Page 21 of The Kingpin’s Omega Lover (River City Omegas #2)

King swapped out the simple rubber gun with a laser-pointer version. On the instructor’s direction, Malori showed him each requested firing stance, shifting his weight, his footing, and the aim of his gun.

“Pretend fire,” the instructor said.

He focused on the wall target and squeezed the trigger. The red light appeared a few millimeters to the left of dead center.

“Good,” the instructor said. “You are doing well for a first-timer, Mr. Cann.”

Malori blushed, unused to praise or being referred to by his last name. The respect from a perfect stranger was…odd. “Thank you.”

They went through the motions several more times, but no matter how Malori adjusted, he could never quite make the laser light hit the target dead-center.

It didn’t matter, because they were led into the firing range.

Long rows of stalls equipped with heavy, protective headgear, like what he’d seen on TV and in movies—except they were alone and it was eerily quiet.

Malori didn’t like the way the headphones squeezed his skull, or muffled his hearing, but they were necessary. Gunshots were loud. He remembered that vividly from the day of his rescue. His ears had rang for ages after.

His first six shots at the paper target landed outside the bullseye. Malori huffed, irritated at himself for no good reason. This was his first time, and it was stupid to expect so much of himself.

King lifted the right ear cover and said, “Relax a little, Mal. You’re too stiff.”

Malori rolled his shoulders and shook out his hands while the paper target got switched for another.

Once it was ready, Malori picked up the reloaded gun and took his stance.

Lifted it to eye-level. Tried to take King’s advice to heart.

Breathed. This time, he imagined the distant silhouette was Aleks.

His greatest living enemy, and the one person on earth whose death Malori craved.

The one person on earth whose death Malori wanted to cause.

On the next paper target, one bullet struck inside the bullseye.

It was a start.

“You know I don’t make a habit of questioning your decisions, boss. But I’m worried.”

King looked up from his office computer, which he hadn’t really been using, mostly staring at various desktop icons, while remaining lost in thought.

Bishop stood a few steps inside, arms crossed—he’d apparently abandoned the sling—scowling at him.

Not in a threatening way; more like a worried brother than a disgruntled employee.

King knew better than to discount Bishop’s concerns. He leaned back in his chair and dropped both hands into his lap, foregoing his pretense of doing anything work-related on the computer. “What are you worried about?”

“That we’re facing an enemy we don’t understand.”

“Yovenko.”

“Or whatever his name really is, yes. We do business with people who want the same things we want, which are money and security. From everything we know of this person, he’s a sociopath with an unknown agenda.”

“I agree. That’s why we won’t underestimate him.”

“Easier said than done, since we know barely anything about him. Our facial recognition brought up one photo that he likely planted for us to find. We have no actual identity, no fingerprints, nothing.”

“I know. Believe me, I understand the precarious position we’re in, especially when what we both want is to disengage from this life. We both want safety for our family.” King held Bishop’s gaze. “But I made a promise to Malori that I intend to keep.”

“Over the promise you made to Kensley? And me? You promised you’d fight to protect us, especially Kensley and our child. You had no idea Malori existed until the moment we breached that apartment, but now it feels like your entire life’s purpose is avenging his pain and finding his children.”

King waited for cascading irritation over Bishop’s assessment, but it never came. Because Bishop wasn’t wrong. Not completely. “You know it’s not my whole purpose. I’ve spent my entire adult life juggling multiple flaming torches at once, and never have I dropped one and lit the house on fire.”

“True. But right now, you’re juggling three hand grenades, and you have no idea which one is going to lose its pin first. You also have the option to throw one away and focus on the other two.”

King stared hard at his best friend, but Bishop never looked away. Or blinked. “So, what are my options? I choose to protect you and Kensley, and continue with the plan to extricate myself from this life, all at the expense of Malori’s children? You know I can’t do that. I gave him my word.”

“You gave me your word, boss.”

“I have every intention of keeping my word to you, Bishop. We are still on track to get out by the end of the year. The deal with Remington is still on the table, as are my future transactions with Lynn. I’m having the stones verified right now.

Helping Lynn get top dollar should make her amenable to another deal. ”

“Yes, information on Marta, I know all that. My concern is that by going after Yovenko, we’re opening ourselves up to an attack from a completely unknown, possibly unstable enemy.”

“And I agree with you on that. Again, what are my options? I’m open to suggestions, always.”

Bishop sat on the edge of a chair opposite King’s desk, back straight, jaw tight.

“What if we use an intermediary we know and trust to reach out to Marta’s group?

We’re already into the diamond deal with Lynn, that’s fine, but we know other people.

Instead of the roundabout way, we get word directly to Marta that we’re only asking for information she might have on Aleks Yovenko. ”

“We shut down one of Marta’s major money sources, and she knows I want her blood for kidnapping Kensley. Why on earth would she give us anything from an ask? We have no idea if she has any ties to or knowledge of the Farm’s daily operations, or any of their customers.”

“We offer her something in exchange.”

King frowned. “Such as?”

“I don’t know yet, but we’re at a huge disadvantage with Yovenko right now.

He’s proved himself to be nearly untraceable these last six months.

If Marta’s crew assumes her victims escaped the Farm and can identify their clients, she might also be going after the Farm’s clients to shut them up.

Maybe she considers him as much of a danger to them as he is to us. ”

“That’s a stretch.”

“But not impossible.”

“So, this is a ‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend’ sort of situation?”

“Yes.”

King shook his head. He’d already considered Bishop’s suggestion of an intermediary before Remington mentioned an in with Lynn and her people.

But King did not want to take an ask directly to Marta when he still had other options.

“No, there are certain people, certain enemies, who are too despicable to ever find common ground with, and sex traffickers and rapists are at the top of the list.”

“And if we find ourselves in a situation where we may not have a choice?”

Anger heated King’s chest, and he pressed both palms flat to the desk so he didn’t lash out and punch the wall. The idea of asking someone as evil as Marta for a favor sickened him. “I’ll face that devil’s bargain if it arrives, but not before.”

“We’ve done business with terrible people in the past, including cold-blooded killers.

Hell, King, we are both cold-blooded killers, no matter how we try and fancy up our reasons for those kills.

They were not all heat-of-the-moment choices, they were not all self-defense. Norris Landau was only a few days ago.”

King snarled. “Landau died because he paid to rape innocent people. Landau decided that his wealth gave him license to torture and terrorize and steal from others. No one has the right to take that from another human being, Bishop!”

Bishop’s shoulders visibly tensed. “You know I agree with you. I cannot fathom the rage I would feel if anyone had tortured Kensley like that. But I’ve known you for most of my life, and this has really got a hold on you. Are your feelings for Malori clouding your judgment?”

If this was any other victim of any other crime, King could have staunchly said no, his feelings were not clouding his judgment. But with Malori…that would be a glaring lie, and Bishop knew it. “They probably are, to a degree, but I can’t let this go, Bishop. I won’t.”

“I’m not asking you to let this go. I’m asking you to think more with your brain than with your heart. You need to be sure that going after Yovenko is worth the potential risks to you, to Kensley, and to everyone who works for you.”

“It is worth it!” King slammed his palm against the desk, the impact jarring up his wrist to his elbow. “I understand Malori’s pain far too much to just abandon everything and allow Yovenko to get away with what he did!”

Bishop stared him down but King refused to blink. Not until Bishop frowned and blinked first. “What do you mean?”

King debated lying, maybe even obfuscating a little, but there was no point.

He’d admitted his worst pain to Malori yesterday morning—had it only been yesterday?

A lifetime seemed to have passed since he’d opened that vein, and in some ways, it had been freeing.

He could admit those same things to a man who was his brother in every way except blood.

Although, they truly were brothers now, through the baby growing inside Kensley.

“I mean what I said.” King picked at the edge of his desk blotter. “There are things in Malori’s very-near past that are part of my distant past. From before you and I met.”

Bishop’s eyebrows arched into twin peaks, but he didn’t otherwise react.