Ruthless Bastard (A Dangerous Love Book 3)

by Stacey Kennedy

  She meant it as a joke, but he took a mental note. He couldn’t be what Asher was to Remy, or what Boone was to Peyton, but he could make her egg salad sandwiches and bring her ice cream sundaes.

  Feeling like he had taken at least a small step forward with her, he helped her off the table. She all but slid down his body, dragging her round breasts down his chest. They both knew the move was entirely unnecessary. She was playing with him, like she always played with him. Teased him, tormented him madly. He should back away, and yet his feet weren’t moving. Her cheeks flushed deep in color, and the memory of those stained cheeks when she orgasmed blasted across his mind. She nibbled her bottom lip, and he recalled how those pouty lips tasted and felt, especially when they slid across the hardest part of him. And when her breathing grew rough, he forced himself to take a full step back in fear of what he’d do next if he didn’t.

  She smiled, like she knew she had him wrapped around her finger, and held up her bandaged hand. “Thanks for fixing this.” He was saved by sudden loud voices from the main bar area. “That must be the Cavalry.”

  She moved around him, and he let out a long breath, calling after her, “Kinsley.”

  “Yeah?” she asked, turning back to him.

  “You’re not alone anymore in this,” he told her. “I’m here.”

  Her brows drew together, the heat gone from her pretty eyes. “You mean that?”

  “I mean that.”

  She inhaled slowly and blew it out even slower, regarding him intently. “Well then, as long as you continue to want that, then okay, but let me be entirely clear. You’re in this because you want to be, and if that changes, you need to man-up and make that decision before the baby gets here. I know what it’s like to have a parent jump in and out of your life. I won’t have that. Do you understand me?”

  The air sucked out of the room. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Chapter 5

  Everything felt different when Kinsley returned to the main bar. She hoped Rhett meant what he said, but she knew better than to blindly believe him. He couldn’t commit to anyone, maybe not even his own child. One day at a time. That was the only way she could move forward with all this, and the first step was finding out who had destroyed her bar. Glass crunched beneath her winter boots as she stopped in the middle of the room. She scanned the damage again, wishing her eyes had betrayed her. Sure, she had insurance to cover some of this, but the entire place was in shambles. Every single item she’d spent weeks picking out and placing had been ruined.

  Back when she was a child, her dad would bring her into the pub where all the cops went after their shift to let go of their day before going home. Those memories were full of laughter and football games and friendships. She’d realized at a very young age the importance of having a place for people to go when they needed that feeling of home and comfort. She’d known ever since she was eighteen years old that she wanted to own such a place, so she’d gone to college to get her business degree. And now, here she stood, in the middle of the ruins of her dream, thinking that a month ago, life had been normal, and now it was as if every day brought a new change and challenge.

  Boone waited near the front door with two guys Kinsley had met before. They were the forensic unit. The room wavered a little, wanting to swallow her up. Maybe that would help her wake up from this nightmare.

  “I’ll find who did this.”

  Kinsley glanced at Rhett, not realizing he’d joined her. “Do you think the motorcycle gang from last night would be capable of this?” she asked.

  He paused to consider her question then finally acknowledged her thought with a nod. “Capable? Definitely. It’s easy to go to that conclusion, but at the same time, what could possibly drive them to do this?” He gestured toward her ruined bar.

  She snorted. “You pulled a gun on them last night. Isn’t that enough of a reason?”

  “To come after me, hell, yeah,” he answered, shoving his hands into his pockets. “But why would they take what I had done out on you?”

  “Because they’re pricks,” she offered.

  Last night had proved that enough. And she didn’t blame Rhett’s strong reaction. There were three of them, and Dalton had squeezed her wrist hard enough that she was surprised she didn’t have a bruise this morning.

  Rhett nodded again, obviously to appease her, considering he didn’t look convinced. But suddenly, something caught his gaze and he abruptly left her side. Kinsley followed him to the bar. There, two words were carved into the wood: SHUT DOWN.

  “Okay, that’s an odd warning,” she stated.

  Rhett stood eerily still before he gave her a sidelong glance. “Got any enemies you need to tell me about?”

  The answer was all too easy. “Nearly every weekend, we end up having to kick people out of here if they’re too drunk or something, but we haven’t had any big incidents until the one last night.”

  The door suddenly slammed open, and her father strode in, a deep frown on his face. “Christ sakes, look at this place.” He scanned the room from left to right then quickly walked over to Kinsley, taking a brief look at the wood carving before addressing her. “Who have you pissed off lately?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Why do you both think this has something to do with me? Rhett’s the one who pulled the gun last night.”

  Dad’s nostrils flared before his face went flat. “Explain,” he barked at Rhett.

  “Red Dragons showed up here last night,” Rhett reported, arms folded over his chest. “Can’t speak as to their motive, but Dalton latched on to Kinsley’s wrist and refused to let go.” He hesitated, seeming to consider his words, then added, “He may have resisted letting go because I told him to, though I can’t be sure what would have happened had I not arrived.”

  Dad studied Rhett for a long moment then gave a firm nod. Rhett wouldn’t have acted without being provoked. Even Kinsley knew that.

  Her father crossed his arms, turning his focus wholly on Kinsley. “Did you say anything that might have rubbed them wrong?”

  Kinsley didn’t take offense. Her loud mouth could, and often did, get her in trouble. “A couple months ago, you know I totally would have probably lipped off to them.” She placed her hand on her belly. “Now, definitely not.”

  She sensed Rhett go unnaturally still. She looked over to him and found him staring at her hand on her belly. For a split second, his expression went utterly soft and melted her bones, but then all emotion was erased from his face when his gaze met hers.

  “All right,” Dad drawled, bringing her attention back to the hard lines of his mouth. “Let forensics do their thing and we’ll go from there.”

  “I’ll need to call the insurance company,” Kinsley said, again staring at the disaster around her. She wasn’t even sure where to start.

  Dad nodded, enveloping her into his warm hug. “So sorry about this, kid. It’s the last thing you need right now.”

  “You’re right, it is,” she agreed, clamping down on the emotion threatening to rise, letting the rage and fury burn in her belly instead.

  “They’re going to do what they can,” Boone said, sidling up to them as Dad let her go, “but Tony doubted they’d get much, considering there are thousands of fingerprints here.”

  “We’ve got the security footage,” Rhett injected. Boone nodded, and then a dark shadow crossed over Rhett’s expression. “We should consider that this may be King.”

  Kinsley gulped. That name registered and scared her.

  “What about King?”

  Asher’s voice was hard and hinted at unsettled business. He wore a mask of boredom, but beneath that lay controlled rage. She didn’t blame him for that one bit. A few months back, Remy got a personal introduction to Joaquin King, the son of the incarcerated crime boss, Stefano King from Whitby Falls, when she’d unknowingly spent King’s money and he wanted repayment. Remy had paid King back his money, which seemed to conclude the bad business between them, and everyone hoped that was the last ti
me they’d see King.

  But maybe not?

  Heaviness sank into the room, and Kinsley wasn’t sure what was worse, having a motorcycle gang break into her business, or King. Both were bad, but she quickly realized King was worse. That last name had been uttered many times over the dinner table while she was growing up. She had been born into generations of cops, and her grandfather was one of the detectives that had taken Joaquin’s father down. Stefano was serving one hundred and thirty-nine years for murder, racketeering, and a laundry list of other charges, without any possibility of parole. In his absence, Joaquin had taken over his father’s empire, only he was a smarter criminal than his father. Joaquin remained untouchable. She turned to Boone. “Would King do this”—she waved out at her bar—“as retribution?”

  “I wouldn’t put anything past him,” Boone replied without hesitation.

  Rhett made a disgruntled noise then moved closer to the bar, studying the carving again. “If we take this for what it says, someone wants this bar closed down.” He turned around, and asked Kinsley, “Do you know of anyone who would want that?”

  “Not that I can think of,” she said, then shrugged. “I mean, I’ve been open since I finished college. No one’s made a peep, and my only competitor is Merlots.” The other bar in town was a swanky night club, and she knew the owner, Bernie, really well. “Bernie wouldn’t do this to me.”

  Dad considered that before nodding in agreement. “Let’s keep King and the Red Dragons as possible suspects for now. I doubt Bernie has any part in this.”

  Boone added, “Until we’ve got a better understanding of what’s going on here, stay with me and Peyton.” His gaze settled on the wood carving, his brow furrowing. “This is an odd enough warning that we don’t want to take chances that this isn’t a serious threat against you.”

  “No.”

  The hard snap of Rhett’s voice had Kinsley whirling around toward him. His jaw was tight, eyes narrowed. “You’re with me until we get to the bottom of this.” She parted her lips to point out that was a terrible idea, but Rhett added with an arched brow, “Our child. Mine to also protect.”

  The primal glint in his eyes shut her mouth tight. Her heart flipped a few times in her chest, but she also hastily reminded herself not to get overly excited. Rhett didn’t do love. He protected. “Okay,” she finally said.

  Thick, intense silence followed, and the room pulsated with the very loud statement Rhett had made, filling the space between them. Until Dad cut through all the unsaid things. “Good. We’ve got a plan.” He closed the distance and kissed Kinsley’s forehead. “Give us some time on this, kid, we’ll get it figured out.”

  “Thanks, I know you will.” She couldn’t bring herself to look at Rhett, afraid he’d see right through her. The emotion oozing from her threatened to wash over and break down all the walls that she built up to protect her heart from him.

  Dad added to Boone, “Keep me updated as the case develops.”

  “Will do,” Boone replied.

  While her dad headed for the front door, Kinsley faced her shattered dream again. “I need to call my staff and let them know we’ll be closed for a while. Fixing all this isn’t a quick job.”

  Boone sighed heavily. “Yeah, you go do that. I’ll send one of the rookies to keep an eye on things here—and on you.”

  “Is that really necessary?” she asked.

  Of course, Boone ignored her in full protective mode, and added to Rhett and Asher, “Let’s get back to the station and see what the security footage shows us.”

  “Good plan,” Asher agreed, and obviously realizing it was going to be a long day, he added, “I’ll grab coffees and meet you there.”

  Both Boone and Asher glanced at Rhett, before hastily walking away. Only then did Kinsley turn toward him, feeling fully back in control of herself. But one look into his face and she immediately wished she’d kept her gaze averted.

  Rhett’s intense dark eyes held hers, staring right through her, which he didn’t do very often. Under that potent stare, heat rolled around in her belly, setting off fireworks that she wanted to explode. She cleared her throat, putting that fire out. “Should I just meet you at your house later then?”

  “Let’s see how the day plays out,” he answered, staying true to form about never offering anything he couldn’t deliver on. “I suspect I’ll drop by later to pick you up.”

  She forced her heart not to pitter-patter at the idea of sleeping in the same house as him. Of maybe sharing dinner together. It was a teenage dream, the one she’d longed for, for so long, even now. “Okay.” She smiled and whirled away to bring herself back to reality.

  “Oh, and Kinsley…” She turned back to him, and he added, “The next time you call, I’ll answer.”

  * * *

  When Rhett returned to the station, he was still questioning his choices. Having Kinsley sleep at his place had to top the stupidest idea he’d ever come up with, but when Boone suggested that he would protect the woman carrying his baby, Rhett’s mouth opened, and words fell out without thought. He strode through the station, shaking off the snow from his hair, and was greeted by the scent of stale coffee. He shut the door behind him and passed the receptionist, the frosty morning still nipping at his ears. The station was quiet around him, apart from a rookie’s fingers banging away on the computer, writing up a report. The few other officers there were sitting behind their desks at their cubicles in the center of the station. The offices lining the wall belonged to the detectives, with Rhett’s being in the middle, between Asher and Boone’s offices. The station’s walls were a pale blue and lacked any warmth. In the back of the station were two small jail cells, mainly used to house drunks who needed time to either sober up or cool off. The jail in Whitby Falls held any criminals waiting for their court date before being shipped off to one of the federal prisons.

  Rhett skipped past his office, which contained only the bare necessities: a desk with his computer and a leather chair, and not much else, and headed straight for the command center. This space typically was used for morning roll call, but during big cases, the briefing room was the center of the evidence. When Rhett drew closer, he saw through the glass window that Boone had already gotten a case file started and had the file number written on the white board, with pins in the corkboard, ready to hang up the photographic evidence the forensic team gave them.

  “West.”

  At Hank’s sharp command, Rhett exhaled slowly then faced the chief. Hank never showed much emotion on the job, but growing up with Boone gave Rhett the understanding that when Hank used Rhett’s last name, it meant his mood was strung tight. “I’ll be driving Kinsley to your place later,” Hank said by way of greeting, “and I’ll wait until you get home.”

  I want to talk to you was what he’d left off. “Yes, sir.”

  “What time would you like her there?”

  Mistake. Big fucking mistake. “Whenever she’d like to go home. I’ll drop off a key to her in a bit. Just shoot me a text when you’re on your way.”

  “Can do,” said Hank, then gestured to the room. “Get this solved. Nice and quick.”

  “Yes, sir.” Rhett’s gaze followed Hank as he headed back to his large corner office in the station, then Rhett entered the command center, finding Boone grinning at him. “What?”

  “I used to shake in my boots whenever he would tell me he’d wait for me to get home,” Boone answered.

  Rhett snorted, taking a seat at the meeting room table, not indulging the conversation. He didn’t shake in his boots. He’d made his mess and was prepared to clean it up. He took his cell phone out from his pocket and placed it on the table, noting the large computer screen that was attached to Boone’s laptop set up next to the white board. “Get anything from the security footage?”

  “Haven’t had a chance to look yet.” Boone hit a button on his keyboard to wake up the monitor screen.

  “If you hoped the town didn’t get wind of this, I come bearing bad n
ews,” Asher said, entering the room carrying a tray of coffees. “Ms. Abbott just stopped me in the street and already knew about the break-in.”

  Mary Jane Abbott was a meddling, nosy woman who created more problems with her gossip than not. “Let’s get a look at the footage,” Rhett said, keeping the focus where it needed to stay.

  Boone clicked on a few things on his laptop. Before long, the security footage flickered to life on the monitor. When Kinsley had purchased the bar, Rhett and Asher both helped Boone install the security equipment. Rhett snagged his black coffee from the tray, muttering a quick thanks as Boone fast-forwarded through the timestamped video. The hours of the day went by rapidly, showing Kinsley working the bar and then her employee, Benji, coming in. They saw the Red Dragons coming into the bar, Dalton grabbing Kinsley, and Rhett pulling the gun on him. Then the Red Dragons leaving. From there on, nothing appeared out of the ordinary, until early in the morning. The timestamp read 2:17 a.m. when a group of five men, all wearing plain black clothes and ski masks covering their faces, appeared at the back door of her bar.

  “How many Red Dragons were at the bar last night?” Boone asked.

  “Three.” Rhett’s eyes narrowed on the man that picked the lock. The security cameras didn’t detect sound, but in seconds, they’d gained entry. “They either had the skill to disable her security system, or one of her employees gave away the code.”

  “I vet any employee she hires,” Boone said. “Unless all of a sudden they have gotten into crime, it’s highly unlikely this is an inside job.”

  “Let’s check them out again.” Rhett didn’t want to miss anything. He rose with his coffee in hand and settled near the screen, careful not to block the way. “I’m not seeing their leathers.” Red Dragons never took the pride of their club’s name off their bodies, and they never feared the police. “Am I missing it?”

  “No,” Asher said, sidling up to Rhett, eyes narrowed on the screen. “This doesn’t look like the Red Dragons.”

  Their arrogance was their signature move. They thought they were untouchable, above the law. If they wanted to make a threat, they’d stand behind that threat, not fear the repercussions. Rhett sipped his coffee to control the fury sliding through his veins as the group began smashing the bar to pieces. Every chair gone, every table destroyed, every bottle of booze in shards on the ground. For Kinsley, Rhett would make whoever was behind this pay. The tension in the room shifted, becoming thick and filled with the fury to protect one of theirs. Rhett’s chest tightened as one of the men took a switch blade from his pocket and settled in front of the bar. Rhett watched every second of the man carving those words into the wood.