To Curse A Knight (All The Queen’s Men #2)

4. Chapter 1 - Kellan

W hat in the ever-loving fuck was going on with my night right now?

What was supposed to have been an honorable fight to the death—by all accounts, Rodriguez’s death—on the wrong side of town, had become a brutal battle between me and the insufferable woman who couldn’t help inserting herself into every facet of my business.

Instead, the blood spatter of three different signatures painted a gruesome picture across the brilliant blue tarp on Rodriguez’s floor, and the living portrait of us wasn’t much better.

Aar on looked half-dead—without Hillary’s cock-sure intervention, he would have been. His aristocratic face had smeared layers of dried blood and fresh cuts, his eyes so swollen I barely saw the dark irises beneath.

Hillary’s eyebrow had split open when she was just a microsecond too slow to block my punch. The pouty lips I loved to bite were sliced and puffy, and her arms were littered with welts that would become dark bruises by the morning.

The rising ache in my joints and oozing fluid on my face and knuckles told me I hadn’t fared much better. I was still standing, and so were the two people beside me. Admittedly, the fact we were all still alive was the highlight of this shit show of an evening.

My Killer had no idea when to quit; protecting her from her enemies in the shadows alone was a full-time job—but protecting her from herself would be the fucking death of me.

Rodriguez and I flanked her sides when she cocked the little pistol I’d gifted her and held it to the annoying Irishman’s sweaty head. In the many years of fucking her or fighting her—sometimes both at the same time—I had never seen such an unfiltered view of her power.

It was infuriatingly intoxicating.

“You shouldn’t have followed me, Lucky.” Fiery blue eyes burned a hole through his thick skull as she held the gun tight in her fist at close range. A tingle of pride crept up the back of my spine, but I swiftly tamped it down.

Not the time, not the place.

“Yeah, gatherin’ that,” the incessant pain-in-the-ass shot back, though his normally confident retort was considerably toned down. His gaze flicked between the three killers towering over him. “All hopes of an orgy party are out of the window, then?”

My left eye twitched in a barely stifled eye roll. The bastard really didn’t know when to shut up. I’d stared down death hundreds, if not thousands, of times in my almost forty years, and even I wouldn’t have the balls to joke while my little Killer held a gun to my head.

I’d made the mistake of ignoring this man, even though now, in hindsight, he was a glaring red flag.

I was slipping, and that needed to change now. If I hadn’t been so tied up with Antonio’s vendetta or trying to cover Hillary’s ass, I would have paid more attention to Lauchlan’s convenient appearances at my gym haunt and seen through his invitation to Jediah’s sham of a party.

That run-in had been enough to surprise me, but apparently, I was off my game enough I hadn’t put two and two together. The little fucker was up to something, had some powerful people in his pocket, and by the fury embedded in Hillary’s face, he was playing her, playing me, or both.

The abrupt click of the safety releasing finally caused a flicker of fear to flit through our hostage’s pretty eyes.

Good.

I tucked my gun back into its holster. Hillary could take the lead on this one.

Shifting my weight onto my heels, I added an inch to my height and folded my arms across my chest. The power stance had made bigger men than Lauchlan piss their pants in fear, but he barely spared me a glance, his gaze trained on the whites of my Killer’s eyes.

“So, who am I fighting to prove my worth as a man?” A bratty smirk played across his lips; I wanted to spank him until it fell right off of his face. Abruptly, his expression turned into a neutral stare. “What’s it going to take for me to walk away from this, love?”

The man’s voice didn’t waver—his tone even and cool. Someone practiced in hostage negotiation, or at least someone who had deescalation training. I watched him fold in on himself but maintain his composure, subtly assuming a submissive pose without moving a solid muscle .

Who the fuck is this guy?

Aaron shifted beside me, and I almost startled; I’d almost forgotten he was there.

Almost. I’d underestimated his strength and sheer determination, and he’d impressed me with his fortitude. Antonio would be on the warpath if I allowed him to leave here alive tonight, but we’d have to figure it out. With Hillary’s determination to step into the ring and Lauchlan’s interruption, I wasn’t in the mood to carry out my father’s wishes, no matter the cost to my own life.

Antonio needed me, so I wouldn’t die at his hand. I wasn’t able to make the same promise to anyone else.

Hillary’s body coiled like a snake around the handle of the small gun, but I knew she’d keep her wits about her. For all her faults, she was calculating, not impulsive, but I wouldn’t bet a nickel on what was about to come out of her mouth. I didn’t have a fucking clue.

“Sweet Lauchlan,” she cooed. Her sickly-sweet tone tasted disgusting on even my tongue. “Explain to me”—she paused just long enough to nod her head side to side—“to us,” she amended, “what you want with Alvarez? Your answer literally decides where you end up tonight.”

She rolled her neck and shrugged her shoulders as if she was stretching after a workout, but her grip didn’t relax for a nano-second.

That’s my girl.

“He took something from me.” Lauchlan’s response was direct and assured, with enough of a bite I believed him. “Something priceless, and I’m plotting payback.”

They stared at each other for a long minute. Aaron and I stood silent like the trained bodyguards we were, knowing this was Hillary’s mercy or punishment to deliver.

“Who’d he take from you?” She delivered the question knowingly—my Killer saw through the mask and into the pain of his statement. She would have made an effective FBI ag ent—even though she’d never follow orders and her attitude was shit.

“Someone important.” The haunted shadows of tormented men filled the Irishman’s gaze. He stared through the other side into Hillary’s fierce expression, but didn’t say another word.

“Is that why you followed me here tonight?” She lowered the gun only slightly, but relaxed her posture. I’d seen Hillary shoot at a range firsthand—she’d get off a kill shot within a second if she changed her mind—but I doubted Lauchlan knew that.

His own posture loosened, and the cocky gleam reentered his stare; a soft smirk spread across his features.

Insufferable.

“Nah, love. I followed yeh ’cause I was bored and hoping for a lay. Never imagined I’d run into two lays at once. Happy coincidence.” He dipped his head toward me—I could have strangled him with my bare hands—but he didn’t elaborate.

He gestured to the gun still held tight in her right hand, though now dangling by her side.

“Are yeh gonna kill me, Blondie?” He winced and made slow movements to push himself off the ground, never breaking eye contact. “If you’re reconsidering, can I stand for a minute?”

Her blue eyes darkened to raging seas. “Try anything and you’ll lose a kneecap.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, love.”

He rose to his full height—taller than Hillary, shorter than Aaron and I—and rolled his shoulders, as if we were equals in this conversation.

“I dunno what kinda shyte I stumbled in on, but if you’re taking Alvarez out, I want a seat at the table.”

Aaron snorted in disbelief, his sneer cracking the layers of blood on his cheeks into flaking paint chips. “You have nothing to offer, Rojo . We have bigger problems to contend with. ” His swollen gaze met my own, the commanding presence of a leader still bleeding through. “I have an incinerator nearby. That will do, no?”

“Ay, rather than be barbecued,” the Irishman interrupted, “I have something to offer, and I doubt you lot can match it.”

Soft green eyes flitted between the three of us, calculating and determined. “I’m an inside man, with access to his networks. It’s only a matter of time before I break the firewall. I’ve a plan to expose every sordid, shady, fuckin’ detail that family has ever done. You want an inside man? I’m that man.”

Hillary’s shoulder brushed mine as she shifted her weight and cocked her head in consideration. The murderous look slowly leached from her eyes. “You work in tech…”

“Yes, Blondie. Tech.”

A silent conversation passed between them, intense stares of hopeful consideration and hesitant mistrust expanding into the room.

Finally, Hillary broke the deafening tension.

“I don’t trust you whatsoever, Lucky. But I believe you could be our inside man.”

She turned her attention back to Aaron and me. “He was having dinner with Gertie Baker, Marco’s executive assistant, a few weeks ago. She told me they both work for him. It supports this half-cocked theory, anyway.”

I had no idea who Gertie was, but I trusted Hillary’s assessment. My life was complicated enough—I hated killing men who didn’t deserve to be killed, but I was on board with Aaron’s cremation idea. Adding the irritating Irishman to our mix was going to cause a whole other host of problems I didn’t have time to deal with.

Especially now we’d have to hide Rodriguez from my father, and risk the brutal torture that came along with that decision.

Aar on and I shared a dark look—the glare seeping through the slits of his eyes would have made lesser men tremble. Whatever was coming, we weren’t going to like it.

Once this was settled, we’d talk about the inevitable price on Rodriguez’s head. We’d have a day—two max, to come up with a plan, or Antonio would make sure someone else finished the job I’d come here to do.

And I’d enjoy a pleasantly delivered torture session for my insolence. Another branding to remind me of my duty.

“You’re still living with your mother?”

Hill’s question caught me off guard, snapping my attention back to the two of them. Lauchlan’s brows crinkled in confusion, but he nodded.

“Not anymore. You’re moving into my condo tonight. Kellan’s going to outfit you with a tracker, and you’re going to tell us everything you have planned. No surprises. No bullshit.”

I whipped my head around. No. He was not living in her space. Fuck that.

“We’re going to kill him,” I growled. “I’m not letting him live with—“

“You’re not letting me do anything,” my little Killer shot back, her blue eyes flashing with dangerous defiance. “This is the plan, Kellan.”

Brat.

I blew out an angry breath of frustration, but knew I was stuck. Aside from killing him, I couldn’t think of a solution that covered our bases more than this one. For now.

I was now responsible for two men I really want nothing to do with. Fantastic.

She sauntered over to her surprised captive, her lithe body gracefully moving between three of us helpless to escape her orbit. A wicked glint lit her eyes.

“Looks like you're ours now, little Lucky.”