8. Linc
Poking my eye feels like the wrong thing to do, but it looks puffy, so I do it. Immediately, a shard of pain shoots into my brain and down through my fingers.
“Fuck me,” I groan.
I will never put on a pair of roller skates again, and Remy owes me big-time for involving me in his dumbass plan to help Cain out with training a derby team on banked track. What the hell do we know about banked track anymore? Apparently, not nearly enough, because not only did we get our asses handed to us by women, but one of them got me in the face with a skate and I look like I got into a fight with a fuckin’ door. And lost, spectacularly.
Even three days later, I can’t get the bruise to fade. Hell, I’m considering going to Emma and asking her to show me how to use makeup because I’m sick and tired of being asked what happened to my face.
“Why are you staring at yourself?”
I knew I wasn’t in the bathroom at the courthouse alone; that is practically impossible. But I honestly hadn’t expected to see Royal fucking Prince.
The reflection I find staring back at me through the mirror shows my complete opposite. Where I have on a dark-blue uniform, buttoned all the way up to my chin, with a utility belt strapped to my side, a gun attached to my hip, and the badge shining back at me from my chest, Royal does not. He has on a dark-gray suit, which probably costs more than my first car, and a tie that I want to rip off his neck and hang him with, along with an actual handkerchief in the pocket on his breast. I have blond hair; he has dark-brown hair. His eyes are almost the same color as his hair, while mine are blue.
Kennedy couldn’t have picked anyone more opposite of me, and the thought stings.
“Go away, Royal.” If I hadn’t sworn to Chief Townsend that I wouldn’t murder the man currently staring at me in the mirror like he is better than me, I’d beat the shit out of him.
When he doesn’t immediately leave like I want him to, my fists clench around the porcelain of the bathroom sink. I have to do something, anything, to keep from wrapping my hands around his goddamn neck.
It is bad enough that he had the woman I loved when I couldn’t. But he hurt her somehow, made her afraid of him, and there isn’t anything I can do about it because Kennedy hasn’t told a fuckin’ soul.
“I’m not going anywhere, Linc.” Royal crosses his arms and leans against the bathroom wall, apparently oblivious to the fact that he is wearing a designer suit and the bathroom is less than clean. “You need to get used to it. You threw her away, and I was there to pick up the pieces.”
Biting my tongue while that jackass keeps talking about Kennedy becomes my sole focus in life, and my hands grip the sides of the sink so hard I think I’ll either break it or shatter a bone in the process.
Royal takes my silence as his cue to keep talking, just making everything worse. He goads me, I know it, but that doesn’t stop the frustration or rage at his words.
“You broke her, Linc. You left and never came back. You don’t deserve her, and you know it. And when I convince her to end all this bullshit, she’ll end up with my ring on her finger, and then there won’t be anything you can do to interfere.”
Yep. That’s about the moment I snap. At least, that’s what I plan on telling Kennedy’s father in the aftermath of what I have planned. The hard part will be cleaning up Royal’s blood from the grout on the floor.
Royal’s head snaps back and slams into the tile on the wall when I shove him back, my hand wrapped in the material of the ridiculously douchey tie he has on. The brief flash of fear is the only indication that Royal doesn’t have his shit together. That, and the fact that I’m holding him against the wall with his feet a few inches off the ground.
“I’m only going to say this once.” My voice is nothing more than a low, threatening whisper. “If I find out that you even breathe the same air as Kennedy Townsend again, I’m going to destroy you. It won’t be with a badge on my chest or a gun on my hip, either.” I don’t hide the menace in my voice, not when I’m delivering a threat that can destroy my career, and we both know it. “I’m not afraid of you, Royal. And I’m sure as fuck not afraid of losing my job. Not when it comes to Kennedy. I know you hurt her. I know you did something. And I’ll fucking die before I let you hurt her again. Remember that.”
The door slams open behind me, but I don’t let him go. Not when he opens his mouth, a cocksure smile gracing his slimy face. And definitely not when I see another lawyer, Benton Mays, step up to my side with a concerned look on his face. Not for Royal, but for me.
Royal tries, and fails, to pull himself from my grip.
“I’m not done yet.” I lower my voice even further, ignoring the man at my side and focusing all my attention on the one I still hold against the wall.
“As amusing as this is,” Benton drawls. “We’re due in court, and I don’t think Judge Michaels is going to give a shit that he insulted you.”
Royal’s smile falters slightly when Benton doesn’t move to help him, and I practically snarl in delight.
“Thanks, Ton.” I hate calling Benton by his name; it makes him sound like some preppy douchebag like Royal, which he isn’t. Then I drop Royal to his feet, smiling when he gasps for air. “I’d hate to piss off the judge.”
Royal glares at me, ignoring the other man completely. “This isn’t over, Linc. In the end, I’m going to win, and she’s going to be mine.”
My knuckles crack, and Royal flinches at the sudden sound filling the silence in the bathroom. I hadn’t even meant for it to happen, but he pisses me off and I clench my fist too tight.
Royal steps around both me and Benton, and since neither of us move for him, it is funny to see him plaster himself against the wall like the weasel he is.
The bathroom door shuts behind him as he flees, and the laugh I’ve been holding in escapes. Benton just stands there and rolls his eyes. The white button-down shirt he wears under the dark-gray tailored jacket stretches over his chest as he crosses his arms.
“You know he’s gonna be a big problem for you, right?”
“Honestly, I don’t care as long as he leaves Kennedy alone.”
Benton snorts and walks away with one parting shot over his shoulder. “Maybe you should ask yourself why you’re so obsessed with her after all these years, rather than worrying about her ex.”
The bathroom door shuts behind him with a finality that sets my teeth on edge. When I finally drag my eyes back up to the reflection staring back at me over the sink, I want to throw up.
Royal Prince is a piece of shit. It isn’t a secret that I’ve hated him since my last deployment when I found out about the way he weaseled into Kennedy’s life. But having him, of all people, rub my face in the fact that I’d been the one to walk away from Kennedy in the first place hurts more than I’ll ever admit. My chest aches worse than it does when I ignore the only woman I’ve ever loved. The only one I’ve ever been able to call my own, and she doesn’t even belong to me. Not really.
Once I splash cold water on my face and mentally slap some sense into myself, it is time to get back to work.
Dom stands outside the bathroom, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest.
“I see you had some fun in there.” He nods down the hall, where both Royal and Benton are standing with their backs to us, waiting to go through the oak doors that lead to Birch County’s courtrooms.
“Yep.” I shake my head. “Don’t know what she ever saw in that douche.”
Dom snorts. “Maybe his balls are bigger than yours.”
I turn, my neck practically creaking with the restraint it takes not to whip around. “Don’t ever talk about my balls again.”
Dom just snickers. “Not a chance in hell, pretty boy. Who plays football and doesn’t put underwear on? Your balls touched my hand, man. I will forever get to give you shit about it.”
When I glare at him even more, he shrugs. “Your. Balls. Touched. My. Hand.” A shudder works its way through my body involuntarily, making me want to slap him upside the head. “Never again, Linc. Every single time I see you, I’m gonna bring it up, until something worse happens.”
I walk away, unwilling to talk about it with him or admit that I’d been in the wrong. As far as I’m concerned, the entire thing is Remy’s fault. My black eye, the fact that my balls got exposed to everyone, and the fact that Parker told me she videoed the entire thing and sent it to Kennedy.
Dom doesn’t let me get far before he falls into step beside me, and the two of us walk silently through the hall toward the parking lot. Working the rest of my shift after court in the morning isn’t the best thing in the world, but then again, neither is walking right into the most awkward situation I ever thought possible when we step out of the stairwell.
“I’m not picking a tick off your ass, Kennedy. That crosses a line now that you’re an adult. One I’m not going back over.”
“Come on, Mom. It’s a tick. You’ve dealt with ticks in the past. We live in Maine, and I know you’ve picked them off me before.”
Dom snorts, giving away the fact that we are there, and the two women turn to face us. Kennedy’s face turns redder than her hair, and she immediately bursts into embarrassed tears. I only know because it is the exact same thing she did when she was twelve and walked into the bathroom while I was taking a shower.
“I’ll pick a tick off your ass,” Dom chimes in. “I don’t think I’ve had my fill of other people’s bodies this week and I need to reach my self-imposed quota.”
Kennedy laughs through her tears, and I know that is Dom’s intention, but the feral growl that leaves my lips is one I can’t control. She may not be mine, but I’ll be damned if I’ll let someone else get their hands on her, especially when I’m standing right there.
“Great.” Veronica Townsend, who has insisted we call her Mama T from the time we could talk, beams at the two of us, and I want to disappear into a pit. The glimmer there, the exact same look she had on her face when she caught me and Remy sneaking out in high school, tells me that she knows exactly what she is doing.
Dom and Kennedy, on the other hand, are completely oblivious to her machinations.
“I’m gonna go,” she goes on with a saccharine smile. “Dom can get the tick off your ass.”
With that, and a wave that might make a beauty queen happy, Mama T walks away with her head held high.
Kennedy’s sniffle catches my full attention, and I clench my fists to keep from reaching for her. The scent that is only hers, a mix of vanilla and ecstasy, wraps itself around my head and fills my mind with the image of our night together, making the struggle to keep my hands to myself even harder.
“Go away, Dom.”
Dom, who’s been watching me closely, laughs to himself and shakes his head. “Nah, man. I think I’m good right here.”
“Go. Away.” I bite out the words and wait patiently, even though I want to punch him in the face.
Knowing I’ve reached my limit, Dom walks away without another word, leaving me with a wide-eyed Kennedy who still has tears in her eyes.
“How’re your balls?” She gasps at her own question, slapping her hand over her mouth in surprise.
I shake my head, taking a step forward. Then I take her by the arm and lead her into the training room at the end of the hall and lock the door behind me.
“Apparently, they’re better than your ass.” Those words feel like someone has grabbed my tongue and doused it in honey and then stuck it to a cat’s ass. They barely make it out of my mouth, and once they are out, I feel like ash has been dumped down my throat.
“I’m fine, Linc.” She stares at me with amber eyes that I’ll never forget, and her red hair has already started to fall out of her bun. “You don’t need to help.”
“Shut up, Kennedy.”
Her eyes flash with contradiction, but she can’t exactly leave. I stand in front of her only escape, and the door is locked.
“Seriously, Linc,” she hedges. “You can just go.”
“Shut up, Kennedy,” I repeat, trying to convince myself that I’m doing the right thing. “Just shut up and drop your pants.”
Her face flames, but she doesn’t move to listen to me. If anything, my order makes her more scared. Not that I blame her, though. I’ve stayed away for years. I let her think I don’t want her. Don’t crave every inch of her body. Even if I can’t have her, I still want her.
“Drop them and bend over.” I plaster a bored expression on my face, one that will keep her from knowing that even being in the room with her is making my fucking year.
This time, Kennedy listens. Frankly, it is both a blessing and a curse, because while I practically hear angels singing as she strips down her pants, she isn’t doing it so I can taste her… or take her.
Three painstaking minutes later, I’ve pulled the tick from her ass and disposed of it, the entire time trying to ignore the desire to spread her legs and take her.
“T-thank you,” she stammers.
I turn to face her, and while she is pulling her leggings back up over her stomach, I bite my lip to cover the groan that threatens to break free. Kennedy turns me into a bitch, and I don’t even give a shit about it. Just being around her makes everything better. Almost okay.
The lock clicks, and the fantasy I have of bending her back over the table evaporates. She’d slipped by me to unlock the door, and I can’t even blame her for wanting to get away.
“Kennedy.” Her name is a fucking prayer on my lips.
“Don’t worry.” The smile she gives me sends my heart racing, the exact same way it always has. “I won’t tell anyone about you having your hands on my ass.”
I snort, unable to help myself, and then my mouth opens and I say the one thing that will send me straight to hell.
“Kennedy, if I had you again, I wouldn’t give a fuck who heard that I had my hands on your ass.”