Keane: Her Ruthless Ex
50 Loving States, Massachusetts
Theodora Taylor
Copyright © 2019 by Theodora Taylor
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover Design: Najla Qambar
Book Editing: Author Designs
Created with Vellum
Contents
Prologue
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
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
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Also by Theodora Taylor
About the Author
He didn’t notice her at first.
But when he did, she became all he could see.
For seconds…minutes…eternities on end.
Prologue
Keane marked him less than five minutes after stepping foot into Boston Prep’s main school building. Skinny. Short. Brown…but not the kind that fights back. He’d bet his new custom Bauer Supremes the kid signed up for band freshman year.
He studied Band Nerd stuffing books into his locker and jabbering with some girl. He could only see her profile, but he clocked that she was also brown and wore her hair in a long practical braid. She kept her face turned toward Band Nerd as she stowed her books. Like she actually gave a shit about whatever he was talking about.
Girlfriend, Keane concluded. Probably played for the band, too. Keane had yet to encounter a lunch money mark who actually knew how to bag a girlfriend without getting band involved. Flute or clarinet, he guessed. Something delicate and useless like that.
Yeah, this kid would definitely make for perfect prey.
He thumped his suite and teammate, Con, on the shoulder. “Watch this,” he said. Then he cut left in Band Nerd’s direction.
Time to show everyone at this new school who not to fuck with….
“Just so you know, I plan to kill myself if Mr. Marchetti refuses to let us play anything from the current millennium this year,” Band Nerd was saying.
He had an accent, Keane noted. Not Puerto Rican. Indian maybe?
His girlfriend made a chiding sound in the back of her throat, half laugh, half groan. “Sweetie, don’t say that. I’d be so sad.”
“I am completely serious—”
Keane grabbed Band Nerd by his lapels and slammed him against the locker before the kid had the chance to finish his lame-ass declaration.
“Lunch Money.” Two words. Spoken calm as fuck. Keane didn’t bother with a follow-up threat.
He didn’t have to. He could tell from the about-to-piss-my-fucking-pants look on Band Nerd’s face that the kid knew what was up, and understood exactly what would happen if he didn’t fork over the cash.
Yeah, he’d snagged the right mark for sure. Hardly any effort required. So instead of growling threats in his face, Keane simply stood there, dangling Band Nerd in the air as he waited for his money.
But then somebody tugged on his arm. “You—you can’t do that! Boston Glenn has a zero tolerance policy against bullying. Put him down! Put him down right now!”
Well this was a new twist. Keane had been rocking the stronger-than-any-of-you-fucks look since the age of nine. And thanks to that implicit promise of beating the shit out of anyone who tried to come between him and his lunch money, he’d never had any guy, much less a girl attempt to stop him from taking someone else’s lunch money. Yet, here Band Nerd’s girlfriend was, running interference.
Keane looked down, only meaning to shake her off of him. But the full-on sight of her hit him harder than a T-train.
She was fucking gorgeous. Creamy brown skin, deep brown eyes, and a wide mouth that looked like it would be smiling if she weren’t here, trying to get him to let go of her boyfriend.
He dropped his gaze down to the rest of her body, and immediately regretted the impulse decision.
She was the kind of big he hadn’t known he liked until this very moment. Curves for days. Lush hips and a spectacular rack—he could tell, even though she had them way too covered up under the blue and red Boston Glenn uniform jacket. Quite a few BG girls had introduced themselves to him already, and most of them had tugged down their red uniform ties and unbuttoned their shirts to show him some skin. But this girl wore her blouse buttoned all the way up, with the knot of her tie squeezed so tight under her collar, he wondered if it was choking her.
His hands itched to reach out and tug the tie down. To let that perfect braid loose, too. Then haul her to him and kiss that disapproving frown off her mouth. Would her plump lips taste as good as they looked?
No, he hadn’t noticed her at first. But when he did, she became all he could see. For seconds…minutes…eternities on end.
A memory crashed into him. His first game at Andrews Arena. Cheering for the Boston Hawks with his mom. It was close. Less than 30 seconds left on the clock in the last period, and the game was 0-0. This had been before the NHL killed that tied game shit with the shootout, so everybody had been shifting in their seats. Restless and scared they’d paid for tickets and got ass-fucked by the arena’s parking prices for literally zero result. His mom was tapping her acrylics against the arm rest in a way Keane had come to recognize as her needing a drink real bad, even though she’d already knocked back two beers.
But then in the very last seconds of the game, the Hawk’s star right wing had Holy Fucking Mary-ed the puck into the enemy’s net. That win had stopped his mom’s jonesing. She, Keane, and just about everybody in that stadium jumped to their feet, Caw-Cawing for the Hawks, as the band Boston’s “More Than a Feeling” started playing overhead.
Gazing down at this girl…it felt like that moment. Like “More Than a Feeling” blasting after an unexpected win. And, a new arousal delivered an unexpected dick punch.
“Okay, okay! I’ll give you my lunch money.”
Band Nerd’s voice ripped Keane out of the eternity stare, reminding him of his original intention. Not to gape at some weirdly alluring band nerd’s girlfriend, but to complete his important first day of school ritual of establishing himself as the resident alpha. Plus, after spending all his summer funds on his new Bauers, he was broke as fuck.
This one act was supposed to kill two birds with one nerd. So good thing Band Nerd had brought him back around to the main point.
But get this, Band Nerd’s girlfriend had something to say about that, too. “No, Vihaan. You don’t have to give him anything. I’m going to get a teacher.”
“Con, back me up here,” Keane said without turning his attention from his real target this time. He couldn’t risk letting himself look at her again. Popping a tent in his slacks while dangling a guy in the air just wasn’t a good look.
Bu
t Keane knew his roommate had it covered when he heard Band Nerd’s girlfriend start rattling off her Boston Prep school zero tolerance rule to him, too. Like it actually applied to hockey players.
“Lunch money,” Keane said again, this time letting some pissed off seep into the demand.
“It’s in my front pocket! Just take it!”
Keane gave him an aggrieved look. “You a fag?”
The little brown nerd blinked. “N-no.”
“Then why the fuck do you think I’m going to reach into your pocket. I’ve already got all my school supplies. Not looking to pick up any pencils.”
Con snickered behind him, along with everyone else in the large group of students who’d gathered to watch the show.
Well, everyone else except for Band Nerd and his girlfriend. But at least the kid seemed to get it now.
No more hesitation. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a five.
Keane snatched it from him and let him go at the same time.
“Vihaan! Are you all right?” Band Nerd’s girlfriend called out.
He wanted to look at her. Fuck, did he want to look at her. Devour her with his eyes and try to figure out how to get her to spread her legs. But winners don’t look back. They keep it going, dusting all the losers in their wake.
Keane forced himself to continue strolling down the hallway. Smooth, like shaking Band Nerd down for his lunch money was all in a day’s work.
But his heart pounded as he walked away, and it had nothing to do with the very tiny bit of exertion it took to pick up that skinny nerd.
No….
Keane, didn’t let himself look, but he could imagine her rushing over to her boyfriend and helping him up. Like she was the man and he was the damsel in distress.
It made him sick to his fucking stomach. Seriously, what was a girl like that doing with an ass tool like Band Nerd?
“Who was that?” Keane asked, when Con fell in beside him.
“The Paki or the fat girl?” Con asked. Technically his name was Chris, but he was one of three guys on the team from Wisconsin, so they all called him Con, and the other two Wis and Sin.
“The fat girl,” Keane answered.
“That’s Lena Kumar. She’s black, but her dad’s a Paki, too…or an Indian—I can never tell which is which. But they’re not rich like the other Indian kids. Both of them are here on scholarships.”
“They fucking?”
Con shrugged. “Truth be told, I thought he was a fag up until today. But I guess maybe he isn’t the way she tried to get in between you two.” He waved his hands hysterically and put on a high-falsetto as he mocked Lena. “Put him down! Put him down! Boston Glenn has a zero tolerance policy against bullying!”
Keane forced a laugh, but his heart… “More Than a Feeling” wouldn’t stop blasting.
“Lena, just drop it, okay? I gave him the money,” Vihaan said, squeezing her hand as they headed back to Vihaan’s place in Dorchester on the T. “I don’t think he’s going to come after me again.”
“Yes, you gave him the money. That’s exactly why he’ll come after you again,” Lena argued, anger still churning in her belly at that new student who threatened her friend…and made her heart beat wildly in her chest when he hit her with his hard green stare. “That’s bully psychology 101. You’re an easy mark, so he’ll keep coming after you, not just for the money, but for the rush of adrenaline he gets from dominating you. Bullies are like jungle animals—they live for this stuff.”
Vihaan snorted. “Please tell me you didn’t spend your lunch period, researching bullies in the computer lab.”
“How else was I supposed to spend it?” Lena asked. “I’m honest to God worried about you.”
Vihaan shook his head. “It was probably a onetime thing. He doesn’t look like any of the bullies back in middle school. And at least he asked if I was a fag. Didn’t just assume it like Con and the other Sticks. That means it’s working. We’re working.”
His words paused Lena’s argument. Vihaan was right. The boy who slammed her best friend against the lockers sure didn’t look like any of the bullies she’d seen in action back when she met Vihaan at Dorchester Middle.
This bully wasn’t bulky and beefy, but cut and broad shouldered in a way that made his uniform strain against his flexed back. His eyes hadn’t been set in a perma-glare like the world owed him something for giving him a too big body and too big emotions at the same time. And he also hadn’t been poorly groomed.
No, he’d struck her as handsome, actually. Even when he had Vihaan pinned against the lockers. Clean cut and sharp jawed, with hair that somehow managed to look soft and perfectly gelled at the same time. For a moment she’d gotten lost in that profile. If he looked this good from the side, what he would look like from the front?
She’s soon found out when he’d shifted his violent gaze from Vihaan to her.
Had she thought him handsome? Upgrade that to hot. Insanely hot. Forget his muscular body, or the fact that he stood so tall, she barely reached his shoulder. His face alone made his school uniform look like something being modeled in a catalog for rich people who only liked to look at beautiful things. He was so hot he sucked all the oxygen out of the air and made it hard to breathe. To see even.
She had been pretty sure there was still a school and a hallway jam-packed with rich kids doing exactly nothing to help Vihaan. But for moments on end, all she could do was fall into his intense green eyes.
“Lena? Lena? Are you listening to me?”
She snapped out of her memory daze to find Vihaan flapping her arm over their held hands, his expression set to what the hell?
“Sorry,” she said, shoving that first look memory down into the cellar of her mind where it belonged. “I was just thinking about this one Psychology Now article I read about a bully who escalated from taking lunch money to sexually assaulting a boy in the showers. Sadly, the victim never reported what happened to anyone, so now after years and years of therapy he’s finally figuring out how to live with the trauma. What were you saying?”
Vihaan shot her an annoyed look. “It’s not like the school would do anything about it anyway. He’s a Stick. He could murder me in the hallway, and the principal would probably cover it up as long as we were able to win the New England championship this year.”
Vihaan had a point. The Sticks were considered gods at Boston Glenn. And even worse, according to the rumor mill, Keane had been poached from Beaumont Academy, the prep school who had won the state championship last year, so he probably thought he had a permanent ‘Get Out of Jail Free’ card to carry around in his uniform pocket. She wanted to believe Keane wouldn’t get away with murder, but Vihaan’s lunch money…well, yeah, her friend might be right about that.
But she couldn’t stop fretting over the problem as they got off the T still holding hands and started the twenty-five-minute walk to Vihaan’s house. “There’s got to be something we can do to stop this Masshole from ruining your last two years at Boston Glenn.”
“Stop, Lena,” Vihaan begged. “If he comes after me again, I’m just going to give him my lunch money.”
“No, no, it’s not right. Your mom works two jobs. That Southie doesn’t deserve that money. I don’t care how well he hits a ball.”
“Puck, and how do you know he’s a Southie?”
Lena cut him a frank look. “I know you only moved to America three years ago, but you have got to start learning to tell us Bostonians apart. If they sound like they’re about to hawk a spit wad and tell you to go fuck yourself at the same time, then they’re from one of the Irish sections of South Boston, okay?”
“This is somehow oddly specific and hopelessly confusing at the same time,” Vihaan told her. He dropped her hand since they were getting close to his house. “Besides, it doesn’t matter either way. Sticks get what they want. Whatever they want. Everyone knows this.”
Lena sank into miserable silence. Hating that Vihaan was right.
“Don’
t pout,” Vihaan said, when they reached the three decker where he lived in a third floor apartment with his mother and brother. “Besides Keane is so hot, I find myself wishing I could afford to board at Boston Glenn, so that he might find me in the shower and assault me. In fact, I think I will fantasize about this tonight.”
Lena scrunched her face at him. “So politically incorrect, Vi. And way to make me feel good about bearding for you.”
“Yes, I am a horrible fake boyfriend,” Vihaan agreed with an easy grin. “So you can cease worrying about me.”
Lena knew what he was trying to do, but… “It’s not a joke.”
Vihaan sighed, his expression turning serious. “I know. So just let me pay him. It will be all right. I promise.”
“Will it, though?” Lena asked, her voice cracking with worry.
“Hey, Lena, do you need me to walk you to your father today?” a voice called down before Vihaan could answer.
Lena raised her eyes to see Rohan, Vihaan’s older brother, leaning out of one of their front windows.
Their mom maintained very strict rules about them inviting girls into the house, so she’d never stepped foot in her best friend’s apartment. But his older brother, Rohan, always offered to escort her the rest of the way to her dad’s store, which was about another twenty-minute walk from their three-decker.
Technically, Lena shouldn’t have attended middle school in Dorchester, but her dad had transferred her there, using the store’s address for seventh grade. He’d betted that her superior grades would stand out here more than in their fast-gentrifying Upper Roxbury home district and he’d been right. Both Vihaan and Lena had tested into Boston Glenn and received full merit scholarships.
Keane: Her Ruthless Ex: 50 Loving States, Massachusetts Page 1