Page 149 of Dukes of Peril

I shrug. “He didn’t exactly RSVP, but that’s never been his style.” The truth is, my father hasn’t shown his face around Forsyth for quite a while, and this would be the perfect opportunity.

“I suppose not.” Davis looks at Manny. “We should probably head out. Being here during the meeting would probably cause more problems than help.”

“I’ll walk you out,” I offer, falling into stride beside them. “There’s something I need to get from the car.”

We step outside into the bright, late fall sunlight. Remy’s leaning against the wall, foot propped behind him, knee bent, as he keeps an eye on the street, and I linger beside him.

“See you around, Dads,” Remy says, giving them a little wave.

“Thanks for calling us,” Manny says. “You’ll be at Thanksgiving?”

Remy rubs his belly. “I wouldn’t miss Sarah’s dressing if my life depended on it.”

I grab Manny by the arm, stopping him before he walks away. “Will you tell her thank you for me?”

He looks so much like his son when his forehead creases that it nearly takes me aback. “For what?”

“She’ll know,” I say, thinking about how that hairpin may not have saved my life, but it sure as hell bought me some time. A little more buoyantly, I add, “And tell her I’ll bring a pie for dinner.”

“Will do.” They both give me a kiss on the cheek, and a moment later, they’re gone.

“You need to get back inside, babe,” Remy says, thumbing the drawing he put on my neck. “I can’t keep up with you and my security duties.”

Ducking away, I hold up a finger. “I’ll just be a minute.” I cross over to the SUV and climb in the front seat, looking for the package I put in the glove compartment. Once I have it, I pause, pulling down the mirror to catch a glimpse of Remy’s artwork.

It’s a crown.

Car doors slam, and I whip around to realize the Kings have arrived, a long row of black vehicles idling at the curb. I stay in place, watching the men all march toward the gym entrance. Ashby goes first, then Killian, and both of them, for the record, are dressed in nice suits. Thank god for the dads. Obviously, one of my duties as Queen will be making sure Sy understands these nuances. I look down at the wrapped package in my hand. It’s a book on the psychology of leadership.

Remy checks them for weapons and then allows them entrance into the gym. Once they disappear through the doors, I fully plan on escaping the car and doing the same, but then the next car arrives. It’s a black Mercedes. The windows are tinted, but the man who exits is immediately recognizable as one of the Williams.

He opens the back door and the Baron King emerges, face covered with his mask. It’s chilling to know that Timothy Maddox is hiding under there just as much as the knowledge that we’re the only ones aware. I wait, anxiety inching up my spine as he and Remy come face to face. Luckily, whatever exchange they have is quick, all business, and I feel my lungs release a slow, relieved breath. After he walks into the gym, Remy’s eyes meet mine from across the street, a hard blankness on his features.

I hop out of the SUV, slamming the door behind me. My eyes are on Remy, which is why, as I cross the street, I don’t see the car barreling down the road. It stops with a screech, the tires burning against the asphalt. My heart becomes lodged somewhere in my throat, and it sticks there when Lars steps out of the driver’s seat.

He gives me a sharp, nasty grin. “Watch your step, Duchess.”

Remy’s by my side in a flash, that hollow look gone from his face. Instead, it’s filled with rage, his palm curling around my shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” I assure him, eyes firmly on the car. “I’m fine. It’s my fault.”

Remy argues, “He tried to fucking run you over, Vinny. That wasn’t a mistake.”

“I’m fine, Remy.” I press my hand to his chest, knowing my father is inside that car. “Just watch the door. I’ll be okay.”

He’s clearly not convinced, but he yanks his gun out and slowly makes his way back to his position. Lars ignores Remy’s death glare and opens the back door of the car. A familiar, prickly sensation runs up my spine when he finally appears.

My father.

He’s dressed in a heavy gray coat, a tone that almost matches his skin color. His face seems thinner. Whatever is going on in North Side is draining him. Too many deaths. Too many failures. Remy said he heard his dog, Amos, is living at the Kappa house. Which for my father is big. He loved that dog more than he loved any of us. It’s clear he’s losing control.

He barely regards me as he starts across the road, but the urge to speak drives me to follow him.

“I told you I didn’t kill her,” I burst, my voice small in the empty alley. “Saul Cartwright killed Leticia. He admitted it before Simon put a bullet in his head.”

I see the small hesitation, the tiniest curiosity. Of course, for Leticia, he’ll stop.

He clears his throat and says, “Wait for me inside, Lars.”

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