Wilde Love (Forever Wilde 6)

“This is a private party,” he said, colder than I’d ever seen. Clearly he knew the man.

“I’m sorry. It can’t wait.”

“Are you here to arrest me, because if so—” Now, instead of icy, King looked angry.

“No, no. Not that. I…” He seemed to realize a room full of people were hanging on every word he said. He swallowed and looked back at King. “I need your help. I have a plane waiting on a private airstrip nearby. We need to be in…” He looked around again. “We need to leave right now.”

“I don’t work for you,” King said incredulously. The rest of us looked on like mesmerized spectators at a tennis match.

The strange man narrowed his eyes at my grandson. “You do now. Let’s go.”

King’s nostrils flared like he wanted to lay into this guy right here. Instead, he let out a controlled breath. “Let me gather my things.”

My grandson Saint finally stood up. “What the hell is going on? Who are you? King, who is this guy?”

King suddenly looked sad and resigned. He shook his head at West. “It’s fine. Really.” Then he turned to me and Doc. “I’m very sorry to miss the wedding.”

I didn’t know what to say, but if there was one thing Doc and I were on the same page about, it was respecting our children’s and grandchildren’s independence. “We know you love us no matter where you are tomorrow. We just want you to be happy.”

He let out a laugh that was more like a scoff. “Yeah. Happy.” He looked at the stranger, who seemed taken aback by King’s look of resignation.

The stranger turned to us. “I’m really sorry to do this. He’s needed on a… very important project.”

He was an attractive man, older than King for sure, but he radiated military or law enforcement. King asked him to wait with us while he ran to pack his things, but when he didn’t come back after a little while, the man asked to be shown to his room.

King was gone. And so was all of his stuff.

“Motherfucker,” the man spat. “Someone give me his phone number, please.”

Suddenly every Wilde in the room was looking at each other with clueless expressions, and my grandchildren proved themselves to be master liars. “Whose number?” MJ asked.

“King’s number. Who else?”

“King who?” Otto asked.

“We don’t know any kings.”

“Uh, hello?” Felix chimed up from his spot on a giant floor cushion. “What about this guy?” He pointed to his husband, Lior, who just so happened to be… well, yeah.

The stranger was pissed. “He’s getting away. Believe me when I tell you he wants this job.”

Saint flexed his huge pecs and shoulders at the guy. “I’m thinking he doesn’t. I’m thinking if he did, he’d have stuck around and asked a few questions.”

What the hell was King up to? And why had he thought this man was going to arrest him?

MJ leaned over and whispered in Doc’s ear loud enough for me to hear. “Don’t worry. I know what’s going on. It’s fine.”

I glanced at her, our smart attorney. I could tell by the look in her eyes she was telling the truth. After reaching for Doc’s hand, I looked up at the man. “It would seem to me that if you wanted to catch him, you wouldn’t be standing here looking at a bunch of people who obviously aren’t going to help you.”

The man exhaled a curse and took off, calling back over his shoulder for us to tell King to contact him.

“Wanna maybe give us your number?” Saint called out.

“He has it.”

To break the tension in the room, Granny and Irene suddenly passed around shots of something unnaturally purple. Doc refused to let me try one. “If I wanted you dead, I’d kill you myself,” he muttered, handing it off to one of the kids. “I have plans for your old fogey ass.”

I realized how tired I was, and we had a big day—wedding day—ahead of us the following day. I looked at my beautiful husband and turned his chin toward me.

“Come to bed with me, sweetheart.”

His face melted into the gushy lovestruck one that always warmed my heart.

“Ew, gross,” someone said. “They’re totally going to do it.”

We were. We really, really were.

Doc stood up and reached out his hand to help pull me up. He spoke over his shoulder at whoever had spoken. “You’re just jealous. Admit it. Your grandfathers have more game than you.”

I realized it was one of our youngest grandsons, Cal. He blushed. “True story, bro.”

We waved good night and made our way to the hotel room. Once the door closed behind us, Doc pushed me up against the door and kissed me softly.

“You were amazing out there,” he said between kisses. “I’m so fucking proud of you, old man.”

I ran my fingers through his hair and tilted his head so I could deepen the kiss. “Couldn’t have done it without my wingman. You’re like social lube. I should squirt you out more often.”