Page 39 of Claimed By a King

“Lead the way,” I say, getting us back on track when Gunner continues to stare the other man down like his very existence is offensive.

“I had to move it out of the locker since someone else is using it now,” Chris explains, sounding extremely apologetic. “But being out in the stable probably wasn’t good for it, anyway.” He smiles half-heartedly as he walks us to the annex he lives in.

When he goes to open the door, Gunner pushes him out of the way and kicks the door down—literally. I ignore the way Chris looks at me, but I see it out of my peripheral vision. There’s distrust and fear written all over his face.

“Sorry about that,” I offer lamely.

Neither of the men pay any attention to me as Gunner stomps into the other man’s home. He doesn’t even care that he knocks a vase from the table, or that it shatters on the floor.

Knowing that the only way to get this over with is to move on with my plan, I ask, “Do you mind if I use your bathroom?”

Gunner spins around, eyeing me through narrowed eyes. Once again acting like I’m oblivious, I swipe my fingers under my eyes, trying my best to smudge them through the mascara on my lower lids.

“I’d like to freshen up,” I say innocently while holding up my digits, showing the men the black on the pads.

Chris is smart enough to look at Gunner, and only when he nods, does he point toward his bathroom. “Yeah, it’s just through there.” His voice shakes the tiniest bit. “I’ll go find the present while you get cleaned up.”

Yes!

This is exactly what I hoped for. I mean, I had no way of knowing if it would play out like that, but as it turns out, luck is on my side today.

With us splitting up and Gunner being the only one here, he can’t keep an eye on both of us. And I know he won’t call Noose to come, because his club brother is keeping an eye on everything, making sure we aren’t spotted.

“Remember what I said, Sugar,” Gunner growls at me.

“Of course,” I reply sweetly. “I’ll just be a couple of minutes.”

Without waiting to see if he follows, I spin on my heel and make my way to the bathroom. My shoulders sag with relief as I close the door and he isn’t right there to stop me.

As soon as I’ve locked the door, I spring into action. I rip toilet paper from the roll and pull out my lipstick. By now it’s practically melted, something I hadn’t anticipated or even thought about.

“Fuck!” I curse in frustration as the tip breaks off.

I immediately slap my hand over my mouth, scared to breathe as I listen to see if Gunner heard me. When he doesn’t come barging in, I quickly look through Chris’ things, but as a bachelor he’s infuriatingly low on makeup products. There’s not even a pencil next to the crossword puzzle next to the sink.

Knowing I’m running out of time, I flush the toilet for good measure. With shaking hands, I do my best to write with the ruined lipstick.

The letters are hard to make out, and I had to think on my feet when it became impossible to write full sentences. Hopefully, Chris and the police will know the arrow means the note is to the Cruz Kings.

When I originally planned this, I meant to warn the Kings of Gunner being alive. That was when I thought I’d be able to write at least one full sentence. Now I’m not sure his name will do anything apart from confuse people, so I leave it out.

I quickly fold the toilet paper as much as I dare, all while hoping I’m not smudging it more than it already is. Then I wash my hands, blasting the water so they can hear it from the other side. As soon as the blackness is gone I quickly check my reflection to make sure I look presentable.

As I open the door, I come face-to-face with Gunner, whose fist is raised like he was about to knock.

“Took you long enough,” he grumbles. “What were you doing in there?”

I quirk an eyebrow and give him my best are-you-fucking-kidding-me stare. “I wasn’t that long, was I?” I force myself to sound upbeat and unbothered. “I had to pee as well.”

Chris stands right behind Gunner, and when I look at him, he quickly hands me the square wrapped present.

I eagerly take it and tear the paper away. “Oh,” I gasp as I look at the Tiffany framed picture of me and Leslie.

The rare captured moment of us where we’re having fun, is from last Christmas morning. We’re covered in flour after baking our annual Christmas cookies and laughing together.

“Thank you,” I sob. “Thank you so much for keeping it safe.”

I turn it over and read what she’s written on the back.

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