Played: Manhattan Ruthless - 51

Chapter

Fifty

“ M ase?” King’s raspy voice rouses me from the fitful slumber I fell into. I must have watched him sleep for hours before I dozed off myself.

His hand grasps for mine, and I link our fingers together. “I’m here, mi rey. You need anything? Water?” I check the clock on the nightstand and see it’s a little after six a.m. “You can’t have any pain meds until eight.”

He rolls onto his side. “I don’t need anything. I’m sorry I woke you.”

I rest my palm on his cheek, and I’m relieved to feel his skin soft and warm. I’ll never forget the ice-cold waxy feel of it for as long as I live. “I’m glad you woke me.”

He smiles faintly. “We never got to talk.”

“We can talk later. Rest.”

“I’d rather talk now.” The sadness in his tone makes anxiety spike in my chest. Is this the part where he tells me he can’t do this anymore?

I keep my tone even. “Okay. What shall we talk about?”

“I’m sorry about what my father did to you,” he says.

Well, that’s better than what I expected, but … “That’s not your apology to make, King. You didn’t know. I am sorry I never told you though. I didn’t want it to change the way you saw me,” I admit.

“I can understand that, but it truly doesn’t, baby. Does it change the way you see me?” His voice is so quiet and small—nothing at all like him. A fresh wave of hatred for his parents hits me. Whatever they did to make him doubt his worth is one more reason they deserve whatever is coming for them.

“No,” I answer. “Not even a little.”

His green eyes fill with tears. “Thank you for coming for me. Seems like I did need rescuing after all, huh?”

I press a kiss on his lips. “I will always come rescue you, mi rey. I’ll be there whenever you need me to be, and you never have to thank me for it.”

He turns his head and kisses the palm of my hand. “I told them I was gay. Then I told them that I was in love with you.”

“That was really fucking brave. I’m proud of you.”

He snorts. “Shouldn’t have to be brave to tell your own parents who you really are. They could have been happy that I found someone I wanted to spend my life with. Instead …” A tear runs down his cheek, and I swipe it away with my thumb.

“You want to tell me what happened?”

He nods, and I listen while he tells me the hateful things his parents said. His mother’s indifference. His father’s anger. How he discovered they were broke and desperate for money and the reason why.

“Jesus fucking Christ, King. That’s unthinkable. What the hell are you going to do?”

“I’m not sure yet. I don’t know if I trust the cops after what happened when Cassidy disappeared, but I do know a detective. He’s as decent as they come. I think if I give him the evidence …” He pauses. “Alternatively, I could tell Curtis Jones what happened and let him handle it whatever way he wants to.”

I trace my fingers over the gash on his head. I’d happily kill Kyngston Worthington III myself, but I’m sure life in prison is the more painful option for him in the long run. “Whatever you decide, I’ll support you.”

“Thanks.”

“How’d you end up in the basement?”

He rubs the back of his head. “My father and I were arguing, and I heard my mother behind us … Then there was this pain. Everything went black. My mother must have knocked me out with something. When I came around, I was in the basement. That’s where I heard them talking about what happened to Cassidy, how they were worried about losing the house.”

Emmeline Worthington is now on my list of people that need to rot. In hell or in jail—either will do.

King shivers. “I honestly thought I might actually die down there this time. I mean, it would have made sense. Getting me out the of way would have made them next in line for Grampa’s money. I heard my father ask her if she expected him to murder me.”

I hate that he thought for a second he was going to die all alone in that basement. I can barely comprehend that his own parents would do that to him. If I have anything to do with it, he’ll never feel alone again a single day in his life. “You think that’s what their plan was?”

He nods, and more tears fall. I wipe them away. “When we were in the car, you said you’d done this plenty. You’ve had hypothermia before?”

“Lots of times. When I was a kid, it was how …” He swallows. “When my father found out I liked boys, he told me it was vile and unnatural and that I had a demon inside me.”

Rage and despair swell in my chest, but I keep my lips pressed together and my hand on his cheek, letting him talk.

“I was about twelve that first time. They used to say the ice water would ‘cleanse’ me. It would happen once every few months, just to make sure I didn’t ‘stray from the right path.’”

“Holy fuck, King. I had no idea.”

“Nobody did. I was a master at hiding who I really was. From my parents and the rest of the world.” His lips curve slightly. “Everyone except you.”

His reaction to us being caught by his father makes so much more sense to me now. He must have been dying inside, and he’s been carrying this pain around for years. My heart breaks into a million pieces for everything he went through at his parents’ hands, not only as a kid but yesterday too. That anyone could treat their own child like that is beyond comprehension. It takes every ounce of willpower I possess not to jump out of bed and drive back to that house and burn it down with his parents inside. In fact, one quick call and I could make it happen. Right here from the safety of this penthouse.

Instead, I do the only thing he needs me to do—I listen.

He looks so peaceful sleeping. Serene. Unburdening himself of all the fucked-up shit he’s carried around with him for most of his life was good for him. No matter how hard it was for him to say and how fucking devastating it was to listen to, he needed to release all that poison.

Before I fell asleep watching over King last night, I called Nathan and told him what happened, leaving out the history between King’s father and me, and it took all my powers of persuasion to talk him out of calling the cops. He was appeased only by the confirmation that King and I were safe. And that we’d talk everything through in the morning.

Looking at King’s face now, you’d never know he was almost killed by his psychopathic parents yesterday. When I think about how close I came to losing him, I feel like I can’t breathe. There’s no way I’d survive losing him a second time. We’ve come so far in a few short months, and I know with every fiber of my being that nothing will ever come between us again. He’s it for me. All my years of fucking around with other guys and sticking to casual flings had nothing to do with not wanting commitment and everything to do with only wanting him.

My cell vibrates with a text from Mad, telling me that he and the rest of my brothers are on their way with breakfast. I should have known they’d arrive en masse after I agreed to Nathan’s demand that he be allowed to come over first thing this morning. Honestly, I’m surprised they let the sun get all the way up first.

My stomach growls, and I contemplate waking King, but he needs as much rest as he can get. I manage to tear myself away from him, content that he’ll be safe in here. I would die before I let his father anywhere near this place.

Fifteen minutes later, I’m sitting at the table, surrounded by some of the finest freshly roasted Colombian coffee I’ve ever tasted in my life from the vegan café Maddox works at, a tray overflowing with pastries, pancakes, and bacon—from a different café, obviously—a basket of fruit, and six different kinds of juice.

“You guys really went all out,” I say around a large bite of cherry Danish.

Elijah grins. “Breakfast of champions.”

Nathan, sitting next to me, places his hand on my shoulder. “You okay?”

I nod. Yesterday was possibly the most unbelievable day of my entire life, but I am okay. Better than, in fact. I feel lighter than I have in years. “Thanks for coming through for me.”

His eyes narrow. “Always.”

“And how is King doing?” Elijah asks.

Before I can answer, the man himself walks out of the bedroom wearing only a pair of my sweats. My eyes are drawn to the healing wound on his temple. His parents are lucky to be alive. For now.

King scrubs a hand across his head and blinks at all of us. “Sorry, am I interrupting?”

Goddammit, even beat up he’s sexy as hell and no less adorable. “No.” I pull out the chair next to me and indicate he should sit.

Maddox grabs him a plate and some silverware and passes it over. “We brought breakfast. What’ll it be?”

“Shouldn’t you guys be at work?” King asks, looking around the table. “It’s after ten.”

“Work can wait,” Drake says.

“Yeah, this is more important,” Maddox adds.

King rubs his eyes and shakes his head. “Breakfast is more important?”

Nathan takes a huge bite of a bacon roll, licks a little grease from his lip, and says, “No. Checking in on you and Mase is though.”

“How are you doing, buddy?” Drake asks.

King eyes my brothers with what looks a lot like suspicion. Fuck. Is this too much for him after everything that happened? I know they’re a lot, but they’re my brothers. And this is how James men show our support. We’re a big part of each other’s lives. Hell, it’s a lucky break that the wives and kid didn’t tag along too. Not to mention Pop, who would be fussing over me and King and doing his damnedest to persuade us to get checked out at the hospital.

King spears a pancake with a fork and plonks it on his plate. “I’m okay, I guess. This is interesting. Kinda strange to wake up and have you all here eating a breakfast that would feed a platoon of soldiers.” He scrubs a hand over his stubble. “Strange, but nice.” He stuffs half the pancake into mouth, chews, and swallows before adding, “I could get used to it.”

Elijah clears his throat, and it makes us all look toward where he sits at the head of the table. “Now that we’re all fed, can we discuss the elephant in the room? What the fuck happened, and who do we need to kill?” Yup. There’s that CEO energy we know and love.