18. Kingsley
Kingsley
I’m lurking in the hallway outside my father’s office like a stalker.
On the other side of the door, Rip and Thomas are talking business with my dad.
Once every couple of months, Dad likes to sit down with certain staff for a more personal business chat.
Sometimes he’ll pass the job off to my uncle, or if they’re both busy, to one of the managers under them.
But Dad has this weird obsession with the Wright boys, even more so after I’ve told him my suspicions about them, so he’s doing it himself.
Their extensive background check came up clean again, and it’s looking more and more like I’ve been wasting energy looking for the mole in the wrong places. This meeting will probably be his last attempt at vetting them as intruders.
God, I’m doing a pathetic job at this leader shit.
I’m aggressively chewing my nails by the door when my sister brushes by. Odette doesn’t spare a glance at me, and her chest is raised proudly as she walks.
It’s probably time for me to apologize…
She’s halfway down the stairs when I poke her in the back. “Odie, wait up.”
Her braids swing to her shoulder when she looks at me, her lips in a pout. “What?”
Odette folds her arms across her chest with a firm stance. Her knit brows show her hard, stubborn anger, but I know my sister well. She isn’t giving me the silent treatment only to be petty, but because my words hurt her.
“I’m a dick,” I say.
“I know,” she quips.
I resist an eye roll. “And I’m sorry.” My words, although forced, are genuine. Remembering the words I threw at my sister put an ache in my chest, and I had to get rid of it. The only ones you can count on are family.
But Odette doesn’t seem convinced. “Are you? Or are you making up with me so I will style your hair?”
“Partly,” I admit. Dissatisfied, she starts down the stairs again, but I grab her shoulder. “But also because it was a shitty thing to say to my sister. We’re all fucked, and it wasn’t fair of me to throw your past problems in your face like that.”
At first she only stares, and I’m thinking my apology wasn’t enough. But then her shoulders relax. “I’m glad you realize that. I’m tired of being mad at you.”
It’s like a ten-pound brick lifts off my chest. “Thank God.”
Her lips quirk into a smile. “Now, c’mon. I’ve got a bit of extra time, and I’m feeling generous, so I’ll do it for you.”
Odie sends me off to wash my hair while she sets up in the living room. When I’m done, she’s ready with a chair for me to sit in and hair products next to her. She pats the seat, hurrying me to sit down.
Doing it here is much easier than going to her hair salon. Not only does she have all the products at the house already, but it takes so little time that it’s not enough to justify going to her building.
She’s about halfway done when Shawn bursts through the front door. Spotting us, he comes over. “Guess what I found out.”
“What?” Odie asks, as intrigued as I am.
“Victor Plaster is dead.”
My expression falls. “The same Victor that tried to kill me last week?”
Shawn nods. “They’re saying he offed himself in his bedroom. He’s been dead for a week.”
Victor ironically offing himself not too long after attempting to stab me in the ring? That man was the epitome of a revenge seeker; he was resilient. I’m sure he had too many enemies he needed to deal with before considering taking himself out.
It wasn’t anyone in the Crowncrest. I ordered everyone, including my family, to leave Victor alone. The asshole tried to murder me, but was a dumbass with a knife, not someone worthy of the time and effort it takes to kill them. Then again, I wouldn’t put it past my family to go against my wishes.
“Did one of you follow and kill him after I specifically said not to?” I ask, my tone dull.
Shawn raises his hands in defense. “You told me not to.”
Odie scoffs. “I wish I were the one who killed him. He tried to kill you. It’s only fair.”
“Well, someone did it. Victor didn’t kill himself.”
“Victor’s dead?” Aralynn practically shouts in the doorway.
I wave my hand and shush her. “Dad is in a meeting.”
“Oops.” Her green eyes pale. Then, she whispers, “The asshole who tried to kill you is dead?”
“Slit his wrists,” Shawn tells her.
“Kingy thinks he was murdered,” Odie says.
“Good riddance.” Ara shrugs and then disappears into the kitchen without another word.
“Good riddance is right,” my friend grumbles. “Can we just be grateful you don’t have to worry about him coming to fight anymore? We’ve got too many other things to focus on than Victor Plaster.”
Victor was banned from fighting for two months after the knife incident. Knowing him, he might have tried to join anyway and force a third rematch, so yeah. Having Victor out of our hair is a good thing. But it still raises the question of who murdered him and if it’s any of our concern.
Maybe someone else was after Victor, and it had nothing to do with Fight Club.
Or maybe someone else had a problem with Victor, and it had everything to do with Fight Club.
Loud steps draw our focus as Rip and Thomas walk toward us. Hm, they got out of the meeting with my father quicker than most. Some interrogation, huh?
“Hey guys,” Thomas greets us in his usual friendly manner.
My sister and I greet them back, but Shawn barely waves. His eyes show more scorn for the brothers than I’ve seen before, and he’s doing nothing to hide it.
“You survived the meeting with Xavier, I see,” Odie says, tugging at my hair.
“He isn’t that frightening,” Rip says with a bored shrug. Our eyes meet, and he shoots me a smug grin.
“Don’t let him hear you say that.”
Rip stares at my head as he comes over. “He isn’t as scary as Kingsley can be.”
The sheer surprise on Odette and Shawn’s faces is evident as their jaws drop and they share a bewildered stare. I guess it's astounding to hear someone finds me scarier than my father. Love the vote of confidence.
Odie can’t wrap her head around it. “Really?”
“Yeah. Unlike Xavier, King never has much to say. It all happens with his eyes.” Rip searches my eyes. “The quiet ones are always more intimidating.”
That is not what I expected Rip to say. At least that means I haven’t lost all of my qualities this past year.
“Are you sure it’s because he’s quiet? Or because of another reason?” Shawn asks as if he’s itching to get an incriminating answer.
His question is so obvious, and I can practically taste his suspicion.
I understand he’s trying to feel Rip out, but tipping him off sure isn’t the way to do it.
I swear, it’s like Shawn never learned how to be casual about anything.
It’s astounding how the entire Crowncrest hasn’t found out about the mole yet.
Eerily calmly, Rip asks, “What other reason would there be?”
Shawn grunts. “I don’t know. Maybe you saw something you shouldn’t have. Maybe you know something you shouldn’t.”
I stare at Shawn like the motherfucker has grown two heads. “Ignore him, Rip. He doesn’t know how to tell funny jokes.”
Shawn and Rip stare at each other intensely, with me, Thomas, and Odette observing.
Shawn is the one who breaks it, muttering something incoherent under his breath as he does.
Rip doesn’t bat an eye or pause, keeping that overly relaxed, yet smug grin, like he has zero idea what Shawn was really on about.
“Anyway,” Rip drawls, “nice seeing you guys. Kingsley, we’ll see you tomorrow.”
I nod up at him. They’re out of earshot when I lean over and whisper in Shawn’s ear. “Could you be any more subtle?”
Shawn shrugs unapologetically. I knew he had his suspicions about Rip and Thomas before, but he’s way more ticked off about them than I thought.
A loud, sudden bang echoes throughout the house, its sheer volume and the resulting rattle jolting me.
Someone screams—I think it was my sister—and my hand darts for the concealed gun in my ankle holster in an instant.
I’m bent over when it hits me: it’s not fucking there.
I ditched it the second I got home, even though I know I need to get back into the habit of carrying one around the house. Fuck.
A moment later, the door burst inward, revealing SWAT officers in large, heavy vests, and ARs pointed directly at us.
“Hands where we can see them!” one barks. His tone suggests we won’t like what happens if he has to say it again.
Everyone’s hands rise in a flash, knowing there isn’t anything we can do with those weapons aimed at our heads.
Keeping the rest of my body steady, my eyes search for a way out of this.
Being cornered in the living room isn’t something we’ve practiced for, probably because it was never something anyone thought would happen.
Fuck, I’m at a loss. Any sudden movement could have me on the ground—it would be stupid to try anything.
I wait for more orders and questions, or for them to grab us without a word, but nothing happens.
They give us a good once-over, then the majority brush past. Some stay back, watching us, teeth clenched so tight they might break, and glaring like they could kill us where we stand.
“What’s going on?” Shawn asks steadily.
He doesn’t get a reply.
Are they keeping us here because they want my parents? I hope Mom and Dad heard the commotion and got out, because the media will have a field day if Mya and Xavier Beaumont walk off the property in handcuffs.
While they raid my home, they keep us waiting, and my eyes land on Rip.
He’s got his hands up like the rest of us, but his eyes are dull, as if he’s complying like it’s a hassle, not because he’s terrified.
I mean, I’d say we’re fairly calm for people who’ve had our fair share of close calls, but have never truly been confronted by the cops as criminals.
But Rip and Thomas? I’d think this is just another Tuesday for them.
Are they used to this, or is their poker face that good?
I want to scream, but my lungs are tightening in on themselves. The remaining air is expelled, leaving me utterly without breath as I watch three officers and a cuffed Aralynn walk through the room.
“Ara!” Odie shrieks. Her body tenses, ready to bolt, but the sight of an officer's raised gun, his finger hovering over the trigger, keeps her in her place.
My gaze locks with hers, intense and unwavering, silently saying, “Don’t do anything stupid.
” Getting a bullet between the eyes will only make this worse.
Odette gives a curt nod, her wide eyes fragile, so close to breaking one would assume she truly believes Aralynn is innocent of whatever crime they’ve got her for.
My father appears, practically flying down the steps in a mad rush. Mom is right behind him, and she shouts, “What the hell is going on here?”
They didn’t leave? What are they thinking? Are they as in the dark as us, or did they know it was coming?
As understanding of the aimed weapons and raised hands hits them, their eyes turn vacant like a ghost's, and they freeze on the steps. Dad's Adam's apple bobs as he swallows hard, and then, with deliberate slowness, he and Mom raise their hands.
Damn. I knew there was no way he would have a plan to take out the whole police squad in the middle of our living room, but is he seriously not even going to talk our way out of this? He’s Xavier fucking Beaumont for fuck's sake. Surely there is more to this. Right?
Guns still aimed at us all with fingers on the trigger, an officer speaks.
“Aralynn Beaumont, you are under arrest. Italian authorities have issued a warrant for you on charges of drug trafficking and embezzlement. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.”
Ara’s gaze turns dark toward the officer as she drops her head low, accepting it. They're grabbing her shoulders and arms, forcing her to move, and basically manhandling her. Meanwhile, another man has his finger dangerously close to the trigger, glaring at Odette, still worried she’ll make a move.
I want to make both of those cops pay for daring to threaten my sisters like that.
Criminal charges or not, Aralynn doesn’t deserve to be shoved around like she’s garbage, and the man's grip on the gun pointed at Odette has no business being so tight when she hasn’t moved a muscle since the initial shock hit.
It takes everything in me to keep my feet planted and swallow the hot rage burning inside of me.
I happen to see Rip looking at me. Just for a moment, his tough eyes show some sadness before he blinks it away.
Something in me wants to confide in those eyes, but that feeling is foolish. As if Rip could ever know what truly goes on in my family.
This is my problem. I worry so much about Rip that the rat has struck again. Clearly, only having Shawn and me snuff them out isn’t working. I appreciate the faith Dad had in us, but we need a few more people in on this.
Whatever. The only thing I know right now? When I catch the snitch-ass motherfucker taking down my family, he won’t be breathing long enough to realize who’s taking his sorry life.