by Laura Lee
“He loves her, too, you know.” Ainsley smiles.
“Huh?”
“Belle. Kingston loves Belle, too. I’ve never seen him so invested in a kid before. I think it’s partly because she’s an extension of you, but also because he enjoys being around her. His face lights up when he talks about her.”
“He talks about my sister? When? What does he say?”
She nods. “Every time you take her out. If I’m not with you guys, he has to recap the entire day for me. Did you know she FaceTimes him sometimes?”
“What?!”
Ainsley chuckles. “Yep. I think he programmed his number into her iPad as a backup, or whatever if she couldn’t reach you. But she called him one day, and they talked for over an hour. Then, they started making it a semi-regular thing.”
“They did not.”
She makes an X over her heart. “Bible. I was with him in the pool house the first time it happened.”
I shake my head in confusion. “Why am I just now hearing about this? And no offense, but why am I hearing about it from you and not him?”
“Honestly? I think it’s because he’s afraid you’ll think he’s using her to get closer to you.”
I blink a few times, not really knowing how to respond to that. I have thought that more than once, at least in the beginning. Belle doesn’t keep secrets from me, but she obviously kept this to herself, which tells me she cherishes those private conversations with Kingston. She wants a special connection with him because she loves him, too.
“And you don’t think that’s the case?”
Ainsley’s head slices to the left, then the right. “Not at all. I think he just really likes being around her. Maybe Belle reminds him of what life was like before he became so jaded.”
I dab at the corner of my eye. “Is he ever going to stop surprising me? Kingston really is one of the good guys, isn’t he?”
I already knew there was more to Kingston than he lets most people see, but being there for Belle like this, with no ulterior motive? That’s something someone who plans to stick around would do.
“He is,” Ainsley confirms. “Unless you threaten the people he loves. I don’t know why, but I think we only got a glimpse of what my brother’s capable of when he was beating that Lawson guy into a pulp, Jazz. I honestly couldn’t tell you how far he’d be willing to go to hurt someone—and I probably don’t want to know, to be honest—but good is the last word I’d use to describe his intentions. Kingston’s a-hundred-percent alpha when it comes to his pack. If you fuck with his people, he’ll rip you to shreds.”
I don’t doubt that for a second. The question is, why do I find that so hot? One of life’s mysteries, I suppose.
CHAPTER FIVE
KINGSTON
“How was the dinner?” John asks. “Any progress?”
“Not as much as I would’ve liked,” I admit. “But I had to get out of there. My dad was in rare form.”
“How so?”
I rake my fingers through my hair. “He was much bolder than I would’ve liked with Jazz.”
“I can’t say I’m surprised after watching the footage from his office. Your father seems more... emotionally reactive than usual.”
After we came across the video of Peyton and my dad in his office, I sent John a message with the time stamp so he could view it as well.
“He is, which is really starting to concern me. Preston Davenport doesn’t do feelings, and he’s too much of a control freak to allow others to outwardly affect him, yet that’s changing more and more each day. I had to get Jazz out of there last night. I was worried either she would cause a scene, or I would. His behavior caught us off guard.”
“I bet.”
“Speaking of being caught off guard... a man introduced himself to me at the party. I’ve never seen him before, but he said he knew you.”
“He mentioned me by name?” The surprise is evident in John’s tone.
I nod before remembering he can’t see me over the phone. “Yeah, which for obvious reasons didn’t sit right with me. He gave me his business card and said you’d vouch for him. The guy’s a financial analyst, I guess.”
“What’s this guy’s name?”
I look down at the card. “Rafe Garcia. You know him?”
My PI doesn’t say a word for a good thirty seconds. “Could you describe him for me?”
“Mid to late thirties, average build, brown hair, possibly Latino. His voice was pretty gravelly.”
“It’s from an on-the-job injury quite a few years back.”
My brows lift. “So you do know him?”
“Yeah, I know him,” John confirms.
“So what’s his deal? And how does he know about our association?”
John clears his throat. “Well, one thing I can tell you is Rafe’s definitely not a financial analyst, and Garcia is an alias.”
“Like Peterson,” I surmise.
“Exactly.” He chuckles.
“So, if he’s not an analyst, why is he pretending to be one? What does he actually do?”
“He’s an FBI agent—an old buddy of mine. If he told you I’d vouch for him, he wants you to know that.”
John was an agent before he became a private investigator. I’ve always suspected Peterson wasn’t his real last name, but he’s never confirmed that until now. I don’t know much about his past, other than the fact he worked deep undercover. It’s likely why he’s so damn good at his job. He left the bureau after some major shit went down, but couldn’t shake feeling restless. Being a private investigator allows him to get his fix, I guess.
“So, this guy is an agent? You think he’s undercover?”
“I’ll have to make some calls to be sure.”
I let out a heavy breath. “I don’t like that he sought me out at that dinner. What if my dad saw us? What was he doing there in the first place?”
“Kingston, the one thing I do know is that Rafe wouldn’t have approached you unless he felt it was safe. He’s highly trained to assess risk, and he’s damn good at his job.”
I rub the back of my neck. “Do you think the FBI is watching my father or Callahan? Or both?”
“If they are, it’s going to make my job a lot easier.”
“Why’s that?”
I swear I can hear John smiling. “Because the FBI likes to push boundaries when it comes to outside contractors, so to speak. They’ll happily share their information and resources. If Rafe wants me to be their liaison—which I suspect he might, considering the way he approached you—I’d have a lot more manpower at my disposal.”
“Why would the FBI do that? It seems risky.”
“Because if shit goes south and an agent isn’t directly involved, the government can deny any involvement. But if things do go the way they planned, you have the agency behind you to make arrests and protect your anonymity. If you ever see news breaking of a mob bust, that’s a perfect example. They’ll often use someone on the inside because crime outfits don’t take well to newcomers. But you never hear about those people, do you?”
“Why do I feel like I just stepped onto the set of a mafia movie?” I mutter.
“Those are a lot more accurate than one might think.” He laughs. “Rafe obviously knows I’m digging, and if he knows that, it’s because he was looking very carefully. I know how to cover my ass, and only someone with a certain skill set could trace me.”
I stretch my neck from side to side. “And this Rafe guy has that skill set?”
“He does.”
“So, why not just approach you if you already know each other? Why come to me first?”
“What exactly did he say to you?”
“That we had a friend in common—you—and that he wanted me to put a face to a name. He told me to call him to arrange a meet after you vouched for him.”
“Knowing Rafe, it’s as simple as that. You were in the same place simultaneously, and he took the opportunity to meet you in person. He would’ve known I’d
fill in the blanks as soon as you talked to me.”
“So, I should call him?”
“Hold off on that for now. Let me make a few calls, and I’ll get back to you with our next steps.”
“You really think this guy could help us take down my father and Callahan?”
“I think it’s worth a shot.”
Well, shit. How can I say no to that?
***
“Damn,” Reed says. “This is a good thing, right?”
I just finished telling Reed and Bentley about John’s FBI friend. They were hanging at Reed’s house, so I came over as soon as I hung up the phone.
“John thinks it could be. He’s going to dig into it a little before figuring out what our next course of action should be. Whatever that is, it needs to happen soon. I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”
Reed frowns. “What do you mean?”
“My dad... his fixation on Jazz. I’ve had no trouble focusing on the endgame for two years, yet it’s a struggle every damn day now since I saw that video of him with Peyton. And with the shit he pulled yesterday? I wanted to kill him, dude. I literally wanted to end his life on the spot. I know he’s planning to do something really messed up, and Jazz is at the center of those plans. It scares the shit out of me.”
“How can you be so sure?” Bentley asks.
“Because I know him,” I deadpan. “I’ve spent my life studying him. The man’s a sociopath and completely fucked in the head. I’ve watched him treat women like shit for years, and I’ve never felt right about it, but that’s not what this is. I’ve never seen him so obsessed over anything. It’s like he wants more than just sex with Jazz. He wants to own her, mind, body, and soul. The craziest part of all... I honestly think he might have some warped idea in his head that she’d want to be with him.”
Bent’s lips thin. “That’s insane.”
“I never said he was sane.” I shrug. “The thing is... I don’t get it. At all. He barely knows her, has been around her less than a handful of times. I think that’s why I feel so off-kilter. It just doesn’t make any damn sense.”
Reed clears his throat. “Could this have anything to do with her mom?”
My eyes swing to him. “What do you mean?”
“He knew her mom, right?”
“Yeah. And?”
“Do you think it’s possible maybe he was obsessed with her, and he’s transferring those feelings onto Jazz?”
My breath whooshes out of me. “Holy shit. Now, that does make sense.”
Why the fuck didn’t I think of that earlier?
Reed lifts a shoulder. “Maybe it’s not so complicated after all.”
“Fuck.” I scrub a hand over my face. “That might make it worse. He would’ve had years to develop an obsession with Jazz’s mom. Who knows what the hell happened between them back then? The only person I could’ve ever flat out asked is dead.”
“Dude, maybe this FBI thing could be the breakthrough you’ve been waiting for.” Bentley pulls the pool cue back and breaks, sinking two stripes. “Maybe you just need to keep him away from Jazz until they can make arrests. Go out of town for a while. You two could make arrangements to take online coursework.”
I shake my head. “She would never leave her sister, and even if that weren’t an issue, Jazz is too fucking stubborn to run. Plus, that would be suspicious as fuck. We can’t afford to do anything that would tip my dad or Callahan off. Besides, we have no idea how long it’ll take for the FBI to do their thing. John said they won’t make a move without enough irrefutable evidence because they only have one shot at it.”
“Well, shit,” Bentley mutters while lining up his next shot.
I take a long pull from my water bottle. “Agreed.”
Bent fiddles with his phone for a sec before Foo Fighters’ “The Pretender” starts blasting through the Bluetooth speakers.
I raise my drink to him. “Nice song choice.”
He smirks. “I thought it was appropriate.”
Bentley finally misses, so Reed grabs a cue and sinks the three-ball. “Ains just texted to say they’ll be here in a few.”
Ainsley and Jazz decided to meet us here after their shopping excursion. Reed’s parents went to their cabin in Tahoe for the long weekend, so we have the place to ourselves. Both of our fathers are home, so Jazz and I will probably crash in one of his guest bedrooms tonight.
“I got the trip all worked out,” I say. “I’m going to tell Jazz tonight.”
Bent gives me a fist bump. “Damn, son, somebody’s gettin’ some extra good lovin’ tonight.”
I roll my eyes at this fool. “That was happening regardless.”
Jazz’s little plan to withhold sex crashed and burned real fast. She lasted a whole ten minutes after we got back to my place last night before she was practically gagging for it.
“What are you so smiley about over there?” Reed asks.
Huh. I didn’t realize I was smiling. “Just remembering something from last night.”
Reed gives me a knowing look. “Ah. Got it.”
These fuckers can read me too well sometimes.
“So, Jazz has no idea what you have planned?” Bentley’s lighter flickers as he takes a hit from his pipe.
I shake my head. “None.”
Belle’s eighth birthday is coming up, and Jazz wanted to do something special to celebrate. Since I wanted to do something special for both of them, I made arrangements with Belle’s dad to have her for the entire weekend. I can’t wait to see the look on that adorable little girl’s face when we pull through the gates at Disneyland.
“Belle’s going to be pumped when she sees where we’re going. Neither one of them has ever been to Disney, so I got MaxPasses. I was going to do the whole VIP thing, but I think Jazz would prefer to roam the parks without a tour guide.”
Bentley’s eyebrows draw together. “How can you grow up in Southern Cali and never go to Disneyland?”
I give him a moment to think about it before I see the proverbial lightbulb flicker on. Disney theme parks aren’t exactly cheap. Honestly, I don’t know how the average middle-class family affords it, let alone someone who grew up in state housing.
Reed and Bent are wearing matching shit-eating grins.
“What’s that look for?”
Reed’s lips twitch. “Never thought I’d see the day, man.”
I frown. “The day for what?”
“That you became a pussy-whipped motherfucker.” Bentley makes a whip-cracking motion—complete with sound effects—to emphasize his statement.
I flip these assholes off as they laugh it up.
“What’s so funny?”
Reed’s eyes light up when Ainsley walks into the room. “Just giving your brother shit.”
My lips twitch when Bent switches the song.
She makes some weird rolling hand gesture. “By all means, don’t let me stop you.”
My eyes narrow. “You can all fuck right off.”
When Jazz walks into the room, I fist the hair at the nape of her neck and land a solid kiss on her mouth. Damn, she looks good today. She’s fine as hell on any given day, but for some reason, even more so right now. I was inside this woman less than twelve hours ago, but I can never seem to get enough.
“Not you. You can fuck me, though.” I wag my eyebrows suggestively as Cardi B raps about parking a Mack Truck inside a little garage.
Jazz’s chocolate eyes twinkle in amusement. “I’m so sure.”
I smack her ass as she walks past me to take a seat on the leather couch. “Just name the time and place, baby.”
“How was shopping?” Reed asks my sister.
Ainsley smiles. “Let’s just say I’m glad I borrowed Kingston’s Rover.”
“You should see the dress Ainsley bought for that holiday party. It makes her ass look spectacular. I mean, it was already great to begin with, but the dress is straight fire. I bet you can’t wait to see it, huh, Reed?” Jazz flashes a tooth
y smile and makes a spanking motion in the air.
Sadly, that mind-reading thing between the guys and me works both ways, so I know precisely what Reed is thinking right now. The twin link is also in full effect, so I have a pretty good idea what’s on my sister’s mind as she widens her eyes at Jazz, although I try my damnedest to bleach all of it from my brain.
Reed’s eyes flash briefly to me before working their way over to Jazz. He looks pensive as he considers her question, though I doubt he’s trying to formulate a response. He’s probably wondering exactly how much Jazz knows about his sexual proclivities. My eyes wander to her, wondering the same thing because it seems like she’s purposely fucking with him.
Jazz and I have engaged in some light ass play, which she definitely enjoyed, but we’ve never actually had a discussion about full back door access. I don’t need it like Reed does, but I can’t say I wouldn’t love to have Jazz’s tight ass hugging my cock. I find myself curious about how open-minded she is on the subject.
Fuck.
I really need to think of something else because the last thing I want is to have a boner in front of my sister and these two jackasses.
My eyes narrow in Reed’s direction as I join Jazz on the couch, pulling her back into me. “Don’t answer that.”
Reed holds his palms out. “Wasn’t planning on it.”
My sister scoffs. “Idiots.”
Bent abandons their game of pool and takes the seat next to Jazz. He places a small bud in the bowl of his pipe and hands it to her. “Ladies first.”
“Such a gentleman.” Jazz wraps her lips around the mouthpiece, making me think about her wrapping her lips around my dick.
Shit. I’m doing it again. I squeeze Jazz, grinding my growing erection against her back to get some relief. She wiggles as she pushes into me before turning her head and winking.
I pinch her side and lower my mouth to her ear. “Don’t push me, Jazz. I’m this close to dragging you out of here.” I hold my index finger and thumb an inch apart to demonstrate.
“Put the club away, Caveman.”
Jazz attempts to pass the pipe to me, but I decline. If she keeps teasing me like this, we won’t be in this room much longer. If she wants to call me a caveman, I’ll throw her over my goddamn shoulder and show her a caveman.