Cross (Dark Kingdom, #4) — Chapter no 18

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

ALEXA

CROSS IS SLEEPING next to me in his bed, and I’ve got my cell out. It’s down to three percent, but I need to know what Mitch meant about the fire and his dad.

I go to google his name and realize that I don’t know it. I’ve only ever heard people call him Cross. So I type that in.

Kingdom pops up, along with the other Kings. Cross is the third article down. I click on it.

It shows pictures of him playing baseball in high school and college. It shows a picture of Kingdom and Tit for Tat. Then I see an article titled “Oak Grove.” I click on it, and it’s a church.

It’s on fire. A once gorgeous white structure is up in flames. The picture is taken from the front. Fire trucks are to the right, lining the side street.

I enlarge it. Red and orange flames engulf the church, lighting up the dark night.

Scrolling down, it says Father James was killed in the fire.

I look over the top of my cell at Cross as he moves, rolling onto his other side. My eyes go back to my phone. His wife and son were thankfully not there at the time of the fire. It doesn’t say how it started, just that it was accidental.

I clicked on the next article. Father James—beloved priest and member of the Three Wisemen—was a loving father and doting husband. Survived by wife, Genevieve James, and son, Hoyte James.

Hoyte? Cross fits him better. I’m surprised he doesn’t have a biblical name due to his father and religious background.

A passerby called 911 a little after two in the morning when they saw the church up in flames. The fire department arrived and entered the building.

They retrieved the body of Father James, who was found in his office. The cause of the fire is still unknown, but no foul play was suspected.

“What are you doing?” Cross asks through a yawn.

“Nothing!” I answer, slapping my phone facedown on the sheets so he can’t see it. It was dying fast anyway.

He sits up and runs a hand down his unshaven face, yawning again.

“What time is it?”

“Late,” I offer because I have no clue, and I’m not going to pick up my cell to look since I didn’t exit out of the article I was reading.

He throws the covers off and gets out of his bed, heading toward his adjoining bathroom. I quickly pick up my cell, exit out of the news article, and look at the time. Placing it on the nightstand, I get up too and walk into the bathroom. He’s standing at his sink, washing his hands in nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs.

I walk up behind him and look over his back. I’ve never had the chance to really look at his tattoo. It’s a cross—it starts at the base of his neck and runs all the way down, the end dipped inside of his boxers. It spans from shoulder to shoulder. It’s outlined in black ink. Looks like any other cross, but it’s what’s around it that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Fire. His entire back is covered in red, yellow, and orange flames. As if the cross is burning. It reminds me of the cross that stood high on the spire of the church his father was found dead in.

Stepping closer to it, I squint to get a better look at it. Like the fine print you should always read before you sign something, there’s a story here. Or maybe it’s the fact of what Mitch said to me and the article. But I see something there. The outline of the cross looks to be running. As if the heat of the flames is melting it down. But that’s not what’s really catching my attention. It’s the scars that the tattoo hides. I spot one, two, three. They run up and down his spine.

Reaching out, I place my hand on his back to touch one, but he quickly spins around and grabs my wrist.

I jump and try to take a step back, but he doesn’t let go. “Cross …” My words die off as I get a look at him. His hard and muscular body is tense.

His breathing has picked up, and his pretty green eyes are drilling holes into mine.

My heart pounds in my chest, trying to think of what to say. What to ask.

“I …” The ringing of his cell phone in his room cuts off whatever bullshit I was about to come up with.

Letting go of me, I rub my wrists as he walks out of the bathroom to go get it. I lean my head back and close my eyes, letting out a long breath.

You’re being paranoid.

This is what every girl does when she starts falling for a guy— overanalyzes everything.

I’m not going to let Mitch get to me. What Cross and I have is a good thing. We sleep together yet still have our own lives. We’re not dating.

We’re not living together. Just fucking. And now, he’s my employer.

I read the article about his dad, and it was clearly an accident. As for the scars? That doesn’t mean anything. Hell, I have them on my knees from when I wrecked my bike. The scars don’t mean they have anything to do with the church. The fire. The tattoos … “Get dressed,” he orders, making me jump when he comes back into the bathroom. Walking past me, he marches toward his closet.

“Where are we going?” It’s like three in the morning.

Coming to a stop, he turns around and lets out a long sigh. His eyes no longer angry. They almost look sad. A darker green. “To Lucky’s. There’s been an incident.”

CROSS

I PARK MY car behind Oak Grove and enter through the back door. “Dad?” I call out. He had sent me a message earlier while I was at baseball practice to meet him here. A quick look at my watch shows it’s almost midnight.

“Dad?” I yell this time.

No answer.

Making my way down the hallway, I open the door on my right and step into his office.

“Son,” he says, looking up at me from behind his desk. My mother kneels on the floor to the right of it. Her palms on her thighs, head down. Mr. Reed —Bones and Grave’s dad—lounges on the couch.

“Mom?” I go to walk over to her, but my father stands and sidesteps his

desk, blocking my view of her.

“I called you here …”

“What in the fuck are you doing?” I demand, placing my hands on his shoulders to move him, but he doesn’t budge. “Mom?” I call out to her, but

she stays silent.

“I brought you here to repent,” he states.

“Fuck that shit!” I’ve grown to where I need the pain. His punishment to me is my acceptance to his world. But why is my mother here? I can hear her softly crying.

“Don’t talk to me that way!” he shouts, shoving me backward.

“Mom!” I bark at her, and she flinches. “What the hell are you doing?

Get up!”

She stays still, and my father throws his head back, laughing. “She knows her place, son. Do you need a reminder of yours?” Before I can respond, he reaches out and wraps a hand around my throat. He pushes me backward through the office, taking away my air and practically lifting my feet off the floor. He knocks my back into the door, throwing it open in the process. He drags me down the rest of the hallway and into the chapel with Mr. Reed behind us. He then shoves me forward, making me trip and fall over a pew.

With a quick look around, I see that the candles are already lit, and he starts undoing his cuff links and then sliding his sleeves up his forearm.

“What in the fuck are you doing with Mom?” I demand. I’ve never seen her like that before. I mean, I’m twenty-one. I’m not a virgin. I know my father fucks around on her, but I don’t think they’re into BDSM shit and stuff like that. So, why was she kneeling on his office floor as if she’s a submissive? Does he treat her the way he treats me? Worse?

“What I do with your mother is none of your business,” he states and removes the cross from around his neck. He takes a candle and heats up the precious metal that he cherishes so much.

I fist my hands. “I will not bow down to you.” Not today. I will not kneel for him to burn me. Not until I know what is going on. This is different than all the other times. Why now? Why her? What has happened that he wanted me to see that?

He looks up at me, and a bone-chilling smile spreads across his face.

“Genevieve,” he calls out.

Seconds later, my mother comes walking into the chapel. Tears run down her face, and I see that her right eye is swollen. He hit her.

“Come here, Gen,” he calls her, and like a dog, she tucks her tail and slowly walks over to him.

“Mom.” I step forward. “You don’t have to do this.”

She says nothing and doesn’t even look my way. Once she gets close to him, he grabs her by the hair, and she cries out. He grips the back of her neck and shoves her facedown onto the floor that I’ve kneeled at so many times before. Kneeling beside her, he pins her down.

“Come over here, Cross. It’s time.”

“No,” I state. I will not do whatever sick shit he’s wanting from me.

“You will do this!” he growls. “It’s time your mother pays for her sins.”

He’s lost his goddamn mind. “I won’t do it.”

Mr. Reed steps toward me, and I take a step back. “Leave him be.” My father huffs. “I’ll do it myself.” While he holds her down with one hand, he holds up the cross to a candle, heating it up and then pressing it to her

back.

She screams, thrashing against him.

I go to run over and rip him off, but Mr. Reed holds me back.

She sobs as he does it again. And again. Scarring her back with crosses to match mine. Once he decides he’s done, he stands, and she falls to her side crying.

“Take her home,” he orders Mr. Reed. “I’ll finish this later.”

Finish? What else is he going to do to her?

He lets go of me, and I stay where I am, not wanting to make it worse for my mother. “You piece of shit,” I say through gritted teeth once they are gone. “How long have you been doing this to her?”

“Whenever she needs a reminder,” he answers ominously.

“I won’t allow you to do this,” I growl.

He laughs at that. “What are you going to do to stop me?” Arching a brow, he lifts the cross and begins to heat it up again.

I charge him.

Alexa gets my attention, sitting in my passenger seat, legs bouncing up and down while she bites on her fingernails. I’ve tried to avoid letting her see my back. The tattoos I’ve gotten over the years cover up most of my past, but she saw them. She touched them. I tried not to freak out, but I couldn’t help it. The way it felt when she touched them had memories rushing back. Ones I buried long ago.

She sits up straighter and gasps as I pull up to her bar. Firetrucks surround it, and black smoke rolls from what’s left of the burning structure.

Stopping my car, she jumps out before I can even say anything to her.

I get out and walk over to her as she stands there crying with her hands to her face. I got the call that a 911 call was made and that it was on fire. I have an idea who did it and why, but I just need a way to prove it.

Reaching my arm out, I wrap it around her shoulders, and she turns into me, her hands gripping my shirt. “It’s going to be okay,” I tell her.

It’ll be better than ever.

_______________

WE ALL SIT up in our Royal Suite. Well, everyone except for Grave and April. They are still away.

Titan stands at the kitchen island. Bones stands over by the floor-to- ceiling windows while Jasmine and Alexa sit on the couch.

“What are we doing here?” Alexa asks. “Shouldn’t we be at the police station?”

“That’s not needed,” I inform her. I’ve got something better than the

police.

“Then what—?”

Her voice is interrupted when there’s a knock on the door. I walk over and answer it.

“Well, maybe you should just put me on a monthly salary.” The guy winks at me as he enters.

“Seems that would be best, Jeffrey,” I agree, closing the door behind him.

He goes to the center of the room and removes his shirt up and over his head and undoes his jeans.

“Uh …” Alexa scoots farther back in the couch cushion as the guy gets down to his boxers.

Once done, he spins around in a circle with his arms out wide. I nod my approval. And he gives me a “when are we going to stop doing this” look.

Never is the only answer. We were raised not to trust anyone. A person can have your back a million times, but someone could get to them to backstab you once. I’ll never give anyone that kind of trust. Especially someone who can be bought.

“It was arson,” he states, bending down to pick up his shirt.

“What?” Alexa jumps to her feet. “Lucky’s? Are you saying someone set it on fire?’ “Yeah,” he says, buttoning his shirt and then pulling his pants on.

“How do you know?” she asks, moving her head back and forth to look from me to him.

“I know what to look for,” he answers vaguely. “And they weren’t even smart. The bar area was covered in an accelerant and lit by a match.”

She falls back down onto the couch.

“Who all has a key?” he asks her. “There was no sign of forced entry.”

“Me and my brother,” she answers, bowing her head.

“And me,” Jasmine speaks. “Alexa just gave me one yesterday.”

“I know you didn’t do this.” She waves her off.

“You think your brother did?” Jasmine goes on.

“No.” She shakes her head. “Maybe he lost his key.”

“Or maybe he gave it to someone,” I offer.

Everyone’s head snaps up in my direction.

“He’s framing you.” Bones is the one who speaks to me, mimicking my thoughts.

“Who?” Alexa demands. “And why would they frame you by catching my bar on fire?”

“Because this is what I do,” I answer, flipping my Zippo open and closed.

Her eyes widen at my honesty. “I don’t understand,” she mumbles.

That’s because you don’t know me. Not the real me. I walk over to the side of the couch and pick up my duffel bag. Dropping it onto the coffee table, I look at Jeffrey. “It’s all there.”

He nods. “As always, it’s nice doing business with you Kings.” He picks up the bag, and Titan helps him out the door.