Later That Night
“Hockey star’s miraculous escape from his abductors—Liam Donnghal’s exclusive interview with TVGE tonight at eleven!”
Switching off the news, I flicked onto the next channel.
“Liam Donnghal’s harrowing imprisonment at the hands of a notorious kidnapping ring—”
The next channel was running with the same headline.
“Interpol has confirmed that the gang who kidnapped hockey megastar, Liam Donnghal, is also behind hundreds of high-profile abductions over the past fifteen years!”
“This is getting fucking boring,” I mumbled under my breath as my phone rang.
Reaching for it, seeing Wynter’s Caller ID, I pulled a face and answered it.
“King?”
I heard her hesitance. “Hi, Wynter.”
“Did you make it to your friend Storm’s?”
“I did.”
“You were supposed to call me,” she complained.
“Storm and I got into a fight. The prick nearly tackled me off my bike the minute I rode up. It’s been non-stop ever since.”
It had as well. I’d told him about Wynter, and he’d smacked me in the gut. He’d said he wasn’t raped, that he’d asked for it, and I’d had to stop myself from smacking him.
Then, I’d had it out with Keira. Tried to make her pull her head out of her ass.
And people thought being the Prez was fucking easy.
“What?! He tackled you off your bike?”
Lips twitching at her outrage, I said, “He was mad at me.”
“Why?”
“Because I didn’t tell anyone where I’ve been since Dad’s death.”
“You just let them think you were gone?”
“I’m an adult, Wynter. I don’t answer to many people.”
“That’s bullshit—”
“I’m a bad influence if you’re swearing.”
“Yeah, damn straight you are. You totally answer to people. You answer to me, don’t you?” Her voice spiked with fear, which immediately made me feel guilty. “Just like I do to you. You wouldn’t go away and not tell me, right?”
“No, I wouldn’t.”
“And Rachel—you wouldn’t with her either?”
“That’s where you’re wrong, kid. I did.”
She gasped. “That’s terrible.”
“I’m terrible sometimes,” I muttered lightly, getting to my feet and staring out onto the row of suburban houses where Storm had made himself a home.
At least, half a home.
He’d moved to Coshocton to evade police interest but also to fill in the empty space at the head of the council here. As Prez, he was the only man I really trusted in this chapter, and after the last fucker, I’d needed him to keep a tight hold on the men.
While he stayed under this roof, Keira was dating other guys, Storm was beating himself up for shit that had happened to him that wasn’t his fault, and I was left wondering which letter Rachel would be sending to him after a year had passed…
My father was hoping they’d get back together, but after seeing them tonight, I didn’t have a clue if that was possible.
Throw in the fact that I’d learned my brother had been raped, by my half-sister, and it had been a hell of a day.
When I’d pinned him down on the subject later on, needing to make sure I’d understood, he’d rasped, “It was my fault.”
“How is it your fault? Did you ever consent?” I’d grated out at him.
His mouth had tightened. “No.”
No.
Just a single, simple word. The most destructive of any language.
“King?”
I released a sigh as she broke into my thoughts. “What?”
I couldn’t tell her where my mind had drifted.
It wasn’t something I could share, but just knowing that the reason Storm’s marriage had broken up was because he’d been sexually assaulted, repeatedly, made me want to kill every single bunny who’d taken advantage of his addiction to try to get themselves an Old Man.
“You’re mad at me.”
Realizing she was misreading my silence, I denied, “I’m not mad at you. I guess I was looking forward to you coming to New Jersey. That’s all. I get why you want to stay there now though.”
I didn’t.
But I did.
It was annoying to understand both sides of things.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“You don’t have to be sorry. I’m just tired. It was a long journey. I’ll always pick up the phone, Wynter.”
“Even if you don’t want to?”
“Even if I don’t want to. But I don’t think that’s gonna happen with you. I’ll always want to pick up the phone.”
I heard her swallow. “And you’ll always tell me where you are?”
“I will if you ask.”
She released a breath. “Thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me.”
“I-I didn’t choose him over you.”
My spare hand curled into a fist. “I know you didn’t. And you don’t have to excuse yourself. They’re your family.”
“He’s in the hospital, King. I couldn’t leave them when he’s like this.”
“I understand,” I told her, my tone brighter. “You did what you thought was right.”
“I did.” She sighed. “Mom’s okay. She just won’t stop crying.”
No, I’d just bet she wouldn’t.
Her monster of a husband had tried to sell their kid to pay off his debts.
“She’ll calm down eventually. It’s only been a few days since Xiang freed them both.”
A hiss sounded down the line, “This is his fault.”
“Do you know what displacement is?”
It was a testament to my shitty state of mind that I said anything at all. That I even bothered trying to open up her mind to reality.
“In physics?”
I should have just kept my fucking mouth shut, but now I’d started, I couldn’t stop myself. “No. Psychology.”
“I-I guess.”
“Charles Xiang offers a service. His patrons are responsible for their own behavior. You can’t blame a fast-food joint for making their clients fat, can you?”
“No,” she mumbled.
I just hummed, aware I’d made my point without losing my temper and without her losing hers. After the way shit had gone down recently, I’d take that as a fucking win.
“They really hurt him,” she argued.
“He owed them a lot of money.”
“Would you have done that to someone who owed you money?”
She sounded breathless as she asked the question. Like she’d blurted it out and wished she could take it back. As if she were dreading my answer because she knew what I was about to say.
“Perhaps.”
“Perhaps?” she shrieked.
“If someone offered me their daughter in lieu of their debts, you can bet your—” I cleared my throat. “You can bet I’d make them repent for making that offer.”
She was quiet a moment, then she muttered, “I spoke with Rachel today.”
I arched a brow at that. “You did?”
“It was the first time without you there.”
“How did she do?”
“Do you remember at school, the first time you go on stage in front of everyone, and it’s like you’ve forgotten how to speak?”
I blinked. “I didn’t take theater class. I didn’t play an instrument either.”
“Well, you can figure it out, surely?”
“She was nervous?”
“She stared at me like she didn’t remember that you’re supposed to imagine judges are naked when you’re performing.”
I grimaced. “We need to work on that, don’t we?”
“I’d like to,” she said, her voice small. “I don’t want her to always be so on edge around me.”
“She wants you to like her. It makes things awkward.” I cleared my throat. “Did you talk about anything?”
“She wanted to make sure the Triads didn’t hurt me.” The drop in her voice might not have been noticeable by anyone else, but I heard it. “That was important to her. After, we spoke about the weather.”
My lips almost twitched. “The weather?”
“Yes. It was like talking to a British person.”
“How many British people do you speak with?”
“There are a couple in my class, actually,” she sniped.
“And they talk about the weather?”
“When they’re nervous.”
I rubbed the bridge of my nose. “The Triads didn’t touch you, did they?”
“I already had this awkward conversation once today, King. I don’t need it twice. You know they didn’t. They left me in the bathroom.” A soft breath escaped her. “I know I’m lucky.”
She was.
It was on the tip of my tongue to prod her on the subject. To demand how she could forgive Kinnock, but like she knew what I was about to say, she muttered, “I’d better go. Mom’s calling me.”
Somehow, I didn’t believe her.
“How is Ally?” I asked before she could end the call. “You said she’s crying?”
“She’s okay. Tell me when you get home?”
“I will. Is the new place okay?”
“Yes. Thank you for sorting that out before you left.”
I didn’t even smile. “You’re welcome. Wynter... I..."
It was only a lifetime of dealing with her mother that had stopped me from dragging her kicking and screaming back to Jersey with me.
The Laker women were a special breed.
They weren't greenhouse flowers that needed careful cultivation. They were wild blooms with thorns that would strike and wound. Jersey-bred Venus flytraps that could and would bite.
I wasn't afraid of bleeding. I had plenty of scars. But I was pretty fucking sure that if I'd pushed Rachel, she'd have done something neither of us could repair. I wasn't sure what. With her connections, I'd probably have ended up with my ass in jail. Either that or dead.
Wynter would just cut me out of her life.
The prospect was worse than I could imagine. Worse than any scar her mother could etch into my flesh.
"What, King?" she prompted at my silence.
"Rach and I... We'll always be there. When you're ready." To come home.
She sucked in a breath. "I-I know that."
"You do?"
"Yes." She swallowed, but she didn't take the conversation any further. “Night, King.” She blew out a breath and, on a rush, said, “I miss you.”
The next thing I heard was dead air.
A smile curved my lips this time, however.
“She misses me.”
My grin lasted me through brushing my teeth—which was fucking awkward—and when I laid my head on the pillow, it was still there.
I’d gone to LA with nothing.
No one.
I was going back to Jersey with a woman and two kids.
Not a bad deal.