Chapter Eighteen
Out Thinking the Devil
Royal
I rang the doorbell and stood outside of the address my brother had texted me.
I had arrived before Paxton. Even though King had said that no one was supposed to be home, I wanted to be sure before I let myself inside.
The last thing I needed was to be at the wrong house, or walking in on someone skittish.
In our outlaw life, it was better to assume everyone else was as armed as we were.
“Are you sure I’m supposed to be here?” Rigs asked, for the third time since we’d left the tavern.
“Yep,” I dryly answered.
I’d learned long ago not to feed that girl undue attention.
“It’s just that–”
“My brother said he was taking you out tonight, I know. You’ve said. And yet…” I noisily sucked my teeth, surveyed our surroundings and locked my gaze on her again.
I didn’t sign on for this shit.
No one said I’d have a babysitter. I still couldn’t fathom what would make him think it was a good idea to bring a fucking witness.
A witness he’d whispered sweet nothings at until she blindly agreed to come along.
King promised she’d be clueless; he hadn’t said shit about all of this extra nonsense. I felt like I was dragging a sullen child along, which was the last thing I wanted to do, when I was trying to thwart a double homicide.
Hell, it was the last thing I wanted to do if I intended to go through with it!
What the fuck was wrong with Kingston? He was as bad as our father! I turned back to the unanswered door, and twisted the knob, waving my arm in a grandiose manner to urge her inside.
The place was immaculate and smelled like blueberry muffins.
“Get to it.” I waved, not giving a fuck if she half-assed it or not. I wasn’t about to lift a finger to paint, and I sure as fuck wasn’t going to kill one of my friends for Birdman.
For what?
A title that meant shit outside of our little town?
President of the Saints. Big fucking deal.
I loved the Saints, but this was too much. Brother against brother?
This shit wasn’t going to end well for anyone.
I realized I was rubbing the bridge of my nose and spaced out a moment. When I relaxed and dropped my hand, there she was, unmoved.
I bugged my eyes at her.
“What?” she sneered.
“I’m just wondering if it’s your hearing or your cognitive capacity that’s fucked. That’s all,” I casually clipped, before raising a shoulder like it didn’t matter to me one way or the other.
She looked shocked, as if no one had ever spoken to her that way before, her eyes widening and her jaw dropping a little.
“Unbelievable.” She huffed, tossing the bags of plastic drapes and tape on the floor. “You’re all the same. Every last one of you.”
“That's why every time my brother stops for air, you try to hump his leg, ain’t it?”
“What the f– I do not! You’re disgusting, Roy.” Her tone raised and thinned with indignation.
“Oh, you definitely do, Darlin’. Everyone sees it, too.”
She glared at me, and I could tell she wanted to say or do something dramatic. I braced myself for the storm, and smiled back at her.
“Whatever,” she lamely spat, before yanking a plastic drop cloth from the bag and starting toward the other room.
“That includes my brother. Don’t ever think he doesn’t see your thirsty ass, Rigs,” I called after her.
I shouldn’t have enjoyed messing with her so much. Her beef with Kennedy was theirs. It had fuck-all to do with me, and yet, I felt like I owed some loyalty to her. She probably hadn’t asked for that beef any more than she’d asked for the bullet my brother intended to put in her tonight.
I blinked, dismissing the fair-haired tart before I lost track of time. I had to stay focused or Kennedy would suffer for it.
An hour later, Rigs had finally given up whining. She’d reduced herself to a pinched glare and the occasional heavy breaths and scoffs to convey her irritation while she worked.
“You know what I wish for you, Rigs? Aside from the ten species of crabs my brother is about to put on you…”
She went from looking mildly insulted, to hopefulness and back again. It was comical to see what even the slightest suggestion of my brother putting anything on her could do to that brainless bitch.
“Fuck you, Roy. For real. Fuck you.”
“What? I was just saying, I hope your face pinches like that. ‘Cause I know you. You’d run to the nearest salon to have all that shit shot into your face to fix it. I’d pay good money to see you shut the fuck up long enough for it to be done. Good money. Remember that.” I winked.
She fixed her death glare on me once again before trotting back to the to her room.
Paxton arrived a few minutes later, a roller tucked under his arm.
“Are you serious?” I laughed. “You brought your own paint roller?”
“Hell, yeah. I wasn’t gonna let that twat leave me with a damn toothbrush again.” He laughed.
I hadn’t intended on painting anything, but the truth was, I didn’t know how to explain a sudden absence any more than I knew how to point my pistol at him and pull the goddamn trigger.
I’d been to every birthday party he had as a child and he’d never missed one of mine. I’d hugged him at his mother’s funeral and told him I’d be there for him, and I fucking meant it.
We did two rooms, before I pulled my phone out and glanced at the screen like someone had texted.
“Be right back, I need to move my bike so King can park the van,” I lied.
Rigs was in the bathroom, and nearly took herself out trying to get the door open.
“King is here?” she excitedly asked, but I ignored her.
I hurried outside and fired up the bike. It would be dark soon and I knew he wouldn’t wait much past dusk. He wasn’t one for pussy footing about much of anything.
Thankfully, there weren’t many people on the road, and I didn’t have far to go. I parked my bike at the base of the cemetery and began to march across the cemetery lawn, opting to surprise him if I could.
My heart dropped to my ass, when he topped the ridge without her and I watched him head toward the driver’s seat.
If he was driving, she was gone. No way in hell would she let him take the wheel.
The numbness that embraced me in that moment made me see him in a different light. He wasn’t just prone to recklessness, he was a cold-hearted killer. And suddenly, I didn’t question any of it.
He’d done it. He’d fucking meant it.
She came scrambling after him and I nearly cried out, drawing King’s attention to my presence at last. He squinted, watching me run toward them like a madman from the driver’s seat.
She was so focused on catching up to him and tugging on the passenger door that she didn’t see me. She ripped it open finally and climbed in like she thought he was going to take off without her.
“Get out!” she roared.
King didn’t respond, he just kept staring as I approached.
I couldn’t speak, not until those intense, green eyes landed on me, silently imploring me to do something with him.
“What the fuck is going on?” I threw my voice, “Get the fuck out of her car, King. What the hell?”
I wasn’t sure what to do, so I just started playing a role and spouting off.
My brother looked as confused as I felt. He stood up, not immediately stepping out of the space of the car door.
“I couldn’t,” I whispered.
Pure disgust crept into Kingston’s eyes.
“Fine. Do her,” he growled, shoulder checking me on the way past.
“What the fuck do you mean do me?” Kennedy exploded. “I’m not some fucking rag to be passed around–”
My brother tore off toward my bike, and I jumped into the driver’s seat of her car, causing her to abruptly stop speaking.
“Get out,” she hissed.
“If I get out, he’s going to kill you,” I whispered.
Her eyes widened and her fingers curled into a fist.
“Get out!” she roared.
“Kennedy, I’m not being dramatic. I’m not talking big. My brother means to put a bullet in you. So, sit back and let me do what I have to.”
She paused, and I decided not to wait around for her to make a choice. I threw it into gear and spun rocks as I made the U-turn. I wasn’t even sure where I was going. I put the pedal to the floor and desperately tried to put distance between me and my brother.
I thought she was going to lose her voice before she stopped screaming.
At least she wasn’t pounding on my arm anymore, it had made it hard as fuck to drive those first few miles.
“Let me out, Roy. Please. Please,” she pleaded, tears dripping off her cheek.
“Where is your phone?” I asked, not for the first time.
“I– I don’t have it. I don’t know… I…”
She was a mess. Her pretty green eyes were wild and full of panic. Her face was wet and her chest was heaving. I hated seeing her like that.
“I’m not going to hurt you, but we have to keep moving. If you have a phone, get rid of it. Now, Kennedy!”
She furiously shook her head and ran her hands over her exposed thighs, before sobbing, “I don’t even have my underwear. He took off and I knew he was going to steal my car. I just– I ran after him.”
“He will track it. Hell, he’ll likely track this.” I gestured around the vehicle, “It wouldn’t surprise me if he’s had something on your car for weeks. He’s a slick motherfucker.”
Her face was a mask of horror and her silence broke my heart a little. I took a deep breath, and my thoughts finally slowed enough for me to decide on a path.
There was really only one option before us, my mother was the only one I could trust. She was Kennedy’s safest bet and likely the only one who would have some suggestion of how to get my ass out of this.
I’d done what I could for Paxton. I’d left a witness, even. Now, I could only hope her presence would be enough to keep King from pulling the trigger.
If he wanted to take out Paxton, he’d be forced to drop them both.
My stomach rolled as I inwardly debated whether he’d do it or not. If he was willing to take out Kennedy, what the fuck would stop him from offing a sweetheart?
“Where are you taking me?” she quietly asked, after several miles of her excruciating silence.
I glanced toward her, but she seemed determined not to look at me.
“My mom’s house.”