Never His Girl (Kings of Cypress Prep #2) - Rachel Jonas Page 0,21

all day,” he adds. “Last thing anyone in the Riley family needs is another Golden with his damn hands around their throat.”

There’s a sudden heaviness in my gut when he says that. Like a stone suddenly fell to the bottom of it.

“Wait. What’d you just say? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

The distance between him and us grows and he’s taking whatever info he has with him.

Sterling’s grip tightens again but it only makes me struggle against him harder. He doesn’t understand what’s fueling the sudden resurgence of strength and there’s no time to explain. Getting to Ricky has nothing to do with wanting to kick his ass. I need to know what he knows.

Because he definitely knows something.

“Let me go! I’m cool! I just—”

Shouting this only makes me seem even more unstable, so Dane turns to help when Sterling starts to lose his grasp. By the time I do finally get free, it’s too late. There’s no point running after Ricky now because he’s got his helmet on and his bike’s roaring out of the parking lot.

“Damn it!” I kick my bag a few feet and glance in the direction where my only chance at answers disappears.

That statement meant something. More than Ricky let on, and I know he’s the key to me understanding just what the hell is going on around here.

Does he know about the connection between my dad and Southside?

Or … is there something more?

Something I hadn’t even considered before now?

One thing’s for damn sure, my chances of figuring it out just rode off on a motorcycle, and odds are I won’t find him again until he wants to be found.

Just fucking perfect.

@QweenPandora: Whoa! Did anyone catch that fight? I won’t name names, because SOME of us have ourselves deep enough in hot water as it is, thanks to my last exposé.

#SorryNotSorry

But let’s just say two run-ins in one day, both with guys connected to the object of his obsession, makes a certain King look a little unstable, folks.

Could he be spiraling?

In regret? Jealousy? Or is it both?

If you ask me, someone’s having a hard time facing the music since losing his girl. But, according to the masses, these wounds are self-inflicted.

Right?

Unless, of course … that’s not entirely true.

We’ll have to stay tuned to see where the cookie crumbs lead. And you all know I’ll be the first to tell you more as soon as there’s more to tell ;)

Later, Peeps.

—P

Chapter 7

WEST

A bag of ice melts against my knuckles, per my mother’s request. While she’s concerned about bruising and swelling, I don’t give a fuck. My mind’s on the fight, on what Ricky said afterward.

The part about no one else in Blue’s family needing another Golden with his hands around their throat.

I’ve gone over it a million times, gone over what he could’ve meant, and I keep coming up empty. He can only be talking about Vin, but beyond that, I’m lost.

Since making it home a few hours ago, I’ve thought several times about driving up and down every street of South Cypress, looking for Ricky, asking around until I find someone who knows him. But not knowing his last name makes him a ghost. There’s also the fact that I’m pretty sure no one on that side of town would give up info on him even if they had it.

But damn … he knows something.

Much more than I do.

“All right, jackass. No more side-stepping. No more being dodgy and shit,” Dane asserts. “Sit your ass down and start talking, because neither one of us is leaving until you tell us what the hell is going on.”

These are the first words spoken as he and Sterling barge in and lock the door behind them, doing some kind of bad cop/bad cop routine. Both stand posted at the entrance of my bedroom, arms folded over their chests.

Mom tried the same thing after the doorman called ahead to tell her I was on my way up and had clearly been in a fight. Difference is, she’s not nearly as persistent as these two dicks. They’re done letting me get by without giving straight answers.

Which is why I know I won’t be able to wait them out like I’d done with her.

Neither wavers as they stare me down. In fact, the longer I make them wait, they glare harder.

All my life, I’ve shielded them from certain realities. Not because they can’t handle shit, but because why the fuck would I put Vin’s BS in their heads? Given