Page 92 of Claimed By a King

“I’m not sure why they are here, but seeing you will probably surprise them. Whatever the reason, you don’t have to talk to them even if you come out into the clubhouse with me.”

She considers this for a moment, and shrugs again. “I want to stay with you, and I’d rather not go back to theapartment just yet.”

Offering her a smile, I nod. “Let’s go see what they want then.”

Leaving church, Slasher ushers our Diamond Crew guests through the back so they can avoid the detectives, and Cara and Rocco follow us out into the main room.

It’s time to see why the fuck the detectives are visiting us today.

Zoe

“We just want to talk to you, Zoe,” Detective Nelson, Tania, repeats.

I step around Gray, still loving that he pushed me behind him the moment the detectives, now sitting at the bar, said they were here for me.

As my gaze meets Detective Nelson’s, I can’t help sneering at her. The way she smirks and eyes Gray like he’s a piece of meat for her to peruse, has my temper flaring.

Yeah, I also still remember how she came across back when she and her partner, Steven, came to my house to talk to me and dad after mom and Leslie were killed. Maybe it’s petty of me, but I feel like she should have behaved more professionally. Like, don’t these people get sensitivity training? If they don’t, they definitely should—

“Princess.” The deep rasp pulls me out of my thoughts and I look at Gray who’s angled his body so he’s still half-covering me from the prying looks of the detectives. “You don’t have to talk to them. We can just leave.”

The last thing I want to do is talk to them, or anyone else. I’m already overwhelmed from meeting Dante and Baz, and listening to them all… plan, or what-the-hell-ever they call it.

I already know that if I say no to talking to the detectives, Gray, Cain, Mama C, Rocco—even weak as he is—and possiblyeven Dante and Baz will get me out of here. What I don’t know is if that’s the right thing to do.

Reading the indecision on my face, Gray wraps his pinky around mine. “I’m here, Princess. Whatever you want to do, I’ll stay by your side.”

The motion makes the icy grip around my heart thaw. Every day it lessens a bit more all thanks to Gray.

“You promise?” I whisper.

Tightening the hold on my finger, he rasps, “Pinky promise.”

I don’t know why something as childish and silly as a pinky promise means so much to me, but it does. There’s no denying the magnitude of his words that I feel in my fucking marrow.

“Gray, I…” I cut myself off with a headshake.

This isn’t the time to say those words. “I don’t know what to do,” I admit softly, so Gray’s the only one who hears me. “Can I even talk to them? What should I say? Don’t snitches get stitches?”

My insides melt when he gives me an unguarded smile, one that lights up his entire face. “Snitches get stitches?” he asks, unshed laughter wrapping itself around the words. “Were you planning on telling them club secrets, Princess?”

Shaking my head, I volley, “Of course not.”

“If you’re curious, how about we first find out what they want? Then we can take it from there,” Gray suggests.

It sounds reasonable, and considering that I’m sure he has a lot more experience talking with the law than I do, I’ll follow his lead.

“Okay,” I say, turning my head to look at Steven and Tania, the detective pair I never wanted to see again. “But not here.” Gesturing at the very public bar, I wonder if there’s another room we can use. I haven’t seen all the renovations yet, but there has to be something.

I’m not aware Cain’s stayed until he clears his throat. “Maybe you have an office or a private room we can use?” he asks Gray.

“Follow me,” he growls.

The detectives share a glance, and I wonder if they’re worried for their safety. They’re fools if they’re not. With the amount of trained and skilled killers in this building they’ve walked straight into the lion’s den.

Gray’s hand moves to my lower back as he gently ushers me forward. The small touch brings so many feelings forth my breathing turns labored. It’s enough to tell me he’s here, and that he isn’t going anywhere. It makes me feel safe, but it also serves as a reminder that even the smallest of touches make me uneasy.

I don’t know how I can feel all those things at once, only that I do. Yet, I don’t move away, or ask him to remove his hand. I want—crave—Gray’s touch as much as I dread it.

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