Something Wicked: An Enemies to Lovers Bully Romance (The Seymore Brothers Book 2)

by Savannah Rose

  “You better not be hitting all of them up before you get here,” Chris snapped. “I have better things to do than babysit.” He grimaced and shot me an apologetic look. It was weird. That was probably the mildest thing Chris had ever said about me to my face and he looked like he regretted it. What. The fuck.

  Rudy hung up and Bradley turned to me. He looked bone weary and years older than he actually was.

  He gestured to a kitchen chair. “May I?”

  I nodded.

  He sank down with a grateful sigh and looked me over. “You heard Rudy. Can’t let you upstairs until he gets here. I’m—” He ground his teeth against the apology and shook his head. He sighed through his nose, nostrils flaring. “It sucks that this happened to you,” he rephrased. “I wish it hadn’t.”

  “Thanks,” I mumbled, then stared at the pale-on-pale pattern of the kitchen tiles and traced it with my finger.

  Silence stretched in the kitchen for a long time, then Gary spun a chair around and straddled it, propping his arms and chin on the back of it.

  “I was kidnapped once,” he said cheerfully.

  I frowned up at him, wondering if he was making fun of me.

  “No, really,” he said. “My dad was deep into some shit and one of the chicks he was hooking up with found out about it. When he asked her to watch me one night so he could go to his meeting, she just sort of—took off with me.” He frowned thoughtfully for a moment. “Guess it isn’t really the same, though. I mean, there were guns drawn when the cops caught up with her, but the actual kidnapping part was kind of fun. She took me to Denny’s.” He grinned at the memory and I almost smiled.

  “What kind of meeting?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “Oh, you know, the usual. Pointed hoods and upside down crosses and shit. Racists anonymous.”

  I blinked. “KKK?”

  He shrugged again, wriggling a little in his seat. “KKK, Nazi party, whatever really.”

  Bradley snorted. “A very specific kind of whatever.”

  “Well yeah,” Gary said, looking away.

  In the awkward silence that followed, I watched them from under my hair. Julianne had always said they came from bad breeding. She always said that their criminal nature was bred into them, that they were irredeemable—that is, when she wasn’t saying that they were mutant freaks whose parents gave them away because they couldn’t control them. It made me a little sick to have confirmation of one of her theories.

  Then again, no matter who their parents were, she’d be right. That’s the upside of spreading all kinds of rumors—one of them was bound to be right. If Gary told me his dad was a businessman and his mom baked chocolate chip cookies, Julianne’s second theory would sound right. Gary didn’t look like he was proud of his dad’s white supremacy bullshit, though and I knew better than anyone how it was to want to be as different from your parents as possible – to never follow in their paths or share their beliefs.

  I wondered about Bradley’s family. His birth family. He’d seemed to be the scariest of the bunch from the start, but now I was beginning to wonder if he was just the protective force around the Seymores. Now that he wasn’t on guard, he exuded a sort of gentle strength. It was almost soothing.

  Chris was watching me starkly, his eyes narrowed, hackles up. He knew what was going through my head and he was preemptively blocking my questions. He really didn’t need to worry. I didn’t have anything like the emotional fortitude to deal with whatever secrets he carried with him. I knew my limits… sometimes.

  Chapter Six

  RUDY

  I waited until Thomas sat up and swore through thick, split lips that he wouldn’t get the cops involved—and he wouldn’t let Julianne do it, either—before I left.

  My temper still throbbed through me like a sore tooth, dragging at me to go back in there and finish what I’d started.

  Deep down, I knew my brothers were right. If I did that, it would finish me, too. I don’t know, maybe I get that from my mom—but fury that deep gets me suicidal. Makes it so I don’t care what happens to me as long as the person I’m pissed at gets theirs along with me getting mine.

  Of course it hadn’t really occurred to me that the backlash from this would hurt Kennedy, not until I’d heard her voice.

  My brothers had done their best to convince me, but it had all been theoretical until I heard the beaten flatness of her tone, the exhausted desperation in her pitch.

  She was a damn good singer, but she was no actress. She couldn’t have done that to manipulate me on purpose. Besides, I don’t think she would have even if she could have.

  I shook my head, trying to clear it.

  I’d been pissed off at Kennedy right before she disappeared. I thought she’d ruined my car—but now that I knew more, it was pretty clear to me that Julianne had done that dirty work herself, only signing Kennedy’s name in order to frame me and my brothers for Kennedy’s kidnapping.

  And probably her death.

  Dark rage threatened to take over my mind again and I shoved the thought away.

  Kennedy wasn’t dead. I had to remind myself of that fact. Of the fact that it could have been worse, but it wasn’t.

  She’d come close death, yes. But they hadn’t succeeded in taking her from me. She was alive and she needed me free to help her.

  The only alternative was to kill everybody who might be dangerous to her before the cops caught up with me—and the problem with that was that there were too many possibilities.

  See, Kennedy’s not real great at reading people. She’s quiet, a little withdrawn, and low-key desperate for attention. I blame her parents, but whatever.

  The point is that she was a target. She would probably always be a target, and there would always be people trying to take aim at her. If I took myself out of the equation now, well—she’d be on her own.

  It was a sobering thought, and it cooled the furious fire inside of me just enough to let me take a real breath. Kennedy needed me.

  She needed a shower and probably food and water. She needed to sleep in her bed and feel safe for a while. She couldn’t do that alone—and I knew she wouldn’t let my brothers help her, not like that. She didn’t feel safe with them yet.

  It was understandable. I hadn’t really given her a chance to get to know them. I’d kept her a secret from them just as she’d kept me a secret from her friends. I thought I was protecting her—my brothers can get pretty nasty and over-protective. I didn’t think that I’d have to protect her from her own friends as well as my brothers. Guess you learn something new every day.

  It wasn’t until I caught my reflection in the glass of her front window that the reality of the situation hit me.

  I looked like a killer.

  There was literal blood on my hands, on my face, on my clothes—not much of it was mine, if any. Julianne got her nails in there a couple times, but I can’t say that she actually managed to draw blood. Suddenly self-conscious, I hesitated. Was this really how I wanted Kennedy to see me? She was sheltered, not the kind of girl who had ever seen violence. I stopped that thought. The blood on my hands was nothing compared to what happened to her.

  In the midst of my thoughts, the door flew open and Chris glared up at me. “It’s about damn time. Get in here and take care of her, she’s been staring at the floor since you hung up. She’s in that creepy stage, man. I don’t know what the hell to do with her.”

  He looked me up and down as I stepped inside. His face was grim and he shook his head. “Boy, you’re in trouble now. Capital T trouble. As soon as Thomas goes crying to his girlfriend, she’ll bring the whole police department down on your head.”

  I thought about telling him that the girlfriend in question was already well aware of the situation, but decided against it. Chris already looked strung out. Adding to his anxiety would just press him into doing something stupid. I figured I’d been stupid enough for the both of us already.

  “Where is she?”

  “In the kitchen.
” He jerked his head and started walking.

  I followed, half-pretending that I’d never been here before. I didn’t know how much she’d told them, if anything. I didn’t know how much they’d figured out for themselves, either. Better to keep a low profile.

  It’s not that I didn’t trust my brothers. I did. I trusted them to be themselves, and I’m honest enough to recognize that they could be little shits at the best of times.

  “We gave her water,” Bradley told me as I stepped into the kitchen after Chris. “Benjamin washed her face. Couldn’t do much more than that—she’s been right there since we got back.”

  I had to fight back another wave of rage when I looked at her. She was sitting there, all curled up around herself, hiding behind her tangled hair. She was wrapped from the waist down in a green apron, but still wore her pants.

  “You guys should take off,” I said quietly. “I’ll take care of her.”

  From the corner of my eye I saw Gary look nervously back and forth between me and Bradley.

  When nobody moved after a few seconds, Gary spoke. “Take care of her, like, in a Mafia kind of way, or…?”

  I whirled to level a glare at him.

  He winced. “Okay, okay, sorry. Jeez. It’s just…have you seen yourself?”

  “He’s got a point,” Bradley said.

  I looked at him, astonished.

  Did he really think I was insane enough to hurt Kennedy?

  He gave me a mirthless, lopsided smile. “Chill, man. All I’m saying is you must have fucked that boy up good. He’ll figure you either went home or came here. If it’s just the two of you…” Bradley let me finish the thought myself, his big shoulders rolling in a shrug.

  “We’ll be fine,” I said curtly. “They’re not going to come after us in broad daylight.”

  “You went after them in broad daylight,” Bradley pointed out evenly.

  Chris huffed an exasperated sigh. “Oh for fuck’s sake. Bradley, if you’re so worried about it, give me the keys. You stay here and hang out in that stupid frilly front room. I’ll take Gary home and get Ben’s car back to him.”

  Bradley raised his brows in silent question at me.

  I shook my head.

  “I’ve got this,” I said. “And she needs space. Look at her.”

  They did. Every single eye in the room turned to take Kennedy in.

  Bradley’s expression softened the way it did whenever we got a particularly traumatized foster. I’d seen the same look when he found an injured animal. Bradley was a healer, a protector. It would go against all of his instincts to leave the two of us alone and vulnerable.

  He looked at me again and I saw the decision click into place in his eyes. He nodded and stood.

  “We’ll leave you be, then,” he said. “But I expect you to check in before the sun goes down.”

  I wanted to roll my eyes, but he had a point. Even if Julianne and Thomas were in no shape to chase us down, they had friends. Loyal, vicious friends.

  Having Bradley keep an eye out was the smart thing to do—but nobody ever accused me of being smart.

  “All right,” I said.

  They shuffled out, Bradley pausing to put a firm hand on my shoulder and give me a warning look. That time I did roll my eyes. I followed them to the front door and locked it, then locked the garage door and checked that the back door was locked. It was.

  “Any other doors in this castle?” I asked her.

  She shook her head mutely. I sighed the last of the aggression out of my body and went to her, kneeling by her side with my hands on her knees.

  “Hey,” I said gently. “How bout a shower?”

  She hesitated a moment, then nodded. I helped her up and pulled her to me when she shivered. We stood, curled around each other for a long time.

  Finally she shook herself and started hesitantly toward the stairs, staying within a few inches of me.

  I don’t know if I really understood what she was going through, really—but I figured she’d probably be happier if I was leading, so I did.

  I got the shower started. It was different from the one at home and it took me a minute to figure it out, but I managed. By the time the hot, steady stream was pounding into the tub, Kennedy had peeled her clothes off.

  I sucked in a breath as white-hot desire punched through me, then blew it out slowly. She was hurt.

  Her left hip and thigh had turned various shades of yellow and purple. She had matching bruises on her biceps—fingerprints. Her legs and arms were scratched all to hell, but I was pretty sure that was my fault. She’d stumbled and fallen while running from me. If I’d just been able to find the words to cut through her panic before she ran—I shook my head. I couldn’t even find words now.

  Instead of trying and inevitably failing, I stripped out of my own clothes. My shirt stuck to me a little where Thomas’ blood splashed, and I winced as I peeled it off.

  Kennedy watched me, her eyes drifting between sharp attention and distant staring, until I was as naked as she was.

  “Come on,” I said gently. “Let’s get cleaned up.”

  She took my hand and let me lead her into the shower. I slid the green glass door closed and she curled into my outstretched arm, pressing her body against me. My body reacted instantly and thoroughly.

  I wrestled myself under control with a lot of effort, but there was nothing I could do about the visible evidence. I held her gently and tried to ignore the hot throb below my navel.

  After a minute or two, I took the shampoo and started lathering it into her hair, working my fingers through the knots down to her scalp. She made a little noise in her throat that sent me reeling again, but I forced myself to pay attention. The last thing she needed today was soap in her eyes.

  When I finished lathering, I tilted her head back and ran my hands over her hair until the suds mixed with the blood in the bottom of the tub and swirled down the drain.

  She was taking fuller breaths now and I felt the tension in her muscles begin to loosen. Conditioner was next. With it and a lot of patience, I was able to get the last of the big tangles out of her hair. Methodical concentration forced the blood back up to my brain, but it was only temporary.

  I lathered up her pink fluffy scrubby thing and held her close. Sliding her wet hair to one side, I washed her neck, feeling the curve of it, watching the bubbles run down her spine to the space between her firm cheeks. Then her back, feeling rock-hard muscles relax. I had to bend my knees to reach her hips.

  She turned around, her back no longer facing me. This was getting harder and harder by the minute. I couldn’t look at her, but I couldn’t not look at her.

  I lathered the thing up again and started over from the top; but my control was getting shaky.

  Her breasts glistened distractingly under the stream, her nipples erect. I swallowed hard, then put as much of my brain in charge as possible. Washing away the horrors of the night before, the dirt and sweat and fear.

  When I reached her hips again, I knelt in the tub, running the thing over her toned calves and strong thighs, moving up, higher, watching Kennedy. The way her eyes closed and her head lolled back. The way she moved one foot to the side so that her legs parted enough to fit me between them. I hesitated then. Uncertain of whether or not I should take that movement as permission. But fuck, did I want to.

  Without a sound, she pulled a clean cloth from a shelf overhead and handed it to me. I lathered it, hesitated for another few beats, then gently—and awkwardly—swept it between her thighs. Her little gasping moan was too much for me.

  I kissed her hip, letting my teeth rake over her smooth skin, nibbling a little here, a little there as I moved the cloth back and forth before dropping it altogether. The cloth was too much of a barrier.

  Gazing back at Kennedy, I saw that her eyes were still closed and her lips agape in that way that told me she was waiting for something else to happen. I wasn’t going to be the one to disappoint her, not after the day she’d had.
<
br />   With one sole finger, I slipped between her lower lips, moving beside her clit one side and then beside it on the other. Tiny little moans fluttered against her lips and her legs shook like each movement I made took another ounce of her stability away. I was okay with that. If she fell, I’d be right here to catch her.

  I pressed my finger against her clit, rubbing tiny circles around it before covering it with my mouth. Warm water mixed with the taste of her as I sucked and licked, devouring her as tenderly as I could.

  Clasping a hand under her thigh, I angled one of her legs around my shoulder, and dove deeper. My tongue lapped up all the juices that spilled from her and my lips locked around her core like they had no intentions of ever letting go. I could suffocate right here, right now, and be fine with how I came to my end.

  When Kennedy lowered her face to me, the light was back in her eyes. She wasn’t smiling, really, but there was a reflection of a smile around her eyes.

  I smiled up at her and gently guided her leg back down. A long breath rattled her chest as she tried to compose herself.

  Tipping her head back, she rinsed the conditioner out, giving me a moment to scrub myself down. I wasn’t nearly as gentle with myself. Thorough, but not gentle. My cock strained for something to enclose it, strained to taste what my lips and my tongue had just taken full advantage of.

  I was done the same time she was. No matter how safe she was right now, I had no intentions of letting her out of my sight. Not even for a little bit.

  She bit her lip as I rinsed my body off, then pressed herself against me as she reached behind my back to turn off the water.

  A few minutes later we were on her bed, tangled around each other in bid to achieve an explosive release of all the tension that had built up over the last couple of days.

  Chapter Seven

  KENNEDY

  A desperate sadness lingered around every touch. I kissed his lips, memorizing the way they tasted, the way they felt.