KENNICK: A Bad Boy Romance Novel (16 page)

“And Kennick,” she said, softly, waiting for him to
give her another look out of those beautiful green eyes. “Thanks. For this. I
mean, it wasn’t exactly…fun. I don’t think you being here was the best thing
that could have happened. But…well, I don’t know. Just thanks.”

She was thanking him for doing the one thing she’d
never been able to do for herself. Standing up to her mother. He knew that if
he hadn’t been there, her mother would have had one less thing to complain
about, but no one would have told her to stop picking apart her daughter’s ego.
He didn’t need to be thanked for that, either. When it came right down to it,
he hadn’t done it for her. He’d done it for himself. Because the thought of
anyone making Kim sad called to some primal thing inside him, some deep need to
protect her.

“No thanks needed, baby,” he said, shooting her
another perfectly crooked smile. “It’s a man’s job to stick up for his woman.”

His woman?
 
He
did not just say that,
Kim thought, her breath catching in her throat as
her heart did a somersault. But before she could ask him if he’d
really
just called her ‘his woman’, he
was gone.

She shook the strange feeling off as best as she could
as she approached Jessica, who seemed scared shitless when Kim appeared before
her.

“Hey,” Kim said gently. “I just noticed, you look a
little upset. I just wanted to know if there’s anything I can do to…”

“Oh,” Jessica said, her eyes scanning the diner as
though looking for someone. “It’s nothing, Kim. Thanks. I mean, thanks anyway,
but it’s all fine.”

But her voice cracked on the word “fine”. And the girl
was most certainly scared of
something
.
Kim narrowed her eyes as Jessica scanned the room again.

“You don’t look like it’s all fine,” Kim said softly,
knowing she shouldn’t press too hard but also knowing that a girl with
that
kind of look on her face most
certainly
wasn’t
fine.

“It’s none of your business,” Jessica snapped, turning
her full attention to Kim. It seemed that all her fear and worry had turned
suddenly to anger, and she directed it all at Kim. “You’re not my friend, so
why do you even care? Leave me alone.”

“Alright,” Kim said, holding her hands up in
surrender. “Alright, I get it, I’m sorry for prying. But you know where I work,
if you do need someone just to talk to, alright?”

“Whatever,” Jessica mumbled, brushing past Kim to
clear the recently vacated table. Kim sighed and watched her go, wondering what
was going on. In her life, in her town, in her family, in her heart. What hope
for normalcy could Kim ever have if even Jessica, the perpetually smiling and
bubbly waitress, was acting out of character?

Maybe it’s
something in the air,
Kim thought as she left.

Chapter
Twenty-Three

He knew she knew he was watching her. Following her.
But she didn’t know who he was. He didn’t think she did, anyway. And even if
she did, who cared? Soon enough she wouldn’t have anyone to tell.

It was good that she looked like Rhonda. It made it
easier for him. He could just close his eyes and imagine it was her, imagine
that he was doing the right thing again. And he
was
doing the right thing. The ends justified the means, didn’t
they? And his ends would be good. Good for him, and good for his friends.

They wouldn’t be very good for Jessica Bainbridge. And
they wouldn’t be very good for the Volanis brothers and their gang of
criminals. But they should never have returned in the first place. After all
this time, they should have let the past lie. Like he had. He’d had to forgive
himself for letting things get out of hand. He should have stepped in earlier,
really. He should have stopped her long before she had that little demon seed
in her belly. It should have been
his
baby
inside her. He’d waited for her all through high school, only for her to turn
around and…

But the past was the past. This was now.

He wouldn’t give them another chance to ruin one of
his people, his flock. They had to leave, and he was going to make sure they
left right quick. He was sure that if Jessica knew that her fate was for the
betterment of her town and the people she loved, she would accept it
wholeheartedly.

Chapter
Twenty-Four

“Please, tell me your Mom is just as bad,” Kim moaned
into the window of Kennick's car. He still hadn't told her where they were
going, and they'd already left Kingdom behind a few miles back.

“My Mom? She's not in the picture,” Kennick said, his
tone casual. Still, Kim felt a flash of shame at herself for bringing it up;
she knew Kennick had never talked about his mother, and she'd assumed there was
a reason for that.

“I'm sorry,” she said, biting her lip as she pulled
her forehead away from the glass to look at him. He didn't seem upset, but what
did she know? She really did barely know him at all, although it never seemed
that way when they were together. “I shouldn't have...”

“No,” he said with a shrug. “I'm serious, it's
alright. My mother was a gypsy, tried and true. She stuck around until she
simply couldn't do it anymore. Motherhood's not for everyone. And Dad, he was
the one who really wanted kids. He did a great job raising us, and I don't hold
anything against my mother for leaving. It was in her blood, so to speak.”

The smile he flashed Kim relaxed her slightly, though
she couldn't quite understand his perspective. Who wouldn't be angry at their
mother for leaving them? It was just human nature, wasn't it?

“Do your brothers feel the same? And Mina?” she asked.

“Damon does. And Mina, yeah, Mina doesn't give a crap.
Mina,” he said with a chuckle, shaking his head, “I think she's got more balls
than the three boys combined. Cristov...well, I think Cristov took it the
hardest. He's kind of the sensitive type, you know?”

Kim smiled, turning her gaze back out the window.
Cristov, with his snarky attitude and sexual innuendos and desperate attempts
to seem tough, was a good candidate for the secretly sensitive type. When
Kennick turned the car off the road, into a parking lot that Kim had only ever
drove past, giving it the mildest of attention, she leaned forward and her jaw
dropped.

“You're kidding me,” she said in a deadpan that made
Kennick laugh. “Here? This is the super secret surprise location?”

“Sure is,” he said, parking the car. The sign loomed
above them: BORK'S GUNS AND RANGE.

“What are we supposed to do here?” Kim asked, a smile
on her lips as she unbuckled her seat belt.

“What do you think?” Kennick chuckled, leaning across
her to open the glovebox; inside, to Kim’s shock and discomfort, sat a gun,
gleaming hot metal. Her instinctual reaction was pure fear; she’d never seen a
gun in person. It looked just like one on TV or the movies, but it was real.
And Kennick just drove around with it in his glovebox.

“You have a gun,” she said, the question turning into
a statement since the answer was right in front of her. “Why?”

Kennick shrugged as he took the firearm from its place
and tucked it into his jeans.

“I’ve been a lot of places, done a lot of things,” he
said, but when he saw the look in her eyes he offered her a comforting smile.
“The truth is, I just like them. And you’re gonna see why in a few minutes.”

She shook her head. She did
not
want to hold that gun. She didn’t want to fire that gun,
either. She wanted nothing to do with that gun.

“Hey,” Kennick said softly, taking her chin in two
fingers and drawing her gaze to his eyes. “Trust me. Just…trust me on this,
alright?”

She knew she shouldn’t. She still barely knew him.

But somehow, she did.

She followed him into the store, where he bought some
bullets and paid for a session at the indoor shooting range behind the shop
itself. As they stood at the counter, Kim listened for the sounds of gunfire,
but none came.

“Got the whole place to yourself right now,” the clerk
said cheerily. He was a large man with bushy blonde beard and friendly eyes; if
Kim had seen him at McDonalds, she would never have guessed this was his
workplace. With ear protection in hand, Kennick and Kim retreated to the back
room, where ten separated lanes waited. Kim was growing more and more agitated
with each moment; what was she doing? She wasn’t the sort of girl who shot
guns, for fun or any other reason! She could shoot herself, or Kennick,
accidentally!

Except, she realized, she wouldn’t. Because, as
Kennick walked her patiently through the ins and outs of the gun, which he said
was a Remington .330, she realized that the gun was made to be hard to shoot
accidentally. He taught her how to hold it when she wasn’t about to shoot, how
to put the safety on and off, how to load and rack and reload.

The gun, when he handed it to her, safety on and her
fingers nowhere near the trigger, she was amazed at its weight. It looked much
lighter. Finally, with a wink, Kennick helped her put the ear protection on and
led her to the booth. A red target stood about 25 feet down the lane. Kim’s
body was shaking, her hands barely able to lift the little gun, and she wanted
to turn and tell him thanks but no thanks.

Then he came behind her, arms encircling hers, and
held her tight, their hands together on the handle. She could barely hear him
through the earplugs, but could hear the relaxing tone in his voice. With his
fingers over hers, they undid the safety. And with his finger over hers, they
pulled the trigger.

The recoil surprised her, but not as much as the
feeling right after the sound exploded around them, loud even with ear
protection.

She felt…badass.

Kim had never once in her life felt badass.

But now, she felt damn good.

Something about the power, the sound, the weight of
the gun, the feel of the recoil, all inflated her with a sudden burst of
invincibility. Screw everyone, screw the world! Kimberly James could fire a
gun, and fuck anyone who thought she couldn’t!

Of course, she was the only one who ever thought she
couldn’t,
but that didn’t matter at the
moment.

Kennick stepped back as Kim took another shot, then
another. Slowly, her aim got better, and though she never managed to hit the
center target, she at least hit the target in the circles instead of on the
white space beyond it. She shot until the bullets were gone; she shot until her
whole body buzzed with energy, her mind rushing with a confidence she’d never
known possible. Turning, flushed and breathing heavy, she saw the smile on
Kennick’s face. Placing the gun on the little table in front of her, she
slipped into his arms.

“You were right,” she murmured against his neck. “That
was amazing.”

She’d forgotten all about her mother, all about work,
all about Pastor Hendrix and Bob Talkee and everything in her life that held
her back. She was badass Kim James, and she loved Kennick for making her feel
that way.

On the drive back to the trailer park, where Kim knew
she would get a chance to put all her newfound confidence to good use in a very
different sort of rush, she gushed about every little thought that came into
her head, no longer afraid of being boring or vapid or petty. She talked until
she was thirsty, and Kennick smiled the whole way, laughing and shaking his
head. He’d never seen this side of Kim before, and he liked it quite a bit.

The good feelings lasted all the way through the front
door of his trailer, where a sneering face crumpled them all to the ground in a
spectacular way.

“How did you get in here?” Kennick growled, pushing
Kim behind him. She peered around her shoulder. A man she didn’t recognize was
smirking, looking right back at her. His eyes were coal-black and his hair
blonde; he wasn’t a Volanis, that was for sure. His clean-shaven jaw was
covered in pockmarks, his nose slanted violently down. He might have been
handsome if it wasn’t for the ugly look on his face.

“Is this it, Nicky?” he said with a sneer. “Is this
what you’ve been doing while the rest of us have been busting our asses trying
not to get lynched? You dragged us to this shit town and now you’re
preoccupying yourself with pussy?”

“You better watch what you say next,” Kennick
threatened, stepping forward. The energy between the two men crackled.

“Second-rate pussy, too, from the looks of it,” the
man said. And then there was a vicious crack, a yelp of pain. Kim watched
Kennick’s fist come back bloody; the man’s jaw was diagonal to his face, and he
held it, blood trickling down his fingers while his wild, angry eyes stared up
at Kennick.

His jaw must not have been broken, though, because he
kept talking.

“Should have your head where it matters, Kennick,” he
said, spitting out blood onto the trailer floor. “Think your idiot brother is
gonna be able to be responsible for all that sweet cheeba out in the far
trailer? Even if he had half your brains, which he doesn’t, he’d still be two
IQ points away from qualifying for welfare.”

When Kennick’s shoulder rolled back again, his fist
stiff and ready to land another blow, Kim caught it and held. Surprised, he
looked back at her. She shook her head no, eyes wide. She wasn’t much for
bloodshed, and the last thing Kim wanted was to watch Kennick put someone in
the hospital over mere words. He grimaced, as though holding back physically
pained him, but relented all the same, dropping his raised fist. When he turned
back to the man, he stepped forward enough to make him bend over the sink.

“Get. The. Fuck. Out.”

“Lettin’ this bitch call your shots? Thought your
balls were a little bigger than that,” the man said, his eyes narrow. Kim
recognized everything about this man. He was a bully. Just a bully. She’d known
a million of them in her life. Bob Talkee was one. Pastor Hendrix another. Her
mother…well, that went without speaking. She saw Kennick’s shoulders tense and
knew that this time, her light grip on his arm wouldn’t be enough. So she
stepped forward, around him, placing herself between them. When she looked at
the man, she imagined everyone who’d ever insulted her. She gathered every bit
of moisture in her cheeks and spit.

“I’d recommend you listen to your
rom baro
,” she hissed. “Before he gives that pretty mouth of yours
something else to wail about.”

The man’s eyes went wide, flashing from Kim to Kennick
and back. He tensed, then his body seemed to pulse. But he slid past her all
the same and made for the door, their eyes following his every move. When he
had himself half out the door, he stopped and turned.

“Fair warning, motherfucker,” he said. “Fair fucking
warning.”