up and then they were kissing again.
He ended it but only so he could get whatever this shit was done and get back to his babies.
Knight rolled away, made sure the covers were over Anya and hit the bathroom.
In fifteen minutes he was dressed and had swung back by the bed for another lip touch.
He moved out of their room, down the hall, around the corner to the girls’ room.
He ducked in, looking at them sleeping in their bunkbeds in a room so girlie, if it hadn’t been him who had given them that, he might feel his cock shrink just being in its proximity.
There was a filmy canopy enveloping the bunkbeds. A thick cascading fall of silk flowers was the backdrop. And the room was full of fur, feathers, poofs, tassels, ruffles and crystals.
Knight did not give that first fuck he spoiled Kat and Kasha (and Anya).
He was going to do it to his dying breath.
He ducked out of their room and left their apartment, remembering what had happened when he’d suggested that they move from what had been his bachelor pad—even if it was a nice one, twenty-five hundred square feet, sunken living room, elegant master, study, TV room, fantastic kitchen, big balcony, views of the city—to a home so his daughters could have their own rooms.
The reaction from his babies to that suggestion had been volatile (particularly Kasha, their youngest, loudest and most stubborn—Kasha was his princess, his serene Kat was his little queen).
This was probably because, if they were in separate rooms, the girls could not stay awake late, talking, giggling, sometimes bickering, and all the time driving their parents crazy.
He’d given in.
If they changed their minds, he’d find something and build the perfect bedrooms for them there, however they wanted.
He rode the elevator down to the garage, got in his Maserati, drove to the club, parking in the back. He let himself in, moving through the large space the cleaners were now cleaning, down the back hall to the stairs up to his office.
When he arrived, he saw only Rhash was there.
“Talk,” Knight ordered, going to the Nespresso maker on the low cabinet at the side of the room.
“Five of Valenzuela’s girls got dead last night,” Rhash reported.
Knight looked from selecting his pod to his lieutenant.
“I’m sorry?” he asked quietly.
“Same MO, multiple ways of dying. All found in motel rooms. One got her head bashed in. Three got stuck, two through the heart, one through the jugular. One got her neck broke. All had been robbed of money and any valuables they had on them.”
Knight stood immobile, staring at Rhash.
Knight’s mother had been a prostitute.
She’d also purposefully gotten pregnant by a john for the sole reason of having a savior.
A protector.
A knight to keep her safe.
It did not take a psychologist to understand why Knight now not only ran a successful nightclub, he provided vetting and protection for a stable of call girls.
Some called him a pimp.
Knight Sebring didn’t give a fuck what anyone called him or thought of him.
But anyone small-minded, unobservant or uninformed enough to call him a pimp, he really did not give a fuck about.
If the women had to do it—and some of them did, some of them liked doing it—and they came to him, he kept them safe.
The end.
Valenzuela’s girls were not his.
But it was coded in his DNA to keep an eye on any woman (or man) who took that path in life, if they had to, or they chose to.
And if he heard they were not treated right, he stepped in.
If he heard they really weren’t treated right, he was fine with his interference coming ugly.
“They’re worried there might be more,” Rhash went on. “And it’s all preliminary, but I made a few calls, and it appears only one of them serviced her client before she was killed.”
Rhash paused, likely to assess Knight’s reaction.
He gave it a moment.
Then he stated, “They think it’s Chew Lannigan.”
“Get me a meet with Tack,” Knight growled.
“On it. Called him. He already knew. He’s got a meet with Valenzuela on Monday, you’re now invited.”
“Monday is not soon enough.”
“The meet was today. Not surprisingly, Valenzuela was also on the phone with Tack this morning delaying the meet. He’s got different priorities right now.”
“Tack share Valenzuela’s vibe?” Knight asked.
“He’s pissed.”
Knight turned to the coffeemaker, ordering, “I want our men blanketing Denver, looking for that fuck.”
“On that too. If they’re not mobile already, they’re getting that way.”
Rhash.
Good lieutenant.
Good man.
“Coordinate that with Chaos,” Knight directed.
Rhash nodded.
“Call them