Total pages in book: 176
Estimated words: 167257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 836(@200wpm)___ 669(@250wpm)___ 558(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 167257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 836(@200wpm)___ 669(@250wpm)___ 558(@300wpm)
“Hey, uh…Ruen,” Joren spoke up. Of all of them, I had the most trouble meeting his gaze, so I stared straight ahead. “Do you need help taking your equipment upstairs?”
“Nope, but thanks.” She backed up a couple of steps, opened the door, and placed her fingers between her lips before releasing an impressively loud whistle.
On cue, the sound of several car doors opening simultaneously and slamming shut followed. Moments later, the shop door opened, and the testosterone in this place suddenly doubled when four guys filed in.
Their muscular arms were bulging as they carried speakers, a mixer, several turntables, and other equipment I couldn’t see inside the black gear bags.
My gaze flicked between them, hoping to make sense of the motley crew.
Two of them were White—the only commonality I could find in the group—but even they looked like they’d both wandered into the wrong circle and couldn’t find their way out. The third guy was Black, and the fourth was of some Asian descent that I hesitated to put my finger on. Korean, maybe?
The front runner had dirty-blond hair partially shielded by his hood, with somber brown eyes and a golden tan that made it clear he spent his time outdoors. The gray sleeveless hoodie he wore unzipped showed off his sculpted abs and huge arms with thick veins running the length that really rounded out his All-American look—a total beefcake.
The second guy looked like some kind of mix between a sexy vampire and a tortured rock god. I really couldn’t decide. His platinum hair made his pale skin look almost transparent, while the heavy black eyeliner did nothing to make his fair blue eyes less piercing. He was taller than the rest—almost as tall as Rowdy—but leaner like he’d never seen a gym, or the sun, in his life. It was obvious he was strong, though, as he quietly held one of the large speakers without complaint.
“What the hell did we say about whistling at us like we’re your pet bitches, Buns?” Mr. All-American griped. He also carried a speaker in his huge arms and sported the most vicious scowl I’d ever seen. He looked like he’d never been happy a day in his life.
“Aw, give it up, Christian,” Ruen said as she gave his sculpted cheek an affectionate pat. “We all know crawling around on your knees for me is your favorite kink.”
“Yeah, yeah, that’s all fine and fuck you,” the third guy complained. He stepped forward into view, and my first thought was that he looked like a model with those impossibly high cheekbones. Rowdy tensed beside me, and I glanced up, seeing something akin to recognition in his eyes. Guy number three was the definition of tall, dark, and handsome as he rocked a high fade like Rowdy’s but wore his shoulder-length hair in plaits that fell over his forehead and hazel eyes. Even I had to admit that there was something familiar about him. I just couldn’t put my finger on it. “This shit is heavy, girl. Where should we put it?”
Before Ruen could answer, Roc stepped forward. “Malik?”
Tall, dark, and handsome’s head swiveled, as did the other three, so it was hard to pinpoint who Roc was actually speaking to until the third guy’s eyes bulged. “Uncle Roc?” My boss’s only response was to rush forward, wrap his nephew in a bear hug, and lift him off his feet in an impressive show of strength. “Unc! Unc! Unc!” Malik panicked and screamed a little dramatically when he almost lost his grip on Ruen’s expensive-looking equipment.
“My bad,” Roc said before setting him on his feet. The look in Malik’s eyes was almost comical when his uncle popped him on the back of the head a moment later. “When did you get back in town, and why didn’t your mama tell me?”
A shadow fell over Malik’s eyes before he looked away. “Probably because she doesn’t know,” he grumbled.
Roc scowled as he regarded his nephew, who was looking anywhere and everywhere now except for at his uncle. “We’ll talk about this later,” I heard Roc say.
Malik didn’t respond.
I wasn’t psychic, but something told me that conversation wouldn’t be taking place.
The familial resemblance between the two was uncanny. Rowdy must have recognized him too.
“Wait, so you’re really his uncle?” I couldn’t help but ask. “How old are you?”
Based on when the photo was taken, I’d guessed the Kings were in their mid to late thirties, but maybe I’d been way off. Roc couldn’t have been more than a decade older than Malik.
“I have an older sister,” Roc explained without looking my way. His mood had visibly gone to shit and there was now a troubled dip in his brow. “She had Malik when I was like nine or ten.”
Oh.
I was about to ask another question when Rowdy suddenly tensed again. “Aye, homeboy,” he barked aggressively. “There’s no smoking in here.”