• Twenty-Seven •

Fuck, I guess he gets to live.

Rumor

I had taken the fork that had been brought with my meal and slid it underneath the blanket before putting my napkin haphazardly over my plate after I finished. When the maid came to take my plate, she didn’t even notice the missing utensil. Sitting on the bed, I kept my hand wrapped around it, reminding myself I had something, that I wouldn’t be helpless.

I considered hiding it and going in search of something more, maybe a knife, but I hadn’t worked up the nerve just yet. The thought that I might do something that would make Falcon start beating me sooner kept me here.

There was a strange sound in the hallway, and I tensed. Had they realized I’d kept the fork? A loud thud startled me, and I shot up from the bed where I was sitting with the fork gripped tightly in my right hand. I started to run to the bathroom when the bedroom door swung open, and a man came stalking in with a bloody knife in his hand. I froze, staring at him in horror. There were two red sprays over his shirt that could only be blood.

“Rumor?” he asked with a cocked brow.

I glanced at the bathroom door again, knowing I couldn’t get there in time. So, I held up my fork, which was ridiculous, considering he had a terrifying knife that he’d used recently on someone’s vital arteries, if I had to guess.

The man’s face was misleading. If he’d walked in here without being covered in blood and a knife, I’d have thought he’d come from a photo shoot. He didn’t look like a man who sliced people open, but then what did I know?

His smirk as he looked at the fork in my hand didn’t surprise me. It was rather pathetic.

“A fighter. That’s good,” he drawled. “If it makes you feel better, keep your fork, but I’ll handle anyone who comes at us, yeah?” He nodded his head toward the door. “You ready to blow this joint?”

I lowered my hand. “Who are you?” I asked, afraid to be hopeful.

“The calvary. Let’s go,” he said, then turned and headed for the door.

I glanced back at the room and decided I was going with the crazy knife man. When I got to the door, there was a man lying on the ground with a slit in his neck and lifeless eyes staring at nothing as blood pooled on the floor around him.

I lifted my horrified gaze to the man who was responsible for it, and he grinned, then winked at me. Was this man insane? Perhaps I was making a mistake. He started down the hallway, and I jumped over the blood and hurried after him. Insane or not, he was clearly getting me out of here. I’d worry about who he was and why he was here to get me once I got out.

When we reached the stairs, there were two more dead men, and one was missing eyeballs. I covered my mouth to silence the scream I couldn’t stop.

Oh God. Oh God. Where were his eyes? I was going to be sick.

“Don’t look at it,” the insane man I was following called back to me as he kicked the first dead man out of the way and continued down like this wasn’t a living horror show.

I almost cried out in relief at the sight of Storm as he walked into the foyer.

He took in the dead men on the stairs and gave the man with me a disgusted look. “His eyes? Really?”

The man who I was following shrugged. “He pissed me off,” he replied, then pulled something from his pocket and tossed two eyeballs into the air before catching them with a chuckle.

“Jesus, Gage,” Storm muttered, then turned to me. “You okay?”

He knew the psychopath that I was with. Thank God!

I nodded, fighting back the emotion clogging my throat.

He walked over to me and held out a hand as I hurried down the stairs, passing the man he had called Gage. They had come for me. This was … this was the family’s doing. For me.

“Where’s King?” I asked.

“He’d be here. That’s on me. But I found you,” Gage said behind me.

He wasn’t here? My heart sank, and the burn in my eyes only got worse as a tear broke free and rolled down my face. Was he still with Scotlin?

My hand went to my stomach, and I tried to take a deep breath to calm down. I was okay. We were safe.

“Where are the others?” Gage asked.

“Blaise put a bullet in Falcon’s head and chest. Huck broke Tabor’s neck. The others that you didn’t slice up have been taken down,” Storm informed him. “I’m taking her with me.”

Tabor was dead? They’d broken his neck? My stomach rolled, and I turned before bending over and throwing up the food I’d been fed earlier.

“Fuck,” Storm said behind me as he took my hair and held it back. “Sorry about that. Too much information. My bad.”

Several heaves later, I stood up and stared at him, still in shock. Was this really how they handled things?

Storm took the hem of his shirt and ripped it, then handed it to me. “Here. Wipe your mouth.”

I did as told as he took my elbow.

“Time to go.”

I went with him numbly through the house, not looking around as we went for fear of what I might see. I didn’t think I could handle any more death. When he opened the door leading outside, I let out a small sob. I was leaving. I had survived this.

“RUMOR!”

I would know the deep voice that called my name, even in death.

My head snapped around as King moved toward me on crutches. I shoved past Storm and ran to him.

Why was he hurt? What had happened? I reached him, and he dropped both crutches as his arms wrapped around me.

He buried his face in my hair and inhaled deeply. “Fuuuck, sweets. I think I died ten goddamn deaths since I was told they took you.”

The tears that I’d been fighting off broke free as I clung to him, sobbing. His arms tightened, pulling me to him.

“I got you,” he murmured. “This will never happen again. I swear to God.”

His scent eased me, and I nodded my head, not ready to speak just yet. He’d come for me. I meant something to him. He cared.

“Did they hurt you?” he asked, gently pressing a kiss to my head.

I shook mine. “No,” I croaked out.

Although it didn’t matter. They were both dead now. Along with several others.

“You good? I need to go help. Two of Linc’s guys were shot. Gotta get them to Doc,” Storm said behind me.

“Wilder will get us back. Thank you, Storm,” he said fiercely.

“Don’t thank me. Gage got her,” he replied.

King’s arms tightened. “Fuck, I guess he gets to live.”

Storm laughed then. “He gets to live? Dude, you didn’t see what his crazy ass did to the men in there. Forgive and forget, bro.”

King pulled back enough so he could look at me. “You swear you’re okay?”

I nodded.

His eyes dropped to my mouth, and he ran his thumb over it. Then, he looked back into my eyes. The possessive gleam made me shiver. Every small cell in my body hummed. I wanted that.

“And the baby?” he asked softly.

I gasped, speechless, staring up at him.

He knew. How did he know? Had Maeme changed her mind?

“I think she’s fine. I need to see Dr. Drew. The chloroform …” I stopped explaining, hating to think it had hurt her.

His jaw clenched as he glared at the house behind me. “We will go straight to Maeme’s and get you checked.”

“You know?”

Was that why he had come? Because I was pregnant? Had Maeme told him so he would come get me? Had it taken that to make him care? All my fears and insecurities came rushing back.

“Yeah, sweets, I know,” he replied, his expression softening.

He started to lower his mouth to mine, and I placed a hand on his chest and shook my head to stop him.

“I just threw up,” I told him, covering my mouth, realizing my breath had to be horrid.

His brows drew together. “Pregnancy?” he asked.

“I saw some things.”

A stricken expression came over his face. “Come on. Let’s get you home.”

He turned then, and I saw him wince. His leg. I’d forgotten. I wrapped my arms around him as if I could hold him up.

A small smile tugged at his lips. “My crutches.”

I let him go, then bent down to get them both, handing them to him, hating seeing him like this. “How did you break your leg?” I asked as he walked with me back toward a black SUV with a man standing outside of it, leaning on the hood with his arms crossed over his chest, watching us.

“Shot. Not broken,” he replied.

I stopped. “Shot?” I asked, horrified.

He paused and looked at me. “I’m fine, sweets. It’ll heal faster than a damn break.”

“Who shot you?”

He scowled then and glanced at the man who was no longer in front of the SUV, but opening the back door.

When King looked back at me, he sighed. “Gage.”

I frowned. Why would Gage have shot him? Weren’t they on the same team or whatever?

“Let’s get in the Escalade,” he said. “Cleanup is about to be here.”

They had a cleanup crew for this kind of thing?

I followed him to the vehicle and let him get inside first wanting to help him if needed. Then I climbed inside closing the door behind us. The other man was now in the driver’s seat.

He turned his head to look at me. “Nice to meet you, Rumor. I’m Wilder Jones.”

I managed a smile even though I was still trying to wrap my head around the fact that Gage had shot him. “It’s nice to meet you too,” I replied.

“Come here,” King said to me as he stretched his arm out on the back of the seat.

“Will I hurt you?” I asked, looking down at his leg.

“No, sweets,” he assured me.

I scooted back, and his arm came around me to pull me so close that my head was resting on his chest. He kissed the top of it.

Wilder began to drive away as I lay there, letting the relief completely sink in. I was with King. We were both alive. I closed my eyes, inhaling his smell. This was where I always wanted to be.

“Why did Gage shoot you?” I asked as I traced patterns on his abs.

“Because he’s a dickhead,” King replied.

I decided not to push it. Maybe I didn’t need to know.