NERO: Chapter 6

I tip my head back, inhaling the stormy air as the phone rings.

By the fourth ring, I’m clenching my jaw.

Another two rings and I’m thoroughly annoyed when he finally picks up.

“Yeah?” King’s voice is surly. No surprise there.

“I need a favor.” Then I think about it. “Two, actually.”

He scoffs, “What makes you think I’d give you one fucking favor, let alone two?”

“Fuck you,” I tell him without heat. “Come pick me up.”

“Seriously? Now?” Another sound floats through the line, a woman’s voice.

“Yeah, now. Tell your girlfriend it’s time to go.”

“She’s not my fucking girlfriend,” he snaps.

“She know that?” I shouldn’t goad him when I need something. I just can’t help it, he’s fun to fuck with.

“She knows.” His tone is dark but I don’t feel bad about pushing him.

There’s some muffled talking then the sound of a door slamming.

“God, you’re a prick,” he sighs.

I smile into the dark. “You’re one to talk.”

He lets out a snort before he groans, and I hear furniture creaking.

“Noises like that,” I tsk. “Maybe it’s time for you to retire.”

“I’m not that much older than you,” King grunts.

“Not much?” I question, thinking that four years in this life is quite a bit.

“Like I said. A fucking prick. No wonder you have no one else to call for favors. Wait––” I can picture him tossing his hands up. “Why you callin’ me to pick your ass up when you have a literal legion of men under your command?”

Honestly, I’m surprised it’s taken him this long to ask. “Because I don’t want my men anywhere near here.”

“Huh.” There’s a beat of silence. “Consider me curious enough to put up with your shit for another night. Where are you?”

I think of an intersection a few blocks away that’ll be a good place for a quick pick-up, and give him the directions.

“Got it,” King replies and hangs up.

He’s the only one that can get away with talking to me the way he does, but that’s because we’re equals. He runs the money. I run the men. And the things the men do.

Fifteen minutes later I’m climbing into the passenger side of King’s blacked-out SUV. The ultra-dark tinted windows and windshield keeping any eyes or cameras from catching us together.

It’s no secret that King and I know each other. Though as far as common knowledge goes, that’s all that’s between us. A passing acquaintance. We move in the same upper circles of society, so it’s expected.

In actuality, we go back. Way back. To a fucked up youth and an even more fucked up adulthood. It started in a bloodbath, and ended with us forming The Alliance.

“Favor one complete,” King says, pulling away from the curb and into the sparse traffic. “What’s favor two?”

I type out a quick message then hit send. “Favor two was just texted to you.”

With one hand on the wheel, King lifts his phone and glances at the text.

“Who is she?” He looks back down. “And who’s Arthur?”

“She’s no one.” I turn my attention out the window. “But he’s a dead man.”