Cruel (The Buck Boys Heroes 2)

“What the fuck?” I mutter. “Are we twelve?”

“Twenty-nine and feeling fine,” Sean corrects me in the most Sean way possible with a drink in his hand and a party hat of some sort on his head.

Am I dreaming this shit right now?

“I’m leaving,” I announce.

“That’s not happening, Bane.” Graham approaches with a bottle of beer in his hand. “The surprise isn’t really for you, is it?”

That’s a riddle I can’t solve, so I get straight to the point. “What the hell is going on?”

Graham steps closer. “Tonight is the night we break the news.”

“What news?” Harry asks from where he’s standing. “I thought you said I was supposed to call Bane and tell him it was urgent so we could surprise him.”

That’s exactly what he did, and in my twisted tragedy-expecting mind, I thought it involved Harry’s health since he’s been in the hospital a few times in recent years.

“Is this just one of our monthly Buck Boys dinners?” Sean questions Graham as he tears the paper hat from his head.

I’d be happy if I never heard us referred to in that way again. We may have attended The Buchanan School, but we don’t need to carry the undesirable moniker of being Buck Boys forever.

It’s a tradition started before our time that should have died the day after it was born.

“Can’t you just call them dinners?” I direct that at Sean.

He shoves a drink in my hand. “You look like you could use this.”

“You have no idea,” I say before I empty half the glass in one swallow.

“Why did I have to lure Bane here?” Harry gets to the subject at hand by getting in Graham’s face. “You told me it was a surprise celebration, Locke.”

Graham is still sporting the same broad smile he had when he told me Trina is expecting.

Suddenly, this all makes sense.

I check each of my friends’ hands to make sure everyone has a drink.

I’ll do the honors because if Graham wanted to, it would have happened by now.

He’s wrought with emotion. I see it in his face.

I lift my glass in the air. “We are here for Graham, gentlemen. Our dearest and most annoying friend is going to be someone’s father. Here’s to the kid that has to put up with that.”

Sean and Harrison exchange a look before they turn to Graham.

“It’s true,” he says in a relatively calm voice. “You’re looking at a future girl dad.”

Glasses clink, my friends hug each other, and I take it all in.

I wouldn’t have missed this for the world, yet, part of me wishes I had just a moment more with Juliet earlier.

I pushed her in a way that I had no right to, but she pushed back, and that only served to spark something inside of me.

I want her.

I want to pin her to the wall and fuck her until my name falls from her lips.

“Thanks for handling that,” Graham breaks into my thoughts with a pat on my back. “One day, all of us will be watching our kids play together.”

He knows that’s not in the cards for me, but I give him this moment.

“I’m hungry.” Harry yanks on the back of a chair next to a table set up for the four of us. “Let’s eat.”

I take a seat with my friends, wondering what Juliet is doing with her new friend.

Slate.

“There she is, sir.” Drew points a finger at the windshield of the SUV we’re currently sitting in.

I left Sérénité with every intention of going home, but when Drew pulled up to the curb, and I got into the car, the lingering scent of Juliet’s perfume hit me.

Drew drove her home earlier, while Alcott handled driving me to the restaurant in the BMW that spends most of its time in the basement garage in my building.

I take it out occasionally when I want to escape the city for a weekend.

I drive to wherever the road takes me. Often it’s one of smaller towns in upstate New York where no one has time to bother with reading books about sons murdering their billionaire fathers.

I’ll spend a weekend hidden away in a Bed and Breakfast that accepts cash as payment.

“That must be Slate,” he deduces based on the fact that the guy is walking next to Juliet.

I asked him to drive me here so we could park across the street from Juliet’s apartment.

It’s not logical, but neither is what I’ve been feeling brewing inside of me since I cornered her at my penthouse and asked what she’s expecting from this date.

For some goddamn reason, I feel a pressing need to see what this Slate person looks like.

I grip the backrest of the passenger seat to pull myself forward so I can peer out of the windshield.

Drew leans back as if he’s trying to duck out of view. I’m not sure why given that we are parked near the end of the street.