Reforming Kent: A Stand-Alone Angsty Bad Boy Romance (The Kennedy Boys Book 10)

by Siobhan Davis

  “No!” Keanu cries, his voice sounding strangled. “No!” he shouts more loudly, racing around us to a mattress a few feet away. I run after him, dropping to my knees, sobbing when Keven shines the flashlight on Kent’s unconscious body. His suit jacket and bloody shirt are discarded on the floor, but he’s still in his suit pants and dress shoes. I clamp a shaky hand over my mouth, crying openly as my gaze drifts to the spoon and lighter on the edge of the mattress. His shredded knuckles rest listlessly on either side of his limp body, but it’s the tie wrapped tightly around his arm and the empty needle protruding from his vein that are my undoing.

  Keanu has his fingers pressed to Kent’s neck, and he’s crying. Kent’s eyes are closed, and I pray he’s only sleeping. Keven takes Kent’s wrist, checking that pulse point. Kalvin and Kyler drop to their knees on the other side of the bed, clinging to one another. Kyler is silently crying. Kalvin looks dazed. I can’t stop shaking as I notice how pale Kent’s skin is, and the bluish tinge on his lips terrifies me. Kalvin wraps his arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his side.

  “I’ve got a pulse,” Keven says, his voice strained. “It’s faint, but it’s there.”

  “I just called for an ambulance. ETA is five minutes, and backup is just around the corner,” Sinead confirms while Colin is giving directions to someone on his cell.

  Kent’s eyes blink open, and he gasps for air before his body starts thrashing about, his limbs flapping uncontrollably. Keanu hovers over him, calling out his name, while I hold onto Kalvin for dear life. I pray harder than I have prayed in years, begging someone to save him.

  Vomit projects from his mouth as his body continues to jerk and spasm, and I can only stare horrified at the man I love, knowing he is leaving me.

  The spasming stops. His eyes roll back in his head before closing, and the silence is suffocating.

  Sinead pushes Keanu out of the way, clearing the vomit from Kent’s mouth with gloved fingers, opening his airwaves.

  “No! God, no,” Keven cries, his body visibly trembling. His eyes dart wildly about. “I can’t feel a pulse! I can’t feel his pulse! He’s got no pulse!”

  His words spur me into action, and I push past a shell-shocked Kalvin and Kyler, nudging them out of the way as I lean over my boyfriend’s lifeless body. Pressing my hands on Kent’s cold chest, I start compressions while I pray and I beg and I make all kinds of promises to a God I stopped believing in a long time ago.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Kent

  The steady beeping of the machine by my hospital bed wakes me sometime later. I groan as I come to, unsticking my tongue from the roof of my dry mouth. “Mom,” I croak, swallowing over the pain in my throat as her worried face looms over mine.

  “I’m here, sweetheart.”

  My head pounds, and I know my forehead is clammy without needing to touch it. She brushes damp strands of hair out of my eyes. “Water,” I rasp as I attempt to sit up.

  Dad moves to my other side, helping to prop me up against the headrest. My body feels like a deadweight in the bed, my limbs heavy and achy and my stomach is sore and uneasy.

  “The nurse only left ice chips,” Mom says, lifting a few to my mouth.

  I open my cracked lips, letting her drop a few inside my mouth, while my gaze quickly roams the room. I’m relieved only my parents are in here, though I’m sure the others are in the private waiting room outside. Mom presses her lips to my cheek, lingering there, while Dad holds my hand, refusing to let go.

  A tall, thin man with salt-and-pepper hair, wearing a white coat with a name tag, enters the room. “Ah, you’re awake.” The doctor smiles. “How do you feel?”

  “Like shit,” I truthfully admit.

  Mom sits back down, holding my hand and moving her chair in even closer to my side.

  “You are a very lucky man, Mr. Kennedy,” he says, and I snort, sneering at him.

  What a fucking tool. He knows nothing.

  Ignoring my little outburst, the doctor continues. “You were clinically dead for a few minutes, but your girlfriend and one of the FBI agents took turns giving you CPR, and you regained a pulse just as the EMTs arrived at the scene. They injected you with Narcan to reverse the opioid, and it helped to stabilize your breathing and nervous system.” He checks my vitals as he talks. “Ordinarily, we don’t admit overdose patients, sending them home once the drugs are gone from their system, as long as we are happy there is no evidence of suicidal or homicidal tendencies. However, your parents demanded privacy, and as they are large benefactors of the hospital, we are always happy to accommodate the Kennedys.”

  My lips curl into a snarl. “Is that all?”

  He purses his lips, ignoring me as he turns to my parents. “I see no reason why he can’t be discharged in a couple of hours unless you want us to keep him here for further observation.”

  “We need to speak to our son,” Mom says.

  “I will update you in due course,” Dad adds.

  The man leaves the room, and tension descends. Withdrawing my hand from Mom’s, I grab the cup with chips, tipping them into my mouth as I try to make sense of the last twenty-four hours. A tsunami of emotions swirls through my pounding skull, and anger competes with fear for the dominant position.

  Mom clasps my face in her hands, pinning me with troubled blue eyes that are rapidly filling with tears. “Darling.” She sniffs, trying to compose herself. “Why would you do this?” Her hands drop from my face, clasping my hand again. “We know what happened in the bar, but you know we would help you deal with the consequences. I can’t believe you would try to take your own life!” She loses the battle, openly crying as tears stream down her face. Dad moves over to her side, wrapping his arms around her while I try to comprehend her words.

  “I didn’t try to kill myself,” I truthfully reply. “I didn’t do this.”

  Mom stops crying for a moment, and her eyes widen in horror. Shock splays across Dad’s face

  “Oh my God!” Mom starts crying again, even louder this time. Dad stands, striding to the door and stepping outside. He returns a few seconds later with Keven.

  My brother looks like shit. There are dark shadows under his eyes, a heavier than usual layer of stubble on his chin and cheeks, and his clothes are disheveled, like he was sleeping in them. Most likely, he was because I’ve lost all concept of time, and I don’t know if it’s still nighttime or morning.

  “Kent.” Keven leans down, hugging me. His shoulders shake as he holds on to me, and I feel his body trembling. Tears prick my eyes. “We thought we lost you,” he says, easing back. I’m shocked to see tears in his eyes. Keven is the steadfast one in the family. The one we call on when we are in trouble because he keeps a cool head at all times, and he usually keeps a lid on his emotions. To see him upset like this is disconcerting.

  “You were there?” I don’t remember anything after the heroin was injected into my arm.

  He nods. “Keanu, Kyler, Kalvin, and me. Presley led us to you. We were almost too late.”

  I hang my head, ashamed they saw me like that. In that horrible place.

  “It’s okay.” He sits on the seat Dad vacated, gripping my hand. “We’re just glad you are all right. That’s all that matters.”

  “I wasn’t there by choice,” I admit, and his head jerks up, his eyes widening in recognition.

  “The fucking Vipers did that to you?”

  Dad is consoling Mom over on the other side of the bed while I’m talking to my brother, and though she is quietly sobbing, I know they are listening to every word. “They ambushed me a few miles from the bar. Dragged me out of my car, took me to that hellhole, and shot that shit in my veins.”

  Mom cries harder.

  “Did you see who did it to you?” Kev asks.

  I grind my teeth to my molars, fisting my hands in the bed sheets. I tersely nod.

  “Could you identify them from photos?”

  I snort out a bitter laugh. I can identify them from more than just
photos. “Yeah.”

  Kev gulps, glancing at our parents. “Why did you almost murder Clayton Cooper?”

  Rage pummels my insides, and my nostrils flare. Pressure sits on my chest, and all the veins in my arms stretch tight. It all comes back to me in vivid detail. The attack. Clay arguing with Presley at the bar. The way he looked at me when he turned around. I squeeze my eyes shut, pulling my legs up under the covers, burying my head in my knees.

  “Kent.” Mom touches my back, and I flinch.

  “Don’t, Mom,” I say through gritted teeth. I can scarcely see her through the rage coating my eyes. “Where’s Presley?” I ask Keven, an edge to my scratchy voice.

  “She’s waiting outside. She wasn’t sure if you’d want to see her or not.”

  I harrumph. Of course. “I want to talk to her. Alone.”

  Kev exchanges a wary look with my parents. It seems like they want to argue, but they don’t. They leave, and a couple of minutes later, Presley steps into the room. She cautiously approaches the bed, staring at me with bloodshot eyes. Tears pour silently down her cheeks as she stands there, looking at me, clearly unsure what to say or do.

  “Did you know?” I ask in a low tone.

  She vehemently shakes her head. “No. I swear I didn’t know. I still don’t know.”

  I glare at her, and my chest heaves. “You knew he was up to all kinds of shit, but you turned a blind eye, right?”

  She gulps, wrapping her arms around herself. “Yes, but I only thought it was guns and drugs and retaliating against their enemies. I didn’t know…” She trails off, and her lower lip wobbles as fresh tears spill from her eyes.

  “Didn’t know what, Presley?!” I spit out, sitting up straighter, ignoring how my body aches all over. “That they abuse little boys? That your precious Clay, your fucking protector, took something from me he had no right to? Something that fucking destroyed me!”

  “Oh God, Kent.” She freely sobs. “I hoped it wasn’t that. I—”

  “You’re still fucking blind to that pervert!” I yell.

  She comes forward, dropping to her knees on the floor before me. “No, no, Kent. That’s not it. I—”

  I cut her off again. “He raped me!” I cry, swiping at the angry tears leaking from my eyes. “Him and his buddies.”

  Horror spreads across her face as she stares at me.

  “I had only just turned fifteen when they cornered me in an alley one night.” Pain slams into me on all sides. I continue swiping at tears, and yet they continue to fall. I don’t look at her as I relive the worst night of my life. “I tried to fight them off, but they were grown men, and there were five of them and only one of me.” I swallow over the burning lump in my throat, closing my eyes, and gripping the side of the bed as I dredge it all up. “Clay was the ringleader even though he seemed to be the youngest. They shoved me face-first into the wall, two guys always pinning me down, ensuring I couldn’t fight back, while they took turns ramming their dicks in my ass.”

  Her cries echo off the walls, and I vaguely hear other sounds of sobbing, but I’m too lost in my head to care. After years of hiding the truth, burying all the pain and anger and fear, I need to get this out now. “Clay watched.” I blink my eyes open, staring at Presley. “He stood off to the side, keeping his eyes locked on mine as his buddies destroyed me. I see his cocky grin and the evil glint in his eyes in my nightmares. His face has plagued me for years.”

  She reaches for my hand, but I pull back, her touch repugnant to me. My voice is devoid of emotion and my head numb as I say, “He raped me last, fucking my ass as blood ran down my legs.”

  She clamps a hand over her mouth, trying to contain her cries as her body shakes.

  “But it wasn’t enough. That bastard had to ensure he completely ruined me.” I squeeze my eyes shut, and a full body shudder works its way through me. Sobs heave from my chest. “Your precious Clay is an animal,” I spit, peering at her through blurry eyes. “A twisted, sick bastard.” I clench my jaw painfully, anger replacing the numbed feeling.

  “He jacked me off while he raped me. He made me come.” Humiliation and pain thunder through me, like every time I remember it. “They all laughed. Taunting me over how much I loved it, pushing me to the ground and kicking me as they showed me the video they’d recorded on one of their cell phones, promising they’d stream it live if I breathed a word of it to anyone. Threatening to kill my family if I ever told them what happened to me.”

  “I’m sorry, Kent. I’m so sorry.” She reaches for me again, and I yank my hand back.

  “Don’t touch me, Presley. I don’t want you to touch me.” I sniffle, brushing at the dampness on my cheeks. “His face used to be all I saw when I closed my eyes. Drugs, booze, and sex were my go-to distractions. The only way I could face getting up each day. Until you.”

  Even crying with flushed cheeks, red-rimmed sad eyes, and clear pain in her gaze, Presley is still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. “You made it better,” I whisper. “You calmed the storm in my chest. You gave me hope. I thought I could finally move forward.”

  The pressure sitting on my chest is so intense it feels like I’m having a coronary. “But you’ve ruined everything,” I seethe. “You make me sick. You lived with that monster. You loved him. You refused to see what was right in front of your eyes. How many more boys were raped because you turned a blind eye, huh, Pres?”

  “I didn’t know, Kent!” she yells. “Clay saved me from Jeff Rinaldi. My foster dad was going to rape me, and Clay fought him off. He called social services and got us rehoused. I don’t understand,” she sobs. “Why would Clay do that and then hurt you?”

  “I don’t fucking care why!” I roar just as Kev barges into the room, followed by my parents, Kyler, and Keanu. They are all crying, and it’s obvious they heard. My shouts must have brought them to the door. I’m too angry and too tired to care at this point. “You think I want to know what makes that bastard tick?” I shout at my girlfriend.

  Kev lifts Presley off the floor, helping her to stand.

  “The only thing I care about is murdering that fucking bastard!” I rage. Climbing off the bed, I grab one of the chairs and throw it across the room. Keanu moves toward me, but Kev shakes his head. Mom stands in the doorway, falling apart, only my dad’s arms keeping her upright. Kyler looks shaken to his core, standing frozen still. “But I want payback first. I want to strip him bare, bend him over a table, and fuck him up the ass with a baseball bat, a knife, a broken bottle, the worst fucking things I can think of. I want to ruin him and cut him and make him bleed, and then I’m going to cut off his dick and let him choke on it and—”

  “Kent. Enough!” Keanu cries. “Please, brother.”

  “You don’t get to fucking tell me what to do!” I pick up a second chair, throwing it at the window. “None of you do!” I hiss at my family. “Where the fuck were all of you when I needed you?”

  I glare at my dad. “You were too busy fucking your wife’s psycho assistant.” Mom cries uncontrollably, but I power on. Let them feel pain. It still won’t come even close to what I’ve endured for years. “You were too busy fucking working all the damn time to care about your own kid.” Jabbing my finger in the air, I point at Kyler. “You think what happened to you was bad? That’s a fucking cakewalk compared to what happened to me!” I yell. I turn my rage on my triplet next. “And you cared more about Selena than you did about me. She was all you saw.”

  They don’t attempt to argue with me, which is good because I’m not sure I won’t swing for them if they dare defend themselves.

  I swing my gaze on Presley. “And you!” Poison swirls through my veins, and I can’t hear, can’t feel anything but overwhelming rage. I can’t think over the screaming in my head. “You disgust me. I can’t look at you and not see him. Not see all the ways you failed me too. You should have seen. You could have stopped him.”

  “Kent, I’m so sorry. I didn’t see, but if I had, I would have stopped him.”
>
  “Liar!” I hiss. “Get out. Get the fuck out, and stay out. I never want to see you again.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  Presley

  “Presley. Sweetheart.” Mo sits down on the side of the bed, gently touching her hand to my back. “Dinner is ready.”

  “I’m not hungry.” I pull myself upright, forcing a smile.

  “You have barely eaten anything these past few days. I’m worried.”

  “I’m okay,” I lie, tucking knotted strands of hair back off my face.

  “No, you’re not, and I get it. You’ve had a lot of devastating blows all at once, but you can’t stay locked in this bedroom forever.”

  “If I’m getting in the way, I can leave.”

  Rafe has been really kind letting me move in here, especially when I’m sure I’m getting in the way of his burgeoning relationship with my best friend. But I don’t have anywhere else to go. Not since Kent kicked me out of his life and The Vipers blew up my old apartment. Thankfully, Ford and Rafe had moved all my personal possessions out the night before. The Vipers only targeted my apartment, which was empty at the time, so no one got hurt. My landlord is understandably pissed, but the insurance should pay out.

  “You know that’s not what I’m saying. This house is plenty big, and Rafe loves having you here.”

  I snort. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

  “We love you.” Mo cups my face. “And we want to keep you safe.”

  “That’s why Rafe installed that new security system and why he’s hired bodyguards for all of us?” I haven’t even seen mine because I haven’t left this house in a week. Not since I fled here the night Kent kicked me out of his hospital room. Kaden and Eva found me after I raced out of there, and they drove me here. Rafe and Mo welcomed me with no hesitation.

  The property is in a nice part of Brookline, in a gated community, and very safe. Rafe’s grandmother left the estate to him in her will, and he has spent years modernizing it. It’s beautiful with six bedrooms, seven baths, an indoor pool, and gorgeous outdoor areas. I have no idea why Rafe holds on to Ramshackle when it’s clear his other businesses are way more lucrative and he doesn’t need the money or the hassle. Mo said he’s considering selling it to Ford now Ford is engaged to Michelle and they are planning their future. I’m happy for my friends, even if my life is in the toilet.