23. Rip
Rip
When my eyes open, there isn’t the familiar crispness of standard white hotel sheets or the unnecessary firmness of a hotel mattress. No, these are navy blue sheets, and are like sleeping on a cloud, soft and buoyant.
And instead of a chick lying on my chest, it’s a certain cute-faced man snoring on me.
Kingsley, asleep, is the calmest I’ve ever seen him. He puts on a brave face, but you can see the stress eating away at him. But not now.
In my arms, the intimidating man who runs his father’s organization and rips the flesh off opponents in a fight turns into a big cinnamon roll who carries more burdens than people realize.
Once I’m sure he’s asleep, I carefully untangle myself and sneak out of bed. It’s two a.m., and there are no guards inside, only outside. If I flip the lights, I might get noticed, so I’ll use my phone’s flashlight and make it choppy. I don’t want to run into someone needing a late-night piss.
After being in Xavier Beaumont’s office, I knew I needed to get back in there and check out the place for myself. Those locked cabinets have to be where he keeps all the business files and contracts. Probably not everything, but more than what I’ve found.
I don’t know how much longer Thomas and I will need to stay hidden. Mother says we can come back when we get all the information we need, and there’s no telling how long that will take. Searching the place may speed things along.
Not that staying bothers me as much as it used to.
I have to force each careful step to the office.
Once I make it there, I turn the knob, praying it’s not locked, so my life will be easier.
But of course, my luck is shit. I use a pick to pop the lock and get inside, looking over my shoulder every couple of seconds, waiting for someone to catch me in the act.
Finally, the door creaks open. I slip in, shut it, lean against it, and let out a sigh. Great. Now I need to make this snappy so I can get back in bed with Kingsley.
I rummage through the unlocked drawers, cabinets, and even the trash, only finding paperweights, blank paper, and unused pens. They’re unprotected, so of course nothing valuable is in here anyway, but why does he have so much junk?
I’ve run through almost every drawer when I come across a key buried underneath a stack of blank loose-leaf paper.
I try the key on every lock in his desk, and they all open up with ease. It’s looking like I’ve wasted my fucking time. If everything opens with one bloody key, my chances of finding something worth my time dwindle to zero. Hell, I’d be lucky to find Xavier’s phone bill in here.
Still, I rummage through the shit. I have to make sure.
I come across some files, but not the illegal kind.
Still, I take pictures of them. There are a few contracts in here, some of which are about Xavier’s connections with certain charities, and I snap pictures of all of them too.
Maybe I’ll run across something about my mom.
If that truly was my mother in the photo…
Jordan came up blank, and so did all the investigators he forwarded the picture to. I told him not to sweat it—I’ve been trailing my parents alone for years. But something about how quickly the Requiem was to say the picture was a dead end rubs me the wrong way.
The truth is rarely found in quick answers.
I came across the New Horizon and Recovery charity only to find out it’s a bunch of nothingness on paper. I’m going to have to figure out a way to ask Xavier directly if I want another lead on it. Or Kingsley.
Photos fill a drawer, including some of a young King and his siblings, much like those on Xavier’s desk.
There are photos from gatherings and events involving other crime families allied with the Crowncrest that look like typical snapshots of happy, wealthy families together.
Outsiders don’t know these are purely for appearances.
One picture in particular catches my eye. There stands Kingsley, tall and beaming, his perfectly straight teeth catching the light, with a blonde woman clinging to him. Her expression was a barely-there smile, her lips pressed together as if she were already tired of posing for the photo. Sylvie.
My lip curls as I snap a picture of them too.
I spend another five minutes scoping out the small office before I head out. After ensuring the room is as I left it, I sneak back into Kingsley’s room as if I never left.
Stealthy as always.
“Rip?”
Fuck. Nevermind.
Kingsley rolls over with one eyelid half open. I flick on a lamp. “What’s up?”
“What are you doing?” he asks, voice gruff. God, I could listen to his raspy morning voice for hours.
“I had to piss,” I reply.
I hop under the covers like it’s our normal routine, and he sits up with a hard stare.
I snuck into his dad’s office for ten minutes and left no trace, and now I’m about to get caught sneaking back into his bed?
Wish I’d been an arsehole and not returned, but I’m better than leaving a hookup in the middle of the night without warning.
And even if I wasn’t, Kingsley didn’t feel like just a hookup.
“You weren’t going to run off, were you?” he asks. I can practically see the walls forming around him again.
“No, King. I wouldn’t do that.”
His head shakes, unsure. Then he shrugs. “I wasn’t sure if you’d freak out when you woke up.”
Me? Freak out? When do I ever do that? “Why would I freak out?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe your whole ‘I’m only into women’ thing, even after repeatedly hooking up with me?” He waves his hands cartoonishly. “I wasn’t sure if you’d run away once we finally fucked.”
I want to be pissed, but after all the back and forth and denial I’ve shown, can I blame him for wondering? What other conclusion could he come to?
I should tell him the truth so he won’t think I’m confused anymore, because I’m definitely not. I know who I’m into; I’m picky about who I choose to give the immense pleasure that is Rip Redgrave.
“I like men too, Kingsley,” I state. “More specifically, you.”
King gives me a blank, yet shocked, look. “So why deny it? For some reason, I thought you would be more comfortable.”
“I am comfortable.” In a way. “I grew up watching my mums be so in love that it got annoying at times.”
My parents give each other all the love in the world. Trust, if anyone laid a hand on Mum, Mother would have their head within the next hour. When Mother gets sick, Mum becomes a nurse and takes care of her, not worrying about catching the bug herself, like they promised in their vows.
Their love shows Tommy and me what it means to be a family. They aimed to heal their children’s past struggles and give us that same deep, unwavering love they have. But they also taught us, whether they wanted to or not, to hide that love.
The Requiem isn’t with today’s times, to say the least. My uncle, my brother, and I are the only ones in the organization who know about Mum and Mother’s relationship.
The others act like they’re only roommates, and Thomas and I are stray kids they let live in their home and take the Redgrave last name.
Yeah, it sounds crazy, and people have gossiped about more between my parents, but no one has the balls to look into Emma Redgrave.
So, while they’re all lovey-dovey in front of my brother and me, they don’t show it to the rest of the world. Giving in to Kingsley means I have to face the same consequences: choosing someone in secret. That’s not even mentioning us being part of two different families.
I don’t want to live that way, but the way we’re going, I may not have a choice.
“But as much as they love each other, they have to hide who they are.” I wrap my hand around Kingsley’s wrist, gently pulling him to me.
He lets me. “So if I don’t have real relationships, I’ll never have to hide.
Ignoring my attraction for someone I know I could fall for is easier than risking it. ”
He leans against me, and I inhale the faint scent of his hair. “That’s shitty.”
It’s more than shitty. It’s cruel. My mums couldn’t announce to anyone that they adopted two boys.
Everyone still sees me as a child left behind by his parents, never to be adopted again.
My fake background from Jordan is the only thing that shows I have two moms, and they all believed it’s just that. Fake.
My eyes become heavy, and water threatens them, but I blink it away before it can surface. I need to get a grip. “Is your family accepting?”
Kingsley nods once. “Most of them. My parents, sisters, and a couple of others know I’m bisexual. But if my grandparents found out, it would probably kill them.”
“Sorry,” I mumble.
King shrugs. “I don’t really like them, anyway.”
Kingsley nudges closer, and his finger finds the ink on my chest. His finger moves over my skin as he traces the intricate lines of the tattoos adorning my bare chest, circling and filling in each one.
“Do they have a meaning?” he eventually asks.
“Every one.”
King hums. “Share with the class?”
Oddly at ease, I explain each tattoo decorating my body.
He sees the cross on my chest that matches Tommy’s.
Then I explain the lion tattoo I got with friends after our friend died, and the unicorn after I got drunk out of my mind with a couple of friends.
Some stories are longer, so it takes a bit to get through them, but King listens intently to each one, like a toddler enjoying story time.
Finally, I get to the tattoo on my ankle. I always save this one for last, and I don’t know why. My mind flashes with spotty childhood memories as I take a shaky breath.
“And this one is my first tattoo ever,” I say softly, reminiscing.
“Ride or die,” Kingsley reads. “Why that?”
“It’s something my biological parents used to say to me.” I run my finger over the messy, uneven letters engraved on my ankle. “It was our family motto, if you will. Mum and Dad have it tattooed on their ankles, too.”