Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
KINCAID
I remain in school through the afternoon, waiting to see if Francesca returns to class, filtering through potential punishments if she doesn’t.
Aidan sat through lunch with a face like a sad puppy. It would be amusing if their friendship wasn’t such an irritation. I try to imagine how he’ll react if she tells him everything, not sure if the proxy threat of my uncle’s wrath is enough for her to stay silent.
She hasn’t breathed a word so far, but it’s early days. She’s in shock, still adjusting, but I already know she isn’t a coward. Once the fog clears, she could easily rally his support.
Better to act now and put an end to their friendship before that can happen.
After school, I approach him in the gym. We don’t officially have practice today, but he spends all his free time running solo drills and doing strength training.
“Could I talk to you for a moment?” I ask him, then my eyes fix on my cousin, who’s doing pull ups on the other side of the hall. “Somewhere more private.”
“Yeah, man. Sure.”
He follows me into the changing room, waiting while I check there’s no one lurking in the showers.
“Is there a problem?” His voice sharpens. “Is there something happening with Chess?”
“You spend a lot of time with Francesca.”
He shrugs, face creasing into a frown. “Yeah, we’re friends. Why?”
“Friends, huh? I might’ve called it something different.”
Aidan gives an exasperated sigh. “Do you have a point coming soon, King?”
“I don’t want you hanging around with her any longer.”
“Good to know.” His eyes open wider before he snorts. “I’m not going to stop hanging with her on your say-so.”
“Perhaps you should reconsider.” I flex my shoulders to take up more space, standing tall. “It’s hard to impress a selector when you’re booted off the team.”
“There are other teams.” Aidan mimics my body language, looking pissed. “Being passed over this year means my skills will be twelve months further advanced the next time they look.”
His confidence is off-putting. Even among the men in my uncle’s organisation, the assurance of knowing exactly who you are and what you can do is rare. But I can respect a man and still push him to do what I need.
And he’s here, training.
Despite the bravado, it’s obvious rugby means a great deal to him.
“Stay away from her.”
“Or what?” His chest puffs out, feet wide apart for stability. Hands loose but ready to swing. “You don’t scare me, King.”
“I should.”
The quiet reply throws him for a second, then he shakes his head. “I’ve had worse than you come at me and survived.”
Physically, we’re evenly matched. I have an inch on him in height; he has a longer reach.
“Don’t worry, I’m not threatening a fight. But if you come near Francesca again…”
He angles his head, lip curling. “Yes?”
“I’ll cut her.” At his wince, I lean my weight forward, onto my toes. “Deep enough to scar.” His jaw locks, nostrils flaring, and I tap his cheek. “Here maybe.” I push at his chest. “Or here.” I poke his hip. “Or here.”
He slaps my hand away, and I let him, lowering my voice to whisper, “Break the rule twice and I’ll make you watch.”
“You’re fucking sick.” The words are expected… but there’s something false in his voice, in his entire reaction. Underneath the surface theatrics, he doesn’t seem to care. “If you even try to do that, I’ll—”
“You’ll what?” This time, when I step into his personal space, he falls back. “You’re friends with Ezra, too, yeah?”
“I’m friends with a lot of people.”
“And Francesca confided in you when she decided to sell herself to the highest bidder?”
It’s a guess, but his gaze falters, letting me know I’m close.
“Does she know you’re the one who showed him her ad?” His eye twitches, and I’ll take that as a yes. He’s up to something and I’m glad I confronted him. Francesca doesn’t need a false friend on top of her other burdens. “I bet you thought it was the perfect fit, right? One of your friends needing money and the other…? Hm. What did he tell you? That it was a bet?”
Aidan shakes his head, but his face reddens. Guilt? Shame?
Irritation that I’m not buying his good guy routine?
“Did Ezra tell the truth? Why it had to be Francesca?” His flush spreads. “Was it just to annoy me because he knew I liked her? Did he think I’d be upset enough to affect my game?”
Maybe not every part of my theory is correct, but his reactions let me know most questions hit their mark.
“Did he show you the video? Did you see how frightened she got?” Aidan can’t meet my eyes at all now, and he flinches when I lean in for the kill. “Did watching her make you feel like a good friend?”
“I didn’t think he’d hurt her!”
It’s bullshit. Ten minutes in Ezra’s company and anyone can tell he’s as cruel as he is vapid. He wears his sociopathy like a name tag.
“You sold her out for a place on the squad.”
Fuck. Even without the exact reason, that part is obvious now I say it aloud.
No wonder Ezra pushed for his inclusion. And someone who would treat a friend like that, even if she wasn’t his BFF? Someone that driven won’t be nearly as sanguine about the selector as he appears.
“Francesca and I have an understanding,” I say, getting uncomfortably close to him. “If that agreement ends, I’ll let you know, and you can go back to being best buds. Until then, don’t go near her unless you want her blood on your hands, understand?”
Face pale, he still fights back. “You can’t just go around threatening people.”
“Who’s going to stop me?”
And the answer is clear as he retreats, eyes dropping to the tiled floor.
No one.
“Stay away or I’ll tell her what her friend is really like.”
* * *
Throughout the afternoon and into the evening, I keep tabs on the phone tracker Tyson installed. When it doesn’t move location for over an hour, I drive to the spot and find a pawn shop.
My fiery little vixen has redeemed my presents for cash, and I’m filled with new admiration. It’s calculating. Cold , even . Despite appearances, she’s no shrinking violet.
After a tense exchange with the owner, I leave the place with her phone and bracelet. My pulse quickens, afraid she’s cut and run, but a quick drive-by of her house shows her car parked in the lean-to at the side.
I’m relieved enough to return home and all evening, I tell myself to leave it.
For her first week, she’s coped remarkably well, keeping her composure in front of the school, even when people stare.
But there’s an urgency inside, pushing me to confront her with a punishment. If I give her slack now, it’ll make it harder to reprimand her next time. It’s better to nip her disobedience in the bud.
Finally, I give in to the desire and drive back to her neighbourhood, parking around the corner from her house.
To be this close calms and excites me in equal measure. I sit for a while, staring at the crumbling walls of her house, the water damage from the nearby swamp so extreme mould grows a foot high on the cladding.
When the clock ticks past eleven, and the lights have been off for an hour, I walk to the front door. It’s even easier to break inside this time, knowing there’ll be no one else there to disturb us. I walk into her bedroom and it’s like my chest is being squeezed by a giant hand.
I can’t even put names to the tangle of emotions, the sensations swelling until I push the heel of my hand against my ribcage, trying to stuff them back wherever they came from. Already knowing the battle is lost.
Her lashes catch the moonlight and turn silver, an utter temptation of a colour. Like her pouty lips are a temptation. Every single feature is better than the last, and today’s burst of defiance, ignoring my repeated texts, selling my gifts, is the best treat of all.
After years spent growing bored with girls after the first taste, I want to gorge on her. A meal so divine, it seems impossible I could tire of her.
Francesca stirs, making a soft snuffling noise, and fuck. The things she does to me without trying.
Without even being awake.
For a long time, I stand and stare at her sleeping face, grateful she handed me an excuse to pay another visit so soon.