Page 10 of Slay King

Thatcher let out a deep, low chuckle. “To think I didn’t want to come today. I’d have missed the fucking entertainment.”

“Shut up, Thatch,” Wilder told him.

“It’s time to call Blaise,” Stellan told the room. “This has to end. Now.”

Fine by me.

“Why? It’s his fucking fault. He’s the one who told King to fuck her,” Thatcher said as he lit up a cigarette. “Seems like his problem.”

“Thatcher,” Stellan warned his oldest son with a hard glare.

Thatcher took a long pull, then smirked in response. I’d love to agree with him, but I knew that even without Blaise’s orders to make Rumor want to stay, it would have happened. The bomb had been ticking. I’d been slowly giving in to what I wanted. And what I wanted was Rumor.

The ringing immediately ended, and Blaise Hughes appeared on the flat screen that covered a large portion of the far wall.

“Before we get started, Thatcher, you need to call Huck. We got a hit that needs to happen in Atlanta before noon,” Blaise said from where he was sitting behind his desk back in Ocala.

Thatcher stood up and put his cigarette out in the ashtray. “On it,” he replied before heading to the door.

“Take backup if you think you need it,” Blaise said.

“I don’t.” Thatcher smirked before opening the door and leaving.

“Storm, go with him,” Stellan ordered.

We all knew it wasn’t because he thought his oldest son needed backup. Sending Thatcher anywhere alone wasn’t smart. His twisted head would do more than kill whoever it was that Blaise wanted dead. If left to his own devices, he’d leave them nailed to a damn wall or some crazy execution-style shit.

Blaise leaned back in his chair. “Let’s get started.”

• Five •

You don’t know that much about King, do you?

Rumor

The knock on my door came at the same time my phone buzzed with a text. I never got messages from anyone other than King, so I grabbed it before going to see who was here. He wouldn’t be knocking and texting me at the same time. Although it was almost eight at night and he still hadn’t arrived.

Glancing down at my phone, I read:

I’m sorry. Things got complicated today, and I can’t get there tonight. Maeme is going to get you, and you are staying with her.

The disappointment was instant as I slipped my phone into the pocket of my jean shorts and headed to the door to let Maeme inside. I shouldn’t have slept with him last night. Being with him like that had made me want things I couldn’t have. King wasn’t a forever guy. We weren’t in a real relationship. Yet I was feeling too deeply.

When I reached the front door, it wasn’t Maeme. I unlocked the bolt and opened it while studying Sebastian through the window. His eyes met mine, and he smiled.

“Hey,” he said simply.

“Hey,” I replied, stepping back for him to come inside.

He walked past me and into the kitchen. “Man, it’s been years since I’ve been in here.”

“Really?” I asked. “Who lived here then?”

A deep chuckle came from him as he turned to look at me. “No one at the time, which is why I came here.” He paused, and a crooked smile tugged at his lips. “It was a great place to bring a girl back in the day. Well, that is, until Maeme caught us doing it and changed the locks.”

I laughed at the thought of Maeme catching them. “Great. I’m hoping the mattress has been replaced since then.”

Sebastian’s smile only grew. “None of us used the bed. We knew we couldn’t make it look the way Maeme did, so we didn’t go near it.”

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