Chapter 6
CHAPTER
SIX
KENNEDY
Ialmost swallow my damn tongue. Warning alarms go off in my head, telling me not to turn around, because if I go on pretending I can’t hear him, he’ll go away.
And definitely not stab me in the back. Literally.
Considering he had no issue with stabbing Wilde in the front, I have no clue why I’d assume that plan would work.
Ziggy pulls away from me before I can test out my theory, and it’s hard not to be frustrated when it felt like I was getting through to him. This little thread of connection was building between us, and as soon as Lynx spoke, it snapped. I want to kick him for ruining it.
Though it’s hard to be pissed when I’m worried about my life.
“Why did you bring him here?” Lynx asks, and I hurry to turn around too.
Ziggy stares him down, and instinct makes me angle myself in front of him.
Lynx is blocking our way out of the container, and his stupid bobcat is sitting behind him.
“He was showing me something,” I say, trying to keep my tone light, even as my pulse picks up at the sight of them. “It’s okay though. We aren’t hanging around. I think I’ve seen everything I need to.”
Lynx’s glare turns on me. “I wasn’t talking to you.”
“I was just explain—”
Beside me, Ziggy huffs and elbows me out of the way.
Lynx actually laughs. “Ziggy can speak for himself.”
“He can?” I glance at Ziggy and the withering look he’s directing my way. I quickly throw up my hands in surrender. “Of course you can.”
I’m almost dumbstruck as he steps into Lynx’s path, that urge to push him behind me only getting stronger.
“It wasn’t a smart move to bring him here,” Lynx warns.
Ziggy plants his hands on his hips.
For some reason, that makes Lynx’s jaw tick. “I’m happy to ignore the little boys existing, but you really need to make it easier on me. Bringing him here? On my territory?” Lynx lifts his machete between us. “You’re lucky I don’t send him to visit Booker.”
“Are you threatening me?” I’m asking because I genuinely don’t know, but from memory, Booker is their doctor, so that’s the only conclusion I can come up with.
Ziggy’s expression clearly says shut up.
So I shut up.
He turns to Lynx and slashes at his throat, and I watch on as Lynx gets more menacing and Ziggy inches closer to him.
I’m twitching to pull Ziggy away, because I don’t care what either of them says, the urge to protect Ziggy is strong.
I might have muscles, but I’ve never had an urge to fight, and even now, the only reason I want to pull him back is so that we can run away.
But if Lynx tried to hurt the guy I’m slowly becoming friends with, I doubt my pacifist side would hold up.
In fact, I’m almost positive I’d bury my fist in his face.
Lynx scoffs loudly, pulling my attention back to him as his cat stands up in warning. “Wilde could try. Hell, maybe he’d even kill me. But the only way I stop protecting this place is if I’m dead.”
Ziggy gestures sharply at me, getting frustrated.
“I’m not going to get to know them.” Lynx’s sharp eyes connect with mine, and I’m thrown that he understands Ziggy, even without words.
“You’re ruining our home. Some of the others might be weak when it comes to standing up for what’s right, but that will never be me.
Stay hiding behind Ziggy, or Wilde, it doesn’t matter.
The second one of you wanders off alone, no one will hear from you again. ”
“Now I know you’re threatening me.” As much as I want to get angry like Hudson does, that didn’t work out so well for us last time.
My palms are clammy, and I’m getting nervous like I always do before a confrontation, but dammit if that will stop me.
“Ziggy’s right.” I’m assuming. “Get to know us. Give me a chance to prove that we’re not bad guys. ”
“You going to sell off those houses?”
“Well, yes—”
“That’s all I need to know.” He taps his big knife against the container with a metallic chink chink. “Enjoy your day, gentlemen. I’ll be watching.”
He leaves, and the second he’s out of sight, a full-body shiver runs through me.
It pulls Ziggy’s attention, and he tilts his head, watching me like he’s confused.
“What?” I ask defensively. “He’s scary as hell.”
Ziggy … rolls his eyes?
“Nuh-uh,” I say, stepping closer. “You don’t get to brush this off. He threatened to kill me and my brothers.”
Ziggy waves my concern away as he leads me from the container.
“You don’t think he’d do it. But he just said—” I almost barge right into Ziggy when he turns suddenly so he’s facing me. There’s sympathy in his brown eyes, but he leans in, hand finding my face, and those long, smooth fingers feel cool against my skin. I completely forget what I was about to say.
His eyes lock on mine, and he slowly, purposefully shakes his head. I watch him, replaying the movement, wanting to puzzle him out and read him as easily as Lynx did. He’s … not scary? He … won’t do it? But how can Ziggy be sure?
The more he stares at me, the more it feels like he’s trying to say something important. Something convincing.
Like he wants me to believe Lynx won’t hurt me, all because he says so.
Fuck me. I did say I trust him.
I cover Ziggy’s hand with mine and give it a squeeze. “Okay. I’ll stop worrying about being murdered. Or gutted. Or skinned alive. But if you’re wrong, I will haunt you forever.”
That earns me his sly grin, and he pulls away too soon, then waits for me to leave before locking up the container again.
“Right. Where to next? I can’t wait to meet more people who hate my guts.”
We end up following the river to an impressive-looking timber building.
It’s large, with a front deck that overlooks the water, and when we head inside, all I can do is look around in shock for a minute.
It’s a bar. Huge gleaming counter, racks of alcohol behind it, chairs and tables all along the left, and down the end are pool tables and a jukebox.
I turn to Ziggy like I might be hallucinating. “Is that actually real?”
His eyes crease with amusement as he takes my sleeve and leads me toward the bar. Then he steps around to the other side.
“What are you doing?”
He waves his hand over the bottles behind him before pointing to a lower fridge.
“Get out from behind there before you get into trouble.”
He lets out a laugh that I have a second to bask in before it’s joined by another. A man with a ball cap and ponytail comes out from the back, cradling an armful of Coke bottles.
“No one’s getting into trouble,” he says. “We serve ourselves. Now, can you tell him what you want so he can get out of my way?”
“A … a Coke. Is fine.”
The man hands over a bottle before Ziggy shifts so he can get to the lower fridges.
“Didn’t think I’d see another brother here,” the guy says.
“Ziggy was showing me around. I’m guessing Hudson’s been here too?”
“A few times with Wilde.” He and Ziggy share an amused look. “Never thought I’d see the day he was swooning over some guy.”
“Wilde? Scary dude with a beard? Swooning?”
“Oh yeah. I’ve never seen that man so giddy in my life.”
Considering every time I see him, he’s all scowly and grunting, I’m going to call bullshit on that one. “I don’t see it.”
“You don’t know him.” The man finishes putting the bottles away and then straightens and offers me his hand. “I’m Rooney, the only mildly sociable one around here.”
That pulls a smile from me. “Kennedy.”
“Ah, yes. The nice brother.”
“Is that what I’m known as?”
Rooney plants his elbows on the bar top and props his chin in his hands. “Is it a lie?”
“Not … a lie. Exactly.” When it comes to my brothers, I’m a saint in comparison, but nice is such a bland description. “What do you know Hudson and Hartwell as?”
“The Romeo and the ghost.”
“Ghost?”
“Sure. No one ever sees him.”
“And … Hudson’s Romeo?” Well, that would be a first. Goddammit, I should be Romeo.
“He did bring our savage leader to his knees.”
I don’t get it. All they did was gripe at each other the whole time they were sleeping together, and that somehow led them to being the Romeo and Juliet of this place? Maybe Wilde’s End is more backward than I thought.
Seriously, is there anywhere on this goddamn Earth where being sweet and considerate is appreciated? I know I’m not supposed to be focused on relationships, but it’s starting to hurt.
Did I miss my chance at happiness when I turned down Caroline? Maybe that was the universe finally giving me my person.
“Or was it your brother who got on his knees?” Rooney muses out loud. “Either way, they got their happy ending.”
“Now I’m worried about which happy ending you’re referring to.”
“Only the fun kind.”
“I think both ways are the fun kind.”
He looks like a guy used to smiling as he checks me out. “Are you straight? Or do you take after your brother?”
“Bi.” Or … wait. Maybe my forever person is Rooney? I don’t feel any type of way toward him, but who can say? “Why do you ask?”
“Because you’re hot. Duh.”
“Oh, uh, thanks.” My face is heating. “That’s really—”
Ziggy slams his hand down on the bar between us with an echoing thwack.
My rambling cuts off, and when I glance over, his face is twisted in anger. Even under his loose bangs, I can make out the way his pierced eyebrows are pulled down sharply.
“Shit, Ziggy, were we leaving you out?” Rooney asks lightly, reaching over to pat him on the back.
Ziggy slaps his hand away, but guilt is sinking through me. We were leaving him out. Fuck. I didn’t even notice I was doing it. I’m so used to being around my brothers or our friends, people who’ll talk over the top of each other and never shy away from having themselves heard.
Ziggy isn’t like that.
“I’m sorry,” I tell him as convincingly as I can. “That was really rude.”
He still looks mad—along with something else—but when his gaze drops toward the floor, some of the tension leaves his features.
“It’s my fault,” Rooney says, eyeing Ziggy curiously. “I get excited meeting new people.”
“Me too,” I admit.
Ziggy passes him and joins me around the other side of the bar, then grabs my Coke and pulls me toward a table by the window.
He sets my drink down and points to the chair behind it, and I’m so confused about whether he forgives me or if he’s putting me in the naughty corner.
I sit slowly, trying to read his face, and it’s not until he takes the seat beside me and lets the annoyance slide from his features that I relax again.
Ziggy sighs, turning back to Rooney, and points at the chair across the table from us.
“Be right over,” Rooney calls, not sounding at all like he’s going to curl over from the guilt. Me, on the other hand? I feel bad for squishing bugs, so upsetting Ziggy is going to sit with me.
I drop my voice so only he can hear me. “I really am sorry.”
It takes him a moment before he looks at me, his searching gaze wary, and slowly, the irritation is replaced by something else. His lips pull out into a sad, flat smile. Is that supposed to be forgiveness? Or resignation?
“Nope, don’t do that.” Surprise lights up his eyes, and he cocks his head to the side.
Is he challenging me? Or … asking me to keep talking?
“Don’t pretend you’re okay. I feel bad, and I should.
” Taking a chance, I reach out and run my fingers along his arm, wanting to build that connection we had earlier but scared I’ll spook him.
“I want to know you better, and that includes the things that annoy you.”
He’s watching me, unresponsive, and slowly, it feels like I’m getting through to him. That he’s hearing the truth behind the words I’m speaking.
The guardedness seeps away.
It shouldn’t feel so good to see him relax again, but I wasn’t lying when I said that I felt bad. In the short time since meeting him, the moments we spend together only leave me eager to know more.
Know everything.
Now, I’ve catalogued one more thing about him.
Ziggy really, really hates to be ignored.
So I guess I’ll have to smother him in attention instead.