Never Kiss a Bad Boy (27 page)

“Her sister—her
nine year old
sister—was raped by Lars.” He spit the words out, lip curling.

Acid bubbled in my stomach. “We already suspected that.”
But hearing it from Marina's lips... That must have been sobering.
It hit too close to home.

Yes, I knew what was going on here.

Kite watched me expectantly, his hands balled into fists. “Jacob, she deserves her revenge. This event has haunted her forever. It's kept her from getting close to anyone. I understand her, now. I
get
this girl. Her lack of friends, her lifestyle, the absence of fear... I get her.”

Rising from the booth, I remained where I was. “You want to let her kill Lars, but that's not all, is it?” The guilt that glowed in his eyes was a bombshell waiting to explode. I had to cut the fuse. “Kite, we can't let her live. You know we can't.”

“She said she would give me the letter,” he mumbled. “She promised not to doom us with it.”

That surprised me.
Did she mean that? Would Marina try and save us from her reckless suicide?

“The letter was never enough,” I said sadly.

I never predicted Kite would fall so hard. Become so irrational. We had come so far, we had to stay the course.

So why was my heart deflating during my own argument?

“Listen to me,” I said patiently. “You don't know her. As long as she lives, she will pose a danger to us. To our lives. One word from her to the police or a rotten ear and we'd be done. After everything we did to get here... is a life of staring over our shoulders, waiting for the hammer to fall, worth letting her go?”

He stood there, shoulders pulled back proudly. “What if she never betrays us? Jacob, maybe we can trust her.”

Crossing to him, I kept an eye on his hands. I'd never feared Kite would hit me out of rage before, but the tension was too much. He was speaking like a mad man.

I understood it, on some level. I was obsessed with Marina in my own way. I hated thinking of her as a cold corpse.

But corpses couldn't screw you over.

I trusted no one in this world. No one but Kite. And now, he was stomping our pact into dust. I'd told Marina, nothing she did could ever make us fight.

Apparently I'd been wrong.

Blood Brothers.
I had to remind him.

“Kite.” I said his name so sharply he startled. “This one thread will unravel us.” Grabbing his wrist, I forced his arm up, clenched his fingers. The scar that ran over our palms had healed long ago, nothing visible remained.

I still felt it.

Crisp pain, the blossom of blood, and then the buzzing numbness.

If I remembered all that, he certainly had to.

“You
can not
trust her. But you can always trust me.”

He searched my eyes, I prayed he found what he needed there.

Squeezing my hand tightly, he held on. “I do trust you. I also trust that she will haunt me.” Letting go, Kite stepped back. The gap felt a mile wide. “What hellhole of a life am I going to be left with if I sentence this woman to death, because she was willing to sacrifice everything,
everything
, to avenge her family?”

Looking at his fist, I read his knuckles and smiled bitterly. “You'd tear this life down, abandon what we have, all because of a nightmare that left this woman crying.”

When his eyes narrowed, my blood chilled. “Wasn't it my tears that pushed you to do the same?”

“Fuck you,” I said, but it had no strength. He was aiming to make me crack, and it was working. The laugh that slid out was stale. “Kite, you're going to ruin
this
.” I waved around at the bar, at ourselves. “
Everything!
I helped you back then, and what we did—it made us who we are. You'd use that to manipulate me now?”

“I just want you to open your eyes and see that maybe, for once, your planning is wrong.”

He took a step toward me.

It took everything I had to hold my ground.

Marina had changed us both. I had known it, yet the full extent of the damage... it now stretched between us.

“Jacob,” he hissed. “Give her a chance. It's her right to kill Lars Diani. Let's help her with that, and then, after... maybe she doesn't need to die.”

I stood to my full height. I only had an inch or so on Kite, but I wanted everything in my arsenal. He was my best friend, and he was talking insanity. But...

If it was so insane, then why was my heart thumping at the idea?

Why did I feel hopeful that maybe, just maybe, Marina Fidel didn't have to die?

Reckless. Stupid. Chaotic.

I wanted to howl with laughter. My tone was low and cool. “Here's the deal. We're going to go finish my errands.” Snatching up my duffel bag, I looked him up and down. “I have spare clothes for you.”

“What?” He was scowling in confusion.

“We're going to sweat this tension out. A nice, old fashioned spar. If you beat me, I'll agree to give Marina a chance.”

He didn't seem capable of blinking. “A chance at what?” he asked.

I took a breath—filled my lungs and held it. Yes, getting this adrenaline out of our system would be good for us. “A chance to prove that she can be trusted.”

I wasn't lying. If there was a way to make me believe, truly believe in my gut, that this affliction of a woman wouldn't turn on us one day, I would take it.

I was just as insane as Kite.

What had Marina done to us?

Kite

––––––––

T
he gym was hot, a cloistering kind of heat. Think the Amazon, but sweatier.

I didn't care, I was too caught up in the situation I had gotten myself into.

In the backroom we had to ourselves, Jacob stood across from me. He was wrapping his hands in tape with such speed and familiarity.

A seed of doubt grew in me.

He practiced this shit all the damn time. I knew how to brawl, but it had been awhile since I'd needed to, years since I'd been a bouncer. Running was my only real exercise, it kept me lean and light.

Jacob turned, letting his slick, steel-wrought calmness roll over me. Rarely was I on the other end of that look. It gave me chills, strangled my lungs.

It also renewed my desire to win.

This was not a casual spar between friends. This was a battle for Marina's life.

Fuck. What had we become?

He'd changed into long red shorts and a form-fitting black tank-top. With the boiling energy in his stance, it looked natural. I was wearing similar gear, the extra shorts and shirt he'd had in his bag.

“Are you ready?” he asked me, rolling his neck.

Tucking my hands into the fingerless gloves, I squinted at him. “I don't know. Are
you?
”

Jacob's smile was too wide for his mood. It was bothering him that we were doing this. But shit, it'd been his fucking idea. I'd wanted us to shake hands and agree that Marina could keep breathing.

But we hadn't.

And so we were here.

The side of his jugular pulsed. It was his only movement. “You can back out now, if you want.”

“Screw you,” I laughed. “I'm not backing out. You said if I beat you, you'll give her a chance.” My hands had been heavy. Thinking about Marina, how she'd opened herself up to me this morning... it made my arms pure air.

If I could move as fast as the blood shooting through my veins, I'd take Jacob down in a heartbeat.

He squared off with me, stepping so slowly to one side I almost missed it. I twisted to keep facing him, hands up and clenched.

He said, “I wasn't suggesting you back down because of her.” The edges of his teeth glinted. “If you walk away now, you'll still be able to stand tomorrow.”

His threat was ridiculous. There was a surprised laugh in my throat, a comeback rising in response to his shitty challenge. I'd always been easy to rile up. “Big words fo—”

Jacob's leg swung out, slamming into my thigh. Stumbling, I grunted at the burst of pain. It was centered where he'd hit, radiating out and leaving a moment of numbness.

In disbelief, I glared at him. Opening my mouth to joke back had put my guard down.

That had been his fucking plan.

He always said he knew me well; he was right.

“Well?” he asked, staring at me between his raised arms. “You're still sure?”

“Yeah.” Breathing deep, my eyes fixed on him and didn't waver. “Now I am. Thanks for cinching my decision.”

I sank into the calming void that protected me before I killed. I shouldn't have been feeling this, not with Jacob. He wasn't supposed to be on the other side of this—this monster in me.

But Marina deserved a chance.

Curling his fingers, my best friend watched me closely. He had no more words, that was good. We'd tried talking, it had led us here.

Jacob circled to the left, balanced. Calm. Nothing stirred but the blue in his eyes. More than seeing his intensity, I
felt
it.

Standing there, shielded in my tense knot, I knew exactly what he was doing. Jacob the planner, he was expecting me to make the first move.

In my mind's eye, I counted down. I saw each number. I wanted to wait him out, I needed to gauge how long it'd take for him to grow impatient.

Jacob's mouth eased into a sideways smirk. He stopped moving, taking me in with new appreciation.

That's right,
I thought to myself.
I can be just as relaxed as you. Now what? Guess you'll have to adapt.
Crouching, my legs shoved me forward. I was going to grab him by the middle, throw him to the mat.

Slippery as ice, the other man spun away. His fist jammed into my ribs, stealing my air. But if he thought that was enough to take me down, he was wrong.

Wrenching my fingers into the front of his shirt, I pulled him towards me, threw us both to the ground. His small grunt of surprise was encouraging. If I stayed ahead of him, I could beat Jacob.

I could fucking win.

Under me, he flexed so he could shove me off. Hooking my leg, I tangled his knees, pulled my forearm under his chin. Choking him out was the key. I was ready to hear him slamming his palm into the mat in defeat.

Fingers covered in tape jammed upwards, catching my arm before it could close on his neck.

The wedge stopped me from cutting off his air.

We tumbled, his legs rolling us over and over. My insides spun when he flipped me, reversing our positions, crushing me under him. I caught a fleeting glimpse of his expression:

Rage.

Jacob was furious that we were doing this. He hated this situation, maybe even hated
me.
I'd dragged him here, even if he had been the one to suggest we spar.

But he had to feel some of what I did for Marina.

He just had to.

If he does, why is he fighting me so hard?

On my back, I worked to dislodge him. His elbow rammed my guts, my empty stomach threatening to spew bile. This wasn't a fight with rules, we were already breaking down the single one we had. Our anger came from a foundation of fractured desires.

He wanted Marina gone to cement our safety.

I wanted her by my side to fill my heart.

“Fuck,” I hissed, wrenching my foot under me for leverage. Nothing moved him. Jacob was an avalanche, smothering me without care or thought. If I didn't do something, I was going to blackout.

The edge of my vision went crunchy—like bugs were chewing at the colors. Through grey and purple flashes, my oxygen depleting, I saw her; Marina.

Her sparkling smile, the way her skin glowed like ancient bronze beneath a smith's hammer. She had a voice that could distract me with its thickness, and her laugh... the few times she'd laughed, it had made me float.

The memory of the gun range floated to the surface.

How she'd held up her fingers, watching me through the diamond shape they'd made, beaming in joyous delight.

Marina... she'd gotten into my world so firmly.

With her flushed cheeks in my mind's eye, I swelled with a rush of strength.

One chance.

That was all she had.

It was all I needed.

Jacob's grip suddenly went slack. It was the opening I'd been hoping for.

He cried out, not ready for the back of my skull to ratchet into his nose. The noise was gruesome, wet and gristly. He let go, stumbling off and rolling away. I copied him, twisting to the other side of the mat.

Sitting up on my knees, I breathed in the fresh air until it burned. My lungs hated me, but seeing Jacob's face... I believe
he
hated me more.

This day was full of new experiences.

Holding his nose, he glared at me with disbelief, a fury that turned his blue eyes into scalding poison. My urge to apologize bubbled up.

He spoke first, looking at the blood on his hand when he pulled it away. “You're a real piece of work,” he murmured. Crimson stained his tight smile. “Does it look broken?”

Inching forward, I warned him with my eyes, dared him to attack again. If this was a ruse, I'd be ready. “Just looks like a bloody nose from here.”

“Take a closer look,” he said softly. His grin was monstrous.

“You're not tricking me again, dick-head.”

He chuckled darkly at my comment. “Guess not.”

The pounding in my skull wasn't slowing down. Were we done? Had I won, was Jacob going to hold to his promise? I maintained my stance, waiting for him to do something. Anything.

Sighing loudly, Jacob leaned against the wall. His hand was held up, fingers spread. It was as if he'd never seen his own blood before. I knew that wasn't true. “Look at us,” he whispered. “What the hell are we doing?”

“Fighting for Marina's soul.”

The statement had slipped out of my mouth. It felt right, though.

Something familiar glistened in his stare. It took me back to a tiny playground in a forgotten chunk of Upstate New York. “This really means that much to you,” he said.

The energy in his tendons had vanished. Taking the cue, I let my body relax. “
She
means that much to me. Don't tell me you can't understand that.”

His wet hand became a fist. Red stained his shirt, the mat, and his frown. “I understand, Kite. I never said she meant nothing to me.”