Like You Hurt: A Standalone Enemies to Lovers Romance (Devilbend Dynasty Book 2)

by Kaydence Snow

  I rolled my shoulders and stepped forward to join their weird little circle. Turner was my friend. I could trust him. “OK. And this something I need to know couldn’t have been put into a text or a phone call?”

  “No phones.” Harlow’s tone brooked no arguments.

  “Relax.” Donna rolled her eyes. “We ditched the phones, as instructed.”

  Baby Mead nodded but gave me an apologetic look. “Sorry. I know it’s weird. But when you’re dealing with corporations, you don’t take chances. People worry about governments spying on us, but most government departments are running Windows XP on hardware that belongs in a museum. Meanwhile, Google knows more about you than your own mother, and we let them. It’s willful ignorance. And it’s because corporations have the money and the latest tech. So . . .”

  “Riiight.” I squinted at her. She had the hood of her purple coat up, her blonde hair tangling with the white fur trim. No tin foil hat in sight, and yet . . .

  “Hey, before we go any further.” Drew stepped forward and held a hand out. “I’m Drew. I know we haven’t met properly, but I just want you to know that if D trusts you, so do I. Also, I had nothing to do with the posters yesterday. That was all Will.”

  I looked at his outstretched hand, then frowned at him, keeping mine firmly in my pockets. After an awkward silence, he cleared his throat and looked away. “Fair enough, I guess.”

  I turned to Donna. “What the hell?”

  “I just wanted to warn you about . . . you have a right to know why . . . uh . . . right, I should probably explain about Will first . . .” Her eyes darted around uncertainly. I’d never seen Donna unsure about what to say.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Amaya threw her hands up and let them flop back to her sides. “This idiot and his friends”—she pointed to Drew—“managed to get themselves involved in some seedy fight club. Now the dangerous bad men won’t let them leave. Apparently, these same men have tried to lure you into the seedy fight club, but you have more than half a brain and said no.”

  I raised my eyebrows. I was pretty sure that was a compliment.

  “But they really want you,” Amaya continued, “because of your super violent past, and they don’t like being told no, so the posters were their way of intimidating you. Will seems to be more involved than any of those half-brained idiots realized, so he was the one behind that little stunt. Drew’s had enough and is worried about them dragging Donna into it, so he came to us to spill his guts. Harlow did some digging, and it turns out Will’s dad owns all the properties where the fights have been taking place. He’s a businessman with ties to several big corporations, but he seems to be giving a lot of money to BestLyf. Which is why Harlow insisted on no phones.”

  She rolled her eyes as if she thought it was preposterous that anyone would try to spy on a bunch of teenagers, and I was inclined to agree, but whatever. The phones didn’t really matter right now.

  “Harlow found other documents with names and dates that match previous fight nights, along with figures we suspect are the profits. Drew seems to think they’re not going to stop trying to recruit you, and they may try to use Donna to do it because you clearly have the hots for her. She also has the hots for you, because all she could think about all afternoon was making sure you were warned and safe. Also, sorry if I was a bitch to you last night. I was just worried about my friend and didn’t know you were a decent guy.”

  With a dismissive wave of her hand, she looped her arm through Harlow’s and stomped her feet against the cold, apparently done talking.

  Most of us gaped at her. Donna had her hand over her eyes, her short hair obscuring half her face.

  Harlow was grinning at Amaya. “Holy shit, you actually said sorry for being a bitch?”

  “And she called him a decent guy!” Mena bounced on her toes.

  “Out of all that, that’s what you choose to focus on?” Donna shook her head, incredulous.

  Everything Amaya had blurted out—some of it shit I already knew, some of it making other things click into place—finally registered properly.

  Without even thinking about it, I took a step forward and blocked Donna with my body, holding my arm out for good measure. “What do you mean they’re trying to use Donna? Is someone threatening her?” I tried hard not to speak through my teeth, but my words still came out on a growl.

  Donna slapped my arm away and stepped in closer to my side. “And out of all that, that’s what you choose to focus on? You’re the one they’ve already come after.”

  I huffed. “I can take care of myself.”

  “What? And I can’t?” She crossed her arms.

  I groaned. “That’s not what I’m saying. You’re a fierce independent woman and all that shit, but these are dangerous people who—”

  “Is this some kind of foreplay for you two?” Drew cut in.

  Everyone burst out laughing while Donna and I sealed our lips shut and avoided looking at each other.

  “Can we focus please?” Turner sounded serious. “We need to figure out our next move. If BestLyf really is involved in this . . .” He shook his head. My friend was already convinced that company was evil—this would only be more proof for him.

  “We don’t exactly have evidence they are,” Harlow hedged. “I just thought it was worth noting that Mr. Frydenberg was giving them substantial amounts of money each week.”

  “How do you know what kind of money Frydenberg is giving anyone?” I asked.

  “It’s better not to ask.” Mena bugged her eyes out at me.

  Harlow gave a nonchalant shrug. “I’m not a pro. It’s not like I could hack into all his accounts or anything like that, so I definitely don’t have the full picture. I just got access to a few folders on his computer.”

  “This is ridiculous.” I rubbed my temples. “Why are we freezing our balls off in the woods discussing this and not going to the police?”

  They ran me through the obstacles, the lack of evidence, why Drew and the others were scared to come forward.

  “I’ll talk to the police, man.” Drew looked at me earnestly. “I just want to make sure that when I do, it counts—that my friends will be safe, that Will and his dad can’t weasel their way out of it.”

  “We need evidence.” Amaya tucked her chin into her scarf.

  Everyone fell into silence, the only sounds those of animals scurrying and the flapping wings of some night bird.

  I wanted so badly to just turn around, walk back home and get under the covers, pretend I didn’t know any of this. I didn’t want to get involved in this shit. But I already was, whether I wanted to be or not. And there was no way in hell I was going to sit around and risk Donna getting hurt.

  An idea was forming in my mind, but the potential for trouble—exactly the kind of trouble I’d promised Aunt Hannah and myself I’d avoid—was pretty damn high.

  “Are we being stupid not telling our parents about this?” Mena’s voice was low, hesitant.

  “Maybe.” Donna ran her hands through her hair. “But telling Drew’s dad or Amaya’s mom?” They both cringed. “Probably do more harm than good. Telling your parents or Turner’s dad? They’d just go to the police. Telling my parents? Dad is friends with Joseph Frydenberg and would almost certainly confront him, maybe warn him unintentionally. I don’t think it’s worth the risk.”

  “So, what? We do nothing?” Drew sounded frustrated. Of course he was. He’d been dealing with this exact conundrum, stuck in this impossible situation, for a year. Grudgingly, I felt for the guy. He may have gotten himself into this position, but at least he was trying to get himself out.

  “Donna, is what Harlow has on Frydenberg enough to connect him to the fights, charge him?” Even if she didn’t want to be a lawyer anymore, my girl still had more legal knowledge than anyone I knew.

  “On its own? No. We would need to show proof that the fights happened on his properties. Then the fact that he owns them, coupled with the documents Harlow found and Drew’s statement
, would be grounds enough to dig into his affairs further, search his properties and businesses.”

  “Drew, are you sure Will is involved in organizing this shit?”

  “Yeah.” He huffed. “It’s all on his phone. I’ve been watching him for a while, and I’ve noticed a few texts, other things that would prove it. They make everyone surrender their phones at the doors for the fights, but Will somehow always has his.”

  “If Will was at the fight when the police showed up, would that be enough reason for them to check his phone?”

  “Yeah.” Donna nodded. “Anyone caught participating in illegal activity would be searched and questioned.”

  I blew out a big breath. “Then we make sure Will is there when the police bust up the fight.”

  “How?” Drew asked, but Donna was already shaking her head, giving me a reproachful look.

  “We give them what they want.”

  “Dammit, Hendrix, no.” Donna shoved me, but her hands stayed on my chest. “I’m telling you all this to keep you safe, not so you can get yourself into a dangerous-as-fuck situation.”

  I smirked at her, but it didn’t reach my eyes. “How’s it feel, princess?”

  “It’s not the same.” She seethed. “After what you told me . . . you shouldn’t have to do this.”

  Donna knew how abhorrent the idea of violence was to me now, and here I was, about to throw myself into an actual fighting pit. She was trying to look out for me, just as I’d been trying to look out for her all this time. Only difference was, she’d been doing stupid, dangerous shit as an escape. I was about to do some stupid, dangerous shit for a good cause. For her. To protect her.

  I rubbed her upper arms and spoke in a low voice, ignoring the others. “Better me than anyone else. My soul is already black.”

  She shook her head, her gaze pleading.

  “You two done whispering sweet nothings over there?” Amaya barked.

  I stepped away from Donna and fixed her sister with a look. “Get everything you have on Frydenberg ready to send to the police.”

  She nodded, and I turned to Drew.

  “Keep us updated on any changes, but don’t go to the next fight if you can avoid it. Just be ready to talk to the cops when it goes down.”

  Another firm nod.

  “The rest of you, we all need to pretend like nothing’s changed. Especially around Will. We should definitely not be seen together.”

  “Also, don’t text or call each other about this,” Harlow rushed to add.

  “I’ll get word to Donna when I have a date and location for the fight,” I said. “If I don’t check in twenty minutes after going in, that’s your confirmation Will’s there. That’s when you do all you can to get the cops there.”

  “We’ll make it happen.” Turner looked determined.

  “All right.” There was nothing left to say, so I turned to walk back to my house. The others moved in the opposite direction—to where the path led to another street.

  “I’ll be home later,” Donna called, then caught up with me, pulling on my elbow. “Wait. Can we talk?”

  I just kept walking. “There’s no other way, Donna. It’s late, and I haven’t slept in two days. I’m exhausted.”

  “It’s not about that.” She kept pace, looping her arm through mine.

  I slowed down and peered at her. Her expression looked uncertain—almost nervous. I wanted to pull her against me so badly, kiss her little nose, which was almost definitely frozen in this weather. But I had no idea where we stood. Not wanting me to get killed was a long way from actually wanting . . . whatever. I hadn’t even allowed myself to fully consider what I wanted from her.

  But that look on her face . . . she didn’t look as though she wanted to lay into me or use me as a distraction. It looked like something else. Something more.

  “OK,” I said, relenting. “But let’s get out of the cold.”

  She nodded. Her hand slid down until it joined my hand in my pocket, and we threaded our fingers together.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Hendrix

  Donna and I were silent as we collected our phones, crossed the yard, and made our way up to my bedroom. I didn’t drop her hand until I was closing my bedroom door with a subdued click.

  She was draping her coat over my desk chair when I turned around; I had to stop myself from rushing over to tidy up the mess of books and papers and pens littering the surface. The sweatshirt she was wearing underneath had a neon-pink pair of puckered lips on the front. It was so clearly not hers it made me smile faintly.

  I took a few soft steps toward the lamp, then decided against it. Our eyes were already adjusted to the dark, and the curtains I’d left open earlier were letting in enough light. The moonlight made her hair look silver, ethereal, the soft angles of her face cast in gentle shadow as she looked around. Her eyes wandered to the desk, the bed, the window, everything but me.

  I came to stand directly in front of her, not even sure what I wanted her to say. But she was here, and I couldn’t find it in me to be anything but pleased.

  She looked up at me and swallowed, reached out, then dropped her hands and balled them into fists at her sides. She was clearly anxious, but her brave eyes never left mine as she licked her lips and took a big breath.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered and clenched her jaw—as if the words didn’t taste right on her tongue. Or as if she was bracing for my response.

  I frowned. “What for?”

  “All of it,” she breathed. “For being a bitch to you when you first got here, for making your life hell, for not seeing you were just trying to help me, for not seeing what I was doing to you and to myself. The willful ignorance . . .” She shook her head, that silver-blonde hair falling partly over one eye. “For blaming you for my friends seeing me in that state last night. For the posters and Will and Drew and this whole mess. I’m sorry for all of it.”

  She squared her shoulders and gave me one firm nod, ready to accept whatever I threw at her, however I reacted. So strong even in her humility.

  I moved closer and allowed myself a single touch—a brush of my fingers against her temple as I tucked that lock of hair behind her ear—before I forced my hands down to my sides. Just because she was here, just because she was apologizing, didn’t mean she wanted more from me.

  “I gave as good as I got.” My voice was as low as hers but just as decisive. “I goaded you, Donna, and a part of me wanted my life to be hell. I didn’t feel like I deserved happiness, friends, light after what I’d done. As for the other shit, I chose to follow you and push you, and I was probably crossing lines and sticking my nose where it didn’t belong, and for that I’m sorry too.” She shook her head and opened her mouth to object, but I rushed on before she could. “As for Will and Drew and that whole mess—I promise you none of that is your fault. I was getting dragged into that shit before Will realized there was anything between us. That’s not on you.”

  She searched my gaze for a long time, then gave a tiny nod and a barely audible “OK.”

  “OK.” I resisted the urge to pull her against me, hold her, protect her, devour her. There was barely a sliver of moonlight between us, our bodies drifting closer and closer.

  “Hendrix?” Those round, perfectly imperfect, mismatched eyes still held me prisoner in my own room.

  “Yeah?”

  “Thank you. For sticking your nose where it didn’t belong. For pushing me. For seeing what was happening when no one else did—when even I didn’t let myself see the extent of it.”

  “I’d do it all again in a heartbeat, take every mean thing you said and did, to make sure you were safe.”

  “I know.” She reached up and finally touched me, gripping my shoulders. “I know . . . I . . .”

  My heart beat so fucking hard in my chest I was sure the thudding would wake the neighbors. I dared not speak as she tried to get whatever she was trying to say out. But with a slight shake of her head, she gave up on words altogether.


  Instead, she lifted onto her toes and tilted her face up to mine, her eyes already half-closed as I reacted to her—naturally, instinctually. My hands went to her back as I met her halfway in a kiss. Her nose was still cold from being outside so long, but her lips . . . her lips were warm and soft and perfect.

  She kissed me with such tenderness—such purposeful, gentle tenderness—that it felt as if this kiss were our first. Despite all the other times we’d kissed, all the other depraved things we’d done to each other.

  This moment felt more raw and honest than any of it. The softness of that chaste kiss filled me with such contentment that I would’ve been happy to simply stand there and hold her—just like that—for the rest of the night.

  It was Donna who teased my lips with a hint of her tongue, asking for more. I gave it to her, opening my mouth to hers, kissing her deeper, holding her tighter, my fingers digging into her back.

  It was Donna who unzipped my hoodie, who whipped her own off before mashing her lips right back to mine. I helped her get all our clothes off until we were skin-to-skin. She was so hot against me, her body so soft and perfect, my cock in agony where it was pressed between us.

  It was Donna who nudged me toward the bed until I was sitting down and she was climbing over me, straddling me. We moaned against each other’s lips as our breaths turned to pants, as we caressed and kissed and licked and gripped, moving seamlessly together. So seamlessly I almost forgot to grab a condom before she slid down my length.

  All the other times had been rushed, frenzied, as much fighting as it was fucking. But this time, in the quiet darkness of my warm bedroom—this time it was slow, deliberate, intentional.

  Before, the sex had been about release—hers and mine. About Donna getting that rush of adrenaline. About her easing the insane pressure of constantly being in control by giving up control of her body to me.

  Now, as she took her time lowering herself onto me, this was not about control or danger or release. This was Donna showing me with her body what she couldn’t seem to say with her words.