Billion Dollar Wolves: Boxset Bks 1-5 Page 2

  Right now Jason didn’t want to think about their mother. “I’m not going back in there,” Jason told Zane. “I’m not going anywhere near that woman. I don’t want to be part of her media circus. You know that’s what she’s doing, Zane! You know it. She’s in there acting like some kind of martyr and you guys are just letting her. It’s disgusting.”

  “I get it,” Zane said with a shake of his head. “Fine. I’ll tell everyone you were feeling overcome with emotion and had to go home.”

  “You’re a dick.” Jason pressed his lips into a tight line to keep himself from biting his brother right in the face. Maybe if Jason ripped Zane’s nose off, his brother would be less inclined to be so high and mighty. “It’s great to know I can’t even count on you for support.”

  Zane held up his hands as he turned to walk back toward the doors that would take him to the chapel. “It’s your funeral,” Zane called over his shoulder. “If you know what I mean.”

  Yeah. Jason totally knew what Zane meant. Jason could choose to play his mother’s games or he could choose to deal with the consequences. Unfortunately for Jason, the consequences of pissing off Mother were possibly fatal.

  Chapter Two

  Skye Kincaid pressed her back to the wall and leaned as far around the corner as she dared. Two of the five King brothers were about ten yards away with their heads together discussing something that was obviously very important. It had to be important. Right? They’d left their father’s funeral because they just had to discuss this! Skye was convinced that this was the moment she’d been waiting for. She wanted a story. A big one. This was it!

  Her heart was hammering against her ribs. It made her feel almost breathless. Her breathing was ragged. Soon enough they would be able to hear her even from here. That was pathetic. What kind of reporter got so scared when she was on the verge of cracking a huge story and completely screwed things up because she could not handle being quiet during surveillance? It would be an epic fail.

  Pushing her pale red hair behind her ears, Skye wondered if she should have brought some sort of disguise. Maybe she could have pretended to be a funeral home employee. Except that was the problem with having red hair and big green eyes. You didn’t really fit into the background anywhere except an Irish dance.

  Wait. What had the older brother said to the younger one? It’s your funeral? What did that mean? Why would one brother say that to another one at their own father’s funeral? What was really going on with this family? A hunting accident? Really? The guy had been shot and then dragged back to his barn and the wife had been conveniently out of town. Now she was in charge of the family’s billion dollar estate. When in doubt look at the wife first. That was generally the rule. Right?

  Footsteps headed Skye’s way. She froze. There was absolutely nowhere to hide here. Nowhere! She cast about wildly for something—anything—to make it look like she hadn’t been spying on the brothers. The hallway widened right at the corner where it opened into a little conversation area that was right between two of the chapels. There were a few chairs gathered together around a low coffee table. Someone had left a paper cup of something on the table.

  There was no other option. Skye bolted toward the conversation area and sat down. She pulled out her phone and began to scroll through something on the screen as though she were checking messages or doing something else that had nothing to do with Zane and Jason King’s conversation.

  The footsteps got heavier and heavier. Skye could not help but notice that Zane King moved as though he weighed about as much as a pro wrestler. She did not look up. It wasn’t her business. It wasn’t her business. It wasn’t… Except that he had stopped right behind her chair and was looking over her shoulder.

  How rude! Thank God she had actually pulled up her email app to look busy. Turning around she swung her hair over her shoulder and glared up at him. “Can I help you with something?”

  “I was just wondering why you were out here instead of in there trying to get as many pictures of my family for the society pages.” Zane’s tone was less than complimentary. In fact, he sounded both snide and derisive all at the same time.

  Skye set her jaw and narrowed her gaze at the man. He was so tall that he made Skye feel like a midget. Zane had to be at least six and a half feet or something close. His hair was a sandy reddish-blond color and his complexion was tanned. He looked like a healthy Texan male in his boots and classic western suit. Strike that. He looked like an average rich Texan male. So what? He was an ass. He was rich and good looking, but that didn’t matter when he had the personality of a snake.

  “Wow,” Skye said drily. She let one corner of her mouth curve upward in a sarcastic smile. “You’re just one piece of work, aren’t you? What a prize. And you know, your mother certainly doesn’t seem to mind the photo ops and stories in the society pages. In fact, who do you think called my paper and requested that the Star send a reporter to cover the social event of the season?”

  Zane didn’t respond to that barb. But it was exactly what Skye had suspected. Zane and probably his brothers had no freaking clue that their mother was about the worst publicity hound on Dallas’s social scene. Maybe this was the first step in shaking the Kings out of their tree. Maybe this would be the moment that Skye finally got her big story. The story that would launch her journalism career from the society fluff to the real stuff.

  “Whatever,” Zane snorted. Then he walked away.

  What? He walked away? Why? How could he just walk away? How could he not care about what she had just told him? Didn’t he have any response or any comments? How could the man be silent?

  Skye stared after Zane King and muttered something very uncomplimentary. She was more than a little surprised when she heard a laugh coming from behind her. Whipping around in her chair, she searched the small area for a third person and wanted to kick herself when she spotted Jason King standing by the narrow hallway that led to the administrative offices.

  “You know it’s really rude to just eavesdrop on conversations and not make a peep,” Skye told him irritably.

  Oh, why did he have to be so good looking? If Zane King was hot, then Jason was one of those people who made your brain fog over so fiercely that you could not begin to think straight. Six feet tall, dark eyes, dark complexion, and that wavy dark hair that made him look like he only needed a gold hoop in his ear to be a pirate out looking for booty down in the Caribbean.

  He pushed off the wall and sauntered in her direction. “Oh really? I’m the one who was eavesdropping? Or should I suggest that you were talking about yourself since we both know you were standing at the corner trying to listen to me and my brother have our little sibling spat.”

  Uh. What was she supposed to say now? How awkward. Skye swallowed. Bluff. She had to bluff. There was really nothing else for it at the moment. It wasn’t like she could say, oh sure, you’re right. I was totally eavesdropping. And by the way, what did your brother mean when he said your funeral? Was he alluding to the fact that everyone knows your dad was murdered?

  “Ahem,” Skye began. Dammit! She sounded completely wishy-washy now. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She held up her phone. “I had to check my email to see what I’m supposed to run and cover next. You know. My life full of weddings and sweet sixteen parties, garden club meetings, and other events that the residents of Dallas can’t live without.”

  He did not comment. What did that mean? Was he laughing at her? Was he irritated with her? Why did she care? Ugh! Skye forced herself to stand up. She smoothed the skirt of her plain black tank dress and wiggled her toes in her heels. Funerals in the middle of summer were hell on earth in Dallas, but this was September and really it wasn’t any better. Only perhaps a bit more tolerable on the heat scale.

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” Skye said stiffly. Then she walked away. One foot in front of the other and why did it feel like he was staring at her the whole time?

  She had made it all the way to the opposite
end of the conversation room and almost all the way into the next hall before Jason called after her. “You don’t sound very excited about the social calendar that provides you with a job. Why is that? Why would a society writer not want to hit every single event in hopes of getting the scoop for her paper?”

  “Maybe because she recognizes that this stuff is stupid.” Skye shook her head. “If you’ll excuse me?”

  “So then you were eavesdropping on me and my brother for what?” Jason called after her. “Because you were hoping that the two of us would somehow provide you with something exciting to write about? Like we were going to be your next big story? King brothers commit murder at father’s funeral?”

  Skye exhaled. He was kind of exasperating, but he was also sort of amusing in his own way. The guy had a knack for driving right to the heart of something without actually doing so. He sounded flippant, and yet completely serious. How was that even possible?

  “Okay,” Skye began in what she hoped was a calm and reasonable tone of voice. “Let’s say that you and your brother killed each other. Would that really go on the society page?”

  “Depends on who you ask.” He was sauntering closer again. She tried not to be so distracted by the way he walked. His black slacks and black dress shirt really intensified the whole bad boy thing he had going on. “If you talk to my mother she would most definitely want it to hit the society page as opposed to say—the front page—where the nasty news goes.”

  “Nasty news?” Skye frowned. Reaching up she tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear. “What are you talking about? Real news? You mean that your mother would never want her family featured in the real news? She just wants to dominate the society pages?”

  He gave a hard nod. “That’s what I’m saying. So when I kill my brother, just make sure you put it in your column and my mother will be happy.”

  That was an interesting comment. In fact, it was kind of flippant considering they were literally standing outside his father’s funeral. What kind of son talked about murdering his brother at his father’s funeral? Was he that unfeeling? Or was this a bit more?

  “You know,” Skye said as she tried to decide exactly the best way to wade into this situation. She wanted more information. That was for sure. So there was no way in hell she was just going to let this go. “Most people would not joke about murdering another family member when they’re mourning the first one.”

  “Most families aren’t like mine.” The reply wasn’t nearly as informative as she had hoped.

  But really, what had Skye wanted? Did she honestly expect Jason King to fling himself at her and start weeping while he told her all about his sad childhood and how his family was mean to him or something equally strange? That would have really blown her mind. It would have made a great human interest story or something, but that wasn’t really what Skye wanted anyway. Was it?

  “My family isn’t what it seems,” Jason King told Skye with a grimace. “You can poke and prod all you want, but you won’t find what you’re looking for.”

  “How do you know what I’m looking for?” Skye was incensed. “You don’t know what you’re talking about!”

  “Oh, don’t I?” He snorted and put his hands on his hips. Then he leaned in so close that she could smell his cologne. It was really, really good. “You mean because I have no idea that what you’re actually looking for is a way to tie up the Kings and figure out why my father had a bizarre hunting accident and now my mother is apparently trying to capitalize on that accident to make herself into the grieving widow of the year in the Dallas society news?”

  Skye was taken aback. She put her hand on her chest. “Well. I suppose yes. I find it very difficult to believe that a man like your father would just have a random hunting accident. And nobody in your family seems like they have any interest in challenging that perception.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong.” He snapped the words out and then seemed to remember himself. “I’m sorry. That was rude. You have to understand that we did challenge the findings. You can’t imagine how much red tape and bullshit goes into something like my father’s death. There are insurance companies involved and plenty of banks and lawyers and people who are nothing more than vultures all waiting to pick the bones clean.”

  “I see.” Of course Skye didn’t see any of it at all, but she wasn’t going to tell that to Jason. She was hoping that he would keep talking. “So you’re saying that the insurance companies and lawyers were satisfied by the coroner’s report and the determination that it was an accident and so that’s that?”

  “Not exactly.” His words were muttered. No. They sounded almost as if he were talking to himself as much as to her. That was odd. Jason’s expression was far away. He looked upset. And actually he looked more than that. He looked straight-up pissed off. “It’s a little more complicated. Because we are Kings and it is always more complicated. It’s a bigger pain in the ass and a bigger production. We have to make sure that everything is done with an eye toward making sure we look good.”

  “Then this is about what?” Skye felt as though her attention were wandering as her brain spun in circles trying to figure out what he was driving at. “Do you honestly believe that your mother had something to do with this? Do you think your brothers did? A business partner? What do you know?”

  “Nothing I’m willing to tell you,” Jason said quietly.

  Then he left. He walked off down the hallway and Skye watched him go straight out the front doors of the funeral home. It was over just like that and Skye was left standing in the funeral home trying to decide if she had enough photographs and other notions to make her story comprehensive enough to satisfy her editor.

  “I hate society bullshit,” Skye muttered.

  If only she had done a crappy job with it over the last several years. The problem was that she had only wanted to do her best in order to prove to her editor that she was a good writer. She had worked her tail off putting together the best society spreads that anyone could have ever imagined. But at the end of the day her editor had decided that she was a far better society page reporter than he was ever likely to find anywhere else. So while the money was good, nobody was interested in letting Skye take the next step in her journalistic career.

  Not yet. But soon. She wasn’t going to give on the Kings just yet. There was something going on and Skye Kincaid was going to dig it up.

  Chapter Three

  Jason King could not get the little reporter off his mind. Even hours after the funeral should have wrapped up and his brothers were likely making their way to the cemetery where Jason was currently waiting, he could not stop thinking about her.

  Would she be there at the gravesite? Would Jason have to stand there staring at her lithe body in that slinky black dress and high heels? Her hair was absolutely fascinating to him. The long strands were so straight that he almost had not been able to resist the urge to touch them. The pale red color was absolutely entrancing. He would not have called it blonde, but he wouldn’t have called it red either. Strawberry maybe. Jason didn’t really know much about that stuff. He was a guy. A classic kind of guy who didn’t spend much time or effort on looks or that kind of detail.

  The cemetery was just a flat expanse of intensely green grass dotted with a plethora of headstones and elaborate mausoleums. The variety of headstones suggested that nobody wanted to be any more similar in death even though most of them had spent their lives trying to be just like everyone else. Or at least that was Jason’s take on the situation. He was just tired of the entire process.

  As though someone had heard his complaints, a long line of black limos led a slow procession of what appeared to be every single one-ton and three-quarter-ton trucks in the Dallas area. Of course, that was not to say that there weren’t about a million Cadillacs mixed into that group as well. Large and small SUVs, long white luxury cars with swank gold emblems, and a fair amount of foreign luxury cars as well. It was just one of those moments when it was po
ssible to stand beneath a tree beside the empty pavilion and watch the trend of Dallas car choices on display.

  Behind Jason, the kickstand of his motorcycle was carefully balanced on an exposed tree root. He was sweaty and hot and wanted nothing more than to shed his human skin and sprint off across the cemetery in his wolf form. But that would not have been a good idea. Not right now. Not when nobody in Dallas knew the truth about the King brothers and their father.

  The first limo pulled into the circle drive just behind the huge white building that housed the residents of Dallas’s population that had been lucky enough to score an interment for their cremated remains at the city’s most prestigious facility. You know, because nothing said wealth and position during life like having your remains sitting alongside the wealthiest residents of the city.

  The limo stopped. This caused a pileup of other vehicles that were essentially forced to park right in the middle of the wide avenue where they sat. It was all kind of comical given the circumstances. Jason folded his arms and exhaled a sigh of irritation. His brothers were all stepping out of that first vehicle. Their mother got out last as though she had orchestrated the whole thing.

  The precise moment that Tisha Olivares-King’s black heeled boots hit the pavement, there were at least a hundred of Dallas’s first citizens schlepping their way toward the green pavilion where Jason was already standing. Of course, Tisha managed to look so very pale and drawn as she made her way across the grass on the arm of her eldest son. Which only left three of them to carry Mac King’s casket from the limo to the gravesite. But Jason wasn’t about to go down there and offer to help. He wasn’t comfortable with any of this and he sure as hell wasn’t going to just pop in down there and pretend that he was.

  Tex Johnson appeared out of seemingly nowhere. He offered his arm to Tisha in an overdone gesture that involved the grieving widow flinging herself into Tex’s arms so that Orion could go and help his brothers carry their father’s body to its final resting place.