I nodded, then frowned. “Couldn’t I just hide her violin the night of the performance or something? Seems a heck of a lot simpler.”
Benjamin sniffed. “Simple, crude, and obvious. You want her getting a bunch of sympathy? Worse, you want her to be the underdog who comes out on top? Hell, she’s rich. She probably has extra instruments, she’d just have her driver or something bring her a spare. No, you need to fuck with her mind, get her into a position where she has to be visibly distasteful.”
I was thinking of more violent measures, or at least something that would land the bitch in jail, but I guess playing with whatever ideas Ben threw at me was fun for now.
“Alternatively,” said Kennedy, making me jump half out of my skin. “We could just let the whole thing lie and survive the year without going to full-out war.”
I looked over my shoulder at her, grinning sheepishly.
“Kennedy! Where’d you come from?”
“My mother,” she said, rolling her eyes. She came closer and dropped her voice, though Benjamin was still more than close enough to hear her. “Seriously, Rudy! I thought we talked about this?”
I held up my hands and let them fall again, expressing maybe a little too much frustration. But shit, I was frustrated.
“It’s not like I’m going to throw her in a dumpster or anything. Even though, I should. What’s that saying about not taking the trash out?”
“Yeah, but—look, we had the confrontation. Everybody got their shots in. Let it end there. Please.”
By now everybody had sort of drifted in from the dining room to listen in.
Chris snorted.
“Leave it there,” he said in a high-pitched mocking tone. “Please. You really think she’s going to leave it there? Hell no. You were supposed to be gone forever and we—specifically me, thank you very much—were supposed to take the fall for it. Not sure if you remember, but neither of those things happened. You think she’s just going to take the L and move on?” He shook his head, his eyes glittering. “Not a chance in hell, sweet cheeks.”
“Watch your mouth,” I snapped, wrapping my arms protectively around Kennedy from behind. “I’m the only one who gets to call her that.”
Kennedy twisted in my arms and wrinkled her nose at me.
“Don’t ever call me that,” she whispered.
“Of course not,” I whispered back, and kissed her cheek.
Gary made gagging noises. I ignored him. “Seriously, though,” he said when nobody reacted to his theatrics. “I think Chris is right. She’s not going to stop. Maybe it wasn’t public or anything, but we did embarrass her by fouling up her plans. She’s not going to just quit. Besides, Kennedy sort of went all rebellious little un-follower in front of the whole cafeteria. She’s not gonna like that. And… in case all of you are forgetting, she tried to kill Kennedy. This isn’t petty fucking pranks we’re dealing with anymore.”
Benjamin nodded at him, impressed. “I think that’s the most words I have ever heard you say all at once, kid. Good for you.”
Gary turned pink and ducked his head, slinking to the back of the crowd again.
Kennedy’s shoulders slumped and she felt heavier in my arms, leaning against my chest. She looked defeated.
“Please,” she said quietly. “Please just let it go.”
Frustration flashed through me like a gasoline fire. I touched my forehead to her hair and breathed her scent in, long and deep and slow, and blew it out again the same way. Then I did it again. And again.
I didn’t want to let it go. I wanted to kill them all with my bare hands. She was being naïve, trusting that nothing bad would happen just because she quit playing their game.
I knew better. Shit, everybody in this room knew better. The world doesn’t give a crap what you want, it’ll fuck with you if it wants to. Same goes for bullies and rich kids and entitled assholes. Julianne and Thomas hit all of those categories. Kennedy was in danger if we didn’t do anything, damn it.
But it was her life. They’d been her friends. She was the one in the trunk. At the end of the day, it was her call, whether I thought the call was stupid or not. Didn’t mean I had to close my eyes, didn’t mean I couldn’t plan for when—not if, but when—Julianne crossed the line again. All it meant was that I wouldn’t actively instigate anything. Yet.
“Okay,” I breathed finally. Then, louder, “You heard her, guys. No revenge.”
Kennedy hugged my arms closer and breathed a relieved sigh.
“Thank you,” she said. “Another game?”
We played another. It was two in the morning when I drove Kennedy home. I was yawning more than I wasn’t, and by the time I pulled up in front of her house she was looking at me worriedly.
“You good to drive home?” she asked.
I shrugged, but didn’t answer—my mouth was busy yawning.
“You know they say driving tired is just as bad as driving drunk, right?” she said, putting a hand on my thigh.
I gave her a sloppy, sleepy grin. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to get me to spend the night in your bed.”
She grinned back at me, then her hands were all over my chest and her mouth was on mine. Several seconds later, she pulled away, her eyes smoky and full of desire.
“Do you know better, though?” she asked huskily.
“No, I guess I don’t,” I said between kisses that began at her ear and trailed down her jaw. “After you, princess.”
It was four in the morning before we actually got any sleep. But damn, it was worth it.
Chapter Twenty
RUDY
I woke up to Kennedy’s scream.
I stumbled out of bed, across her room, and down the stairs, following the sound with my heart thundering in my chest.
I found her at her back door, her hands clasped over her mouth in horror, her eyes wide. Tears filled them and spilled over, splashing and jumping as she shook. I slid to a stop beside her, ready to kill whatever was making her look like that.
I should have expected it. Hell, I was the one who chased the trespassers out of the garden. In my defense, it had been dark. Really dark. I don’t think the moon was out or anything, and I’d been more focused on making sure that Kennedy was safe than examining the back yard.
It. Was. Trashed.
All of the fountains and pools had been smashed to bits, their waters left to pump aimlessly into the wreckage.
Every flowerpot had been smashed, its contents uprooted and flung unceremoniously around.
Stone benches were upturned and cracked, the wrought iron table and chairs dented and bent where they had crashed into the patio and paving stones—which were cracked and chipped.
The trees were gone, too. At first I couldn’t find them—then I looked at the firepit, which was sitting in a puddle. Charred remains of baby trees sat in a soggy lump in the center, beneath the twisted black form of something that looked like it had once had a face.
The only things that were untouched were a trio of whimsical pinwheels shaped like a bee, a butterfly, and a grasshopper. They had been shoved into the mud at the bottom of the patio at odd angles, looking like they were grinning sadistically up at whoever looked out the back door. Kennedy’s gaze was fixed on them.
Fury burned through me.
She’d spent so much time putting that garden together, all on her own. She’d wanted to show it to her parents, wanted them to be proud of her. More importantly, she’d been proud of herself.
Violence without a clear target threatened to tear my brain apart. Hot prickles ran over my skin, adrenaline dying to kill something.
“She did this,” Kennedy whispered.
I growled. She didn’t even react, just kept staring blankly at the creepy bugs grinning up at her.
I couldn’t even stop the explosions in my head long enough to translate anything into words—not even the psycho bitch’s name.
Kennedy moved like she was in a dream, softly touching the door
to slide it open. I wanted to stop her, to keep her from getting any closer to the destruction, but I couldn’t trust my body. Not just then. I could have hurt her without meaning to.
She walked away from me, out into the ruins of her benevolent rebellion. Tears rolled unheeded down her ashen cheeks as she looked from one spot to another.
I followed at a distance, growing increasingly furious with every step I took.
When she found the baby trees in the fire pit, she sank to her knees and sobbed. Her thin pink robe pooled around her, soaking up the muddy water.
She reached a shaking hand into the center of the charred remains and drew the creepy crispy thing out of it. With heartbreaking little gasps, she cleaned the soot off.
The paint had burned away, but the shape hadn’t changed much—it was the fourth bug of the pinwheel collection, a ladybug pressed into steel. Toxic, greasy black curls framed it—the remains of the pinwheel itself, I imagine—and its slender steel stake had curled and cracked, leaving dangerous jagged edges everywhere.
I was a heartbeat away from storming out of there and setting some houses on fire. But then Kennedy’s soft little noises evolved into murmured words, her tone desperate and lonely. I couldn’t just leave her there alone.
It took every ounce of will to fight back the homicidal rage, but I managed. Barely.
I took a few deep breaths and padded over to her, mud squishing through my bare toes. The sensation steadied me somehow, like my body remembered something pleasant that my brain couldn’t quite recall.
I crouched down beside her and put my arm over her bowed shoulders. She leaned into me, shaking. I rubbed her shoulder, trying to give her a calm I couldn’t even find for myself.
My insides were roiling. Somehow, though, I managed to keep my breath steady, my arm relaxed. The charade worked. Slowly, very slowly, she stopped shaking. She took one deep, shuddering breath and blew it out, then pushed away from me and wiped her face.
“It’s a threat,” she said in a quiet, flat voice. “She could have taken those three out of my garden and made a statement, if that’s all she wanted to do.” She sighed and gazed at the wreckage around us. “She isn’t going to stop.”
I held my tongue. Fury lashed mindlessly through me. I wanted to snap at her that yeah, obviously the bitch wasn’t going to stop. We told you that. But saying that wouldn’t change the past, and it would only make me another enemy in Kennedy’s eyes. She had more than enough of those already.
I glared into the mud swirling around our ankles, struggling to push emotions aside to let my brain work.
Kennedy managed it faster than I did. With a final sigh, she pushed herself to her feet and dropped the mangled pinwheel back onto the pile.
“I have to turn the water off,” she murmured. “This place is turning into a swamp.”
I stayed put, watching her hips sway beneath her slinky robe. She disappeared around the corner of the house for a moment and my entire body tensed, ready to spring into motion if she screamed again. She didn’t.
A moment later the pipes stopped haemorrhaging and the trashy pond stopped swirling.
I watched the heavier bits of detritus sink to the silty ground below the shimmering surface, and sent my rage with them. Buried, but not gone. Not by a long shot.
“There,” Kennedy said from the other side of the garden. “That’s—” She stopped, freezing mid-sentence.
Her eyes widened and her mouth opened in shock.
I stood, but she waved frantically at me to stay put. She put a finger to her lips. A moment later, I heard what had set her off.
The busy, pitchy noise of gossiping girls wafted over the front fence—close, and getting closer.
I recognized the voices in the same moment that I realized I was standing stark-naked in Kennedy’s yard—and that I hadn’t checked the locks the night before.
Kennedy listened hard for a moment and jumped when the doorbell rang.
She took two steps toward the back door, hesitated, then moved toward me. I met her halfway as the doorbell rang again and again, an irritated dingdong dingdong dingdong filling the air.
“Just stay quiet and they’ll go away,” she breathed.
I doubted it. My car was sitting in the driveway. It would draw them like drama bees to gossip honey. But the doorbell stopped ringing after a moment and it looked like Kennedy was right.
I breathed, relaxing, and put my arm around my girl. She blew out a sigh and leaned against me, then tipped her face up to kiss me.
“Wow, Kennedy. What happened here?”
Julianne’s snide voice reanimated my fury, forcing it from its hiding place. I snarled at her and the other two twits, who were all standing in the open doorway.
I kicked myself for not checking the doors the night before, but couldn’t spend the time to do it properly. Julianne had her phone’s camera pointed at us.
“Look at that, defective Kennedy with a naked troll,” Macy said over Julianne’s shoulder.
“Ew,” Joan said, wrinkling her perfect nose. “Tell me you didn’t do it in the mud.”
“Sure looks like she did,” Julianne said with a mocking laugh. “Little pig, little pig, let me come inside you!”
They howled with laughter while Kennedy shook in my arms. I glanced down at her face, expecting to see fear—but her expression was dark and cold with fury.
“Get out of my house,” she said flatly.
Julianne had the audacity to look hurt. “What? And leave you alone with this beast? I could never, Kennedy! Not to one of my dearest friends.”
Kennedy’s hands curled into hard little fists.
“Dearest friends,” she repeated through clenched teeth. She spread her arms wide, spinning in a circle to indicate the garden, nearly slapping me in the process. I stepped out of the way. “Dearest friends?! If this is how you treat your dear friends, how the fuck do you treat your enemies?”
Julianne blinked, eyes wide with feigned innocence.
“Me? Darling, really, you think I’m to blame for all this—ick?” She flipped her golden hair over one shoulder with a sigh. “Listen to yourself. Really think about it, Kennedy. When did bad things start happening to you?”
Kennedy narrowed her eyes but didn’t answer. I saw where Julianne was going with this and took a step toward her, opening my mouth to talk over whatever snaky bullshit she was about to dish. No offense to Maestro, of course. But she snapped her fingers and pointed at me, her voice changing to a dangerous pitch.
“Not another step, you testosterone troglodyte. I’m not on the menu.”
Her insinuation stopped me cold. I didn’t know whether to laugh or throw up until I saw a flash of real fear in Macy’s eyes.
I must have looked terrifying, naked and pissed off and covered in mud; but more than that, Julianne probably told her what happened at Thomas’ place. Even without that bit of information, this looked very bad, and Julianne was recording. I stopped moving.
“Good boy,” Julianne said, nearly breaking my tentative control. “Kennedy, listen to me. Bad things started happening when you hooked up with this mouth-breather. Bad things are going to keep happening to you for as long as you’re with him.”
“Is that a threat?” Kennedy growled.
“No,” Julianne said, cool as anything. “It’s a fact. Seymores attract trouble like shit draws flies, or haven’t you noticed? As long as you’re with him, your life is going to be a disaster. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
With that, she snapped a bunch of obnoxiously loud pictures, turned on her heel, and led her flouncing posse back out the way they’d come.
Neither of us said a word until the sounds of her sporty engine faded down the street.
“Okay,” Kennedy said quietly.
“Okay?”
She turned to me, her eyes blazing. “Let’s take the bitch down.”
“Yes!”
Maybe my fist-pump wasn’t appropriate. Kennedy answered it with a cool smile
and turned to go into the house.
I followed, eager to work off some of this adrenaline in the shower with her—if she wanted to, of course.
She did.
I started to wonder if, under all the insecurity and gentleness, some part of Kennedy was as bloodthirsty as me.
Chapter Twenty-One
KENNEDY
I’ve never wanted to destroy someone like that. I’m more the kind to leave when it’s clear I’m not wanted, or let people naturally drift out of my life, or just stop talking to people.
Julianne hadn’t let any of that happen. She’d used all of my vulnerabilities against me, over and over again. I wanted to shred her to bits.
My anger left me for a while in the shower and on the bed while I was rolling around with Rudy, but it wasn’t gone long.
Once the afterglow faded, I was just as furious as I’d been when she had her stupid camera pointed at my man’s junk. It was a powerful emotion, overwhelming and consuming, and I had no idea what to do with it.
I didn’t have a lot of time to ponder over it. My weekend wasn’t going to be anything like quiet. We had barely gotten dressed when Rudy’s phone rang. He frowned at the screen for an instant, then answered.
“Hey Eric, what’s up?” He paced while he listened. “Yeah, I’m over at Kennedy’s. I could be home in—okay, I’ll ask her.” He lowered the phone and turned to me. “Eric spent the night but he’s headed out now. Wants to know if it’s okay for him to stop here and drop off that detective’s information for you.”
“Yes.” The sooner the better, too.
If I could pin Julianne down the legal way, that would be better for everybody. If Eric’s contact turned out to be a dud—well, then I’d get the chance to see how the Seymores operated from the other side.
One way or another, the bitch was going down.
“She says that’s fine. Let me give you the address.”
They spoke for a few more moments, then Rudy hung up the phone, frowning thoughtfully. I glanced curiously up at him and he shook his head.
Something Wicked: An Enemies to Lovers Bully Romance (The Seymore Brothers Book 2) Page 11
