Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
Ramsey
I stayed close beside Chelsea the whole way to the elevators and during the ride.
I didn't have to pretend to play the part of dutiful boyfriend all the way to the executive offices.
It wasn't an act. Neither Dallas nor I would let her far enough away from us that we couldn't touch her by just raising a hand slightly.
"Are you sure about this?" Dallas asked as we approached King's office.
More and more people stopped to look at us as we walked past. Some curious, most looking at Chelsea with concern. Damp hair framed her pale face, making her look vulnerable. Innocent even. If I didn't know her better, I might be fooled too.
"I'm sure," she said. "We can do this."
We took her hands and walked straight past King's personal assistant who sat at her desk. She rose, put out a hand to stop us, but we ignored her.
I didn't even spare her a glance, but I remained on alert in case she tried anything.
We walked into King's office and closed the door behind us.
He sat behind his desk, eyes on his computer until he finally looked up at us. A range of emotions crossed his features. Irritation. Surprise. Confusion. Then concern. Not entirely sincere, but concern nonetheless.
He rose to his feet and placed his palms on the desk, to either side of his laptop. "What happened?" he asked, directing the question to Chelsea. "I assume there's a reason you're dripping on my carpet?"
She sniffed. "I'm sorry." Her voice wavered like she was about to burst into tears. She looked as though she was. Her reddened eyes glistened.
I knew it wasn't entirely fake. Skinner tried to kill her. That would rattle anyone. It sure as hell rattled me. If we'd taken a couple of moments longer, she would have drowned, or he would have strangled her. We would have lost her. I would have lost her.
That reality sank in with her, maybe before I pulled her from the water, leaving her shaken. I wanted to take her away from this building, wrap her up in a warm blanket and tuck her away from the world.
When this was over, I might do exactly that.
"You have nothing to be sorry about," I told her gently. "Just tell him what happened."
She swallowed hard and nodded. "Okay."
"Tell me what?" King pushed himself back from his desk and walked around it. He stopped in front of us, eyes on Chelsea.
I remembered what Skinner said about King ordering women who look like her. I'd be blind to miss the hint of lust in his gaze. A part of him was enjoying her vulnerability. If Dallas and I weren't here, he'd probably act on it. For him, this was some kind of fantasy scenario.
Sick fucker.
"I went down to the pool to speak to Doctor Skinner," Chelsea said, her voice still shaky.
"I was hoping he'd keep training me in aqua therapy.
Even though I don't work here anymore, I still want to learn.
Maybe I could, I don't know, start my own therapy business.
Or… or something." She shook her head and blinked until tears rolled down her damp cheeks.
"I'm sure you'd do very well at that," King said soothingly. "I understand why you'd like to train more with Otis. He's very good at what he does."
He was very good at being a complete and utter asshole , I agreed silently. The world was better off without him.
"Yeah." Chelsea sniffed. "But when I went down there, I found him lying in the pool.
I jumped into trying to save him. But it was—" She let out a very convincing sob.
"It was too late. I tried to resuscitating him.
The guys did too." She looked from Dallas to me, then back to King before whispering, "He's dead. "
Surprise was back on King's face, but it was short lived. He nodded slowly. "That's unfortunate. I'm not sure I believe that's what happened though, Doctor Miller."
She cocked her head at him and sniffed. "I don't understand. What are you saying?"
He crossed his arms. "I'm suggesting maybe it wasn't an accident."
She sighed and stood up straighter, the facade gone.
"Okay, you're right. I went down there to talk to him and he tried to kill me. If it wasn't for these two, I never would have survived. He tried to drown me."
"That's more like it," King said. "Why would he do a thing like that?"
"Because I gave him some bad news," she said evenly. Her voice was clear and confident now. I made a note not to play poker with her. I'd lose my shirt and a whole lot more. Although, I'd willingly give her my shirt and everything else I had. "I told him Carlos Jones is dead."
Once again, King schooled surprise off his face. "How would you know a thing like that?"
"You mean, how do I know when you don't?" she asked.
She actually seemed amused by his question. This woman. If anyone doubted she was a mafia princess before this, they wouldn't now. She stepped into the role like she'd done it all her life. Whatever happened from here on out, she was never looking back.
"Because I killed him."
King pressed his finger to his lower lip. "You're an interesting woman, Doctor Miller. You killed Carlos Jones, then you killed Otis Skinner."
"Oh, I didn't kill Skinner," she said lightly. "That was Dallas. Right in the nick of time too. Word of advice, don't let him hit you with a football boot."
"I wasn't planning to let him do such a thing," King said.
"Have you come to kill me too?" For the first time, he looked slightly nervous.
He measured us and seemed to be reminding himself at least two of us were big, strong rugby players.
And Chelsea, she knew how to kill a man and not leave a mark.
Anyone who underestimated her was a fool.
"I don't want to kill you," Chelsea said easily.
"You don't?" he asked carefully. He knew something was going on, but couldn't figure out what it was. Maybe she'd offer him some kind of deal in return for his cooperation. He could become one of the Brantley family lackeys, or something like that.
"No, I don't," she agreed.
"But I do." I pulled a small knife out of my pocket, flicked open the blade and drove it straight into King's chest, right through his heart.
His eyes bulged, mouth dropped open. He lowered his arms to his sides before starting to fall forward. All three of us grabbed him and lowered him the rest of the way down to the floor.
"Now who's dripping on the carpet?" Chelsea asked. Blood was trickling from King's chest, pumping a couple of times before his heart stopped completely.
"That would be him," Frost said as he opened the door and stepped in behind us.
He seemed slightly disappointed to get here after we killed King.
No doubt he'd had fantasies of his own about doing exactly that.
Honestly, I would have waited for him, but I was done with King and his bullshit.
And the way he was looking at Chelsea like somehow she might still factor in his future plans, even if he was a lackey.
"He's not looking too well." Storm followed Frost in, his eyes on King.
"I don't know, he looks fine to me," Atlas said as he ushered Jay in with him. "Just right." He patted me on the shoulder.
I managed a small smile. "He got what he deserved. That's all."
"Yeah, he did," Storm agreed. He wrapped his arms around Chelsea and held her close. "It looks like we going to need a new GM. Again. I vote we get a better one this time."
"Coach can come back now." Frost looked excited. Apparently he had already recovered from his disappointment at not being the one to kill King. Frost was resilient if nothing else. We all were. What choice did we have, living this lifestyle? And they thought playing football was tough.
"After we get this mess cleaned up," I said. I pulled out my phone and sent off a text. "They shouldn't be long. Let's get Chelsea home."
I gave King a last look before herding everyone out. King's assistant was gone when we walked past her desk. By the look of it, she'd cleared out and bolted. Under the circumstances, that was a wise move. If I was her, I'd be long gone. Along with anyone else who worked for Jones.
Finally, we could reclaim our team and get back to living our lives. With our perfect, beautiful mafia princess. I silently corrected myself. She'd gone from being a reluctant princess to a queen. Our queen.
"Home sounds good," I said. "I could use a workout.
"I grinned when Chelsea looked back at me, a frown on her brow.
"Not overdoing it. I promise." I intended to keep that promise and many more.
Including going to therapy. We'd faced down a lot of demons in the last few weeks, I could deal with this one.
After all, I had my family to support me and help me through.
What more could a guy want?