“Fuck that,” he growls as he pulls his car into the garage and kills the engine. “I don’t ever want to hear you say something like that again. You’re nothing like any of those people.”
“How can you say that?” I challenge. “I wanted him dead. I’m happy he’s dead.”
Kingston grips my chin and turns me toward him. “Your feelings are one-hundred percent justified, Jazz. Lucas Gale severely beat, stabbed, and violated you. He attacked you multiple times. If someone didn’t show up to haul him off last night, he would have likely succeeded in raping you. There’s no way you were his only victim.
“I have no doubt that if Lucas were still alive, there would’ve been more women who suffered at his hands. Someone who behaves like that without conscience, and with such determination, is a goddamn psychopath. Lucas reminded me of our dads, which is why I’ve never liked him. Knowing he was the man behind the mask only proves that my instincts about him were spot on.
“You have one of the biggest hearts of anyone I’ve ever met, Jazz. You should never question who you are, especially because of this situation. People like Lucas Gale or our fathers don’t deserve your sympathy.”
“Maybe you’re right.” I sigh. “Maybe I’m just conditioned to believe violence is a bad thing, no matter what.”
“There’s no maybe about it.” Kingston shakes his head. “Hey, if nothing else, consider this one less problem we have to worry about. Merry Christmas to us.”
My lips curl up in the corners. “Merry-fucking-Christmas to us.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
KINGSTON
“Merry Christmas Eve, baby girl.” Bentley swoops Jazz into a hug as he steps inside the pool house.
My eyes narrow when his hands slide a little too close to her perfectly heart-shaped ass. “Watch the hands, asshole.”
Bent laughs. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Sure, you don’t.” I swear to God, he does this shit to fuck with me on purpose.
“Bentley, stop antagonizing him,” Jazz chides.
Apparently, I’m not the only one who’s picked up on the fact that Fitzgerald’s a shithead.
“That’s okay, baby,” I call out. “The more Bentley pushes my buttons, the more I get to go caveman on your ass later.”
Jazz whacks Bentley’s chest with the back of her hand. “Now, you really have to stop. Kingston doesn’t need more incentive to revert back to his Neanderthal self.”
“All right, all right.” My dumbass friend holds his hands up. “I’ll be good.”
“We’ll see how long that lasts,” I grumble.
Bentley falls back on the couch. “When’s the food gonna be here? I’m starving.”
Jazz grabs the tray of cookies we grabbed from her work and sets it on the coffee table. We were planning to make some ourselves—I know, how domestic of us—but the whole abduction/murder thing happened, so we swung by the coffee shop.
“Munch on those. It shouldn’t be too much longer.”
“You’re the shiz, Jazzy.” Bentley grabs a stocking-shaped cookie and shoves the entire thing in his mouth at once. “These are de-lish-shess.” Crumbs fall out of his mouth as he speaks.
“Gross, Bent.” Jazz shakes her head as she pushes his feet off the table. “You couldn’t wait to say that until after you finished chewing?”
“Nope,” he says, still chewing, cookie crumbs still spewing out of his mouth.
I point at him. “You’re vacuuming that shit up before you leave.”
Bent looks between Jazz and me as he brushes his shirt off. “Sheesh, when did you two become such an old married couple?”
Jazz laughs, but I don’t find the humor in his statement, because I don’t see anything wrong with that.
There’s a knock on the door, so I answer it, grab the food, and give the delivery guy his tip. “Thanks, man.”