Page 12 of King

Zane turns his chin over his shoulder. “We’re okay, aren’t we, Little Mama?”

Footsteps come closer. “Doesn’t look okay to me.”

It’s Damien.

Zane lets me go, huffing before he turns around. He takes a step back, Damien coming into view. “How about you mind your business Van der Fuck?”

“It’s King,” he’s quick to fire back but doesn’t sound bothered. That coin spins between his fingers, leather jacket over his black shirt. “My last name is on this property so turns out, this is my business.” He’s close enough now that he doesn’t have to strain his voice, both of them staring at each other like they’re in a Western. “Oh, and you have ten seconds to get the fuck out of here.”

Zane chuckles, “Or what? You’re going to beat me to death with that designer belt buckle?”

“While I’m sure you’re into that, I rather Eden police deal with my trash.” Damien pulls his cell phone out of his back pocket, looking Zane up and down with a smirk. “Oh, the things they’ll do to you.”

Zane takes a step closer, looking back at me with a laugh. “Leave it to the rich white boy to have the cops on speed dial.”

Damien presses the phone to his ear. No further response needed.

I use the moment as leverage. “Get the fuck out of here Zane. Don’t be an idiot.” We both know if he gets caught, he’ll be in jail for a long time.

“Fine, but not because he asked me to.” Zane turns to me, face tight, cheekbones pointy. He starts walking away, flipping the bird at Damien. “See you soon, Little Mama.”

My chest falls, breath regulating the further Zane gets. Pushing myself off the dumpster, I run my fingers along the scratches on my arm, cuts stinging to the touch. When I move, a pain shoots through my back, making me wince and groan.

Damien eyes me with the same intensity he had earlier, pointing his chin at my face. “You don’t need to be taking scum like that across the tracks.” He puts the phone back in his pocket, wrinkling his nose. “One’s enough.”

I’m too in shock and embarrassed for his comment to bother me. I'm still putting the pieces together of what the fuck just happened. I straighten my stance and ask, "What are you doing here?"

He pulls a manila envelope out of the top of his jacket. “Picking up my dad’s slack. But since you’re on the job, leave this on Cindy's desk."

Rolling my eyes I reach to grab it, wincing again when a sting runs through my arm. He pulls it back, eyes narrowing, an eyebrow raised. “You need a nurse or something?”

“I’m fine.” I grab the envelope out of his hands. I’m sore and a little scratched up but it’s not that serious. This is the second time Damien’s come to my rescue. Third, if you count ordering that donut. Despite his the-world-is-indebted-to-me attitude, I’ll admit I'm grateful.

“Thanks.” It's weak but I mean it. I'm not sure if he believes it because he shakes his head, turning around, walking towards the shop.

There’s a chrome Lamborghini parked on the curb out front. It glistens under the moonlight, mirroring the shop in its reflection. It looks like something out of a Marvel movie. One a superhero would drive.

My sister’s head is a round shadow in the door window and my heart sinks, wondering if she saw the whole thing. When I put my hand on the door, Damien’s voice comes from behind me, “It's a little late for thank-yous."

I turn around and he’s leaning on the hood of what I can now confirm is his car. Of course, it’s his car. “What does that even mean?"

He stands up, moving towards the driver’s door. “We know what you did.” His eyes move to my tattoo before the door slides up into the air. “It’s always the pretty ones isn’t it?” With his eyes back on me, he slips into the driver’s seat. “Watch your back."

I’m still trying to figure out if that’s a threat or a warning before he closes the door, steps on the gas and roars away.

When I swing the door open, Willow’s waiting for me. “Was that Damien?”

“Yeah.” I lock the door behind me, taking a full breath before I remember the envelope in my hand. “Can you call Henry? Phone’s on the counter and the number’s in my backpack under the cash.”

I’m relieved she doesn’t ask about Zane. I don’t want to talk about any of it. I want to get us home so I can go to sleep and get one day closer to my eighteenth birthday.

In a daze, I walk right into Cindy Huang’s office door, the envelope falling to the floor, papers escaping. I take another breath before I reach for the doorknob but it’s locked. “Get it together, Jo.”

Crouching to pick up the envelope, my mind is like a rocket, Zane’s face flickering in my brain. There’s no way Willow can let him know where we’re staying. I’ll tell her on the ride home.

I still can’t believe he put his hands on me. All for the cash? If it wasn’t for Damien who knows what Zane could’ve done. I'm tall but he’s taller. Much bigger. There’s a reason why people in The Grove fear him. In front of Damien though? It looks as if he met his match.

Fuck. Damien. He must think that’s how all relationships work in The Grove. I sigh. Who the fuck cares what that rich prick thinks anyway? Watch your back. He’s almost as bad as Zane.

---