Page 17 of The King's Boy

I was kind of partied out.

I had stuck around New York City longer than I had originally planned with the hopes that I would see King again. I had even hung out at the bar where we met a few times.

I hadn't seen him once and that was making me sad.

And that made me confused.

Our night together was supposed to be a onetime thing, no strings attached and no aching for something I could never have.

So, why did I ache? Why couldn't I stop thinking about a man I had no business thinking about? He wasn't even a normal man. He was a mob boss.

A. Mob. Boss.

I had to be insane.

Maybe I needed to go visit my Aunt Mabel. She'd knock some sense into my head and laugh while doing it. I'd say she was my favorite aunt, but she was my only aunt. As far as I knew, she was my only living relative after the death of my parents when I was a kid.

Man, I missed her.

Maybe it really was time to... I frowned, distracted from my thoughts by something flashing on the screen of my cell phone. I wasn't exactly sure what it was. A red light that seemed to jump around just a bit and it was coming from behind me.

I started to turn to see where it was coming from when the window beside me shattered. I dove to the floor as glass went everywhere. For just a moment, I was paralyzed by fear.

I couldn't move.

I couldn't think.

I couldn't breathe.

And then realization hit me harder than the floor I was lying on.

Someone was shooting at me!

I ignored the pain in my hands caused by the glass cutting into my skin as I got up and scramble across the floor to hide behind the barista bar.

When I turned my head and saw the barista standing there staring at me, I reached over and grabbed his arm, yanking him down beside me.

"What are you doing?" I shouted at him. "Someone is—"

Maybe I shouldn't say that. If I brought up the fact that someone was shooting at me, I'd have to report it to the police, and things could get nasty, especially if I mentioned King.

"Someone is what?" the barista asked.

Oh, damn.

"Someone could get hurt by all that shattered glass," I said instead, "especially if another window breaks."

The man's frown was cute, but somewhat oblivious. "Yeah, I don't know how that happened. I've never had one of the windows break before."

"Maybe a passing car tossed up a rock or something." It was a reasonable assumption, and a better one than someone shooting at me.

The young man gave me a dubious look like he thought I might be nuts. "You think a rock tossed from a passing car could break a window?"

I shrugged. "Anything is possible."

"I need to call my boss," the barista said as he stood up.

Yeah, you do that.