Kissing Killian: Face-Off Legacy #5

by Quinn, Jillian

  Kissing Killian

  Face-Off Legacy #5

  Jillian Quinn

  Contents

  Also by Jillian Quinn

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Epilogue

  Defending Donovan

  Are you on the team?

  Dear Reader

  Also by Jillian Quinn

  About the Author

  Also by Jillian Quinn

  FACE-OFF LEGACY SERIES

  Pucking Parker | Keeping Kane Teaching Tucker

  Jocking Jameson | Kissing Killian Defending Donovan

  FACE-OFF SERIES

  Parker | Kane | Donovan | Jameson

  LOVE IN THE END ZONE SERIES

  Out of Bounds | In the Zone

  MORE THAN SERIES

  More Than Friends

  More Than Roommates

  For more information, visit JillianQuinnBooks.com.

  Copyright © 2019 by Jillian Quinn

  All rights reserved.

  Visit my website at JillianQuinnBooks.com

  Editing and proofreading by Swish Design & Editing

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, both living or deceased, establishments, businesses, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  To the man who inspired Killian Kade, you gave me one hell of a ride and a whole lotta writing material.

  Chapter One

  Killian

  I’ve broken so many laws in a matter of minutes I’m starting to lose track, the list growing longer by the second. My skin tingles as my fingers glide across the keyboard, my entire body coming alive. Jacked up on adrenaline, I’m having trouble sitting still. Taking shit that doesn’t belong to me gives me a high unlike any other, especially when that high comes from the power of a 5.8L supercharged engine.

  Sitting in the front seat of the Shelby GT500 we just stole, Chase runs his hand over the Mustang’s steering wheel, massaging the leather. “Listen to her purr.” The corners of his mouth turn up into an evil grin. “She sounds better than any woman I’ve ever fucked.”

  Chase cares about three things—cars, women, and booze. They’re the three loves of his life, apart from being a member of our crew. Mine too. Except I have hockey and school to keep me going between jobs.

  I laugh, shaking my head at him.

  Chase can drive anything with wheels, and I can find it. He’s not wrong. This car is the Holy Grail for us. It’s the last on the list of cars we boosted tonight, the only one none of us want to hand over to the buyer.

  “Hack into CCTV,” Roman growls from the backseat, gripping my headrest. “Delete the last ten minutes.”

  With the computer in my lap and Roman yelling over my shoulder, I flip between screens. “You give me too much credit, Rome,” I shoot back. “It’s not as easy as I make it look.”

  “If anyone can get this done, it’s you, Kade.”

  He’s never called me Killian. Everyone in my crew calls me by my last name.

  Roman cups my shoulder with his hand, giving it a quick squeeze. “Otherwise, we’re fucked.”

  “I’m in,” I tell Roman, typing at a feverish pace. “One more minute…”

  In less than sixty seconds, I replace the last ten minutes of footage on the security cameras with tedious, routine traffic from earlier in the evening. No one will even know we were there. It’s the perfect crime, and we’re lucky enough to end the night driving back to the drop point in one of the finest cars in the world. At least it is in my opinion.

  I close the laptop and shove it into the bag on the floor between my legs, glancing over at Chase, who’s waiting for my signal. “Done.”

  Once we reach the vacant lot on the river, Chase drives the car up the ramp of the carrier, a truck large enough to move the stolen cars between cities. This is how I pay my hefty tuition at Strickland University. The partial sports scholarship I received for hockey isn’t enough to cover the balance. I grew up in South Philly with a mom who can’t function most days and a younger brother to feed. This is the only way I know how to survive until I make it pro.

  The buyer is from Italy and insisted we transport the cars in a particular way. We’d already loaded a dozen cars before taking the Mustang, splitting them between several shipments. A few of our crew members are already back at the warehouse with Roman’s cousin, Nate. Roman’s family has ties to the local motorcycle club as well as the Philadelphia Mafia. I grew up around criminals, and when times got tough, I did whatever I had to do to survive. I still don’t have a choice.

  Chase kills the engine, and Roman gets out of the car, hopping down from the truck to light a cigarette. I stay behind with Chase, and then Roman calls out, “Which one of you wants to ride up front with me?”

  He means in the cab of the truck.

  I look at Chase, not ready to move from the leather seat molded to my muscular frame. This could be the last time I ever sit in a car this sweet.

  “I’m good here.”

  Chase slides his fingers over the dashboard, the same thoughts as me probably running through his head. He’s not ready to let go yet. “Me, too.”

  I wave Roman off, and within a few seconds, he locks us inside before taking his place in the cabin.

  “I need a few more minutes with her.” Chase caresses the wheel as if it’s a nice pair of tits in his hands. “I’m not ready to give her back.”

  “None of us want to. But if we keep doing these jobs, one day we’ll have enough money to afford one.”

  “It’s more fun to steal her.” He winks. “It’s like fucking a girl in public and hoping you get caught.”

  I love chasing the high Chase is also relishing right at this moment. We’re cut from the same cloth, all of us throwaway kids with no real future until we found each other. Roman was always the glue that held our band of misfits together. Even though Chase runs the crew, Roman is the one who plans all of our jobs and organizes shit none of us want to deal with. We operate like a unit, same as my hockey team.

  “We’re going to The Sixth Floor after this.” I tap the dashboard, giving him a wicked look. “You can replace this girl with another one. All of the sorority chicks on campus are part of some dance competition. The guys on my team are going. You know Jamie… he’ll be there, too.”

  Most of the time, I keep my school life separate from the sketchy parts of my life. My friends have met my teammates, but they don’t like hanging out with outsiders, not when several of them are the sons of famous hockey players and draw tons of attention at all times. That’s the last thing any of us need.

  But I promised Jamie O’Connor I would meet him there tonight. He’s like a brother to me. I’m close with his family and have known Jamie since grade school. Jamie’s
the reason I’m a hockey player and a programmer. And he’s practically connected at the hip to Preston Parker, our team captain.

  Preston made a bet with Bex Bryant, our hockey coach’s daughter, that he could beat her in a game of HORSE. She’s a basketball player, so she should have won. Though, I doubt she anticipated Preston having his mom’s basketball skills. His mom is a legendary sports agent and was an even better basketball player during her time at Villanova.

  Because Bex lost to Preston, she has to dance on stage in front of a packed club with a bunch of sorority girls. Coach Bryant has been riding my ass so hard the last month that I couldn’t turn down the opportunity to see his daughter fulfill the dare. She’s hot, has a beautiful body and decent tits, so why not?

  Chase moves his hands behind his head and leans back against the headrest. “Yeah, I’m going. That’s the plan. Just gotta get out of this sweatbox first.” Chase grips the collar of his polo shirt and fans himself. “It’s hot as balls in here.”

  I open the door to give us some air, but it isn’t any better. We’re trapped inside a large metal box with Roman driving down the highway like a fucking maniac.

  “We’ll be there in a few.” I remove the water bottle from my bag and hand it to him. “Here.”

  He takes a sip, his mouth twisting in disgust. “What the fuck? Water?”

  “What did you think I was giving you?”

  Chase hands the bottle back to me. “Vodka, maybe. Definitely not fucking water.”

  “I could go for a few shots of Jack.” My mouth waters at the thought.

  “And a girl with big tits and no gag reflex,” Chase adds.

  We both laugh, and I finish off the bottle of water, crushing it in my hand. I’ve been friends with Chase and Roman for so long they’re like brothers to me. They’re my family, and this family will do anything for each other. Lie, cheat, steal, kill—you name it, and we will do it. Our bond is unbreakable, which makes us lethal together. But it’s our bond that threatens my hockey career. It’s also the reason college was even possible for me.

  Once we reach the final drop point—a quarry where we’re meeting the buyer—Roman opens the truck for us. Chase is drenched in sweat by the time he hops down and onto the pavement, while I wait for Roman to lower the loading ramp. After he gives me the okay, I sling my backpack over one shoulder and stroll down the ramp.

  “We have one more car,” Roman says, shoving a hand through his dark hair, looking annoyed.

  I stop dead in my tracks. “The Shelby was the last one.”

  He shakes his head. “No, I got a call from Nate on our way over here. Remember the Mercedes AMG S 63 Coupe you found in the parking garage near your school? The one the buyer crossed off the list last week?” I nod, and he continues, “We have one hour to bring it back here, and we’ll get an extra five grand.”

  “What are we waiting for?” Chase interjects.

  Roman locks the truck behind us, and then we pile into Chase’s cherry red Mustang parked in the far corner of the lot. Fifteen minutes later, we’re driving into the parking garage across from Strickland University where students who live on campus park their cars. At this hour, no one is around, the only light coming from the dim overhead bulbs.

  “I’ll take care of this one,” I tell Chase and Roman, pushing open the door.

  “You sure?” Chase gives me a worried look.

  “Yeah, I’m sure. I can handle it.”

  He nods in answer.

  Once I’m outside of the car, I remove a handheld device from my backpack, tapping on the keys until it comes to life. A new Mercedes is harder to steal than a Honda Civic, but it’s not impossible. With the right technology, I’ve learned you can have whatever you want.

  Chase and Rome wait for a second as I work my magic, and within less than a minute, I’m sitting in the driver’s seat of the silver Mercedes, disabling the tracking system. Why our buyer would want this car after all the exotics on our list is beyond me, but I would be an idiot to turn down the extra cash. All of us need the money.

  Roman and Nate can barely keep the auto body shop afloat as it is. And then there’s Chase. His family is like a vampire, each of them sucking him dry until every penny he makes is spent by the time he can stash away a few hundred bucks. Mine is no different. Plus, with school being so expensive, I have to work my ass off, no matter how risky the job.

  As the Mercedes roars to life, I wave over my shoulder to Roman, telling him it’s okay to leave. He’s gone before I can back out of the parking space. Checking for cameras or witnesses, I take my time scanning the vacant floor. Not until I hit the second floor do I spot someone.

  A girl dressed in high heels, wearing a short black skirt that rides up her thin thighs and a red tank top that matches her lipstick, walks in front of the car. I roll down the window and wave her off, telling her to get the hell out of the way.

  Slack-jawed, she stares at me in horror, her eyes as wide as her mouth. She bangs on the hood, her words muffled over the dull hum of the radio blaring through the speakers in the car. Her mouth twists in anger, and it’s sexy-as-fuck the way the corners curl up into a snarl. The clothes attached to her slender frame are so tight they hug each of her curves. For a small girl, she has a nice rack, her tits popping out from the top of her tank.

  As she moves to the driver’s side of the car, I take this as my opportunity to get out of her path. The wheels screech on the asphalt, the smell of burnt rubber filling my nostrils as I press my foot to the gas pedal. And somehow, over the sound of the tires, I hear her soft voice clearly.

  “Hey, that’s my car,” she yells.

  I look at her through the rearview mirror and smile, taking pleasure in the high until it hits me that I know her. Jade Westbrook is a spoiled sorority brat who’s hit on me dozens of times over the years, and I’ve ignored her every single time.

  Fuck. Me.

  Chapter Two

  Jade

  This is not happening. Some asshole is stealing my car. In shock, I walk in front of the car, blocking his path, and slam my hands down on the hood. He holds my gaze, and as I stare him down, he doesn’t seem the least bit worried. He should be considering I know him. Well, I don’t know Killian Kade personally, but I know of him, same as most of the people at Strickland University.

  He’s popular, but so are all of the guys on the ice hockey team. Of all the jocks on campus, Killian is the most low-key, the one player I never hear anything about. No one ever gets close to him, and I think he prefers it that way. And now, I’m looking directly at him from across the hood, unsure of what to do next.

  Since the day he sat next to me during freshman orientation, I’ve had a major crush on him. He borrowed my pen without as much as a second glance in my direction. Well over six feet tall, with tanned skin, the most striking green eyes I’ve ever seen, and black hair that sweeps over his forehead, Killian had my attention the second he walked into the auditorium and slid into the vacant seat next to me.

  Back then, I tried talking to him, and he muttered something I couldn’t make out and preceded to play a game on his cell phone. Over the years, I’ve seen him on campus and even tried to talk to him at fraternity parties. Killian never even gave me more than a head nod or one of his cute smirks. And now, the bastard is stealing my car. Oh man, he’s going to pay for this. My dad will have his ass thrown in jail so fast he won’t know what hit him.

  But is that what I want? No, not really.

  Maybe I can use this to my advantage to get closer to him. Killian must have some kind of motivation for stealing my car. My dad will most likely send over a replacement before the insurance company and police can even investigate the missing car. And it’s not like I even need a car in the city. Yep, I can definitely use this leverage over Killian.

  I wonder if there’s a story to tell, and if I’m lucky, I can unravel the mystery surrounding Killian Kade. Not like I could report illegal activities that I aided and abetted in the Strickland Gazette, t
he school newspaper I write for once a week. Because I’m the social chair for Kappa Delta, my boss at the paper decided to put me in charge of the social activities on campus. It’s literally my job to know what everyone on campus is doing, which isn’t all that interesting.

  But Killian taking my car from the parking garage right off Broad Street… well, that could be front-page news. And not just in the Strickland Gazette. The Philadelphia Inquirer would be all over this, too. There has to be a reason why he wants my car. Why would someone do such a thing? It doesn’t make any sense.

  In heels that are already killing my feet, I stagger over to the driver’s side of the car, ready to tug on the handle and demand he get out of my car. But I don’t get the chance. The second I move out from the front of the car and inch toward the driver’s side door, he revs the engine, the tires screeching from the sheer force of power. Burnt rubber fills my nostrils, wafting through the air around me.

  “That’s my car,” I scream as he passes by me without another thought. “Asshole,” I mutter under my breath, jaw clenched in anger, my hands balled into fists at my sides.

  He’s so fucking dead when I find him.

  If I call my dad, he’ll want me to call the police, but I have a better idea. Killian lives in the on-campus house with a handful of his hockey teammates, one block over from Greek Row where I live with my sorority sisters. It’s not that hard to find him. But that’s the least of my worries right now. I’m supposed to be on my way to the club. I should have driven with my sisters, but I was too busy working on a paper and lost track of time.