Page 33 of Royal
“Understood what, exactly?” Beckham squints as he observes me. It makes me twitchy.
“I reminded her of our past. Let her know I haven’t forgotten a fucking thing that transpired between us. Iknowher.”
“Fair enough, I guess.” Running a few fingers over his lips, Wilder’s expression is thoughtful.
“Got something else to say?” I prod, wanting to hear every bit of what he might have learned while he was alone with her.
He sighs. “Echo mentioned something last night that… well, you hadn’t previously mentioned to us. I wasn’t sure if it was important, if it’s something you don’t want to talk about, or what.”
My gaze bounces between the two of them. Beckham’s slowly nodding, so whatever it is, he’s fully aware.
“Spit it out.” My voice is a bit clipped, but mostly because I’m irritated they have information I don’t. Which is downright fucking stupid, considering I asked them to watch her. I’ve gotta get my head right.
Wilder gives a half-hearted wince. “So, while we were walking home, Echo mentioned that you and Davis— That he used to be your best friend.” He pauses, looking for all the world like he wants to shoot more questions my way. To his credit, he holds back, letting me take the lead.
I work my jaw to the side. “She told you that, huh?”
They exchange a look, then Beckham holds out his hands. “We get it. You have things concerning her—and obviously Davis—that you’d rather not discuss. But if we’re going to help you, be aware we’re going to hear shit in the process.”
Wilder leans back, resting his hands on the mattress. “Just trying to be up-front with you, man. You should also know, she’s in my art class. I’m learning a lot about her that I kinda like.”
The muscle at the back of my jaw twitches. I blink. “Like what?”
Wilder shrugs his shoulders, staring down at the tattoo on his forearm for a moment and tracing his fingers over the Latin words I know are there.
“She’s… insightful. She sees too damn much.” There’s something in the way he looks away from me that has me even more curious. I narrow my eyes and lift my brows, waiting for him to expand on his observations. “She just… gets me. I don’t really know how. It kinda freaked me out, to be honest, at how close she came to my truth with our very first partner assignment.” Wilder releases a sigh, holding out a hand. “I like her, man. And I hope that’s not going to be problematic for you.” His eyes bore into mine, as if he’s trying to tell me something—and that something I probably won’t like. “Look, I’ll keep trying to help you, watch her, talk to her to see what information I can get from her. But you need to know, there might be a point where I have to draw the line.”
Beckham’s eyes connect with mine, and I get a sense he’s thinkingI’m changing the subject because you’re about to go off.Our resident peacemaker doesn’t like it when we argue, so it makes sense he’d want to steer the course of our conversation. He rubs his hand over his chest, then peers carefully at me. “Are you sure you can’t tell us anything more about Davis? He lives here. You have beef with him. It’d be easier if we knew why. Just a hint of fucking anything you can share with us.Please.”
I prop my hands on my hips and stare boldly at Beckham, then at Wilder. As I walk away, I toss over my shoulder, “Yeah, sure. Here’s a little tidbit. I was driving Davis’s car the night my life went to shit.”
SIXTEEN
BECKHAM
For several uncomfortable seconds,Wilder and I stare at the doorway Royal just exited through. My head frantically attempts to wrap around the tiny bomb he’d dropped on us about the night that landed him in prison. “Was I wrong to ask?”
“Who the fuck knows. And I sure hope that doesn’t mean you’re about to get tossed out on your ass for prodding at him for information.”
I suck in a breath, considering his words. Finally, I grit out, “I don’t get why it’s a big fucking deal when we’re trying to help him.” My eyes scan the room, wondering if there are cameras in here—or everywhere for that matter—that the Sin Keeper watches. Because if so, we’ve been giving him a lot of spank-bank material—if he’s into gay porn, that is. I inwardly chuckle at the idea of the masked freak sporting a huge boner while glued to a computer monitor because he can’t get enough. I dare someone to deny how hot we are together. Combustible is more like it.
Wilder’s lips press together as he stares at me. “What the fuck are you thinking about?”
“You don’t wanna know, trust me.” I get up, setting my drink down on the table next to the chair, then walk over to where Wilder still sits half-reclined on the bed. I want to step between his legs and run my hands through his hair. Feel his lips on my bare chest. But I shouldn’t. He’s my friend, first and foremost, and he made it clear earlier that he doesn’t want to discuss our situationship. I think that’s what I’d call it because when the right mood orsituationstrikes, Wilder can be persuaded to join me in a little naked fun.
But apparently broad daylight is not the time to tell him that I love his bedazzled dick, which is what happened right before Royal walked in. I thought it was funny… but Wilder didn’t appreciate the humor in it at all. I can’t help that his piercings attract my attention like he’s using some sort of Beckham homing beacon.
Come to think of it, I should probably stop thinking with my dick for two seconds. We have some important things to discuss. I crawl onto the bed and lie on my side so I can face him in the same relaxed stance he’s taken. “So… is whatever went down connected to the wreck Davis was talking about, do you think?”
A frown slips onto Wilder’s face, and he glances at me out of the corner of his eye. “What? What are you talking about?”
Shaking my head, I poke him in the ribs. “Come on, you remember. The first day Davis was here he asked if Royal was going to wreck another of his cars.” I raise a brow at his confused expression. “He said it while Royal was whaling on him. But obviously before he punched him so many times he couldn’t speak.”
Wilder snorts, turning his head. “Right. Yeah, okay I’m with you now. So, Royal wrecked Davis’s car. And Royal says he was driving Davis’s car the night everything went to hell.”
“Right. Thank fuck. I was beginning to worry that you’ve taken one too many hits to the head.”
He rolls his eyes, then lifts off his elbow to shove me, sending me to the flat of my back. I laugh heartily, ready to tell him to come and get it when he goes from playful to not in two seconds flat. I study him for a moment before I cautiously grit out, “What?” The way he’s looking off into space has me worried.
