Reckless at Westbrook High (The Kingston Brothers #2)

by Bethany Winters

  And me?

  I’m a disappointment, a failure and a burden that’s become more trouble than I’m worth.

  All because I refuse to follow.

  Three years ago, my father and his best friend took me out on one of their jobs, said it was time to teach me the family business and show me the ropes. I was fifteen, a clueless fucking kid, and they made me watch that shit, kicked my ass when I tried to help her and fucked her harder when I begged them to stop.

  That was without a doubt the worst night of my life, but it’s also the night I made a promise to a stranger I had no business protecting.

  And it’s a motherfucking promise I intend to keep.

  I slip through the front door as quietly as possible, hoping I can sneak upstairs to grab some fresh clothes and get the fuck out before they even realize I’m here, but I already know that’s pointless. Armed guards and security cameras are hidden in every corner of this place, meaning he already knows I’m here.

  “Levi.”

  A cold chill travels up my spine at the sound of his voice and I stop where I stand, turning around to find my father standing behind me in the middle of the stone archway that leads to the office on the west side of the house. Less than ten feet away from me, he’s dressed in a black and gray designer suit with his dark blond hair slicked back over his head, and I don’t miss the way his eyes flare with a clear mix of disappointment and rage.

  “You let her marry him.”

  I laugh lightly at that, leaning back against the side table behind me because I’m not stupid enough to leave his men at my back. “I didn’t let her do shit.”

  “Watch the attitude, idiot,” he seethes, speaking through his teeth. “She’s supposed to be yours.”

  “She’s not mine,” I fire back, unable to stop the way my back straightens when he steps closer to me. “I told you I don’t want her. I never wanted her.”

  He tips his head back and laughs at me, his dark brown eyes shining with something I barely recognize coming from him.

  It’s pride, but it’s not for me.

  It’s for her.

  It’s always about her.

  “That girl is a fucking knockout,” he informs me, damn near groaning at the thought of her, the sick fuck. “Her body, her mouth, her voice, her fire.. why wouldn’t you want her?”

  Because I’m fucking gay, you dick.

  He doesn’t know that, though, and god fucking help me when he finds out.

  “I bought her for you,” he goes on, still coming for me. “Whether you like it or not, she will be yours.”

  “That girl’s been sold like a goddamn piece of meat over and over again,” I bite out, bravely pushing myself off the table to level with him. “That ends now.”

  “Is that right?”

  “She’s a Kingston now, Dad,” I mock him, smirking when he glares. “Damon’s never letting her go, and there’s not a damn thing you can do to stop it.”

  I can’t say I wasn’t expecting it, but fuck if his fist doesn’t take me by surprise. He punches me so fast that I fall back into the table, wincing at the pain racking through my skull while I fight to stay standing.

  Fucker’s got a mean right hook, I’ll give him that.

  “You ungrateful little shit,” he snarls, wrapping his hand around my throat to shove my head back against the wall. “You–”

  Anger floods my veins and I snatch his wrist to twist it to the side, spinning on him to shove his ass back in my place. I grab his throat the same way he did mine and squeeze, pinning his eyes in warning.

  I’m not a kid anymore, and I’m sure as shit not about to stand here and let him beat my ass for all to see.

  Just as I think it, the four guards surrounding us step forward as one, all with their hands on their guns and their eyes on me, but not one of them moves any further, not without his say so.

  “Relax, boys,” he laughs, calmly wrapping his hand around my wrist. “He wouldn’t dare. Would you, son?”

  My nostrils flare at his condescending tone and I release him with a shove, backing away from him to grab my case from the floor. He doesn’t say anything else, but he doesn’t need to. I already know what he’s thinking.

  This is far from over.

  Ignoring the eyes following my every move, I walk up the curved staircase and turn right, passing my mother in the hall without bothering to look her way.

  “Why do you push him?”

  My step falters and I stop where I stand, closing my eyes at the sound of her voice behind me.

  “Why do you insist on fighting him at every turn?” she asks, honest to god sounding confused by my actions, the brainless idiot. “Your life would be so much easier if you’d just fall in line and do as you’re told.”

  I grind my teeth and turn to look at her over my shoulder, barely even recognizing the woman staring back at me. She’s wearing nothing but her underwear and a silky black robe to match, leaning back against the wall with a glass of red wine in one hand and a couple pills in the other. She’s got long blond hair and bright green eyes, same color as mine, but that’s about all I got from her. She never loved me the way a mother should, she never bothered to protect me from him or my legacy, as he calls it, and she never even tried to form a solid relationship with me. I used to take it personally, wondering what the hell I did wrong for her to hate me so much, but I have a feeling he broke her in long before I came along.

  “I guess that’s the difference between me and you, Mom,” I mutter, walking to my room. “I don’t wanna do what’s easy. I wanna do what’s right.”

  Or at least I’m trying to.

  I won’t deny I’ve done some things I’m not proud of to keep him off my back, but I’ll never submit to him fully.

  Not when I have him.

  When I eventually lose him, though..

  I shake that off and lock the door behind me, dropping my case down on the four poster bed I haven’t slept on in weeks.

  I can’t think of a life without him in it.

  It’s too fucking painful.

  I move quickly to change out my clothes and grab a black duffel bag from the closet, shoving a bunch of shit inside without paying attention to what I’m packing because I’m not about to spend any more time here than necessary. After my shower, I grab the hydrogen peroxide from the bathroom cabinet to clean the cut beneath my eye, sighing when I realize there’s no hiding the bruise there.

  Fucking lovely.

  Once I’m dressed in a pair of black jeans and a white t-shirt, I grab my shit and head back outside to my car, tossing my duffel on the passenger seat before jumping inside. Sick Boy by The Chainsmokers blares through the speakers and I hit the gas, pulling my phone from my pocket to dial Ross’s number. He’s a twenty two year old asshole with a messy head of bleach blond hair and a weird ass fetish for gun play, but he’s also the only guy on my father’s payroll that I can trust.

  “Yeah?”

  “You got any jobs right now?”

  “Not a one,” he sighs. “I’m fuckin’ bored, man. I almost wish one of these idiots would make a mistake so I can get a little blood on my hands. They’re too clean.”

  I laugh lightly at that, shaking my head at him while I drop my eyes to my hand on the wheel.

  Yeah, mine too.

  We hang up and I stop outside the corner shop at the end of the street, quickly glancing around to check no one’s watching. Once I’m satisfied no one’s gonna call the cops on me, I grab a black hoodie from my bag and throw it on, jumping out to walk along the side of the building towards the back entrance. I pull my hood over my head and look around one more time, then I take a deep breath and pull my fist back to punch the brick wall. I wince at the pain but keep punching until my knuckles are split and bleeding, all the while imagining it’s my father’s smug fucking face.

  I pull up on Ryan’s driveway and kill the ignition, freezing with my ass half way out of the car when the front door opens. Ryan’s parents walk out with thei
r weekend bags in hand and I curse, quickly ducking my head to check my reflection in the driver’s side window.

  I thought they’d be gone by now.

  “Levi,” Stella calls, walking over to inspect the damage on my face. “Baby, what happened to you?”

  “I got into it with this guy I met at the gas station just now,” I lie, tossing my bag on the ground to wrap my arms around her shoulders. “Scrawny little fucker didn’t know when to keep his mouth shut.”

  She raises a brow at my language but she doesn’t call me out on it. Instead she wraps her arms around my waist and hugs me back, somehow knowing what I need without having to ask.

  “Did you kick his ass?”

  “Course’ I fuckin’ did.”

  She smacks my chest and feigns a glare, pulling back an inch to point a finger at my face. “That’s two dollars in the swear jar.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She laughs lightly at that, leaning up on her tiptoes to kiss my cheek. “I left you a couple lasagnes and a strawberry cheesecake in the fridge.”

  “Did you get the cream?”

  “Course’ I fuckin’ did,” she jokes, grinning when I bark out a laugh.

  “You’re the best.”

  “You bet your ass I am,” she winks, turning to look at her husband over her shoulder. “He got jumped, Brian.”

  “I can see that,” he muses, moving his eyes over my face while he tosses their bags into the trunk of his Range Rover. “You alright?”

  I can’t tell him no so I nod, rolling my eyes at Stella’s dramatics. “I didn’t get jumped.”

  “Attacked, then.”

  I shake my head and release my hold on her, tipping my chin at their car. “Go have some fun.”

  She pouts but does as she’s told, blowing a kiss to Ryan who’s standing on the front porch just outside the front door. “Look after him, Ryan.”

  “I will, Mom,” he calls back, barely even bothering to remove his glare from the side of my face.

  “Levi,” Brian tips his chin, opening the passenger side door for his wife so she can climb inside.

  “Sup?”

  He closes it behind her and rounds the car, speaking quietly so she can’t hear him. “You’ve still got the number I gave you for the clean up crew, right?”

  I roll my lips to hide a knowing grin, nodding. “I got it.”

  “Don’t let him forget,” he points at Ryan. “I need this place spotless by Sunday morning, and for god’s sake, don’t let him puke in the sink again.”

  “I won’t,” I laugh, gently bumping his fist with the edge of mine.

  He jumps into the driver’s seat and I lean back on my car to watch them leave, avoiding my best friend’s eyes while he walks over to lean back beside me.

  He doesn’t know shit about what goes on behind closed doors, but he’s not stupid, either. This isn’t the first time I’ve shown up here with a black eye and a cover story to match, and it probably won’t be the last.

  “Wanna talk about it?”

  “Nope.”

  “Wanna drink about it?”

  “Fuck, yeah.”

  Chapter Four

  Wren

  “This tastes like shit,” Kai complains, passing Callie the to go cup he bought from his favorite coffee shop on the way home just now. “Here, try it.”

  She shakes her head at him but humors him all the same, passing it back with a shrug. “Tastes the same to me, fuck boy.”

  “Does not.”

  Damon snorts and Kai glares at him, making me laugh.

  “It’s not funny, Wren.”

  “Actually, it is.”

  He’s pissed off because the coffee girl who refuses to fuck him didn’t show up for her shift today. He hasn’t seen her since the day before we left for Cancun and he’s damn near sulking because some guy named fucking Wyatt made his coffee for him instead of her, so yeah, it’s pretty damn funny if you ask me.

  “Fuck off.”

  I laugh some more and follow him out of the elevator, tipping my chin when I find our dad sitting at the island with his suit on and his head in his hands.

  “Sup, Dad?”

  “Where the hell have you been?”

  I frown at that, ignoring the familiar kick in my heart while I move for the kitchen to grab the vodka.

  He used to be so fucking happy.

  Just as I think it, Kai walks over and snatches the bottle from my hand, grinning like an asshole when my eyes cut to his. The little shit tries to take the last candy bar from the bottom drawer in the fridge so I smack his hand away, laughing to myself when he smacks me right back and tries to take it from me.

  “That’s my stash.”

  “Don’t care.”

  “Bitch–”

  “Boys!” Dad barks, sighing heavily when he catches the tick in Damon’s jaw. “Look, this isn’t a joke, alright? I told you not to go after him again.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Derek was attacked in his room at the hospital just now. His doctor said he’s got a broken collarbone and two broken ribs.”

  Callie’s brows snap in the center and she looks between us, first to voice what we’re all thinking. “It wasn’t us.”

  Dad scans our faces like he’s searching for a lie and Damon glares, dropping down in the seat opposite him to look him dead in the eye. “She said it wasn’t us.”

  He nods, satisfied he’s telling the truth, but I don’t miss the defeated look in his eyes or the fact he looks like he hasn’t slept in days.

  “Why are you so worried?” Kai frowns, snatching the half eaten piece of chocolate from my mouth to toss it in his own. “You paid them all off, right?”

  “That’s not the point, Kai,” he mutters, dropping his head to run his hands through his hair. “Someone’s after Derek.”

  “So?” we say together, shrugging unapologetically when he cuts his eyes to us. “Who fuckin’ cares?”

  “Yeah, but who did it?” Callie throws back, dropping down on Damon’s lap to wrap her arm around his neck. “And how the hell did they get away without getting caught? I don’t care how big or bad you think you are, if someone’s snapping your ribs like that you’re screaming. There’s no way no one heard him.”

  “The doctors said he was high on painkillers and cocaine,” he tells her, not noticing the way me and the boys tense at her words because how the fuck does she know what those kind of broken bones feel like?

  She snaps her mouth shut when she realizes what she said and drops her eyes to her lap, telling us all we need to know.

  Jesus.

  Damon glares and tightens his grip on her waist, locking his jaw when her hand automatically moves for the empty space where her necklace used to sit. He takes her wrist to lock her fingers with his and she clears her throat, looking at Dad.

  “What’s Derek saying?”

  “Nothing,” he sighs, oblivious to the thick cloud of tension filling the room. “He’s refusing to talk to anyone. Won’t even give the police a statement of what happened last weekend or how he ended up in the hospital.”

  “That’s a good thing, right?” I ask, looking between him and Damon. “No statement, no case. Callie already said she doesn’t wanna press charges unless he tries to go after Damon. Maybe he knows that and he’s keeping his mouth shut to save his own ass.”

  “Yeah, but it doesn’t explain who attacked him or why he’s refusing to go to rehab,” Dad argues, helplessly scrubbing his hands over his face. “I’m gonna go stop by the hospital to see if I can get some sense out of him.”

  “You do that,” Kai mutters, leaning his ass back on the counter beside me.

  “Oh, and I want you all back in school first thing Monday morning,” he orders, standing to pull his phone from his pocket. “You’ve already missed enough over the last few weeks and believe it or not, you actually need to be there in order to graduate. That means you too, Callie.”

  “Yes, Mr Kingston,” sh
e winks, grinning when he blinks at her in surprise.

  Damon looks like he’s ready to choke her out right here on the kitchen island but Dad just shakes his head at them, tossing a wave over his shoulder while he walks for the elevator. “School. Monday. No fighting.”

  We mutter our agreement and Damon wraps Callie’s hair around his fist, pulling her head back to speak in her ear. “Do you want me to hurt you?”

  “Maybe a little bit,” she smirks, jolting when he drops his mouth to her neck to bite her there. “Fuck.”

  “Careful what you wish for, punk,” he teases, lifting her up to carry her over to the stairs.

  “Yo, Damon, can I just watch–”

  “Shut the fuck up.”

  Kai laughs at himself and hops up on the counter, leaning back on his hands while he moves his eyes over the huge, open plan space we call home. It’s all black marble tiles with gold finishes throughout, the walls still decorated with the paintings our mother picked out at this quirky little art gallery she found in New York a few years back. The penthouse looks exactly the same as it did when we were kids, the master bedroom being the only difference since she died. We didn’t want our dad’s new wife sleeping in our mother’s bed so we converted his home office into a bedroom, turned their old room into a badass den that stretches across the entire length of the building.

  “You think he’ll change it back now she’s gone?” Kai asks, reading my mind.

  I don’t know so I say nothing, hopping up to sit beside him. He rests his head on my shoulder and we sit quiet a minute, both lost in our own heads, both staring out at the city of Westbrook below us through the floor to ceiling windows stretched across the back wall.

  Katherine Kingston is gone.

  The woman who took everything from us is finally behind bars, rotting in a cage where she’ll stay for the rest of her life, yet I don’t feel any differently than I did a week ago. I thought getting our mother the justice she deserves would make it all go away. I thought I’d feel relieved or better or healed or some shit.