Page 5 of Dark King (Advantage Play 2)

“It’s fine, Eddie. You need your rest. I just wanted to tell you that I’m going to go away for a little while, okay?”

Eddie glances around me, noticing the giant bear a few feet away with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Who’s that?” Eddie asks, suspiciously. “And what happened to yer face?”

He might be a crazy old man, but I kind of love the protective part of him that insists on looking out for me. Resting my hand against his hunched shoulder, I try to calm him down before he tries to go all Rambo on a man twice his size.

“That’s my friend. His name is Diece. Don’t worry, Eddie; he’s a good guy.”

“He looks familiar. Have I seen ya ‘round here?” he calls to D.

D takes a step closer to keep Eddie from shouting, then answers, “I don’t think so.”

With squinty eyes, Eddie continues his assessment. “Nah, I think I’ve seen you around. Wasn’t you here the other day lookin’ for Ace?”

“No.” D’s gaze bounces between Eddie and me as he voices his response with a sudden bite I’m not used to.

“I coulda sworn—”

“It wasn’t me. But if you see him lurking around again, give me a call.” D hands him a business card and a few quarters before turning toward his car and calling, “Come on, Ace. We gotta go.”

I watch his back as he retreats before waving at Eddie. “He’s right. I’d better get going. I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Sure thing, Ace. Sure thing.”

Chapter Four

Ace

Jogging to catch up to Diece’s massive strides, I’m almost out of breath by the time I reach him.

His demeanor is ice cold as he opens the passenger door and directs me inside. Once both our seat belts are buckled and we’re on the road, I turn to face him while paying attention to every minor movement.

“Who was lurking around my apartment?”

“I don’t know,” he grits out, the lie clear on his tongue.

“Lie,” I call him out, even though he’s not privy to Kingston’s and my game.

Quirking a brow, he glares at me before returning his attention to the road.

“Excuse me?”

“I said, that’s a lie,” I reply simply. “You do know, and now, it’s time for you to divulge the truth.”

I watch as his forearms bulge with pent-up frustration, his knuckles turning white as they grip the steering wheel with both hands on ten and two like a good little driver.

“Talk, D,” I push.

With flared nostrils, he distracts me by asking a question of his own. “Did the guy who hurt you have any tattoos?”

I take a second to think about the question, feeling a little whiplashed from the topic change but feeling generous enough to let him get away with it. “Um, yeah. A giant X on the inside of his forearm. Why?”

The words are barely out of my mouth before D slams his hand against the steering wheel and yells, “Fuck!”

I wince, confused by his response. “I take it you’re familiar with him?”

“Something like that,” he mumbles under his breath.

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