Page 101 of Rise of the King (Checkmate 5)

“Focus, guys.” Kane brings our attention back to the front. “You were legit shot, or was that a cover to get out?”

“It was a cover,” I answer seriously. “Then I took a spoon and gouged out my forehead so it would look legit if anyone ever asked.”

“Funny.” Pursing his lips, he draws a long breath through his nose and studies Soph and me. “How does a guy survive a bullet to the head?”

“Luck?” Shrugging, I pull Soph closer, closer, closer, then I simply pull her into my lap. “It was just luck, I guess. Goodwill. Karma. Whatever, but it wasn’t my time. I was pulled from the club, declared dead four times in the ambulance, but they kept bringing me back. I got lucky with the surgeon who was assigned to me.”

“Super experienced neurosurgeon in town for the weekend?”

“Actually, no,” Soph says. “He got someone who was so fresh, he was green. They considered Jay a lost cause, so why not let the new guy have a stab at it, right?”

“Fuck me.” Kane’s head droops. “That alone should have killed you.”

“My surgeon wouldn’t let me go. And while I was out, Soph – Ace – helped herself to my files, announced to the world that Jay was dead, and introduced John D. Hamilton.”

“John D. Hamilton is an odd name choice,” Jess says. “Pluck it out of your ass?”

“Essentially,” Soph nods. “John D. for John Doe. It was as simple as that. I edited the files and walked away. Jay was transferred to a hospital I knew specialized in brain trauma. It just so happens that hospital was in the city I already had an apartment in. He slept for a week, woke up, and then I watched his progress through his files. They expected brain damage.”

“He had that going in,” Spence jabs with a tight grin. “Situation normal.”

“They didn’t think he’d walk or talk, but after a couple days, he seemed perfectly fine.”

“Massive headaches,” I add. Bringing my other hand up, I press my thumb into the center of my forehead. “Biggest headaches I ever had, but they went away at about the same rate my pain meds did.”

“So no lasting damage?” Kane asks. “You’re seriously telling me you were popped through the head, and now you’re here, no damage at all?”

“Well–”

“Because if you are,” he continues, “then I gotta stick around longer when I hit people to make sure they don’t get up again.”

“Kane!” Jess smacks him. “You don’thitpeople anymore, remember? You have a regular job now.”

“My regular job seems to include someone who’s put a contract on my head, Blondie. If someone is aiming a pistol our way, then I’m gonna be first to pull the trigger.”

“He eats every two or so hours,” Soph volunteers.

When Kane’s curious gaze comes away from his silent standoff with Jess, his brows knit. “Hm?”

“He eats every two hours. All day. Every day.”

“You’re a hungry dude now?” Spence asks. “That’s not such a big deal. I like to eat too.”

“Full meals,” Soph clarifies. “Every two hours. Eight to ten thousand calories a day.”

“And I only sleep two hours a night.” I draw their eyes. It’s like Soph and I are laser pointers, and our crowd are cats. “I haven’t slept more than two hours a day since I woke in the hospital.”

“Two?” Andi, the chick with the pig, leans forward. “Two is impossible. It’s not enough. Look at your chest; you’re built. A guy can’t work out and get built like that without sleeping.”

“Sleep is replaced with food.” Shrugging, I reach back and grab more fries. “I’m hungry all the fuckin’ time. So, ya know, stock this place with food, and we’ll all be happy.”

“How do you fund your work?” Eric asks. “Both of you.”

“Well, Ace used to fund me,” I answer. “When I thought Ace was a dude, and it didn’t feel weird taking cash from him. But, now that she’s a she and super hot, my ego won’t let me accept money anymore. That officially makes me kinda unemployed, so it’s lucky I’m here, and you have a position opening up.”

“We don’t have a position opening up!” Spence laughs. “You’re assuming, boy.”

“We got space,” Kane declares. He looks to Soph seriously. “How are you funded?”

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