Chapter 9
REN
When I was ten years old, I fell from a tree in our backyard. Mom had told me not to climb up the sycamore, but I’d been young and determined to prove to my parents that I was a big boy, like Luke or our other older brother, Henry, and sister, Alicia.
So, I strode out the door with the determination and innocence that only a ten-year-old could have and climbed to the very top.
It was only when I’d reached the highest point that I’d realized I couldn’t get back down.
I’d cried quietly, scared of the height and terrified of what Mom would say, before I’d gathered my courage and attempted to wriggle back down.
My foot had caught a branch the wrong way and I’d tumbled, landing awkwardly on my ankle.
I’d screamed.
Luke had come running out of the house. He’d comforted me, assured me everything would be all right, but we both knew Mom would never let me hear the end of it. She’d yell and ground me and take away my allowance. We didn’t talk about her in that moment, though.
At fourteen years old, Luke called a taxi and took me to our family doctor, ignoring the cruel jeers from our siblings about how stupid I was.
The receptionist at the clinic had to inform Mom, of course, and she’d stomped into the building with so much anger I was more scared of her than falling out of the tree.
Luke had taken the brunt of her rage, though, blaming himself and telling her that he’d dared me.
He hadn’t.
In the end, I’d broken my ankle and they put it in a cast. I’d needed crutches for weeks. But from disaster came hope. Luke and I grew closer than ever. He was a superhero. My big brother who’d protected me from Mom. And when I grew up, I wanted to be exactly like him.
Then, he’d moved away two years later. Everything changed.
No one was there to hold my hand anymore.
No one was there to help me. Mom didn’t care.
She was busy with fundraising and her friends and my sister.
Father wanted me to act like a man, but all he did was storm around the house and demand perfection.
Was that what a man should be? A fucking asshole?
The world around me warped into a nightmare.
And it was entirely Luke’s fault. He’d been the first domino to fall. The superhero I’d loved turned into a villain.
Death came.
Rules were thrown into place.
And finally, I was sent away to a boarding school.
Luke was the plague and my retribution was the cure.
“Thanks for inviting me out.” A pleasant flush spread across KC’s cheeks.
His blush was different from Oliver’s, which was layered in innocence.
KC wasn’t innocent, far from it, but he was still kind and softhearted, a terrible trait for someone to have, especially while he was so deeply involved with a one-percenter motorcycle club, thanks to Luke.
How did my brother change so much from the guy who used to take care of me? I shifted uncomfortably. And why was he being so nice to KC now? Acting like family to him?
Something slithered through me, and I refused to label it, but irritation dug into me and I couldn’t ignore it.
Jealous.
I was jealous of KC, which was stupid. Having Luke in your life didn’t help anyone in the end.
But that was another reason to keep going with my revenge plan, I suppose. Maybe it wasn’t right, but I was going to ruin everyone connected to Luke.
I offered KC my best smile, the one I used when I wanted to twist someone up into knots.
I was good-looking. I knew it. He knew it.
Everyone who saw me knew it. My photogenic face and tight body were the only good things my parents had given me, but of course, I had to add some mods.
Tattoos. Piercings. Hard work at the gym.
“You should know something, though.” He frowned—a furrow of his eyebrows and a cute pout. He glanced around the café we were in, a place close to NGU’s campus that offered a lot of healthy options.
I hated the societal obsession with eating healthy. Some people set the bar too high, ripping away the humanity surrounding shared meals to conform to a stupid ideology.
Don’t get me wrong, I ate the way I needed to in order to stay fit and pump iron.
I was muscular and that came with keeping an eye on nutrition, but I also believed in intuitive eating and being happy.
Sometimes a meal was about the way it made you feel and the memories tangled up in it, not the micro- and macronutrients.
I shook away the thoughts and smiled. Right. KC wanted to tell me something.
“What should I know?” I reached across the table and traced the veins on the back of his hand before lacing our fingers together, a bold statement, considering this was our first date, but one he accepted with a smile.
“I’m kind of dating someone else, too?” He cringed, then straightened. “I mean, I am dating someone else. It only happened yesterday and it’s new, but I told him I have a date today. He said I should go out with both of you, see which person I like more.”
I stared at the blush that spread across his cheeks and down his neck.
Fuck. Was this Oliver? Holy fuck, did I lose that bet?
When I’d teased and prodded him yesterday, I hadn’t expected him to work so fast. He was a bundle of nerves, all shy and used to hiding in the shadows.
Did he finally grow some balls? Damn. The little mouse had some guts.
Oh, this was going to be a fun challenge.
“This other guy, does he have a big dick? Should we have a measuring contest?” I joked. “I’m sure I would win.”
KC laughed—bright, loud, and real—and the pleasant sound cast a spell on me, working its way directly to my cock. Whoever would have thought that a laugh was sexy? I didn’t until now. He ducked his head, the corner of his mouth flicking up in a half smile. “I’ll need proof.”
“That can be arranged.” I nudged his foot under the table. My breath caught when he pressed back. “But I’m fine with a little competition. I enjoy it. The best man usually wins. What I mean to say is I win.”
KC shook his head, grinning. “You’re cocky.”
“I’m confident,” I hit back. “I could slide under this table right now, suck you off. I’ll send you to orgasm heaven, you’ll come that hard.”
He glanced around the café. It wasn’t busy, but it wasn’t slow, either. There were a few students dotted around the narrow space, deep in conversation. He looked at me again, worrying his teeth into his bottom lip, as though he was considering the offer, then shook his head fast.
Boo. I loved public sex.
“I’d rather get to know you first. Who are you, Ren?
” He picked up the smoothie in the plastic cup in front of him and took a long sip.
His lips were shiny and wet. Seeing his cheeks suck in was a delicious sight that had my cock practically vibrating.
What would he look like with my dick between those pretty lips?
“What do you want to know?” There were plenty of things to tell him that wouldn’t give me away. The closer I stayed to the truth, the easier it was to keep track of the lies.
“What do you do?” His gaze traveled over my exposed shoulder and down my arm, caressing me with his warm eyes. Tingles rushed across my skin.
“I’m opening a tattoo parlor in the city. I’m a tattoo artist.”
He raised his eyebrows, eyes dancing in amusement. “Why am I not surprised?”
“What about you? You’re in college, obviously. What are you studying?” I knew all the answers already, but I was surprised to find I enjoyed hearing KC talk.
“Business.” He ran the pad of his thumb around the plastic lid of his smoothie thoughtfully. “Though, I’m not sure what I want to do as a career. I play football for NGU, but I don’t want to do it pro. I love the sport, it keeps me active, but I don’t see myself going all the way.”
I shrugged. “You’re allowed to love a sport and play it and not make it your career. I played hockey in high school.”
“Really?” His eyes widened a fraction, and I delighted in the fascinated surprise flashing in his expression. “What position?”
“Defenseman.” I chuckled. “I liked hitting people a lot. One of my good friends plays for the Waves.”
“Shit. Really? The Los Angeles Waves? Who is it?” He leaned forward, elbows planted on the table and shoulders hunched in, his curiosity giving way to excitement. He squeezed my hand.
“Ripley Thorne. We went to the same boarding school. We were on our high school team, on the same line. The Blue Demons.”
KC’s interest in hockey was new. Nothing the investigator sent told me KC loved the sport. Football? Definitely. But not hockey.
“No way! Thorne? Holy shit. He’s an amazing center.”
I snorted and took a sip of the coffee that sat in front of me. The liquid was lukewarm, and I really hated coffee when it wasn’t extra hot, so I winced and pushed it away. “Don’t tell him that. Ripley has an ego already.”
Ripley and I went way back. We’d both come from rich families in the Los Angeles area, and we dealt with shitty parents who wanted to fix our behavior.
We’d funneled our anger into hockey, taking pleasure in knocking around our rivals and winning games.
While I’d known from the start hockey was only an outlet until I could escape and become a tattoo artist, Ripley bled ice.
He lived and breathed hockey, and he was only eighteen when he was drafted to the Waves.
He was the only one who knew about my revenge, and he’d encouraged me. Pushed me to go even further. He wasn’t only my good friend, he was my enabler. There was a certain point where I had to admit he was far more ruthless than me, and that said a lot because I wasn’t a good person.
KC fluttered his eyelashes, and I didn’t think he realized what he was doing. “I’d love to meet him one day.”
I sent him a pointed look. “You can’t date him. He’s off-limits. I’m trying to get you into bed. I don’t need competition like Ripley fucking Thorne.”