Just Between Us (The Kings)

I blinked up from my notes when I heard pounding at Royal’s front door. My heartbeat spiked and I looked at the clock. It was 10:00 p.m., and I didn’t even like answering the door for a delivery that I had ordered, let alone a mysterious knock at someone else’s door.

“Vedaaaaa.” Royal’s muffled voice grumbled through the thick wooden door as the handle jiggled. “Veda, I lost my keys.”

Whip’s frustrated voice followed closely behind him. “Will you stop being difficult? They’re in your pocket.”

I hurried toward the door in time to hear Whip say, “No, I am not digging them out of your pants.”

Stifling a chuckle, I pulled the door open. Whip had his arm hooked under Royal’s as he supported his weight. My heart flopped over.

Dang, those are some good-looking King boys.

Whip smiled. “This belong to you?”

My eyes went wide as Royal’s brown gaze was hazy from the effects of alcohol. “Wow.” He looked at me dreamily. “You are so pretty.”

Whip jostled Royal and shoved him forward. “Okay, dreamboat.”

“What happened?” I asked Whip over Royal’s bulky shoulder as I did my best to support his heavy frame.

“He was determined to tie one on tonight, apparently.” Whip shrugged. “It got away from him.” He pointed toward his brother. “You got him?”

“Yeah.” I jostled Royal’s arm across my shoulder and nodded. My cheeks blushed at how easily Whip assumed Royal and I were together and that I would take care of him. “Thanks.”

Whip offered a farewell salute over his shoulder and bounded down the steps. I helped Royal as he hobbled into the house.

He buried his nose into my hair. “And you smell so good too!” A silly, feral growl tore through his throat as he faced me. He wrapped his arms around my waist and tried to playfully nip at my neck.

I laughed and pulled his face closer, squishing his cheeks between my palms. “You are intoxicated.”

“Why are you so mean to me?” He pouted and spoke between squished lips. My head fell back with a laugh.

“You like it,” I teased back, making our way through his house. “Now what do you say we get you to bed?”

Barely inside his bedroom, Royal stumbled toward the king-size bed and lay across it diagonally like a starfish. I crouched to remove his boot, and as I began unlacing it, soft snores floated out of him.

I slipped off his shoe and smiled. He was definitely going to feel like shit in the morning, but even drunk, he was the handsomest man I’d ever seen in real life—maybe even ever.

After he’d left, I had gotten next to nothing done and instead obsessed over the comment I had made about getting back to my normal life. As soon as the words were out, I realized how shitty it sounded, but I had done my best to gloss over it.

I toyed with my lip. Was that why he chose to get drunk? Had I really hurt his feelings?

My heart fluttered. In his house Royal was the one in control. He was the one telling me what to do, and I reveled in the freedom of it. Still, it was nice to feel as though I could take care of him for once—balance the scales a little.

I jostled him as I stripped the T-shirt off his body, but he didn’t wake. I slipped into the kitchen to fill a glass with water and rifled through his bathroom before I found the bottle of Tylenol. I set them both on the table next to his bed.

For a quiet moment I stared down at him. His features were sharp, and his long lashes swooped over his cheeks. Unable to resist, I brushed my hand through his hair and palmed his face. I could have spent the entire evening getting lost in studying his features or the way his chest rose and fell with each breath.

I leaned down and brushed a kiss above one eyebrow. I stretched my neck and briefly considered walking home in the dark. I looked down at him and smiled, instead opting for stealing his discarded T-shirt and tucking myself into his side.

Bright midmorning sunslanted through the small crack in the bedroom curtain, and I rolled away from it with a groan. Royal’s huge frame was wrapped around me, and he used one foot to tuck my legs between his own.

I stroked a finger across a tattoo on his neck, and his Adam’s apple bobbed.

“Good morning, sunshine,” I quietly singsonged.

He grunted and pulled me closer before groaning. “You’re late for work.”

I smiled and inhaled his masculine scent. “I wanted to make sure you weren’t dead before I slipped out.”

He shifted, leaning away to look me in the eye. “Thanks for taking care of me.”

I smiled and blinked up at him. “I think your brother did most of the caretaking. I was just here to tuck you in.”

Royal shifted, noting he was bare chested but still dressed in last night’s socks and jeans. He pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned. “Shit. I’m sorry.”

I shrugged. “It’s okay. I don’t mind taking care of you.”

Royal’s intensity grew as he looked at me. “But it’s my job to take care of you, remember?”

His words caused a flutter in my chest, and the bridge of my nose burned with emotion. I shrugged it away as I answered quietly. “Maybe we can take care of each other sometimes.”

Royal shifted, but I had to speak before I lost the nerve. “But first . . . I need to say something.”

Concern flashed in his dark eyes. “Okay.”

I swallowed past the lump that had expanded in my throat.

Jesus, why was being vulnerable always so fucking difficult?

“Um . . . I said something last night that I think came out wrong.” I traced the tattoos on his arms to stay connected yet avoid his eyes as my mind spiraled. “It was probably nothing.” I laughed, feeling utterly ridiculous. “But I said something about going back to my normal life. I didn’t mean that this wasn’t normal—I mean, it’s not, for me, but—I just meant . . . I don’t know why I said that. Honestly, I don’t even know what my normal life is anymore. But then you came home drunk, and I thought maybe it was because I said that and I⁠—”

“Shh . . . ,” he soothed. His hand rubbed up my back, and I relaxed into him. “It’s okay. I know what you’re saying.”

Oh, thank god . . .

I melted into his arms.

“Now it’s my turn to be honest.” He stroked a finger down my face and captured my chin between his fingers so I would look at him. “I didn’t like hearing it. I don’t like thinking about you being anywhere but here.”

“I’m sorry.” My heart sank.

He shook his head. “No. Please don’t apologize. I realize it was a me thing. I handled it by getting shit-faced, and that probably wasn’t the right call either. You deserve better than that.”

My throat was so thick I could barely speak. Open and clear communication? Who was this man?

“So.” He sighed. “Can we agree that next time we just be adults and talk about it?”

Next time.

My heart squeezed with hope. I grinned at him and nodded. “Agreed.”

“Good.” Royal rolled and covered me with his heavy frame as he glanced at the clock on the bedside table. “You’re already late for work, right?”

I tilted my head back to check before smiling up at him. “Oh yeah. Late late.”

“Good.” He nuzzled my neck. “I want your being late to be worth it, so you’re going to walk into the office with my cum still inside you.”

My walkto the office midmorning was like floating on a puffy cloud. I should have been stressed about how late I was already, but I couldn’t seem to care. Deliciously sore and thoroughly fucked, I hoisted my black leather bag across my shoulder and hummed on the walk to town. Royal had sent me on my way with a hard kiss and a slap to my ass.

It was perfect.

Summer sun streamed through the canopy of trees that lined the residential street. I smiled and waved at passersby, feeling more at home than ever in that quaint little town. When I rounded the corner, I spied Bootsy up ahead, sitting in his usual spot on the park bench.

The tiny hairs on the back of my neck raised as I maintained my steady pace and watched him carefully. He hadn’t noticed me yet, as he was digging through a plastic bag on the bench next to him.

Normally I had looked forward to whatever strange and wonderful tale the old man would tell, but ever since our odd interaction and the wild theory I had developed about the Sinclair twins, I had grown uneasy. He was too close to Russell King to be trusted, and my gut was screaming at me that there was something more happening below the surface.

I gathered my courage as I approached. With a deep breath, I sailed past him and threw a wave over my shoulder as I kept walking. “Hey, Terrance.”

“Morning,” the old man grumbled at my back.

Without faltering, I kept my casual pace, but alarm bells clanged against my skull.

Terrance.

I knew from my digging that Terrance Sinclair was called Bowlegs, and he was supposed to be dead. If that was the man who claimed to be Bootsy, then why would he answer to his twin brother’s name?

He wouldn’t.

My heart pounded as I did everything in my power not to scream and run. Behind me, I could hear the man calling to me and getting closer. “Miss Bauer! Miss!”

I turned and smiled. “Yes?”

He was clearly nervous, his hands wringing in front of him. “Did you, uh, say something to me back there?”

My face was the picture of kindness and innocence. “Just said good morning.” My smile widened and my eyes held him in place.

“Oh, um . . . I thought you said . . . okay. Sorry to have bothered you.” His shoulders were slumped, and worry was etched in the deep wrinkles of his leathery face. It was quite shocking how similar the two men looked, but the man in front of me lacked the playful essence of the person I had greeted every day.

I set my shoulders in challenge. “Are you feeling okay, Bootsy? You don’t seem yourself.”

His hands fidgeted, but he only nodded.

I turned and waved over my shoulder. “Okay. Have a good day!”

Once I had put a little distance between us, I moved as quickly as I could across town and to the office. JP was already there when I threw the door open, and it banged against the wall.

JP jolted, and I dropped my heavy leather tote to the floor. “Bootsy is Bowlegs!”

“What?” He scowled.

“Bowlegs is Bootsy!” My hands were open in a ta-da gesture, and I was a little miffed JP wasn’t as excited as I was about this new revelation.

“Bowlegs is dead, Veda.” The derision in his voice was thick, but it didn’t bother me. I knew I was right.

“Is he, though?” I paced across the scratched wooden floor of the office. “I know it’s bonkers, but hear me out . . .” I strode toward my corkboard masterpiece and swept an arm toward it. “It’s been here the whole time.”

“Whoa.” MJ’s voice filled the small office as her eyes widened at my board and she walked through the door. “What the heck is that?”

JP sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s Veda’s slow descent into madness.”

I made a face at him but continued. “Good morning. I was about to prove to your stick-in-the-mud brother that your beloved Bootsy is, quite possibly, actually Bowlegs.”

“But Bowlegs is dead.” MJ frowned.

I sighed. Why could no one see this?

I pointed at the board. “Yes, but he’s also alive.” Their blank faces didn’t deter me, and I barreled ahead. “Bowlegs ‘dies’ . . .” My fingers moved in air quotes and I pointed to the other evidence. “Your father pays the funeral director fifty thousand dollars to keep quiet the fact that his death is a lie. He also pays Bowlegs for the inconvenience of giving up his identity and assuming the identity of his identical twin.”

I studied the board. It was clearer to me than ever. “With only one man public facing, but both in his pocket, Russell has even more power. If he was dead, Bowlegs could move undetected, posing as his identical twin brother if he ever was encountered. One twin is off doing your father’s bidding while witnesses all over town can claim to have seen him. All at once he’s everywhere and nowhere.”

Goose bumps erupted on my arms, and I sighed in satisfaction as MJ and JP were stunned into silence.

MJ’s eyes danced over the corkboard. “So you’re saying that the Sinclair twins are both alive, but sometimes it’s actually Bowlegs we see in town. Dad has them posing as the same person so they can do things for him and not get caught?”

I planted my hands on my hips and grinned. “Exactly.”

JP’s arms were still crossed, but his eyes were moving over the strings and notes I’d made on the board. “How can you be sure?”

“I had a hunch, but this morning I caught him off guard. I called him Terrance in passing, and he answered without hesitation. He slipped up but then desperately tried to backpedal. He was panicking.”

MJ stepped forward to examine the board more closely. “Holy shit.”

I studied my boss’s face as worry crept in. Old memories of my fall from grace at Franklin & Mirth floated to the surface. No one had believed me then either. When I had uncovered the truth about how the business they were about to acquire was breaking a host of child labor laws, no one would listen. I was explicitly instructed to keep quiet about it and allow the deal to proceed with the utmost discretion. Instead, I stood my ground and quietly contacted the Department of Labor, expecting the entire deal to fall apart. Instead, I was blacklisted for my actions while my bosses went on to make millions.

I gritted my teeth, lifted my chin, and waited for the blow when he brushed me off like they had done.

“Good work, Veda.” JP nodded and he sat in his chair before swiveling toward the computer. “Now we just have to figure out why.”

I exhaled the breath I’d been holding. They believed me.

MJ raised her finger. “I might know why.”

He turned back, and we both looked at his little sister.

“It’s what I rushed over here to tell you.” She slowly shook her head. “You will not believe what Red Sullivan just told me.”