed her.”
“Fuck….” I let out a breath of surprise.
