Page 59 of Kings Don't Break

Blake puts his arm around me and steers me from the building, but not before he tosses a furious look over his shoulder. He seems to sense, even without me explaining what happened, that I didn’t get to fill out a report.

Thankfully, instead of badgering me about it, he drives me around town. We stop at a couple different apartment complexes, where he takes me to see what’s available.

“For you and Sunny,” he says, brushing a strand of my hair back. “You’ll have your own space.”

“I can’t afford this apartment, Blake. Not yet.”

“I’ll help you. So you’re back on your feet.”

With a stubborn shake of my head, I push past him and the leasing agent toward the door. “I appreciate the offer, but it’s too much.”

Blake doesn’t fight me on it. We thank the leasing agent of the Sunset View apartments and then head for his truck. He waits ‘til I’m buckled in and then grabs my hand to catch my attention.

“It’s gonna be okay, Kori,” he says. “Things are messy right now. But it’ll get better.”

I smile in thanks, and though everything still feels uncertain, there’s one thing I’m certain of.

Blake will be with me every step of the way.

* * *

Blake wasn’t kidding when he said the MC would be tagging along to pick up my things. We pull up with at least

a quarter of the members in tow. Mason’s even brought his old lady, Sydney, for female moral

support. By the way she walks with her hands on her hips and her eyes narrowed into slits, she’s

tempted to confront Ken herself.

Because it’s Saturday morning, most of the neighborhood’s home. Across the street in his front lawn, Mr. Abrams forgets about the water hose in his hand and watches the conga line of motorcycles rumble through.

Likewise, Mrs. Doyle’s out walking her miniature schnauzer, stopping in her tracks at the sight of bikers in her neck of the woods. Her leashed white ball of fluff begins jumping around and barking at us.

For living in a town known for its ruthless motorcycle club, you’d think they’d realize it’s par for the course—or are they alarmed because they know what a visit from the Steel Kings means? Especially when they’ve parked in front of the house of a known police officer.

Their prolonged stares go ignored.

Blake hops out of the truck he’s chosen to drive over (in order to carry my things), and comes around to the passenger side where I am. All morning long, he’s been suspiciously calm. Standing in the front driveway of the house Ken and I called a home, he’s zen-like, his touch featherlight when he palms my shoulder, and his voice a low rasp of reassurances.

He’s doing this for me. Putting me ahead of his anger.

He knows how difficult this is. That I’ve agonized over it from the moment I turned up bruised and broken on his doorstep.

“Nothing’s gonna happen to you,” he says, making sure to look me in the eye. “We’ll be with you every step.”

I push down the complicated feelings, inhaling a breath, remembering the big girl panties I’ve got on, and give a nod.

“We heading in?” Mason calls from where he and Sydney wait a few feet off.

Blake links his fingers with mine at our sides. “Yeah, let’s pull off the fucking Band-Aid.”

Behind us, Mason signals for most of the guys to stay put. Presumably to keep an eye out on the neighborhood—and to make sure Ken’s cop friends don’t turn up. A handful come along with us.

Every step toward the door feels heavy, requiring so much energy out of me, I feel like I’m running on fumes by the time we’re pressing the doorbell.

It’s not that I’m afraid Ken will hurt me. I’m afraid Blake will hurt him. I’m worried he and the MC will get into some kind of brawl, and they’ll pay the price for Ken’s actions.

We’re left in limbo for several seconds.