Ruthless Kings (Windsor Academy 2)

“I’ll get my car and meet you out front.” Kingston turns to Ainsley, who just joined us. “You stay with Jazz.”

“Kingston, no.” I grab his arm before he can walk away, quickly pulling my hand back when I feel the energy crackle between us.

“What do you mean, ‘no’?” His eyebrows pinch together.

Ainsley gives me a soft smile. “Hey, Jazz.”

“Hey. Thanks again for bringing my bag.”

She nods. “Of course.”

I broke down and texted Ainsley several times over the last few days, figuring she was the safest choice. Our conversation had stayed

on neutral topics, but talking with her helped curb my loneliness.

I turn back to Kingston. “Frank is waiting for me out front. I already have a ride.”

Kingston’s expression goes from concerned to pissed in half a second. “Fuck that. You are not going back to that house.”

Bossy ass.

I glare at him. “Where else am I supposed to go? It’s the only home I have.”

"My place." The indignance in his tone is heavy as if questioning him on this is ludicrous.

Okay, I’ll admit the Callahan mansion is not my first choice either, but it’s my only option because I’m sure as shit not staying with Kingston. When I lived in Watts, I spent so much time watching my sister while our mom was at work, I didn’t really hang out with anybody outside of school. My friends were more like school acquaintances. The one exception to that was my ex, Shawn, and I’m not about to ask him if I can crash at his place.

Besides, Ms. Williams told me Charles and Madeline will be in Mexico for two more weeks, so knowing I won’t have to deal with them is a relief. Even if I did have money for a motel—which I don’t—I don’t like the thought of being completely alone. At the mansion, there’s always staff on hand to help me if need be. Simple things like walking or getting dressed are still somewhat difficult to manage. I have stitches running the entire width of my pubic bone, as well as a small spot on my side, and every time I move, they’re stretched, which hurts like a bitch. I never realized how often your core is engaged with the tiniest motions before now.

Not to mention the fact that half my body was clobbered. My bruises aren’t nearly as dark, and my eye is no longer swollen shut, but every spot where I was punched, or kicked, or thrown to the ground, aches. I’m not going to lie; my super deluxe pillowtop mattress at Sperm Donor’s house sounds like heaven after spending a week on an uncomfortable hospital bed.

I scoff. “Thanks, but no thanks.”

“Why the hell not?” He’s practically shouting, no concern whatsoever for the nearby people now watching the drama unfold.

Ainsley tugs on his arm. “Kingston, calm down.”

“Uh...should I radio for security?” The orderly pulls my chair back a little.

“No.” I shake my head. “Can we just get going?”

“Sure,” he says, pushing my chair toward the elevator bay.

Of course, Kingston and Ainsley are hot on our heels. All four of us get into the elevator when the doors slide open.

“Jazz, you cannot go back to that house,” Kingston insists. “Not until we figure out who did this to you. I don’t trust them.”

“Can we please discuss this later?”

“Sure.”

"Really?" My eyebrows lift. I didn't expect him to agree so quickly.

Kingston smirks. “Yeah, we can talk about it later. At my house. After you get settled in.”

I should’ve known it was too good to be true. “I’m going back to my house. I’m not an idiot; I know not to trust any of them. I never did. One thing I am certain of is that it’s my only option. I can handle it.”

The man behind me is probably wondering what the hell is going on. I bet he doesn't usually feel like he stepped into a soap opera when he wheels someone out of the hospital. The elevator finally reaches the first floor, so we head toward the patient pickup area. Frank is standing in front of a black town car, dutifully waiting for my arrival.