Page 23 of Kings Don't Break

He’s a real person. He’s really her husband. The man who put a ring on her finger and made her his wife.

It’s a pulse of adrenaline mixed with equal parts possessiveness. Suddenly, I’m reminded of past times where I might’ve gotten too territorial for Korine’s liking—I’m a man on the hunt pursuing the asshole that took her away.

Some would say it’s wrong and irrational. I’ve never met this man before in my life and have no reason to hate his guts, yet I can say without a doubt that I do.

I’d like to end his existence. However psychotic that sounds, I don’t give a fuck.

Kori’s my girl. Nobody takes her from me.

I track him down a couple blocks over. He’s idled at a red light with the rest of midday traffic. I slow up a few cars away, careful not to draw attention to myself. If he’s on his way to the local station, then my pursuit won’t go on much longer.

I tail him anyway.

We pass the street that leads to the police station. He hooks a left onto the country road that leads out of town. Maintaining even more of a distance, I’m left wondering where the hell he could be going. Pulsboro PD’s jurisdiction ends at the town limits.

Unless he’s driving to a neighboring town about a case that involves other precincts.

Almost three miles down the road, he brakes enough to turn onto the open field that borders the road. He pulls up behind a wall of trees and bushes.

What the hell is he up to? Is he setting up a speed trap?

It’s not until I slow down several yards away that I realize what’s happening.

Korine’s husband isn’t alone. A second car’s parked behind the thick brush. Some kind of Jeep with a wild-maned brunette behind the steering wheel. I don’t get a good look at her face, because she hops out the second I’m pulling up and slides into his passenger seat.

The two come together in what must be a hello kiss.

There’s very little conversation between them. Their lips move for a minute or two before they’re all over each other. He’s tangling fingers in her chocolate hair and bringing her head down over his lap.

I don’t need to see inside the car to know what’s going down.

My hands tighten into fists watching the scene unfold. My pulse echoes in my ears and my skin runs hot.

The most primal part of me wants to storm over and confront the bastard. I want to rip him from the inside of his squad car and introduce him to my fists ’til he’s bloody. Then force him to tell Korine all about what he’s up to behind her back.

The fucker’s cheating on her. A beautiful, smart, infectious woman like Korine.

And she’s probably got no clue.

* * *

After my encounter with Korine in the One Stop Autoshop’s parking lot and my discovery about what her cop husband’s up to, I’m in no mood for handling work business. I skip out on returning to the Chop Shop altogether. Mr. Weaver’s just gonna have to pick up his bike a few hours later than planned tomorrow.

I need a moment to cool off and figure out how I’m going to approach things.

I ride my Street Bob home.

Home being my trailer at the Pulsboro Trailer Park. The wide lot’s full of trailers of various shapes and sizes. Several Steel Kings live here, some solo and others with their old ladies or families.

I’ve got my own double-wide far in the back, overlooking the ravine. From the outside, it’s your standard run-of-the-mill trailer. On the inside, it’s not so bad—more than spacious, fixed up with modern appliances, and kept relatively neat (for a single man). Compared to the wild tornado that’s Ozzie’s trailer across from mine, my place is decent.

…except when I’ve got uninvited visitors prowling around my property.

I pull up with my engine rumbling and my jaw clenched. Behind my mirrored aviator shades, I’m glaring at the station wagon parked beside my trailer. The driver’s side door swings open and an orthopedic shoe touches the spongy grass underneath.

Mom sniffles as she gets out the car, her hair a limp frame for her wrinkled, frowning face. I’d feel sorry for her if I wasn’t so used to seeing tears wetting her eyes.

“Blake,” she murmurs.