Lies & Devotion (Blood and Iron Warriors Book 3)

by Kat Kenyon

  She’s in the middle of a laugh when she looks at it and practically growls. At the jerk of her head, I send the okay and we both get up, sending tight smiles and jokes at the others.

  “What’s up?” Bay asks, the others too focused on the television and making wagers on how far each person will jump.

  “Company,” I mutter, not wanting to kill the party, but she’s put us in a shitty position.

  His face stays placid, but Bay’s not dumb. “Uninvited?”

  “Unwanted,” Rayne says, giving the door a glare.

  The knock drags everyone’s attention away from the television, as Rayne storms over and flings open the door.

  Dressed in a beige tailored pantsuit, Anne looks like she’s going to a business meeting instead of an evening social call. Her hair is perfectly straight and for a moment she reminds me of my aunt. The comparison isn’t a positive one.

  Before Anne can say a word, Rayne points to the back of the apartment and storms toward the spare bedroom, throwing up a hand. The force of her palm holds me in place. I don’t like it, especially when Anne smirks as she walks by, but I walk back to my seat as the group gives me a universal what-the-fuck-was-that.

  “Don’t ask,” I answer the silent question. This is one of those things she needs to do…and I still hate it.

  Tegs’s face is somber when he looks at me. “I still think you’re all a little nuts, but I’m on your side, just let me know how many bodies we’re burying.”

  “You decide that recently?”

  There’s a short shake of his head. “The minute I thought about what I’d do if anyone touched her.” Nodding at Tate. “I picked my side.”

  “Warriors.” Kevin looks around the room. “It’s not just a cartoon mascot, man. We fight for our families and friends. Burn it down.”

  Ethan puts his beer on the table and fist bumps Kevin from across the room. “We’re a team on and off the field. Whatever you two need, let me know.”

  I give him a tight smile. “Thanks, man.”

  From behind me, there’s a “fuuuck you” that tells me exactly how this shitty meeting is going.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Rayne Mathews

  “Fuuuck you.”

  I cannot believe she just insinuated I’m the one responsible for the media hounding me every day.

  “Rayne, that is inappropriate.” Anne’s nose wrinkles as her finger taps against her purse. “You need to focus on your recovery and make sure you don’t feed the rumor mill.”

  “Feed the rumor mill?” My tone drops at the idea that I’ve tried to get attention at any time in the last five months.

  “It won’t do you any good to have your business out in the public. This situation is bad for everyone, you included, and you’re making things worse with your decisions.”

  “I made it bad?”

  Something in my tone makes her flinch, and she tries to give me a sympathetic grimace, flipping her palm out. “Long before your mother pulled her heinous little stunt, your case was everywhere, the administration of the university gave press conferences because of the stance you’ve taken—”

  “Which stance?” I growl. “The one where I was in the hospital or the one where I don’t go out of the house without guards?”

  “That’s another thing.” She shakes her head at me sadly. “Two guards, really, Rayne? Even your grandfather, who’s been the subject of threats, only has one, and they’re very discrete. Those men in black are being broadcast every day. You’re using armored vehicles. It’s absurd.”

  I’m well aware the press and the classmates who have tried to turn my life into a bad reality show, but I’m done. I point toward the door, jaw tight. “You can take his concerns and shove them up your ass. Gabe’s still on the loose. The security company makes the rules so he can’t get to me, and neither can the other crazies who’ve threatened me. If Gramps doesn’t like it, he can go fuck himself along with you. You two deserve one another.”

  Insulted, she pulls her spine straight, sneering. “Young lady, after everything he’s done, everything I’ve done, you have no right to talk to me like that.”

  “What he’s done?” Dark laughter spills out. “He paid to keep me quiet. That’s not an act of love. He’s trying to pretend his son isn’t a loser. And you helped.”

  “You don’t know Sean. So, don’t be ugly.”

  The darkness in me keeps rolling as she misses the irony. “You say that as if my not knowing my own father doesn’t prove that he is, in fact, a loser. Real men know their kids.”

  Eyes widen, then narrow. “That is beside the point. Your grandfather has given you a good life.”

  “With an addict,” I point out, giving her a hard smirk.

  “In a home,” she says, getting more agitated.

  Smile falling, my arms fold across my chest. “Abused and neglected. Tell him thanks. I’ve got it from here.”

  She’s not getting what she wants, and irritation dances across her face. “You wouldn’t have your scholarship if not for his support of your dancing!”

  “Seriously? That’s your ammunition. You’re trying to make a relationship out of studio fees? Get out of my house.”

  “This isn’t your house; this is a place you shack up with a little boy.”

  The insult to Tyler makes my blood pound so hard, a headache springs to life. “That little boy,” I hiss, pointing to the living room, “has taken better care of me, done more for me, than anyone ever has.”

  “He cheated on you!” she explodes incredulously, hands slapping to her sides.

  I’m done.

  “You don’t know him, and I won’t tolerate you disrespecting him. Go.”

  A smug smile of superiority crosses her face. “And if your grandfather decides that funding your education is no longer tolerable?”

  “I won’t fight him.” The threat is less than a gnat buzzing around. “I earned my scholarship, and I have a work study. I’ll get through college without him. Thousands of students do it every year.”

  “You have no idea—”

  I point at the door. “Don’t come back.”

  She seems startled, but I don’t know why. I walk past her and open the door without another word. Huffing, she storms past. When she gets to the front door she pauses. “You’re acting like a spoiled child.”

  Tyler appears behind me, his hands dropping to my shoulders, bracing me from behind. “I’m pretty sure she told you to get the fuck out. So, go.”

  An affected sigh, and she leaves, clicking the door shut quietly.

  “I assume she’s on the never again, byotch, list?” Tate asks, looking over the chair and Tegs’ shoulder.

  Rolling my eyes, I give her the smile she just earned. “Yeah.”

  “There’s a list?” Ethan perks up, eyes sparkling under dark blond lashes. “Who else is on the list, and why haven’t I been given it…in duplicate?”

  “Hell yes, there’s a list.” Tate gives a little shimmy, leaning back with an evil smile into Tegs, who bites her ear with a growl.

  Bay grunts. “There are a couple who shall not be named. The mere sounds strung together brings blackness and shadow.”

  “Voldemort’s a byotch?” Ethan grins and wiggles his brows.

  “Um, I thought that went without saying.” Kevin throws a chip at him.

  “I don’t know, some of you people might be Slytherin, all nasty and shit,” he answers then grabs the chip and stuffs it in his mouth.

  “Not all Slytherin are bad,” Tate says, giving him an exaggerated smile.

  “How did I not know you’re in Slytherin?” Tegs frowns and gives her a shake.

  “You should have. I’m ambitious. I’m going to have the best fashion house ever.” She strokes a hand down his chest. “I’m so cunning you fall for my shit all the time, and”—she sweeps a gaze across the room, landing on me—“we all know I’m always ready to fuck someone up.”

  Both our lips tip up.

  “
When you’re drunk.” Mike tilts his drink to her before downing the rest of it.

  “All the time,” she says imperiously.

  “When did you drunk battle?” Ethan asks.

  “When his”—she points at Kevin—“stupid whore talked smack about my girl. All the boys were shaking in their boots, and I”—she waves her hands dramatically—“took care of it.”

  The memory of her on the boat, starting a fistfight makes me smile. “That you did. Thank you, my fearless Slytherin friend, for your willingness to step into the breach.” I reach for her hand and she gives it a squeeze.

  “Always, my dear Ravenclaw. Always.”

  Ethan guzzles his beer then asks again, “But, who’s on the byotch list?”

  “It’s need to know,” says Tate.

  “Well, I need to know.” He pouts, shoveling chips into his mouth, a grin spreading across his face even as he winks at me.

  “You haven’t been vetted.” Tate’s inner bitch is on full display as she messes with him.

  “Bay knows,” he complains, pointing at the man in question, who’s actively watching the draft, ignoring us.

  “Everyone here knows but you, new boy. You’ll need to prove your worth,” she says, sniffing and turning away an upturned chin.

  His inhale of mock indignation is quickly followed by a conspiratorial whisper to me, “Who’s on it?”

  “You, if you don’t quit whining,” snarks Mike.

  Laughing, Ethan slumps back into the couch. “Damn it.”

  “Wait, you’re Ravenclaw?” Kevin pipes up, looking at me. “How do you find out what you are?”

  “You’re a Hufflepuff.” Bay snickers.

  “I’m not a Hufflepuff. There are no cool Hufflepuffs.” Kevin glares at him, then looks back at me.

  “That is not true,” I say, before turning back to the Combine.

  The entire conversation disintegrates into a ridiculous debate on houses, and we laugh our way through a list of characters until Dylan’s turn, where he scores in the great-but-not-best bracket.

  “I thought Superman could fly?” Mike muses.

  “Apparently he can’t leap over a bus.” Kevin snorts into his glass and ends up coughing and snorting out the alcohol that went up his nose. “Now we know why he plays football and not basketball.”

  In my periphery, Tyler checks his phone, and his mouth drops open a hair. “Be right back, guys, keep an eye on anyone who outdoes our guy,” he says and grabs my hand, pulling me into the bedroom. When he closes the door, he spins around, staring at his phone. “Did your mom ever meet Gabe’s dad?”

  My brain freezes as I slowly say, “Not that I know of.”

  “Did she know Gabe well?” His eyes raise to mine, hands dropping to his sides.

  “No,” I tell him honestly, finding myself staring at his phone, wondering what new horror is coming. “I tried to keep them apart. But she did love the idea of him.”

  His eyes harden. “How so?”

  “Why?” I ask as our eyes meet.

  “Because Corey has video of her going into MercTech.”

  “MercTech?” That makes no sense. That’s Mr. Stevens’s company. I’ve never even been to Mr. Stevens’s building.

  His jaw grinds down as he spits out, “Yeah.”

  For a beat we’re both silent. The reality sinking in for us both. I don’t need to ask if she’d sell me out. She already has a hundred times.

  Would he go that far to save his son? Yes. Gabe’s dad would do anything to protect his son.

  Tyler quickly texts something to Corey, staring at the screen for a moment before he speaks again. “Now we know how she had money.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Tyler Blackman

  She’s draped over my chest and her slow breathing tells me she’s relaxed, no nightmares torturing her. With everything going on, it might be easy to skip these moments, but they’re what I live for.

  Dad’s interview or Anne could have been enough to crush us. Add her mother working with the father of her rapist…that’s next level fucked-up. Hurting her is unacceptable and trying to use the media and the law against us…This shit is out of control and I plan to come out guns blazing.

  Anger and the need to do something sends an adrenaline surge down my limbs. I brush my lips across her smooth skin and slip out from under her before the negative rush wakes her up. There’s a slight acknowledgment with a dreamy smile and she sinks back to sleep.

  She and I agreed to get back to a normal schedule, to prove to the court there’s nothing here for them to do, so at four thirty in the morning, I’m making breakfast and getting our shit together.

  The eggs are almost done, oranges sliced, coffee, and green smoothies ready, when I notice my phone blinking, and I flinch.

  Every time I look at it, it seems to bring bad news and the quick tightening of my chest is just one way I know how much I hate it. The thing is a never-ending source of misery, so I leave it to blink while I finish making breakfast.

  I sit down when she comes out, her face scrubbed and pink, dressed in dark skinny jeans and one of my huge Warriors sweatshirts. She gives me a pale smile, and says, “Thank you, it looks amazing.”

  We lean in and give each other a gentle kiss and dig in. A couple bites in, she gives me a sad look between lower lashes. “What now?” She lifts a single finger, pointing to the phone.

  “I don’t know. I haven’t checked.”

  Her hand drops to my thigh, her head coming to my shoulder. “I don’t blame you.”

  Her acceptance of my delay makes it easier to reach over and pick it up. Letting it recognize my thumb, I give her a grimace.

  There’s an email from Arnowsky. All parties have been ordered to be physically present next Monday for final dispensation of the power of attorney. Her grandfather won’t be able to just send someone, and orders weren’t entered to eliminate the request from Emily, so she’s being ordered to come too. It’ll be a giant clusterfuck, but at least we can get these shit people out of the way.

  “We go back Monday.” I flash the email at her, but she waves off my offer to read it.

  She clamps down on an orange slice and gives me an orange rind covered grin, then bites through, dropping it to the plate. “Okay.”

  She’s shockingly calm, determination painted on her face with a thin streak of anger in her eyes.

  “Whatever you need, you tell me.”

  “I will,” she says, sucking down another orange slice. “Being in that place made everything pretty clear. I want my life back, and to get it, I’ll have to take it. And get over it.”

  Something about the last comment rubs me wrong. “We’ll get through it, but you don’t have to do shit you don’t want to do.”

  She cleans the last of the fruit off her plate, and stands, reaching for mine. “If I want to get people to leave me alone, I have to show them I’m functional.”

  I don’t know that she’s wrong, so I say nothing, instead grabbing everything we need for campus. “You ready?”

  She gives me a brilliant smile that still doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Ready.”

  It’s not Neil or Sam with us this morning, and I can see her trying to adjust. They’ve been good about somehow always being on top of the schedule, making sure one of them is with her when things will be stressful. Today though, Neil is with his family for the first time in over a month, and Sam was here last night.

  On the drive, my phone goes off again, and I see a notice from California University Academic Retention Department. I have no idea what that is, except I’m supposed to be getting a notice of my scholarship for next year, but when I open it my chest tightens at the part that catches my attention:

  It has come to our attention that you have missed a substantial portion of your classes in the last six weeks. To be successful at school, your attendance is required. For that reason, we are notifying you that you have been placed on academic probation. Should you fail to alter your current atte
ndance patterns, you will be withdrawn from California University.

  Per academic regulations, you have the option to appeal, but understand that during the appeal, you should act in accordance with your class requirements.

  “What’s wrong?” Rayne whispers.

  “Huh?”

  “You look pissed.”

  Handing my phone over so she can read it, I stare out the window.

  I can’t believe they’re pulling this shit. I’ve taken every quiz, turned in every assignment, so it’s not like I’m ignoring my classes. I know what this is. The administration thinks they can fix this situation by forcing me to return to class. Like that will make things return to normal.

  “Can they do this?”

  “Only the dance class you and I are in should be an issue. And I talked to the teacher, and the worst she’ll do is give me an incomplete. None of the other classes have attendance requirements. They’re taking attendance, but we can’t lose a full grade, maybe a half.”

  “What are you gonna do?”

  When she hands me back my phone, I send Granddad the email. “I’m gonna get help.”

  Slim pale fingers slide through my own while her head drops to my shoulder and I breathe in her citrus and vanilla, drawing it into my lungs to try to stay calm until we get to the gym.

  The few people who are there when we walk in greet us both, giving Rayne looks of surprise and concern, but don’t ask questions. We step on the treadmill and a wave of emotion rolls over me when I see her next to me. Long hair, no makeup, she increases the incline, looking for a moment like nothing happened. If she wasn’t wearing sweats and a long-sleeved T-shirt, she’d look like she did the first time I walked in back in August.

  After we finish our workout, we grab our usual morning coffee and snack, and I drop her off at her desk beside Ethan, saying goodbye with a kiss. I go to my classes, and it goes well. No teachers lob hostile questions and none of them mention my attendance, plus, I’m able to check in with Rayne the entire time.

  Buzz.

  “Yeah, Granddad.” I knew he’d get in touch.

  “Don’t do anything yet. This deal will be done in a day or two and I’ll take care of this as soon as I get back. There’re too many things happening with you and your mom to be this far away.”