Ruthless Kings (Windsor Academy 2)

The paramedic looks at Kingston for a moment. "I'm obviously not a police officer, but I'm going to ask anyway. Have you had anything to drink or taken any drugs?"

Kingston glares at the poor guy who’s just trying to do his job. “I haven’t had a drop of anything all day. I’ll take her.”

Dan nods. “Okay. Good luck, Jasmine.”

“Thanks.”

Bentley takes a seat on the opposite side of me from Kingston. “You need to stop scaring us like this, Jazzy.”

“I’ll do my best not to get assaulted again,” I deadpan.

Kingston takes my hand and helps me stand. “You’re sure it was the same guy?”

“I’m positive.” I suppress a shudder.

Bentley takes my other hand as they carefully guide me down the staircase. “So, is anyone going to point out the obvious?”

“What’s that?” I ask.

“The only people at this party were Windsor students.” Bentley goes ahead of us and opens the front door before continuing. “That guy mentioned seeing the video, right? Well, he could’ve only done that if he was part of the crowd.”

“Which means he’s been in front of us this whole time.” Kingston tightens his grip. “Jazz, did you recognize his voice at all?

“No.” I shake my head slightly. “There’s nothing about it that stands out. Just your standard deep guy voice.”

Kingston opens the passenger door to his Range Rover and helps me inside. “We’re going to find this guy, Jazz. I’ll get the truth out of Peyton one way or another. I know she’s hiding something.”

Bent climbs in the back and adds, “In the meantime, maybe we should skip the parties.”

You can say that again.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

KINGSTON

After Jazz got the all-clear from the hospital, I brought her back to my place. I'm glad she didn't want to go back to Casa Callahan because there's no way in hell I would've allowed that, which would've inevitably started another argument. Even though my dad is back in LA, I still feel like she's better off with me out here in the pool house. I need to know she's fucking safe, and I can't do that if I can't see her with my own eyes.

When I realized Jazz wasn't where I left her at the party, I was terrified. I ripped Bentley away from the dude he was fighting, and we went on a mission to find her. Thankfully, at the same time, people started fleeing the scene because they heard an ambulance approaching. Sirens at a party where there are underage drinking and drugs are never a good thing. Nobody took the time to determine what kind of siren it was, or why they were there; they just bolted out the back door.

Fuck, when I finally found Jazz and saw that she was once again unconscious, I think my heart stopped beating. My chest heaved as I struggled for breath. The darkness inside of me was brewing, fighting for supremacy. It wanted to hunt and destroy the motherfucker who did that to her. For a few seconds there, I legitimately thought I was going to lose it. Like, full-on raze a village, kind of lose it. I haven’t felt that out of control since I first suspected my father arranged to have my mom killed.

“How’s your head feeling?” I grab a bottle of water from the fridge and hand it to Jazz.

She takes a long sip. "Much better after the Tylenol kicked in."

“You tired?” I grab her hand and lead her into my bedroom. “Or do you wanna talk about what happened yet?”

Jazz hasn’t said much since we left the party. I know she’s shaken up from her encounter with that bastard, but she doesn’t want to talk about it because she’s not big on sharing feelings. Hell, I’m not either, but that doesn’t stop me from wanting to know everything that goes on inside her head.

“I already told you everything that happened, Kingston.”

I grab the bottle out of her hand and set it on the nightstand. "Not what I was talking about, and you know it. I want to know how you feel about what happened.”

Jazz shakes her head. “Not tonight. Tonight, I just want to forget.”

I groan when she reaches out and strokes my length through my jeans. “As much as I love where you’re going with this...” I wrap my hand around her wrist and pull it away from my dick. “Stuffing this into a box in the back of your head isn’t going to help.”

“I know that.” Jazz takes a few steps back and shimmies out of her tight pants, kicking them aside. “But I don’t want the memory of him to be the last thing I think about before I fall asleep. Nor the thought of all those people who saw us naked, sullying what was supposed to be an intimate act with their greedy eyes.”