Page 4 of The King's Boy

"Yeah, yeah, I get it." Spencer's eyes rolled, the motion made dramatic by his long eyelashes. "Call you if I think of anything concerning Darren."

"Yes."

"Is your name really King?"

I knew where this was going and I almost sighed. "It is."

"That is so cool," Spencer said, which surprised me. I was usually teased about my name, sometimes even bullied. Most of that had stopped when I grew to be nearly six and a half feet tall and started carrying a gun, but it still happened on occasion when people got stupid.

"I'd love to be called Queen."

Oh, I was pretty sure he already was. I don't think I had ever met anyone quite so flamboyant in my life, and I wasn't just talking about the bright pink nail polish. This guy practically shined.

He kind of reminded me of a flamingo.

"Anyone ever call you your highness?"

I arched an eyebrow at him, feeling a bit indignant. "No one that lived."

The tip of Spencer's tongue slid out between his lips as he giggled. "Well, if you need help polishing your scepter"—Spencer smirked as his eyes dropped to my crotch—"give me a call."

That was not going to happen...no matter how intriguing it sounded.

Chapter Two

~ Spencer ~

I, Spencer Murray, fabulous queen of the North, East, South, and West, smart ass extraordinaire, and the twinkiest twink to ever twink...was bored out of my cotton-picking mind.

I had agreed to come out with some friends and spend the night drinking and dancing simply because I was bored, but actually being here was not helping. This was a great club as clubs went, but once you've been to pretty much every club from the west coast to the east coast, they started to lose their appeal.

The clubs in Utah?

No, just no.

I took a big gulp of my drink. I don't remember quite what it was called, but it tasted good. It was blue and pieces of pineapple and cherries floated around in the ice. It had a drink umbrella stabbed into a piece of pineapple. I was drinking it with a pretty pink bendy straw. Was there any other way to drink something like this?

This was my third blue fruity drink.

I sighed as I pulled out my phone and started skimming through my social media. I answered a few posts, liked or disliked a few others. Considering this was a Saturday night in the town that never sleeps, it seemed as if a lot of people were sleeping.

There was nothing going on.

I slid my phone back into my pocket as I wondered if it was time to move on to a new city. I hadn't been down south in awhile. Maybe Charleston or Atlanta?

I glanced up to see if I could spot any of my friends. I didn't, but I saw someone much more interesting and much more stunning. The aura of danger that seemed to linger around him as he strode across the floor as if he owned the place only made him sexier in my book.

Yes, I knew it was weird.

So what?

In truth, Angus King was the only reason I was still in New York. I had been hoping he would call every day of the last two weeks. I wasn't deterred because he hadn't. The man was a mob boss. I am sure he was busy.

He still should have called. I hadn't been subtle with my flirting. Maybe the man needed to be hit upside the head by a clue-by-four.

I watched King and another man walk toward a small sitting area overlooking the dance floor below. I recognized the other man from when they had interrogated me, but I don't remember if he gave me a name or not. I didn't really care. I wasn't interested in him.

King was much sexier in my book.