KENNICK: A Bad Boy Romance Novel

by Jackson, Meg

  A shiver ran through Kim. This time, it wasn’t from looking at Kennick, or imagining what it would be like to be underneath him. It was the cold reality starting to form around their conversation. This really wasn’t some suspense novel. This was real. Thirty years ago, a pregnant girl had been shot dead in cold blood. Time was starting to seem irrelevant to the hard emotion at the heart of that fact.

  “Jesus,” Kim breathed. “This is actually…this is, like, really strong. Evidence, I mean. I just can’t believe it was kept hidden for so long…”

  “Can’t you?” Kennick asked, eyes flashing. “You’ve lived in this town your whole life. And you’ve seen how rarely people change their minds.”

  “That’s not true,” Kim said, defensive now that she felt her town attacked.

  “Isn't it?” Kennick said, shaking his head with a pitying smile on his face. “I'll make you a wager. They'll let us live here, let us start our businesses, let us pay our taxes and funnel cash into Main Street. But they'll still look at me and mine like we’re lepers. They want us here because they know we’ll save their asses from total desolation. But they sure as hell don’t want to rub elbows with us in the store, or see one of their precious daughters slurping milkshakes with a gypsy at the Tastee Freeze.”

  Kim bit her lip, not wanting to admit to this double-sided nature of the people she’d known all her life. Good people. People who hosted potlucks and didn’t complain when a family was too poor to contribute anything. People who showed up at the soup kitchen on Thanksgiving. People who bought the fireman’s charity calendar every year. People who adopted dogs from the shelter instead of buying them from a pet store. People who smiled and said hello on the street and asked how you were doing, who brought casseroles during hard times and bought rounds during good times. Her people.

  “So,” she said, wanting to change the subject. She leaned forward, turning her head slightly to look over the rest of the scattered pages. “Anything else?”

  “Yeah, some things, like…”

  At that moment, they were interrupted by a telltale whooping noise. Kennick’s body immediately stiffened; Kim thought she even saw the bristly hair on his massive arms stand up for a second. Turning to look out the window, she watched a patrol car roll up to the trailer.

  Chapter Eleven

  Kim saw Jimmy Marone in the driver’s seat or the patrol car. She’d gone to school with Jimmy, had even dated his best friend for a short while. But, when she turned back to Kennick, she saw nothing but cold, seething hate in his eyes.

  Woah, she thought, for the first time realizing what really lay at the bottom of this man’s heart. She’d been lusting after him so hard, she’d barely even thought about who he was. She saw his jaw set. Fear coiled in her breast.

  What the hell are you doing, Kimberly James, she thought, but even that thought didn’t stop her hand as it flew across the counter, grabbing onto his and squeezing. His whole body seemed to radiate heat, the massive energy in his skin a tactile presence. The hate left his eyes for a fleeting moment as he looked down, wide-eyed, at her hand covering his. She felt his fist clenching as he turned those eyes towards her, taking her breath away; not for the first time, and not for the last time.

  “Hey,” she whispered, gathering her wits. “Don’t worry. That’s Jimmy. He’s a good guy. A good cop.”

  Kennick ripped his fist away from her, and she flinched as though he’d lunged at her.

  “No such thing as a good cop, not where my people are concerned,” he sneered, but she saw a momentary softness in his face when he’d seen the effect his anger had on her.

  “Well, I’m here,” she said, tapping some deep resource of strength inside her. “I’ll help work out whatever…”

  “Shit!” Kennick interrupted, his voice a quick bark. Kim followed his eyes out the window. Jimmy had just opened the back door of the patrol car, and a small, tow-headed boy was sliding out. He had to be ten or eleven; no older. He had a look on his face that was part petulant scowl, part worry. As Jimmy shut the door behind him, the kid kicked at the dirt in front of the trailer. In a flash so quick she missed it in a blink, Kennick was out of his seat and at the door, the hinges whining, the door slapping against the frame.

  “What did you do now, Pieter? Goddammit, boy, I swear on….”

  Kim followed, stepping outside just in time to see Kennick advancing on the boy, all hunched over. The kid jumped, spine straight as an arrow, and before Jimmy or Kennick could reach him he was off, running through the trailer park at top speed, his tiny body veering aimlessly. Hoots and cackles seemed to follow him; Kim watched as the people milling about made half-hearted attempts at catching him, but soon enough he had cleared the last trailer and was hurdling himself deep into the woods, Kennick and Jimmy left staring after him.

  Kim saw, with some relief, that Jimmy was wearing one of his patent “life’s funny” smiles. He had always been gentle-natured; it had surprised everyone when he became a cop, but in a good way. You felt good, having Jimmy Morane on the force. He was easygoing but fierce when it came to protecting those he loved. He’d go easy on the town drunk but not hesitate to put himself in the line of fire when necessary. He’d let pot-smoking kids go with a warning, but smash a meth lab to bits. He was a good man.

  Kennick wore no such smile as he turned to face the policeman, who was a few inches shorter and notably thinner. Kennick towered over him, but Jimmy didn’t back down. As Kim approached, she caught the start of their conversation.

  “…think they got him on a dare. It was just a Coke, but I had to pick ‘em up anyway. Kids were kicking each other the whole damn ride. Made me think my parents were saints on those family trips.”

  Jimmy was unruffled by Kennick’s glower. When he saw Kim, his eyes registered surprise but soon melted into a familiar warmth.

  “Hey, Kimmy,” he said.

  “Hey, Jimmy,” she said back, suddenly aware that her presence here would raise some eyebrows on both sides. She felt the stares of the people in the park on her back. It wasn’t unfriendly, but it sure as hell wasn’t comfortable, either.

  “What happened to the other boys?” Kennick asked.

  “Dropped ‘em off at home, too,” Jimmy said with a shrug. “Probably getting a strong lecture on consequences right now. Your cousin’s the smart one, lighting off like that. Damn, but he’s a runner. Track star someday, I bet.”

  At this, Kim saw the slightest smile twitch at the ends of Kennick’s mouth.

  “Only if the track team gets his Ma to follow him around the course with a shout on her lips,” he said, and Jimmy laughed heartily. But when the laugh died, a strange look came over his eyes. He glanced at Kim but looked back at Kennick and stepped a bit closer. She saw Kennick’s shoulders bunch slightly, his nostrils flare the slightest bit,

  “Listen, man,” Jimmy said. “I don’t want you getting the wrong idea about me saying this, but I feel I should. I don’t care about your boy here being, you know, a boy. I don’t think anything about you folks.”

  Jimmy looked uncomfortable for the first time, shuffling his feet slightly as he looked up at Kennick.

  “But you might wanna spread the word that the line is pretty thin,” Jimmy continued. “I’m not the only guy on the force, you know? And some of the guys…well, they’re all good guys but they might not be so…”

  Jimmy’s eyes flashed to Kim again.

  “They might not be so friendly,” he finally said, studying Kennick’s stoic form. The larger man was studying the cop hard, as though trying to find out if there were any further layers to the words he was saying. Kim knew to trust Jimmy and take what he said at face value, but she could already tell Kennick had no warm feelings towards authority of any kind.

  “Thanks,” he finally said, the word flat and thick on his lips. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

  Then Jimmy’s bright smile flashed across his face again.

  “Speaking of being friendly,” he said, “my Mom’s got some ra
ging migraines. I heard you gyp…you guys have some homeopathic cure for that. Mind if I swing by when I’m off duty to pick some up?”

  Kennick’s eyes narrowed, a frown darkening his face.

  “Or not,” Jimmy said, holding his hands up. “I get it. The uniform complicates things for sure. Just figured there was no harm in asking.”

  Jimmy smiled, opening the door to his car, and gave a two-finger salute before starting the engine and driving away.

  “What was that about?” Kim asked as they watched the car disappearing. Kennick looked down at her, eyes caught between wariness and amusement.

  “Just what he said. Old gypsy migraine cure,” he said. Kim saw the hint of a lie in his mouth as he spoke, but before she could demand he elaborate, he was beginning to walk away, towards the woods. Kim watched his purposeful stride, the way his body moved easily over the ground, like he and the earth were kindred.

  “I gotta go deal with this,” Kennick said over his shoulder. “I’ll see you around.”

  “Wait,” Kim said, her heart fluttering. She didn’t want to leave. As unbelievable lame and pathetic as that seemed to her, she couldn’t get enough of being around him. She already hated the idea of the drive back home to her empty apartment. Kennick turned, hands in his pockets. An old couple sitting outside their trailer watched the two from a distance.

  “I think I can help you,” Kim said, trotting up to stand before him. “I mean, I know someone you can talk to. My sister, she’s on the paper. The newspaper, I mean.”

  “I know what you meant,” Kennick said, eyes sparking. He leaned in closer to her, and she was swept up again by his devouring gaze, riding the wave of his stormy green eyes as they rolled down her sides, along her hips, across her chest…and then returned to her face.

  “I’ll call her tonight,” Kim said, nodding firmly, lips pursing together. “I’m sure she’d be interested in talking to you.”

  When he smiled at her then, Kim knew it was over. That was it. She’d never get him out of her head now.

  “I’d appreciate that,” he said in that low, sexy voice that went straight to her legs. His eyes flicked to the side and his tongue snaked out, crossing his lips quickly. “Come by tomorrow.”

  “What?” she asked, caught off-guard. “I don’t know if I’ll have anything concrete to tell you by then. I mean, she’ll have to run it by her editor and…”

  “No,” he said, starting to back away. “That’s not why I asked. I’d like to cook you dinner. Tomorrow night.”

  Kim’s words caught in her throat. Unconsciously, she followed him a few steps. Did he mean…was he actually asking her…

  “Like a date?” Kim asked, knowing that she sounded stupid as soon as she said it. They weren’t high school kids. But when he laughed, it put her at ease. Shaking his head, that smile lingering on his lips, he paused in his backward retreat.

  “You’re fuckin’ cute,” he said. When he saw the conflicted look on her face, he took a step forward again. Moments ago, he’d been glowering at a cop. And right before that, he’d been telling her about all the reasons his father could never have murdered a woman, and calling out the town on its duplicity. And now, suddenly, he was laughing and inviting her to dinner.

  “It’s just…it’s kind of out of nowhere,” she said. His eyebrow rose as he considered this.

  “Sure is,” he finally said. “We’re kind of an unpredictable breed, woman. Don’t come if you don’t want to. I’ve just got a hell of a soft spot for pretty girls.”

  Kim blushed despite herself, and it made him smile again. Unpredictable, she thought. Unpredictable might not be so awful…

  “What time,” she asked, and he shrugged.

  “Whenever you feel like it,” he said. “I don’t have a watch.”

  And with that, he was gone, turning away and jogging between the trailers towards the woods. And Kim was still center of attention, looking after him, wondering what the hell had just happened.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Gâsc_!” Kennick roared, slamming his hands down on the table in front of the boy. Pieter, named for his uncle, Ana's older brother, sat with a stubborn look on his face, his cheeks pushed up to his eyes by his fists, lips in a pout. He stared with intense interest at the table, refusing to meet Kennick’s eyes. Worse still were the eyes of his mother, standing in silent anger in front of the sink, arms crossed.

  “Do you think they won’t put you in jail, just to teach a little schav a lesson about stealing? You think what you did looks good for your kumpania? Makes your Ma proud? Ah, Pieter, you are turning into a little criminal, you know that?”

  “They made me do it, Kennick,” the boy whined, kicking his feet against the table’s legs.

  “Oh, they made you do it, huh? Some little gadje put a gun up to your head and made you do it? You are a Rom, boy, and a Rom does what he wants to, not what anyone else tells him to. Especially not some goddamn sticky-fingered street rat!”

  “You tell me what to do all the time!” Pieter cried out.

  “I wouldn’t have to if you didn’t do so much stupid shit all the time, Pieter! How do you think your namesake would feel about you running around tarnishing his name, huh? We’re having a hard enough time here without you making all those rumors about us sound true!”

  Pieter crumbled when Kennick called him out on his namesake. There were few things worse to a Volanis than bringing shame to the ancestor whose name you bore, and Pieter knew that well, even at his tender age. Seeing how the boy finally shrank and sniffled, Kennick eased up, a strew of curses escaping under his breath. He met Ana’s eyes and nodded.

  “Listen to your Ma now,” he growled, striding towards the door. “Do what she says, or so help me…”

  “Okay,” Pieter said, voice cracking as he held back tears. “Geeze, I’m sorry, okay?”

  “Don’t be sorry,” Kennick said, one hand on the door. “Sorry doesn’t mean anything. Don’t do it again. Get your act together.”

  Outside, in the freshly pink and dusky air, he could hear the beginnings of Ana Volanis’ tirade against her son and smiled. She’d been dead quiet as Kennick took his turn, but all that time she’d been stewing up a heaping mess of insults and punishments to lay down. Pieter would get the picture – he had to. The kumpania was already treading on thin ice, and the last thing anyone needed was some pint-sized hellion dragging their names even further into the dust.

  Taking his time in the lingering sunset, Kennick began his walk back to his trailer, passing his kin and long-time friends along the way, exchanging waves and greetings. It was dinner time for most, and since the weather was fair a good amount of people had set up barbecues or were eating outside. The rich smells of grilled sausages, roast chicken, corn and squash and fresh bread swirled around.

  Kennick was in good spirits despite Pieter’s little run-in with the local law. Mostly because of Kim. Both her promise, and the promise of her. She was utterly beautiful to him; with long, reddish-blonde hair that ran down her back, deep blue eyes, and the barest spattering of freckles, she looked like a delicious mix of old world and new. And the way she looked at him; well, damn, not a man on this earth could have resisted the lust in her eyes. His mind wandered to Baba’s prophecy. She was never wrong…

  When he rounded the corner of his trailer, he saw that Cristov and Damon were already home, both spreading their legs out languidly as they reclined in the battered lawn chairs they’d picked out of the garbage a few years back. A cooler between them was full of ice and beer. He didn’t even need to ask; Cristov tossed him one and he cracked it open, quickly closing his mouth around the top to catch the foam.

  “How’s kicks,” Damon asked, shoving the third lawn chair towards Kennick, who took it with a mock curtsey.

  “Pieter is a goddamn idiot,” he said, “got caught stealing a Coke. Big ol’ howdy-doody style cop had to come dragging his ass back home. But I got good news, too.”

  “What’s that? You finally find us
somewhere to get our dicks wet?” Cristov asked, leaning forward with a spark in his eyes and a smile on his lips. Kennick knew he was only half-serious, but it was the part that was serious that he wanted to slap.

  “You want a wet dick, you oughta use more spit on your hand,” he replied, kicking at the leg of Cristov’s chair. “Nah, you know that government chick?”

  Damon’s eyebrows lifted.

  “The gagic_,” he said, reaching behind him and picking up a guitar that had been leaning against the trailer. Gagic_: nice girl. Kennick thought that was an apt description, but the way she’d looked at him implied she might have something more than “nice” to offer.