Just My Luck (The Kings)

The day needed to just fucking end.

I rubbed a kink out of my shoulder as I looked over the cases of freshly bottled barrel-aged whiskey. The Michigan market was running without any hitches, thanks to my team and our hard work. The company’s sights were set on expanding to Illinois—Chicagoland, specifically—and it took a hell of a lot of work to prime the market and be ready to distribute.

But we’d done it.

I looked over the slip and triple-checked it against the sheet on my clipboard. All seventeen pallets would be hauled out in the morning and travel from Kalamazoo to Chicago-area bars, restaurants, and liquor stores. Another twenty-five still needed to be packed, labeled, and shipped by the week’s end, but at least we’d squeaked by and would have the first shipment ready by morning.

All it took was seven brutal hours of overtime.

“We got it,” I called to the employees. “Let’s wrap it up and get the hell out of here.”

Half-hearted cheers echoed through the distribution center. I helped shut down equipment and tidy up before flipping off the warehouse lights.

A hand landed on my shoulder. “Abe, a few of us are heading to Remy’s for a beer. You in?”

Behind him a cheer rang out. “Let’s fucking go!”

I shook my head. “Count me out tonight.” Sandpaper coated my eyelids as I pinched the bridge of my nose. I just wanted to collect my check and go home. It was no secret that this job was simply a means to an end.

“If you say so.” My faceless employee glanced at his watch and scoffed. “See you in five hours.”

My teeth ground together. This job was fucking killing me.

In the parking lot, I waved over my shoulder to the men leaving the warehouse and climbed into my truck. I exhaled as the engine turned over and rumbled to life. The shine of my headlights seared into my brain, and I groaned against the sharp light.

I pulled out of the parking lot and headed toward home. The highway was desolate and eerily quiet. I yawned and adjusted in my seat. My eyes burned.

Shaking off another yawn, I rolled down the driver’s-side window and took a gulp of the fresh predawn air. I glanced out the windshield into the inky sky—not a star in sight.

Highway 131 rolled past me. I stared at the lines as they morphed from four lanes to a rural two-lane highway. Every mile was closer to home. To my bed.

I eased into the seat and adjusted my grip on the wheel as music droned in the background. My tires created a rhythmic thump as I rolled down the road.

My head jerked.

A flash of light.

I yanked the wheel to the right to avoid it.

My body crumpled as I felt the weight of the impact.

The shrieking groan of twisted metal filled my ears.

I bounced as my truck swerved, and I struggled to maintain control. Finally, the front bumper slammed against the ditch, and my body flung forward at the sudden stop. Pain radiated through my shoulder, and my mind raced to catch up to what had just happened.

Lights flashed in my dashboard, and the smell of chemicals floated on the night air as plumes of thick smoke rose from beneath the hood of my truck.

With a groan, I unbuckled. My shoulder was certainly fucked—I could barely unbuckle my seat belt. It took considerable force to push the door open, and when it finally gave, I tumbled to the ground.

The dirt and gravel bit into my knees as I tried to orient myself. When I looked up, desperately trying to figure out what had happened, I saw it.

A small blue car on my side of the highway.

Upside down.

One wheel spun as I stared.

I got to one knee, then pushed myself to standing. Black tire marks marred the surface of the highway. To my right, I saw her.

A woman’s body was askew in the grass. Her face tipped toward the full moon. Her long hair fanned out around her head and was already matted with blood. When I reached her, my knees buckled.Content (C) Nôv/elDra/ma.Org.

Sloane.

This isn’t right. No. This isn’t how it happened. Please, no.

“Sloane! Fuck. Please. No. No, no, no, no, no.” Afraid to touch her, my hands hovered over her broken body.

The woman I loved stared up at me, a tear slipping from her eye. Her voice was barely a whisper as she rasped, “Please. Save them. Please.”

My gut churned.

This isn’t possible. This isn’t how it went.

My attention swept past the overturned car and onto the outline of a small shoe poking up from the tall grass.

I raced toward the figure and fell to my knees when I realized Ben and Tillie were together, holding hands in the grass, eyes closed.

I was too late.

Again.

I did this.

Again.

An anguished cry tore through my chest. I sobbed uncontrollably as the sharp bite of metal handcuffs closed around my wrists.

“Abel!” Sloane’s panicked voice slammed me into reality. I jolted—disoriented, sweaty, and confused.

Her voice softened as I scrambled to my feet. “Abel, shhh. It’s okay.”

I watched in confusion as Sloane crawled to her knees in the middle of the bed. I looked around, assessing my surroundings.

My house.

My bed.

My woman.

Clarity broke through my confusion as I realized the horrific scene I’d experienced was a nightmare—a reliving of the accident, only this time with Sloane and the kids. My stomach curled, and I had to breathe through the wave of nausea that tore through me.

Sloane’s hazel eyes were wide, and she had her hands up. “It’s okay. It’s okay. I think you had a bad dream.”

I surged forward with tears in my eyes and clasped her face. I took a fraction of a second to study her concerned features before my mouth crashed to hers.

My heart thundered as breaths sawed in and out of me. I pressed my forehead to hers. “You’re okay. The twins are okay.”

Her hand rubbed up and down the outside of my arms. “We’re okay. They’re asleep in their rooms. I’m here with you. You’re safe.”

My eyes searched hers. I held her at arm’s length, looking over her body to assure myself she wasn’t broken—that I hadn’t harmed her.

Satisfied that it really had been a dream, I exhaled a shaky breath. “I’m so sorry.”

“You’re okay,” Sloane reassured. “You were tossing and turning and then . . . you made this sound.” She swallowed hard and shook her head. “I’ve never heard anything so heartbreaking.”

“I’m okay.” I breathed through a fresh wave of panic. “If you’re okay, I’m okay.”

Sloane moved out of the center of the bed and pulled back the covers. “Come on. Lay with me.”

Without a word, I did as she said and slid into bed beside her.

Her fingers made gentle strokes down my arm as I stared at her precious face. “Do you want to talk about it?”

I didn’t.

My throat was lined with hot coals as I swallowed. “It was the accident. Sometimes I dream about it, only . . . only this time it was different. Instead of the mother and her son, it was you and the kids.”

Her face pinched. “Oh, Abel. I’m so sorry.” Her fingers stroked the sides of my face, and I closed my eyes. “I promise we’re okay. We’re safe with you.”

I wanted to believe it. I needed to believe that I could keep Sloane and Ben and Tillie safe from harm. I couldn’t lose control—that was when everything went to shit, but my past was haunting us in more ways than one. First the nightmare, but also with Jared.

My chest ached. “I’m worried,” I finally admitted.

“About what?”

“He knows—about my conviction. He made an offhand comment about it in the library. He was already pissed about our relationship, but what if he uses my past to⁠—”

“Shh. It’s okay.” Sloane’s eyes bore into mine without wavering. “It doesn’t matter. I promise.”

Her words were sure, but worry gnawed at my gut. Jared didn’t appear like the kind of man to let things slide. He reminded me of my father in that way—willing to do whatever it took to win.

My arms wrapped around her frame, pulling her into me. I buried my face in her hair and breathed her in.

I need you.

I can’t let you go.

Emotion tore at me. Everything I never thought was possible was encircled in my arms. Sloane had given me everything despite the fact I didn’t deserve it.

My hands moved down her back. She’d stolen another one of my T-shirts to act as pajamas, and I teased the hem. Her legs moved between mine as she moaned softly. Her soft lips pressed against my neck, and I hummed with pleasure.

I shifted, moving Sloane beneath me so I could see her.

Feel her.

With my weight pressing her into the mattress, I stared down at her. Her soft hair fanned around her head as she peered up at me.

My hand slid down her side, molding to her every curve. My cock thickened as I pressed my hips into her. I moved the shirt up and over her head, leaving her bare beneath me. Her skin glowed in the soft moonlight. “You are radiant.”

My fingertips barely brushed across her belly and down her thigh. Her hips tipped up, silently pleading for more. “Abel.”

My heart clanged as I memorized every hill and valley of her body, every place I wanted to disappear to explore. I cupped her breast, gently squeezing as her nipple pebbled beneath my palm. I worked my way up, achingly slowly. I freed my cock and let the heat of her pussy warm me. My hard length pressed against her without entering. I throbbed against her heat, my cock begging for more.

My palm slid over her neck and gently held her face, willing her to look at me.

Her long lashes swooped down, then up as her gaze found mine. “I don’t deserve this life with you. I know that . . .” Her lips parted to argue, but I forged ahead. “I don’t. But I need you to know that I will fight for you. My right to happiness—the light in my soul—died on that dark highway, but somehow, you brought me back to life.”

I swallowed hard and fought to find the courage to tell her exactly what I was desperately trying to convey. “I love you.”

Sloane gasped as I shifted and drove into her hot, wet cunt. She clamped around me as I moved in and out of her, pistoning my hips and reveling in the way her arms and legs held me closer.

I worshipped her in every way that she deserved, bringing her to the peak before grinding my hips against her and giving her everything she needed to come. Sloane cried out and pulled me closer.

With her limbs wrapped around me, I pumped my release into her, filling her until my cum seeped past my cock and down her thigh. My heart hammered in time with hers as our chests, slicked with sweat, pressed against each other.

Sated and soaring, I lifted my weight from her and peered down at her gorgeous face. A soft smile teased her lips, and her eyes were closed. I studied my wife, adoring every freckle and pore.

A silent tear slipped past her closed lashes. My thumb darted out to sweep it away as panic tingled my spine. “Hey. Baby, why are you crying? Did I hurt you? What’s going on?”

Her head jerked to the side. “Not at all. I just . . . I love you too. A lot.” Her eyes opened and searched mine. “I just really don’t want to divorce you.” Her watery laugh filled the dark room and my hold tightened.

The tender bruise of my heart throbbed as I held her. “You’re my wife. If I get my way, nothing is going to change that.”

My words rang true, despite the titter of uncertainty that scratched in my brain. My intuition told me that nothing in my life was meant to be this easy. This pure or simple. It was only a matter of time before the hammer swung, and my past took it all away.