Chapter 32
CHAPTER
THIRTY-TWO
KENNEDY
Hudson disappeared with Wilde a few hours ago, and now I’m waiting for Ziggy to pick me up.
It’s getting late, but I’m happy to wait because I’ll never get over how big and bright the stars are out here.
Interestingly, he’s driving, and considering he walks everywhere, it’s got me curious where we’re going tonight.
Tonight. Exactly one night since our date. And he’s the one who suggested it, not me, which is new and different for my dating self.
Ziggy’s truck comes down the street, and the sound of it must draw Hart’s attention. The front door opens, and he hovers on the step, watching as Ziggy gets closer.
I don’t have anything to say to him right now, so when Ziggy slows, I make for the truck.
“Hold on,” Hart says, jogging down the stairs. “You’re leaving too?”
“Yeah?”
“So what? You both disappear with boyfriends, and I’m supposed to be a sitting duck, waiting for that guy with his bobcat to come back and kill me?”
From inside the truck, I hear Ziggy laugh.
“Lock the doors. I’m sure you’ll be fine.”
“Good to know you care.” He crosses his arms, glaring at me as I climb into the truck.
I lean over to kiss Ziggy hello and feel his lips curve under mine as he smiles.
“Tell him to come,” he whispers.
“Hart?”
“Yes.”
“But aren’t we going on a date?”
He lifts his narrow shoulders. “Sort of. But your other brother will be there.”
Okay, now I’m really curious. I’m still not feeling warm and fuzzy toward either of them, and as much as I’d love to tell Hart to stay and be freaked-out, I also hate the idea of him actually being freaked-out.
Maybe Hudson’s right that I’m a pushover.
With a sigh, I push open my door and lean out. “Get in.”
“Why?”
“Because I said get in.”
His stubborn ass stays planted where it is for a moment before he grabs a piece of timber and starts for the car.
“What’s that for?” I ask as I slide into the middle, and he takes the passenger seat.
“Protection.”
“From?”
“Anyone out there that I need protecting from.”
Ziggy smiles across me at Hart and surprises the hell out of me when he talks. “The dangerous ones are all preoccupied tonight.”
Hart blinks at him. “That doesn’t fill me with confidence.”
“No, but I’m doubly curious now,” I say. “Where are we going?”
But Ziggy’s back to not talking because he throws a U-turn and heads back toward the trees.
In the dark, it’s impossible to keep track of where we’re going.
We make it along trails that his truck really shouldn’t be able to fit down, and other than the halo of light cast by his headlights, everything else is pitch-black in the trees.
“Maybe I should have stayed home after all,” Hart mutters, but almost as soon as he says the words, pinpricks of light appear up ahead.
“Is that where we’re going?” I ask.
Ziggy nods, and a few minutes later, we leave the trees behind and pull up beside an enormous building. It’s all timber, highly polished, and looks like someone goes to a lot of effort to take care of it. Ziggy climbs out first, and Hart and I exchange a look.
“Where have you dragged me?” Hart’s trying and failing not to sound interested.
“Hell if I know.” I’m still not giving in to my urge to let my attitude slide, but there really is only so long I can go on being mad. I’m not built for negative emotions, even toward the people who bring them out in me.
“Well, we were born together. Might as well die together too.”
“No one’s dying,” I snap, nudging him to get out of the car.
A small group of people walk by toward the left of the building, where a slash of light is thrown out over the grass.
Hart finally climbs out, and I follow him.
This isn’t at all what I was expecting, and I’m still not even sure what it is.
When I reach Ziggy, I’m hesitant as my hand slips into his, testing to see where we’re at with our relationship.
I’d rather we had that conversation without others overhearing it, but it didn’t even occur to me before we left.
His hand tightens around mine, and I have my answer. He’s not embarrassed by me.
We let Ziggy lead the way to the lit-up section and find a man stationed at the entrance. He has a childlike innocence about him, probably from his bright eyes and chubby cheeks, but there’s something in the way he smiles our way that I don’t like.
“Look at this,” he says as we draw closer. “The little mountain dweller and two harbingers of destruction.”
Hart goes to respond, but I set the back of my hand against his chest in warning.
Ziggy taps the clipboard the man is holding.
“Oh no, I don’t need to check this for your names.
” He steps closer to me. “I wrote the list, you see. The paperwork is all for a dramatic flair. I only pretend to check for names on it. If I really don’t like the person, I’ll even pretend not to see them for a moment.
” He laughs at something in Ziggy’s expression.
“Oh, yes. I leave Foley waiting the most.” The man’s eyes sharpen as they find my face, then slowly move on to Hart’s.
“Twins, Ziggy? Who would have thought you had it in you.”
He scowls, and I’m about to reject the gross assumption when Hart gets there first.
“Incest,” he says dryly. “Such a cute thing to joke about.”
“Ah, you’re the angry one. Good. I have a feeling we’re going to be close, you and I.”
“Who are you?” I cut in.
“Where are my manners? I’m Dr. Booker. You come and see me anytime you need putting back together.” He grips Hart’s shoulder and runs his hand slowly down his arm. “Any little scrape, bruise … you could never be an imposition.”
Ziggy sighs loudly, catching Booker’s attention, and points at the door.
Booker laughs. “Of course I can’t let them in. They’re not on the list.”
Ziggy swings his thumb between us.
“They might be with you, but you’re not on the list either. There are only so many times you can reject my invitation before it starts to feel personal.”
I have no idea what’s going on, but as easy as it looks to step around Booker and walk in, I get the feeling that’s an illusion. If he’s really as protective of his list as he says, he’s not risking any walk-ins.
“What’s going on here that’s so special?” Hart grunts.
“Peril.”
“As in, it’s dangerous?”
“It’s Peril. Of course it is.”
I’m so confused. “You do realize we have no idea what you’re saying.”
His fingers drum a deep rhythm against the wooden clipboard. “Outsiders rarely do.”
“Kennedy? Hart?”
I turn toward my name and where Wilde and Hudson have just arrived. “Do you know what this is?” I ask them.
Hudson glances at Wilde like he’s not sure what to say, and I can’t help notice the new bruises beneath his tank top. Most of them are thick and long, suspiciously the same shape as the stick Wilde is holding.
Shock floods me. “Did you hit him?”
Instead of giving me an answer, Wilde smirks and turns to Booker. “Let me guess, they’re not on your list.”
“I don’t make the rules, Wilde.”
“You literally did.” He steps around Booker, heading inside, but Hudson stays put.
“We’re not leaving my brothers out here.”
Wilde freezes, but doesn’t turn back.
“I’m serious,” Hudson pushes, crossing his arms. “You want me to watch your match, they need to as well.”
“Sorry, my sweet Hudson. As intimately as I know you, a list is a list is a list.” Booker taps the clipboard again. “There’s nothing I can do.”
“Let them in, Booker,” Wilde snaps.
Booker’s face fills with a grin. “Make me.”
That’s a bold request, considering Wilde looks like he could kill a man.
I have the muscle mass to possibly take him on, but Booker is half a head shorter than me, chubby, and looks too sweet to hurt a fly.
But he goes on innocently smiling, and the longer he holds it without Wilde taking a swing at him, the more something off creeps up my spine.
Wilde glances back, taking in Ziggy, me, and Hart, before he huffs. “Let them in and I’ll break something of Foley’s for you.”
Booker’s gaze drops back to the list. “Oh, look at that. Ziggy, Kennedy, and Hartwell. Here all along.”
And when he tilts the clipboard, I catch sight of my name.
We’re actually on there.
Hart scoffs and takes off after Hudson, but I’m confused.
“If you had our names, why didn’t you just let us in?”
“I like to play games.” He waves a hand at the giant structure behind him.
“I’m the maker of games, and you and your brother are unknown pieces.
Word for the Wilde: permission isn’t given freely around here.
It’s demanded. Better luck next time.” Booker turns his back on me, and I’m left blinking at the back of his head.
Part of me wants to push this, but Ziggy gives my hand a tug, and I reluctantly let it go. Booker’s nonsense isn’t going to ruin my night.
Especially when we step inside and I see what’s waiting for us.
Tiered seating rings the room, and in the middle is what looks like an … obstacle course? Sort of?
There’s safety flooring under nine metal platforms all at different heights, and above them is what looks like monkey bars.
“What is this?”
“Peril,” Hudson answers.
“That still doesn’t tell me anything.”
The four of us follow Wilde into a row of seating as a horn goes and two people climb onto opposite, low platforms.
Ziggy turns, mouth pressing to my ear. “Peril is a type of fighting. Like a mix of stick fighting and martial arts that all takes place on the platforms. The goal is to push your opponent off, however you can. The only limit is that there are no blows to the head allowed.”
“I’ve never heard of it.”
“You wouldn’t have. It mutated here. It’s how Wilde’s End and the other towns that compete earn money.”
“That’s so …” Weird? Aggressive? Dramatic? But while I’m searching for a word, Hart sits forward in his seat between Ziggy and Hudson.
“This is so fucking cool.”
“Is it?”
He shoots me a bewildered look. “Look how fast they’re moving. How hard they’re hitting each other. No safety equipment, no padding …” His gaze moves back to where the two people are fighting, and the loud thwack that comes from someone being hit reaches us. “I want a turn.”
“No,” Hudson and Wilde say at the same time. My brother continues. “It’s dangerous.”
“You’ve clearly been doing it,” Hart says, jabbing at his chest. And the bruise. Suddenly, all of Hudson’s injuries make sense.
“I help Wilde train. I don’t compete.”
“Not my fault you’re scared.”
Hudson snorts. “I competed once. Against Wilde. And even though he took it easy on me, he still kicked my ass. You want a turn? Have at it. You won’t last more than a few seconds.”
Darkness settles behind Hart’s eyes, and he crosses his arms, slumping back in his chair and watching the matches like he’s dying to get out there.
As far as fighting goes, I’ve never been a fan.
But I can’t deny there’s something about the atmosphere and the crowd reactions that are pulling me into it.
Match after match passes, and Ziggy snuggles into my side, like he’s not that interested either.
If he doesn’t like fighting, I have no idea why he brought me here in the first place, but I’m sure I’ll find out.
Ziggy doesn’t do things without a reason.
The match I’m watching ends, and as the crowd applauds, Wilde pushes to his feet.
“I’m challenging Foley,” he shouts, and the crowd gets louder.
Hudson claps his hands together. “This is what we’re here for.”
But the name has caught my attention. “Foley …” I repeat, and Ziggy’s head lifts from my shoulder.
He nods.
“Wilde said he’d break something of Foley’s, but … Foley’s a person?” My voice inches higher. “What’s he breaking?”
Ziggy doesn’t look half as concerned as I am. “My money is on a rib. He owes Foley at least five.”
“A rib? He promised to break a bone? Why would Booker want that? He’s a doctor.”
The way Ziggy pats my knee is patronizing at best. “Because he’s a doctor.”
I don’t want to know what he means by that.
But the match has my attention now, and not for good reasons. I’m unexpectedly concerned for some guy called Foley, who I’ve never met in my life.
It’s not until the man takes his podium and I see the skeleton mouth tattooed over his own that I realize I have met him. Sort of. He drove through town once.
And fuck me. If it weren’t for those tattoos, he’d be hot as hell. His black hair is slicked back, he’s got the type of jawline that could cut glass, and his eyes look piercing even from here.
“I always forget how hot he is.” Hudson buries his face in his hands.
“You see him every day,” Hart says.
“Not Wilde. Foley. Look at the guy.”
Hart tilts his head to the side. “He looks like a demon.”
“Exactly.”
“I didn’t say that was a good thing.”
The buzzer sounds, and Hudson’s fists form in his lap. “Wilde’s going to kick his ass.”
And once they get started, I don’t know how Hudson can be so confident.
This is madness.