25
EMILY
I never imagined a man and a woman could lie in bed together and not have it be sexual. At least not with someone so distinctly a man as King. He keeps me pressed against his chest, his powerful, steady heartbeats thumping in my ear, and I've never felt so protected.
I've cried it out now. I never expected it to be King I might do that with, but we share something, even if I don't quite understand it yet. And I needed the release. The kidnapping, the death threats and my own father writing me off, the police assault and just the intensity of everything—it's just so much. Nothing's solved, but I feel better. I wrap my arm around King's thick torso and cling to him like Leonardo DiCaprio to a raft. I just pray I'll never feel forced to let go.
“My father was a hitter too,” says King, his voice quiet, almost so I have to hold my breath to hear it. “Fuck, I never tell anyone about this. You're either really good for me, or really fucking bad.”
I wait, hoping he'll continue, rather than decide I'm the latter.
“Well, he had a lot of problems. Drugs, both using and selling. Alcohol. He'd lash out when he was drunk, but he was a total mess. I had a little sister. Allison.”
Then he's quiet again, for what seems like a long time in the darkness. Maybe he feels he's said too much, or doesn't want to talk about it. I'm afraid to say anything, to break the spell.
“I did what I could to protect her, and he was worse against me, anyway. She was good at making herself scarce when she had to, at least as she got older, and I was the easier target, brash and contrary. The apple didn't fall all that far from the tree there. Until the raid.”
“Raid? What do you mean?”
He squeezes me closer, but this time I think it's more because he needs something—someone—to hold on to. I squeeze him back.
“Drug raid. And fuck, they were right in coming to our house. Dad was dealing some really hard shit, and not picky about who bought from him. If he'd been allowed to keep going, I'm sure I would've been drawn into it too, and maybe Allison. But they did it all wrong, and it all went to hell.”
He draws a long breath and releases it slowly. Somehow, I just know the worst part of it is to come, and I really, really hope it's not going where I think it will.
“Afterwards, the cops said that Dad had drawn on them and fired. That there was nothing they could've done, but it wasn't true. Sure, he had guns. A couple, I think, but he kept them locked up to keep them away from us. One of the few decent things he ever did. In his own messed up way, he still loved us. He never had time to get the guns, but he sure screamed and raved at the cops when they surrounded the house. To leave him and his kids alone. The shooting started at some point. He went down, and good fucking riddance. But so did Allison. The cops called an ambulance as soon as they realized, and at least some of them looked horrified or ashamed. Even still, I hope the sight of her bleeding out in my arms haunts them for the rest of their fucking lives.”
“Oh Jesus,” I whisper and cling to him. He's too big for me to cradle, but I do my best.
“And nothing happened, because the chief of police at the time covered the whole thing up. He stood by the shooting, saying it was necessary, and that Allison's death was an unfortunate side effect. Druggies were scum who should know shit like this might happen if they carry on. In the end, he made the cops sound like heroes.”
A terrible feeling makes my stomach sink. Not like what happened wasn't terrible enough, of course. “That police chief, was it—” I don't dare finish it.
“Yeah. Police Chief Hawthorne, who later moved up in the system to be elected Mayor.”
Well, crap.
26
EMILY
We fell asleep in each other's arms, and it might be the most restful sleep I've had in years. Not a bad dream to be seen. When Hero and Wild Child came to find us, there was some ribbing about King wanting me all to himself, but it was all in good fun. The truth is that nothing happened, other than some good sleep, and honestly, that's even more valuable. Waking up refreshed and ready to go? Now that's something I could use more of in my life.
The guys are hanging out in the common room, chatting about guy biker stuff. As fun as it is to see them get passionate about things, I'm starving and at this point I feel so at home here that I can go help myself. The kitchen's just down the hall, and Wild Child gave me the tour so I know what's off limits and what's not.