Reforming Kent: A Stand-Alone Angsty Bad Boy Romance (The Kennedy Boys Book 10)

by Siobhan Davis

  Clayton.

  He’s in a gang and up to his neck in illegal activity, or so Presley has hinted at.

  This must be her errant foster brother.

  I enjoy a slight chuckle as I watch her spew venom from her mouth. She’s giving him hell, and so she should. He let her down when she needed him, and that’s not cool.

  She hasn’t noticed me yet, but the few females in the bar have. They stare at the flowers in my hand with a mixture of envy and derision. I have Presley’s note tucked into the inside pocket of my suit jacket, and I’ve missed doing this. It didn’t seem appropriate to continue showering her with flowers and notes while she was in mourning. But today is a day for celebration, and I’m not to be deterred.

  I close the gap between us, keeping my eyes on Clay. He wears his dirty-blond hair in a messy man bun on top of his head—a look I always think looks ridiculous on any man. Prickles of apprehension sweep over me out of nowhere, and my heart accelerates for no reason. I move a little closer, and Presley’s head jerks up when she hears my approach. Her face lights up, and it does funny things to my insides. Clay straightens, turning his head a little, and the prominent dragon tattoo on his neck is hard to miss.

  An image flashes behind my eyes, and the smile drops off my face. I’ve seen that tattoo before. My pulse pounds in my neck, and blood rushes to my head. The flowers slip from my hands as he turns fully around and I come face to face with the man who has haunted my dreams and tormented my soul every day since the attack. Shock splays across his face as he stares at me. The flowers scatter across the floor, and water gushes all over the place. I’m vaguely aware of Presley calling my name. Rage pummels my insides from all angles. A red haze creeps over my eyes, and naked fury charges through my veins.

  His throaty laugh reverberates in my brain, and the smell of stale cigarettes and sweat assaults my nostrils. My cheek burns, and my skin crawls like a thousand fire ants have burrowed their way inside me. Pain reverberates around my body, and I puke as blood leaks down my legs and tears pour from my eyes. Taunts surround me, and I double over as booted feet kick me on the ground.

  I’m moving before I’ve even processed the motion, jumping over the counter and grabbing the bat I know Ford keeps back there. Clay snaps out of it, moving for his gun, but he’s too slow and no match for the pent-up aggression I plan on unleashing on his ass. I swing the bat, my inner voice rejoicing when it slams into his skull with a loud thwack. The gun flies across the floor out of his reach, and he staggers back, clutching the side of his head.

  Screaming surrounds me, but I switch off, cloaking myself in the darkness that reemerges from the black hole inside me, hopping back over the counter and swinging the bat again before he can retaliate.

  I hit him repeatedly with the heavy wooden bat until he’s down, flat on his back, blood covering his swollen face, his body incapable of fighting back. Then I jump on him, pounding my fists into his face and his upper body, letting vengeance have its moment because I have wished for this day for over eight years, and there is nothing or no one who can stop me from destroying this asshole. Because he did his best to destroy me, and payback is long overdue.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Presley

  “Bugger,” I yell, screaming at the bouncer. He’s standing by the doorway watching my boyfriend beat the shit out of my foster brother, doing nothing to stop him. He jerks his head in my direction when I call him. “Do something!” I roar. I’m terrified Kent is going to kill him, but every attempt I’ve made to pull him off Clay hasn’t worked.

  Kent isn’t present. He’s locked in his head again, and my touch and my words are falling on deaf ears.

  My head and my heart hurt. I’m confused and scared, and different theories are already floating through my mind. But the why will have to wait, because right now I need to ensure Clay isn’t murdered in cold blood in front of an audience and that Kent doesn’t spend the rest of his life behind bars.

  I stomp toward Bugger, ready to grab the bat off the floor and beat him myself if he doesn’t do something to stop this. Seeing the look on my face spurs him into action, and he grabs Kent by the shoulders, trying to pull him away. Kent resists, his torn fists still pummeling Clay’s almost unrecognizable face, but Bugger is a fucking beast, and he yanks Kent back, holding him in a headlock, talking low in his ear.

  “Call an ambulance,” I tell Mo. She’s standing by my side, her face frozen in terror. “Now, Mo!” Clay isn’t moving, and I drop to my knees to check if he’s still alive. My heart is racing, and adrenaline pumps through my veins, but my head is numb, and I’m just going through the motions, doing what needs to be done because focusing on practical stuff is the only way I can cope.

  Pressing my fingers to Clay’s neck, I’m relieved when I feel a pulse. It’s not very strong, but he’s still alive.

  Bugger releases Kent, and I slowly climb to my feet, walking carefully toward my boyfriend. “Kent,” I whisper, fighting a sudden onslaught of tears. “It’s me.” I hold my hands up when I see the wild, crazy look in his eyes. “It’s okay. We’re going to fix this.” I take a step back so I’m not crowding him. His eyes narrow, and he stumbles a little, glaring at the motionless body of my foster brother on the floor. Then his gaze swings to mine, and he pins that dark, menacing glare on me. “Honey. It’s me.” I try to get through to him again, keeping my hands raised as errant tears flow down my face. For a few seconds, the rage drops off his face, replaced with the most tormented expression I’ve ever born witness to. His pain is visceral, and a sob rips from my throat.

  I can’t believe this is happening.

  I want to be sick.

  But I’ve got to be strong.

  Confusion clouds my mind again, and a throbbing pain pierces my skull.

  “Kent.” I risk taking a step closer, and his eyes turn to anger again.

  He staggers back a few steps. “Stay the fuck away from me, Pres.”

  His words baffle me, but I power on. “Let me help you.”

  His lips curl into a snarl. “I think you’ve done enough,” he hisses.

  What the hell does that mean?

  Bugger sends him a pointed look, and Kent nods. My brows knit together as my gaze bounces between them. Kent sends one last daggered look in my direction before racing out the door.

  “Kent!” I scream, running after him. “Stop.”

  A meaty arm pulls me back. “Let him go,” Bugger whispers in my ear. “He needs to get out of here because it won’t take long for word to reach The Vipers.”

  “Do you think I’m a fucking idiot?” I hiss, slamming my elbow back into his stomach. “Why the fuck do you think I want to go after him?” Bugger wheezes, but his hold on me doesn’t falter. “Bugger, please,” I plead, tears pouring down my face. “I love him! I need to go after him.”

  “You’re going to get him killed. Probably yourself too, but it’s your funeral.” He lets me go, and I whirl around, glaring at him. “You and me are going to talk.” I prod him in the chest before my gaze darts around the room. Most everyone has their phones out, recording. “Shut the doors, and no one leaves until we have their cell phones,” I instruct.

  “I’m on it,” he says, and I run outside, pulling the inner door shut behind me. I sprint out onto the sidewalk in time to see Kent’s SUV tearing off up the road, tires squealing as he floors it away. “Fuck.” I grab fistfuls of my hair, ignoring the almost overwhelming urge to bang my head against the wall.

  Fear threatens to suffocate me as I jog back inside. Mo is rounding up all the cell phones while old Tommy pats everyone down. Bugger watches the proceedings with sharp eyes, his gun out and pointed at the pissed-off patrons. Thank fuck it wasn’t busy tonight.

  “Listen up,” I holler, addressing the customers. “You will get your phones back after we’ve wiped them.”

  “You have no fucking right,” Cherie slurs, planting her hands on her hips as she glares at me.

  “I have every fucking right,
” I bark, putting my face all up in the bottle-blonde’s. “And you do not want to fuck with me right now.”

  Sirens blare in the distance, and I urge Mo to hurry up with my eyes. “No one speaks a word of what went down here tonight. Not to the medics, the cops, or The Vipers.”

  Most Mattapan residents distrust the cops, so I’m not worried about them ratting Kent out to the authorities. The Vipers are my main concern, and chances are someone has already tipped them off, but I’ve got to try to contain this; otherwise, Kent is a dead man walking. “I will have one thousand dollars in cash for each of you next week provided you don’t speak.” That gets their attention. To most folks, that’s a lot of money. Including me, and even if I have to pay it out of my savings, I will do whatever is necessary to protect Kent because I know he didn’t go psycho for no reason.

  Bile swims up my throat as I glance to where Clay still lies unconscious on the ground. My heart is splintered, torn in two. There can be only one reason why Kent reacted like that, and I can’t even let my mind go there. I can’t believe the guy I’ve looked up to my whole life was involved in whatever happened to the man I love.

  But it’s the only explanation that makes sense.

  Kent would have killed Clay if Bugger hadn’t restrained him.

  The rage I witnessed the night of the wedding, when I accidentally touched him where I shouldn’t, pales in comparison to the rage I saw on his face tonight.

  The events are connected.

  They’ve got to be.

  As much as I don’t want to think it, it seems likely that Clay hurt Kent or he was there when someone else did. And if that’s true, he’s going to fucking pay for it.

  There is a teeny tiny part of me clinging to the hope that he’s pissed at Clay for some other reason. I know Clay’s been messed up in all kinds of stuff and he’s far from innocent, but this? I can’t see him doing it. So, maybe Clay was there, and Kent recognized him and took his aggression out on the wrong person.

  “How do we know you’re good for it?” Cherie asks, yanking me out of my head.

  I barely resist an eye roll. “You know who my boyfriend is. Of course, I’m good for it.”

  “I want five thousand.” Cherie smirks. “Five K a head, and we’ll keep our mouths shut.”

  I punch her in the nose, enjoying the sound of bone breaking. “Listen up, bitch. You will accept one thousand, or I’ll hand your ass over to Kent’s FBI-agent brother. Last I checked, prostitution was still illegal in Boston. And let’s not mention your little drug side action.”

  She cries, holding her nose, as blood drips down her face. Bugger is restraining her, because she’s primed to retaliate and just stupid enough to try it.

  Ignoring Cherie, I level the rest of the customers with a deathly look. “I know all of you, and you all have your secrets. Unless you want me to talk with the FBI, you will accept my offer and shut your mouths.” I cast one final glance at them as the sirens wail louder. “Are we clear?” I shout.

  They nod, and I look to Bugger.

  “We’re good.”

  “Get out of here,” I shout. “Now.”

  Bugger opens the door, and they flee literally two minutes before the EMTs arrive. The medics ask me a few questions, and I confirm Clay’s identity, fudging the truth about what happened to him. I tell them it was a bar fight and he was hit with a bat and the other guy’s fists, but that’s as much as I’m telling them. They aren’t cops, so they don’t care.

  “You need to leave,” Bugger says as soon as the EMTs have removed Clay and put him in the ambulance. “I’m sure one of those bitches had already sent something to The Vipers. They’ll be sniffing around here soon. I don’t want you girls anywhere near here when they come around.”

  “I can’t leave,” I say, looking at the mess on the ground. “We need to get rid of the bat and clean the blood and trash the flowers.”

  “We’ll handle it,” Bugger says as Digger steps through the door, quickly followed by Ford and Rafe. My eyes pop wide. “I called them.” Bugger answers my unspoken question.

  “Go,” Rafe repeats, urging me with his eyes.

  “I’ll get our bags.” Mo runs behind the bar to the staff room.

  “Why didn’t you intervene?” I ask Bugger.

  “Because Clay’s had that coming for a long time,” he says, folding his arms across his broad chest.

  “You should have stopped him,” Ford snaps, looking angry. “You’ve just put a target on Kent’s back. Probably Presley’s too.”

  “He had already hit him.” Bugger shrugs like it’s no big deal when we both know this is a shitstorm in the making. “Doesn’t matter whether he got one hit or ten hits in. Clay would still want revenge.”

  “You can’t come back here, Presley,” Rafe says as Mo emerges from the back with our things.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “This isn’t your fault,” Ford says, stepping in to hug me.

  “And no apology is necessary,” Rafe adds.

  “Why would you help Kent?” I ask because Kent isn’t from around here and he’s caused untold issues for Rafe now.

  “Because we love you and you love him,” Ford says.

  “And Clay isn’t a good man, Presley.” Compassion is etched across Rafe’s face. “I know he protected you as a kid, but there is a lot you don’t know about him.”

  I’ve already reached that same conclusion. “If you knew stuff about him, why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because he would’ve killed us for telling you the truth,” Rafe says, looking apologetic.

  “You are close to meeting your goal, Pres,” Ford adds. “We knew that would put distance between you, and we hoped eventually all contact would cease.”

  “What about now? Won’t he come after you too?” I’m afraid for my friends.

  “Don’t worry about us. We have insurance,” Bugger cryptically adds. “You need to cut all ties with Clay immediately. You saw how he turned on Chris. He will do the same to you now, Presley, because it will be clear your allegiance is with Kent.”

  “It’s not that cut and dry,” I mumble because my head is a mess.

  “It’s got to be.” Rafe pulls me into a hug. “Don’t think for one second that Clay can’t or won’t turn on you. Whatever you shared as kids will mean nothing to him compared with maintaining his rep and keeping his turf.”

  “Don’t go back to your place tonight, Presley,” Ford says. “Give me your keys, and we’ll move your stuff out after we finish here. We’ll bring it to Kent’s apartment tomorrow.”

  I remove my house key from my keyring and hand it to him. “I don’t care about the furniture, just my personal possessions and my pictures.” I swallow over the lump in my throat. “What about Mo and Kady? Are they safe to stay at their place?”

  “They will move in with me for the moment,” Rafe supplies, staring at Mo, daring her to argue with a cutting look.

  She blushes, and shock splays across my face. No fucking way. I know she has feelings for him, because she’s told me, but something has obviously happened recently, and I’m a little hurt she didn’t tell me. Then again, I’ve been avoiding people since Chris died, and we haven’t shared more than a few words lately. I’m sure she was planning on updating me now I’m back to work, and it’s not like I haven’t got bigger problems to deal with. I know who my best friend is, and I can cut her some slack. Truth is, I’m glad she’s got Rafe looking out for her and my goddaughter. I’d only worry myself sick if they were alone.

  “Take the bare essentials and move yourself and Kady into my house tonight,” Rafe says, still eyeballing her. He swings his gaze to me. “Can you drive them?”

  I want to look for Kent, but I won’t leave my friend in harm’s way either. “Of course.”

  Rafe kisses Mo on the lips before Bugger escorts us outside. I walk on autopilot, my brain failing to process everything that has happened. It’s like a living nightmare except I know there is no waking up from this. My
new reality extends beyond the fact Clay isn’t the person I thought he was. The consequences of Kent’s actions will have far-reaching implications for all of us. Most urgent of all is the fact my boyfriend is out there somewhere, lost in a homicidal rage, while members of Clay’s gang plot ways to exact a bloody revenge.

  I toss the car keys to Mo. “You drive. I need to make some calls.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Presley

  The doorbell chimes, and I race to the door, checking the peephole before I open it. What Rafe, Bugger, and Ford said back at Ramshackle has shaken me to my core, and I’m on edge. I step aside to let Kent’s brothers enter his apartment.

  “Have you heard from him?” Keanu asks, striding past me, heading toward the kitchen.

  I shake my head. “I’ve been calling his phone continuously, but it’s turned off.” I’m not telling them anything new. I am sure the second I called Keanu to tell him what happened he called his brothers to let them know Kent was in trouble.

  “Keven has tracked his location through his SUV,” Kyler confirms. “But he has refused to give us the coordinates until he lands.”

  “Lands?” I inquire because I thought Austen and Keaton were the only two currently on a plane. It just so happens they are due back from their honeymoon in the morning.

  “He was in Vegas on a case, but he’s on his way back now,” Kalvin explains, shutting the front door.

  Knots twist in my gut. “He’s been gone for hours, and the guys looking for him are dangerous as fuck. We can’t wait.” I pace the floor, wrapping my arms around myself as a full body shiver washes over me.