Kept from You (Tear Asunder, Book 4) Read online

  It was annoyed.

  I didn’t know why. It wasn’t like I’d done anything. Maybe he was pissed Sculpt had a job for me. But what did he care?

  Trapped in Killian’s ice-green eyes again, I felt as if an elephant sat on my chest.

  Why couldn’t I look away?

  I so did not want to be on his radar.

  But it wasn’t like I had a choice. His gaze had me locked to him, and the only way I’d be able to look away was if he allowed it.

  Jesus.

  “Why not?” Sculpt asked him.

  Killian’s jaw clamped and he jerked his eyes from mine, pushing away from the locker. “She’s a damn freshman and terrified of her own fuckin’ shadow. I bet she’d run out of there crying the second she saw what was happening. Not fuckin’ her!” Killian repeated. Then he turned and headed down the hall.

  “Shit,” Sculpt mumbled. “Don’t take it personally. You’re one of the few he actually likes,” he said, but he didn’t say it like a compliment, just a fact.

  That made no sense. He didn’t even know me, and I wasn’t sure I liked that he liked me.

  Sculpt gave me a once over with his black eyes, and it was unnerving because it was like he was checking to see if I measured up to something. “You want to make quick cash, let me know.”

  I wanted to say yes for the fact alone that Killian said I was scared of my own shadow and would run crying out of… wherever he was talking about.

  Sculpt turned and jogged down the hall after Killian before I had a chance to ask what the job actually was.

  He body checked Killian and Killian punched him in the chest.

  I watched them until they disappeared around the corner then flung my bag over my shoulder and ran to meet my mom outside.

  An hour later, I sat on the school steps studying math because my mom hadn’t shown—again. It was the third time this week. Mom was getting worse.

  “You always do your homework on the steps after school?”

  I gasped, twisting at the waist to see Killian standing on the top step looking like one of those Greek gods again. I wasn’t an expert on gods or anything, but I’d decided that he was definitely Zeus. Powerful with a temper and if you pissed him off you were totally screwed.

  I stuffed my math book into my bag. “Sometimes. When my mom is late.”

  “And how often is that?” he asked.

  Shrugging, I said while collecting my bag and standing. “She’s really busy.”

  He’d walked down five steps so he was beside me. He smelled fresh and clean with the lingering scent of soap, as if he’d had gym his last period and had showered.

  I dragged in a deep inhale then stopped when his brows lifted as if he knew I’d been breathing in his smell.

  Crap.

  He continued, “Doing what?”

  I hitched my bag over my shoulder. “I don’t know. Stuff.”

  She probably took too many of those pills again and was passed out. I didn’t know what they were because she’d peeled the label off.

  “Come to the river with us,” Killian said. “After the fight one of the guys will drive you home.”

  I was so not doing that.

  First off, watching a fight made my stomach churn. Not because of the blood, but because I hated the idea of fighting.

  The second reason, I didn’t know any of ‘the guys’ and I wasn’t getting in a car with them. I’d rather walk the six miles home.

  “I’m okay. It’s not far.”

  “Bullshit. I know where you live,” he retorted.

  He did? It was odd that Killian would know that. Why would he?

  “Well, I’m used to it.” And according to my mother, I needed the exercise. That was her excuse for when she forgot to pick me up. That I should walk home so I could lose a few pounds. I wasn’t exactly overweight, but I was short and had bulk, but I danced, so I was toned and in shape. My body wasn’t a dainty China doll like hers.

  I headed down the stairs, praying I didn’t trip and fall because pins and needles surged through my legs from sitting cross-legged on the stairs for so long.

  I was also nervous because I couldn’t figure out why Killian was talking to me again. That was twice in one day.

  I hadn’t done anything. I had nothing he wanted. And I certainly wasn’t a threat to him or would break any of his rules.

  Everyone whispered that Killian Kane only noticed the people he meant harm.

  And he’d noticed me.

  But Killian randomly talking to girls, and especially girls like me, didn’t happen as far as I was aware. I bet his father would have a fit if he knew his son was talking to a girl in second-hand clothes who lived in a trailer.

  The Kane’s were wealthy, lived in the nice part of town and belonged to the exclusive country club, and supposedly, his dad had a number of horses and played polo. Rumor was his dad owned several nightclubs downtown, and that was where he made his money.

  If I didn’t take the shortcut home, I passed their house, and it was stunning like something out of a fairy-tale book. Manicured lawns, five-car garage, and gardens my dad would have loved.

  But I didn’t think it was a fairy tale inside the massive stone house because the one time I’d seen Mr. Kane, he’d looked mean. I’d never heard anything about Killian’s mom or if his mom was even around.

  Mr. Kane came into the school office at the beginning of the school year when I’d been filling out what supplies we needed for the infirmary.

  He hadn’t hesitated or knocked on the principal’s door. He’d strode in, and I’d caught a glimpse of his face when he’d looked at Killian standing in front of Mr. Merck’s desk.

  Hatred. It was all over his face—the sneer when his lip curled, the throbbing temples and disgust in his eyes as he’d glared at his son.

  The door had then slammed shut.

  Then shouting had vibrated through the office before the door opened and Mr. Kane had walked out.

  Killian had been behind him, his face impassive as to whatever trouble he’d been in.

  Mr. Kane’s piercing eyes had landed on me, probably because I’d been staring at him with a gaping mouth.

  My stomach had flipped then plummeted into a cesspool of thick sludge. The hairs on the back of my neck had darted to attention and prickles of warning had tingled across my skin.

  He reminded me of the devil, the monster in the closet, and the bogeyman under the bed all in one.

  He was what nightmares were made of, and I’d known that because several nights after that, I woke to those hard eyes looking at Killian with such hatred.

  “The job isn’t for you,” Killian said. “You’re going to get hurt. Don’t take it.”

  I stiffened, pursing my lips together then tilted my chin up and flung around and said, “Well, I am.” I hadn’t really decided yet, but now it was a definite yes. He wasn’t telling me what I was scared of. He had no clue who I was. Before today he had never spoken to me.

  His brow lifted with what I assumed was surprise at my firm retort, because I bet not many were stupid enough to snap at Killian.

  There was a long pause, and I nearly turned and walked away thinking he wasn’t going to say anything when he said, “You won’t like it.”

  I was so taking the job just for the fact that he said that. “You don’t know what I like,” I said over my shoulder.

  “Sure, I do. You don’t like fighting, and trust me, you won’t like this,” he replied.

  I stopped. I wasn’t sure how he knew that. Maybe because I’d never been to one of his fights when most of the students had. But again, how did he know if I had or hadn’t been to a fight of his.

  I turned to face him. “Why do you care, anyway?”

  He huffed. “You have the wrong impression. I don’t give a shit about you. I give a shit about you putting the rest of us in danger.”

  Whoa, I knew Killian was pissed off, but he was also an ass. “Wow, you’re a jerk.”

  He shrugge
d. “And a good reason for you to stay away.”

  I slowly turned to face him again. “From you or the job?”

  “Both.”

  “What are you going to do? Challenge me to a fight at the river if I don’t listen to you?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” he barked.

  I was pissed and I rarely got pissed, but he pushed my buttons. “You know what, why don’t you worry about your stupid fight rather than what I do or don’t do.”

  He stepped closer.

  I backed up and my heart skipped a beat. But I raised my chin and refused to back down from him.

  “Stupid fight? Do you think it’s such a stupid fight when it’s your mother buying drugs from him?”

  I gasped.

  I was aware of my mom’s drug habit, but she took prescription pills, and I thought she got them from a doctor. Still, fighting didn’t solve anything, and it wasn’t Killian’s responsibility; it was the police’s.

  “Fighting won’t do anything.”

  “Sure, it does. It makes me feel better,” he replied.

  “When I get angry or upset I dance.” I danced before classes in the gym blaring my iPod. It was my favorite time of day.

  “You dance when you’re mad?”

  “Yeah.” Dancing was my passion and the movements filtered through me like raw emotions. Sometimes, when the music played and I was lost to the sounds through my dancing, tears trickled down my cheeks.

  “How long have you danced, Savvy?”

  My heart skipped a beat when he said my name. His Irish accent elongated the “a” so it sounded like “ah.”

  “My dad signed me up for jazz class when I was five, and I’ve danced ever since.” I loved dancing, and I think some of that was because it was all I had left of him. He used to come watch all my recitals. I’d heard him and my mom argue about him spending money on classes for me, but no matter what, he made sure I had my dance classes. Then when I was ten, he was diagnosed with cancer, and within months he was gone.

  He paused a minute as if contemplating his words before he said, “Are you any good?”

  I laughed. “Not really.” At least that was what my mom said. She hated me dancing, and I didn’t get why. But I’d never give it up because dancing lived inside me. I wasn’t currently able to pay for any classes, but I still practiced every chance I got.

  My dad used to say I was his little fiery sprite. I wasn’t very fiery, but I had red hair. I missed my dad every single day. I think my mom did too in her own way, and that was why she started on those pills the doctor gave her after he died. She was so different, sad all the time and well, not very nice.

  “Then why bother?”

  I huffed. “Wow, your jerk meter is getting higher every time you open your mouth.”

  There was the slightest twitch at the corner of his mouth. Or maybe I imagined it because I wished he were mildly amused.

  I continued, “You’ve obviously mastered the art of being a dick. Maybe you should learn something new like being nice.”

  “No, I’d suck at it.” I tried to stop the smile from emerging but failed and found myself laughing. “Easier to keep doing what you’re good at.”

  “Like fighting?”

  He shrugged.

  “Maybe you’d be good at doing something else with your hands other than throwing punches.”

  “Mmm,” he drawled, and this time I was sure I saw his lips twitch. “Please, educate me, Savvy. What do you advise I do with these hands?”

  I stiffened, and at the same time, my belly flipped. It was like all that anger and scariness melted away with a simple lifting of the corners of his mouth and a bright spark in the depths of his green eyes.

  I licked my lips then swallowed. “That’s not what I meant.” I may be young and a virgin, but it was pretty clear from his tone what he was making a reference to.

  I should’ve kept my mouth shut and kept walking.

  “I know. I’m attempting to keep up with your low opinion of me. Tell me, what do you have in mind for my hands?” he asked.

  I tried to ignore that sexy undertone, but it was hard with that Irish lilt he had. “Well, you play the drums, right?” He nodded. “When you’re angry, you could hit them instead of people. Or maybe take up boxing or something.” Or maybe get some help. Like my mom needed, but refused to do.

  He remained quiet. Expression void. Yep, void. He wasn’t angry, amused, just… nothing.

  “Never mind,” I muttered under my breath and went to leave when he snagged my arm and stopped me. My breath hitched, and everything in my body went on high speed.

  My heart pounded so hard that the sound echoed in my head.

  “No fuckin’ clue, orchid,” he said.

  Whoa. What? I didn’t care what he said. It was what he called me. I stared at him like he’d grown wings, horns, and a dragon tail. Orchid? Why did he call me orchid?

  Killian Kane had a nickname for me?

  And it was a nice nickname. Not like Ryan from English class who called me “sniper dream.” I wasn’t sure if that was because I was slightly overweight or I had red hair.

  He released my arm. “You need a ride. We’re at the river.” Then he said in a firm tone, “There is no job for you, Savvy. I’ve told Sculpt the same thing.”

  The school doors burst open and a bunch of guys barreled out, excitedly talking about the upcoming fight.

  Craig, a beefy guy, jumped on another guy’s back and they nearly tumbled down the stairs. I heard him say to Killian, “How did you get out of detention so fast?”

  I didn’t hear a response because I quickly turned and walked away as fast as my trembling legs could carry me while trying to appear as if I wasn’t running away.

  “What the fuck is she doing here? I told you I didn’t want her here.”

  This was Killian, and he was not cool with me taking the job Sculpt offered. I wasn’t exactly cool with taking the job Sculpt offered either because of where it was, but the money was too good to pass up. And the fact was I wanted to prove to Killian and myself that I wouldn’t run away crying.

  “She wanted the job and we needed someone,” Sculpt said. “I told her it’s only this once.”

  He had. Actually, he’d said no at first, but then I begged because it was a hundred bucks an hour and I could use it for dance classes.

  Besides, no one my age would refuse that.

  The hitch was that the job was at an underground fight. An illegal, underground fight that changed locations every week, so the police didn’t catch on to its location.

  I’d never done anything illegal, and my rationale was I wasn’t doing anything illegal by going. It wasn’t like I was fighting or anything.

  According to Sculpt, all I had to do was look after a few minor injuries after the fight, and since I had my first aid certificate and volunteered at the hospital as well as with the school nurse, I was more than capable.

  I asked him if I had to actually watch the fight and he’d shrugged and told me he didn’t give a shit what I did as long as I was there and could do the job.

  The thought of watching the fight made my stomach curdle. Thankfully when I told Mars about the job, she totally freaked and insisted on coming with me.

  Sculpt told me the location, time, and then a warning if I called the police about any of this, he’d deal with me.

  I guessed what deal with me meant.

  Killian I didn’t want to mess with, but Sculpt even less because he had the mystery factor. He showed up at school on his motorcycle looking the epitome of a bad boy, stuck to himself until the cafeteria fight with Killian that day, and then hung with the most feared guy at school.

  But despite Sculpt’s quietness, it didn’t take long for the girls to latch onto him like bees to honey because he was really good looking and had that danger aspect about him. The difference between him and Killian was that Killian didn’t like the girls around him.

  And even tonight, Sculpt had chicks around him a
nd Killian didn’t, although they were certainly looking.

  We were in a basement of an office building for the illegal fight, and Killian wasn’t paying attention to the girls staring at him. No, he was glaring at me.

  Sculpt had a pretty blonde girl on his arm who I recognized from school, but didn’t know her name. She also glared at me.

  I certainly didn’t feel welcome, but no chance in hell was I running even though my legs were already out the door.

  A hundred dollars, Savvy. Dance classes.

  Sculpt nudged Killian, and both guys looked to the right where a guy came out of the men’s washroom a few feet away, bouncing on his toes as he made his way to the ring.

  He was huge and older. Much older. Maybe twenty-five and covered in tattoos. He was also ripped. Bulging arm muscles. Legs like tree trunks. And he wore a seriously pissed-off scowl. I also noticed he didn’t wear any boxing gloves, had just wrapped hands.

  Holy shit, was Sculpt fighting this guy? “Umm, you don’t wear boxing gloves and a helmet or something?”

  Sculpt snorted with a grin while shaking his head. He eyed Killian. “You might be right.”

  Killian grunted.

  God, what if he really got hurt and needed a doctor? I had my first aid certificate, but I wasn’t prepared for serious injuries, and that guy looked like he could do serious damage.

  What had I gotten myself into? What if someone died? What if he was knocked out? Or broke bones?

  “Fuck,” Killian muttered then grabbed my chin, thumb bruising, and forced me to meet his eyes. “Breathe.”

  I inhaled a ragged breath.

  “I warned you not to take the fuckin’ job,” he said between clenched teeth. He released my chin but remained close so his heated breath wafted across my face, smelling like mint and pine.

  He had. And he was right. I didn’t like this. At all. But it was a hundred bucks for an hour of my life. A hundred bucks toward dance school.

  “I’m fine,” I replied, straightening my spine.

  “You’re not fuckin’ fine,” he growled.

  “I am,” I argued.

  “You hold your breath when you’re scared, and you get pale as fuck. You’re not fuckin’ fine.” Killian looked at Mars. “Make sure she doesn’t pass out.”