Page 63 of Property of Necro (Kings Of Anarchy MC: Illinois #1)

Chapter

Forty-Three

Day Three

Two days in a row, I’ve worn a new dress. It feels strange, brushing against my thighs as Rot and I stroll through downtown Kings Cursed in the daylight. It’s different. The eerie quiet. The stillness. Much like the first day I arrived with Dark.

Rot trails me to Mal’s Malt Shop , where I peek through the fist-sized spot on the front window I wiped off last night.

The inside is frozen in time. Aged from years of neglect, but the bones are here under a layer of cobwebs and dust. The old wooden counter still has charm, and there’s a perfect place for stools.

You know, the ones with colorful padding that you can twirl around on.

With a bit of imagination, I can see it.

The sweet smell of chocolate, much like Kali’s shop.

The titter of happiness as customers drink a milkshake with two straws like something out of the fifties.

Swoon .

“What’s that sigh for?” Rot asks, rubbing the middle of my back.

I peek at him over my shoulder. “I sighed?”

“Yeah. A few times.”

“Oh. I was thinking about what it must have been like when this shop was running, or what it could be like if it were restored. This town has so much potential.” Turning to face the street, I catch glimpses of what was and what could be, but what is, is a carcass, pecked away year after year.

“I can’t imagine being gifted a literal town and letting it sit empty like this. ”

“This is the home for our club, not outsiders, Red.” Rot wraps an arm around my waist, tucking me close to his side.

“But what if it could be both?” I ask, looking up at him to gauge his reaction.

“But it’s not.” Rot kisses the side of my head like he thinks I’m being cute, when I’m dead serious.

“Those houses over there.” I point to a side street, where the overgrown backyards of multiple single-story homes are located. “It would take some time and money, but they could be habitable again.”

“They’re habitable now. But we’re not expanding the chapter, Red, and we don’t allow outsiders in.”

I nudge him with my hip. “You let me in.”

“Yeah. We did. But that’s not the same.”

“It kind of is…What if you vetted women like Mama does the dancers?” I tilt my head back and bat my lashes, trying to soften him up to the idea. Rot has more club pull than he thinks he does.

He smirks at my silliness. “And what? ”

“Let them move here. Oh. Wait. Wait.” I clap my hands excitedly.

“What if the houses are for women like me? Survivors. The women, the Sacred Sinners, and other clubs save and need homes for. They don’t have anywhere else to go and need a place to start over.

Why can’t they do that here? It wouldn’t bring in any men—just women.

Women are badasses. They can do anything.

They could turn this town around. I could help.

Maybe one of them could reopen this shop,” I rattle off a million miles an hour.

“Red.” There’s a mix of adoration and humor in Rot’s voice.

“What?”

“That takes money, a fuckton of money, and we don’t want outsiders in our town using our shops, which the women in your head running these shops would need to stay afloat. This ain’t a tourist destination on the way to Chicago. You read the sign. We don’t want strangers here.”

Slumping my shoulders, wind officially knocked out of my sails, I pout. “It’s a working idea. That’s all.”

“I love how you’re thinkin’ about the town’s future. That means you plan on stayin’…”

Excuse me. What?

I squint up at him. “Of course, I am. You drugged me and kidnapped me to bring me home.” I would have left before this had I wanted to leave.

“Home?” He grins, hopeful.

“Yes. Isn’t that what this is?” I sweep my hand, motioning to the town, the road, this place. “My home, too?”

“Yeah, Red.” Rot nods, dumbfounded, before he shakes his head and clears his throat. “Um. Yeah. Yeah. It is. It’s… fu ck…” The handsome man’s entire face lights up. “It’s damn nice hearin’ you say that.” His fingers dig into my side.

Turning to face him, I rest my chin on Rot’s sternum, wrinkle my nose, and make a gagging sound as I do my best not to smile. “Ew. You’re getting emotional.”

He tucks a strand of flyaway hair behind my ear. “Yeah. Well. So is Necro.” Rot juts his chin at one of the street security cameras.

“You think he’s watching us?” I whisper.

“I know he is.”

Turning to one of the cameras, I wave and blow him a kiss.

Rot chuckles. “You’re fuckin’ adorable, you know that?”

“What I know is I want this town to be a lot less sad and empty. It needs life. It needs love,” I sing, twirling on the sidewalk, squinting up at the bright, blue sky, soaking in all its rays.

“With you here, it’s already a whole lot better. Now, let’s get you home. I’ve got something to show you.” Pulling his phone from his pocket, Rot reads the screen and puts it away. “It’s ready.”

I stop spinning. “What’s ready?”

“You’ll see. Come on.”

Looping my arm through his, Rot and I take the scenic route back to the church, through the empty streets with overgrown grass, weeds, and cracked sidewalks.

My mind whirls with so many ideas of how to help this place and women.

To give them a house to call home. To settle down.

To feel safe for once in their life. Away from men like my uncle and Ted. To flourish.

Gah!

I can see it.

Stopping in front of a green single-story with grimy, white shutters and a brown shingled roof with moss growing down the sides, I lift my nose and smell the garlic bread she’d bake in the oven.

Sure, the exterior could use a power wash, and the steps need to be patched.

The front door needs a new screen, as it’s ripped, flapping in the gentle breeze. But it’s homey.

Rot stands next to me as I imagine what could be and start wishing it into existence. To manifest it. I think that’s what Kali calls it.

A rocking chair on the porch, and Christmas decorations in the winter. Maybe a white car parked in the driveway. No. Not white. Blue. A sedan with four doors.

After surviving the worst, she’d love it here.

She’d appreciate the slow pace—the protection.

They could offer her that.

The Kings of Anarchy. The men of Kings Cursed.

Rot checks his phone a second time, but doesn’t rush me. We don’t speak on the rest of our stroll up the hill and back to the church.

Coffin and Necro are on the front steps when we arrive. It’s broad daylight. Sure, it’s cloudy, but the sun is still out and… Necro. Why is he outside?

“Took you long enough,” my brutish blond grumbles.

Necro shoves Coffin’s shoulder before fixing his dark, wraparound sunglasses.

“Sola had things to see.” Rot flips him off.

“You mean your cock.”

“No. He means the sad, empty town,” I reply, staring in awe at Necro and his pale skin as it practically glows.

“There’s nothin’ sad about our town,” Coffin growls before thundering down the front steps in his leather boots and heading around the side of the church. “Move your asses. We ain’t got all fuckin’ day,” he calls over his shoulder.

“Someone pissed in his Cheerios this morning,” I mutter under my breath, so he doesn’t hear.

“Was it you?” Rot teases, knocking his shoulder into mine as we follow Mr. Pissy.

If it was. He wouldn’t be this angry. He’d like it, Necro signs.

“Ew.” I shove his thick shoulder, and he stumbles sideways, holding his stomach as he laughs—deep and broken, like smoke and whiskey on ice.

Damn.

He’s hot.

I can’t believe this is my life.

I can’t believe he’s outside when he said he doesn’t like it and avoids it at all costs.

“He’s probably angry he’s leaving in a few days, and worried Sola won’t like it,” Rot adds as we make our way around the back, where an agitated Coffin is cuddling the fluffiest chicken I’ve ever seen.

“What’s that?” I nod in shock toward the animal with so many feathers on its head that it looks like Elvis. Only they’re white and cover most of its eyes.

He shoves it at my chest with both hands, and I stagger a step back as I scramble to secure the soft, oddly calm creature. Coffin about-faces and angrily waves for us to follow along.

“Did he feed you one of his gummies?” I whisper to the docile chicken as I mimic Coffin’s long strides and fail so miserably that I quit trying.

“I heard that,” Coffin tosses over his shoulder.

“Heard what?”

“I didn’t feed her a fuckin’ gummy. She’s one of those calm chickens. Like Ducky.”

“Okayyyy. So maybe you should have taken a gummy today. You’re awfully grumpy.”

“Sola. Shut up.”

Glowering at butthead, I flip off his stupidly nice, muscular back that tapers to the top of his black jeans and those sexy dimples on either side of his spine just above his biteable ass. “No. You shut up, asshole. Don’t talk to me that way and expect me to back down.”

“I’ll cut you,” he snarls, still stalking away from me, even faster than before.

“And I’ll like it!” I call after the dickhead.

“Shut up.”

My thighs burn as I pick up my pathetic pace. “Where the hell are you going?”

Just beyond a cluster of trees is a cozy plot of land, and sitting in the middle of this little slice of heaven is a chicken coop—light purple with a dark purple tin roof and chicken wire cages with purple posts the same shade as the coop.

I sputter to a halt, and Coffin saunters along, his shoulders rolling like a sexy wrestler, before he stops next to a purple gate and opens it .

Out darts a dozen or more chickens, some fluffy like the white one in my arms, others bigger, and a few are wee, round balls of baby fluff.

Aw.

“What is this?” I croak, watching two chicks chase a black-and-white adult one.

“What the fuck does it look like?” He fastens the gate, so it stays open. “It’s your animal farm.”

“My what?”

“You liked Ducky, the chicken at Doc’s place. We all have our thing here. I build shit. So, I built you this.” He thrusts his hand toward the coop.

Are those scalloped edges around the windows? With window boxes for flowers.

Oh. My.

It is.

I gasp.