Adoring Keaton: A Stand-Alone Friends-to-Lovers MM Romance (The Kennedy Boys Book 9)

by Siobhan Davis

  “I’ve wanted to tell you for a long time, but I didn’t want to burden you with the secret.”

  Colton glances over at the building, straightening up. “We should probably talk more about this, but it’ll have to wait because our boy’s just left the building.”

  Pulling the hood of my hoodie up over my head, I cast a surreptitious glance at the sidewalk in front of Brock’s apartment building, a satisfied grin creeping across my mouth when I spot the asshat hailing a taxi and getting in.

  I flash a mad grin at Colton. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Austen

  “Fuck it,” I say when Colton and I reconvene a half hour later around the corner of the apartment building. “I didn’t find anything.” Brock’s small studio apartment is disgusting. The place is littered with clothes, empty beer cans and bottles, moldy pizza boxes, dirty cigarette butts, and evidence of drug use. It made searching it easy, because no one would ever guess an intruder had broken in and examined every square inch of the place—it’s too messy to tell if anything is out of place.

  I did discover his drug stash, stowed behind the vent in his poky bathroom. That knowledge might come in handy later—after we’ve retrieved all the copies he made of that recording. But until we have those in our possession, we can’t risk outing him to the cops for any reason. If he suspects Keaton was behind it, it would force his hand, and I won’t be responsible for that tape entering the public domain.

  “Perhaps I should’ve stolen his tablet,” I say, musing out loud as we head back toward the main part of town. “But that would clue him in, and without his password, it’s worthless anyway.” It’s not like I can just bring it to the local computer shop and ask them to hack it.

  Colton frowns, shoving his hands deep in his pockets. “He has something on Kennedy,” he says after a couple beats of silence. “That’s what you were looking for.”

  Guy has always been sharp as a tack, so it’s no surprise he’s figured it out. “Yeah,” I admit, striding toward Keaton’s SUV. It’s still where I parked it, at the curb of a side street. “He’s blackmailing him.”

  Colton cusses. “I always knew Brock was scum of the earth, so I can’t say I’m overly surprised.”

  I unlock the car, and we climb in.

  “What now?” Colton asks as I fire up the engine.

  I drum my fingers on the steering wheel. “Can you find out which bar they are at?”

  He nods, removing his cell from his back pocket. “What’re you planning to do?”

  I drag my hands through my hair, wondering if this is wise, but I’m at a loss now, and I’ve got to do something. “I’m going to try to talk some sense into him.” I pull the car out onto the road.

  “You might make things worse,” he says, tapping out a message on his cell.

  “I can’t sit back and do nothing.” I take my eyes off the road for a split-second, looking my buddy in the eye. “This has haunted Keaton for months, and it’s hovering over him like a bad smell. I have to try.”

  Slowly, he nods, just as his cell pings with a new message. He gives me the name of the bar, and it’s the same one from the night Keaton met him. I swing the SUV around and head in that direction.

  ***

  “How do cops handle stakeouts? I would literally kill myself out of sheer boredom,” Colton says after we’ve been parked in the alley outside the bar for the past two hours.

  “Could be worse,” I supply. “At least we’re not standing outside, and we have music and shit coffee.” I grimace as I swallow another mouthful of the cheap shit they’re selling as coffee at the small store around the corner.

  “You sure this is smart?” Colton asks again. “If you piss him off, he might take action.”

  “The prick likes Kennedy’s money too much. He knows he’s onto a good thing. And it’s worth the risk because I might be able to get through to him. He has a lot to lose if this comes out and someone needs to point that out.”

  “What if he figures out you two are together? That will only give him more ammunition.”

  “He has no proof.” I turn on my side to face him. “And, honestly? If it came out about me, it might be a blessing in disguise.”

  I’ve filled him in on my history while we’ve been stuck out here waiting. We’ve debated the pros and cons of me coming out to the team at length. Colton is a good sounding board. I know some of the others see him as the joker of the pack, but he’s really not. He has a great sense of humor, but he also has a good head on his shoulders, and he’s a fantastic listener.

  “I know why you’d think that, but that decision should be yours and yours alone. No one should force your hand even if you think it might help in the long run. Controlling the reveal and the timing is crucially important if you decide to do it. No matter what, you have my support.”

  “And it means the world to me.” Knowing our QB and team captain has my back makes the decision easier although it’s not something I can decide alone anymore. If I really want to do this—live authentically as an openly gay man—I’ll need Keaton’s support too, because this will impact him. My personal life will become a free for all, and some conclusions may be drawn about the nature of our relationship. I won’t force Keaton into the open or even into a situation where someone is jokingly questioning his sexuality. I know he’s not ready to reveal his true self to the world, and I won’t make things harder for him.

  So, perhaps Colton is right, and I should forget about confronting Brock Jonas.

  But it’s too late, because the asshole saunters out of the side door, and I’m out of the car before my conscious mind has even processed the motion. Colton has promised to stay in the car unless something happens that warrants his intervention. If this turns bad, it’s better he’s not involved. Coach would flip his lid if two of his best players got messed up in an altercation with a known druggie.

  I stride toward Brock with purpose, driving my hands into the pockets of my pants to conceal my straining fists. Putting a leash on my anger is challenging, but I do it, because as much as I’d love to flatten the asshole to the ground, that won’t achieve anything productive.

  “I want a word.” I pull no punches as I come to a stop directly in front of him.

  Brock is slouched against the wall with his left knee bent, his foot on the brick behind him. A smug grin curves the corners of his mouth as he takes a long drag of his cigarette. His dark-blond hair is stringy, hanging in greasy waves to his shoulders, and a thick layer of stubble covers his chin and jawline. Sweat plasters his Rolling Stones T-shirt to his chest, and he smells like he showered in a bottle of JD.

  Just thinking about this smelly fucker putting his hands on my boyfriend ignites a new wave of aggression, and I bite the inside of my cheek to restrain myself before I end up on a murder charge. This prick really has me riled up in a way that is not usual for me.

  “That faggot Kennedy has you doing his dirty work for him now, huh?” He blows smoke in my face, smirking like he hasn’t a care in the world.

  It’s not strange that he’d know who I am, but the fact he knows I’m friends with Keaton is alarming. He probably knows we share a place together, which means the fucker is watching my boyfriend.

  I don’t like it one little bit.

  Rage thunders through me, and I take a step closer, glaring at him. “He doesn’t know I’m here. And watch what you say about him.”

  Sloping his head to the side, he continues smoking as he assesses me. “You’re very protective of your roomie. I wonder why that is.” His beady eyes probe mine, and it’s like locking eyes with a cobra.

  Brock is even more dangerous than I thought. He doesn’t just prey on vulnerability. He’s cunning and smart and always looking for an angle in every situation. He’s a manipulative nutjob who measures his self-worth through manipulating and controlling others, and I’m guessing he’s gotten good at it.

  Keaton is not the first person he has tr
icked and blackmailed.

  I’d put money on it, and that makes him a troublesome adversary. Unless we stop Brock, Keaton won’t be the last person he does this to either.

  I might have made a mistake coming here, but I can’t back down now.

  “I am loyal to my friends, and I despise lowlife scumbags who take advantage of good people.”

  “Not my fault Kennedy’s a fool. He fell for it so easily.” He barks out a derisory laugh. “Dude was so eager to have my cock in his ass it was like taking candy from a baby.”

  My nostrils flare as images I’d rather not think about surface in my mind. “Don’t be an idiot,” I hiss, needing to say my piece and get out of here, because I’m seconds away from beating the shit out of this degenerate. “You know who his family is. If you continue this, you will lose everything. They’ll go after you because no one fucks with one of theirs and gets away with it. They have the power, the money, and the contacts to bury you. You’ll get kicked out of Berkeley. Your fans will turn on the band, and any hopes you have of making it big will be in the toilet.”

  I lean in closer, almost puking at the noxious fumes that cling to every facet of his being. “You’ll go to jail, man. It will ruin your life.” I step back, deliberately adopting a cool manner. “You already got a payout. Consider it a win. Hand over the remaining copies, and Keaton will drop it,” I lie, because there’s no way we’re not nailing his ass to the wall. We’ll find something to put him behind bars.

  Finishing his cigarette, he throws it to the ground, mashing it with the heel of his boot. He pushes off the wall, straightening up, attempting to pull off a look of intimidation, but he’s still a few inches shorter than me, and I don’t scare that easily.

  Folding my arms, I stare him down, frustrated at the obvious amusement now on his face.

  “Tell the queer if he makes one move against me, the only one getting ruined will be him.” He shoves at my shoulders, and a red mist ghosts over my face.

  I shove him back, slamming him into the wall. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

  He smirks as I take a step back. “It’s cute you think you can threaten me. Careful, hotshot.” He presses his face all up in mine. “It wouldn’t take much for me to start some new rumors. A queer on the football team would be big news. Wonder what your fans would think of that?”

  He’s clearly bullshitting, but if he realizes how close he is to the truth, I’ve just royally screwed me and Keats. I let none of that show on my face, maintaining a neutral expression as I stare him down. “As if anyone would listen to a word out of your mouth. You’re full of shit, and everyone knows it. But be my guest. Go ahead and make an even bigger fool of yourself. It’s no skin off my back.”

  His eyes drift the length of my body, and I’m losing the battle with my self-control. “I’m not into dudes, but I make an exception from time to time,” he says, smirking.

  He pushes his chest into mine, and I instantly shove him off, taking a couple steps back. I need to get out of here before I do something I regret. “Drop the blackmail, Jonas, because it won’t end well for you. I won’t warn you again.” I leave him with those words, turning around and heading back toward the car.

  “I bet you’d love my cock in your ass,” he shouts after me, and I slam to a halt, rage pummeling my insides. “Not like that pussy Kennedy. He tell you my buddy Rod came all over his face while I soaked his ass with my cum?”

  My clenched knuckles bleach white as I dig my fingernails into the palms of my hands.

  His voice grows louder. “The whole time he was pretending like he didn’t enjoy it, but I know he did. He lapped it up like the dirty fucking faggot he is.” Grabbing hold of my shirt from behind, Brock yanks me back, wrapping his arm around my neck and squeezing. “Not so fucking high and mighty now, are we hotshot?”

  His putrid breath on my ear sours my stomach, but it’s his feeble attempt to put me in a chokehold that is his undoing. I let go of my restraint, unleashing every ounce of hatred locked up inside. Shoving my elbow deep into his soft stomach, I slam my head back, whacking his skull with force, and he moans as he stumbles back, relaxing his hold on me.

  Pain rattles through the back of my head, but I barely feel it over the liquid aggression charging through my veins. Turning around, I throw myself at him, swinging my fist in his face. He goes down, crashing to the ground like a limp noodle, and I jump on top of him, pummeling him repeatedly, punch after punch, silently rejoicing when blood spurts from his nose and a pained wheezy sound rattles from his chest.

  Strong arms pull me away before I can inflict more damage. “Calm the hell down,” Colton hisses in my ear as I buck against his hold.

  “You really shouldn’t have done that, man,” Brock groans, spitting blood onto the ground as he struggles to sit up. “I’ll have your ass for that.”

  “No, you fucking won’t.” Colton kicks him in the ribs, holding out his cell. The screen is open on a photo of Brock with some creepy dude who looks like he’d commit murder just for shits and giggles. “You say one word about what went down here tonight, or you make any move against my buddy, and we’ll give the cops the name and address of your dealer. Before he’s arrested, we’ll tip him off. Let him know you were the one who ratted him out.”

  I appreciate Colton threatening him, but we all know Brock can go nowhere with this. He swung first, and I was just defending myself. If word got out, no one would believe the druggie over the football player. I’m not saying it to be an ass. Just stating facts. If it comes down to my word against his, I’ll win this round, hands down.

  Brock climbs to his feet, clutching his torso, and I’m glad he’s in pain. He deserves worse for what he’s doing to Keats.

  “Same goes for Kennedy,” Colton adds. “This ends now, asshole.”

  “Fuck you.” He spits more blood on the ground before hobbling toward the door that leads to the bar. “Fuck you both. Motherfucking pricks.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Keaton

  “I can’t believe you did that.” I grab fistfuls of my hair as I pace the living room floor. Knots tighten in my stomach as anxiety rides me hard.

  “I’m sorry. I wanted to help, but I’ve probably only made things worse.” Austen’s butt is propped on the edge of the dining table as he watches me prowl the floor with the intensity of a hunter stalking his prey.

  I’m still processing. Still utterly shocked at what Austen has done. Because it’s out of character for him to act so recklessly.

  When he first fessed up, I was freaking out. Instantly checking my cell to see if Austen had forced Brock’s hand and he’d released the recording. My breathing only recovered when I didn’t see anything trending, and now I’ve had time to consider it, the overwhelming emotion I’m feeling is gratitude.

  No one has ever gone out on a limb like this for me before.

  No one has ever put my needs ahead of their own.

  And it’s everything.

  He’s everything.

  I stop pacing and walk over to him, clasping his face in my hands. “Thank you for trying.”

  His brows climb to his hairline. “I expected freaking out, not a thank you.”

  “Oh, I’m most definitely freaking out, but I’m more grateful. Maybe Brock will listen. And if he doesn’t, at least he knows I’ve told someone else. That might make him stop and think. And if what you’ve told me is true, that his family has washed their hands of him, he needs my money now more than ever.”

  “You’re not giving him another penny,” Austen says through gritted teeth, flexing his hands.

  Carefully, I take one of his hands in mine, inspecting his reddened knuckles. “Does it hurt?”

  “A little, but it’s nothing serious. Colton pulled me off him before I could do any real damage.”

  While I wish I’d been there to see Brock getting his ass beat by my boyfriend, I’m glad Colton stopped Austen before he landed himself in serious trouble. “No one’s ever punched someone on my
behalf before.” I gently knead Austen’s hand.

  “It’s not something to be proud of, and it’s not why I went over there.”

  “I know.” I lift my eyes to his. “But you don’t understand how much this means to me. No one has ever gone into battle on my behalf before.” A messy ball of emotion clogs the back of my throat. “That you accept who I am and go out of your way to protect and support me. It’s everything, Austen. It just blows my frigging mind.”

  “I care about you, and I’ll always want to protect you.” Emotion shines in his eyes, and I’m glad I’m not the only one turning into a gooey mess.

  “That works both ways. I want to protect you too. I can’t believe you’d risk your reputation like that. What if he finds out about you? About us? He’ll be looking for something to use against you now because that’s the kind of nasty, spiteful prick he is.” It won’t be good enough that he’s got me over a barrel. His pride is hurt over the ass-kicking Austen gave him, and he’ll want to make him pay. I’ve no doubt about that.

  Austen clasps the nape of my neck, sending delicious tremors cascading along my skin. His touch is electric, and I feel it bone-deep. Soul-deep. Because this guy is working his way into every nook and cranny of my being.

  “He won’t because we’re going to be more careful in public, and Brock doesn’t know what we do behind closed doors.” He frowns. “Or I hope he doesn’t.” His eyes lift to mine. “He made it clear he’s been watching you. There’s no way he could’ve gotten in here, right?”

  It’s rare to see Austen rattled, but he’s rattled now.

  “Security is tight in the building, and I doubt he’d get past our alarm system, but let’s make sure.” I don’t want Austen worrying, and I refuse to look over my shoulder in my own damn apartment. This is our only safe haven. The one place we can be together without worrying about being seen. I’m not about to jeopardize that. Austen’s expression is inquisitive as he watches me dial a number on my cell.

  My brother picks up on the third ring. “Keats. Everything okay?” Keven asks, instantly assuming I need help. I wonder if he’s gotten used to the fact he’s the first person we call when we need help or if I should call him more often just to shoot the shit.