King of the Causeway: A King Series Novella (King #9.5)(7)

King





My hands may be slightly cleaner these days, but my cash is still dirty as fuck. And at this moment, someone is trying to fuck with what’s rightfully mine. What I’ve spent two decades building in this town.

When it rains, it fucking floods.

I’m not talking about Hurricane Polly, either, although that’s not exactly helping matters.

The latest shit storm was last night. Nine and Pike, along with one of Bear’s guys they call Badger, were moving a shipment of blow when it was jacked on the middle of the fucking causeway. MY fucking causeway, by some wannabe thugs for hire.

Unluckily, I’m the one who fronted the fucking cash. Like I need more shit to be worried about right now in addition to Pup and whatever the fuck it is she’s keeping from me. I’m somewhere between angry and confused that she’s not being honest with me, and I hate to fucking admit, hurt.

Which just makes me even more angry.

I step into the framed addition to the house. Pup really did draw up a great plan. When it’s done, it will be a new master suite, a kitchen addition, and a huge playroom for the kids. What Pup doesn’t know is what else it will include, but I plan on holding onto that bit of information from her until its complete and every room looks just as she’s imagined.

Currently, it’s just a place that smells like sawdust—I spy Pike and Nine waiting for me inside the framed walls—and bad fucking news.

Pike is mindlessly twirling his handcuff bracelets around his wrists with his back against one of the studs. His chin-length beach boy hair falls into his battered face. There’s a cut above his right eye and a blood stain where he’s bleeding through the bandage. There’s a bruise under his other eye.

Nine is on his phone, but looks up when he hears me approach and shoves it back into his pocket. I consider the kid my protege, and not just because he’s Preppy’s brother, but because he’s smart as fuck, violent when the situation calls for it, and willing to take direction. He’s the next generation. The Prince of Logan’s Beach.

If he doesn’t fuck it up before he even gets started.

Nine, as usual, doesn’t waste any time getting down to business. He turns over a neon orange bucket and takes a seat.

“Tell me everything.” I demand. “What the fuck have you found out?” I light a smoke to give my hands something to do besides tear down the wood surrounding us and breaking it over my knee.

Nine sighs. He’s got a busted lip and a red mark on his cheek. “We’re on it, but not much luck yet.”

It’s the last thing I wanted to hear. I take a step toward him and feel the vein throb in my forehead with each step. The chords in my neck tighten. I lean down and point my smoke at Nine. “Nobody fucks with us in this town. That’s rule number one, and whoever is behind this is going to learn that the very fucking hard way.:

Nine doesn’t shy away from my order. He seems to embrace it. Gain confidence from it. As does Pike.

Nine’s shoulders straighten, and he nods.

I turn to Pike. “Don’t fucking stop looking until you’ve talked to everyone in this town, until you’ve turned over every grain of sand on that fucking beach. Don’t stop until you have a name or, better yet, a body.”

Nine stands. “You got it, Boss.”

I almost feel bad for the kid. He knows what to do and what his job is, but I’m too angry right now to muster up false fucking politeness for the sake of his feelings. “So, what do we know?” I ask, taking a step back and trying to fan the flames of my boiling blood.

Pike steps away from the wall and wrings out his hands. “We know that fuckers were wearing masks. Skeleton ski masks of all things. They didn’t sound or look familiar. If you ask me, they’re hires and not affiliated. The way they jacked us was reckless and not well planned. They shot up the truck tires from behind the guardrail, and we crashed into the median. They surrounded the truck before we could fire back and ordered us out of the truck. When Badger told them to go fuck themselves, they shot him.”

“How he holding up?” I ask. I don’t want anyone to die on my watch and in my town. Not if I can help it.

Pike shakes his head and lights a joint. “It was a through and through. We got him over at Nurse Jill’s spot. He’s on a half a bottle of Jack and some blues. He’s been whistling dixie for the last six hours. Literally. So, I’d guess that it’s safe to say he’ll be alright. Well, after the massive hangover I suspect the fucker will have.

I nod. “You said they didn’t sound familiar. So, what did they say?”

Pike hesitates and turns to Nine. “Tell him.”

Pike blows out a breath. “One of them said to tell you that there’s a new King of the Causeway in town, and he’ll take everything from you, unless…” He looks as if he’s about to take a bat to the dick the way he holds his breath.

“Unless what?” I ask, feeling the tendons in my neck strain. “Out with it!”

His eyes meet mine. “Unless, you give him what he wants.”

“And what the fuck is that?”

“I asked the same thing. He said you’ll be finding out soon enough.” Nine reaches up to his forehead and touches the angry red knot right below his hairline. “Then, he used the butt of his gun and knocked me the fuck out.”