Ruthless Kings - Laura Lee Page 0,11

traits had I not seen it with my own eyes.

The man is a walking contradiction.

Most of the time, he's broody and mysterious, in a totally sexy way—like catnip for the female population. But when he's with the guys outside of school, he's laid back and even goofy sometimes. With Ainsley and me and hell, even Belle, he's super-protective, and there are these moments where he's incredibly thoughtful or kind. Regardless of which Kingston you're getting at the time, there's always this underlying rage I don't think many people pick up on. Or maybe they don't understand the extent of it.

I remember watching a video during my freshman year science class about the Mount St. Helens eruption. The landscape was breathtaking, loved by outdoor enthusiasts or simply anyone searching for a peaceful place to spend their day. The volcano sat quietly for over one hundred years, all the while, pressure was building beneath the surface. There was sufficient evidence of its impending reawakening, but the reports weren’t taken seriously enough by the general public. Tourists continued flocking to the area—some even evading roadblocks and ignoring air restrictions—until the perfect combination of events caused a cataclysmic explosion. The eruption was so powerful, it literally blew the top off the mountain, killing everyone in the vicinity.

Kingston reminds me of that volcano. If you don’t look beyond his surface beauty, if you ignore the warning signs, you’re putting yourself at risk. He’s dangerous—perhaps even deadly—and I’d be a fool to forget that.

“Are you guys gonna come get me on Sunday?”

My heart aches, seeing the hope in Belle's eyes. There's no way I'll be healed by then, and I don't want her to see me like this. Plus, until I'm sure Kingston isn't a suspect, I don't want him anywhere near my sister.

“Oh, honey, not this Sunday, but maybe the next one.” If I’m well enough to see her by then, I’ll have Frank drive me.

She frowns. “How come? Don’t you wanna see me?”

"Of course I want to see you," I assure her. "But...I've been in the hospital for a whole week, and I have lots and lots of homework to catch up on for school."

At least that part isn’t a lie. The first thing Ms. Williams said to me when I got home was that my father expects me to keep up with schoolwork while I convalesce.

“Homework is stupid.” She punctuates her statement by sticking out her lower lip.

I laugh until my stitches pull, causing sharp pain. I have to fake sneeze to cover up my yelp, but that motion makes it even worse. Damn it.

I take a moment to breathe through the pain. “It really is, but you know what’s pretty awesome?”

“What?” I can see the wheels turning in her head as a little crease forms between her eyebrows.

"You can see me anytime you want before then. You just have to hit that green camera button on your iPad, and we can video chat."

“That’s super-duper awesome!”

God, I love her smile.

I cover my mouth as a giant yawn sneaks up on me. Having the shit beat out of you really zaps your energy. I don’t recommend it one bit.

“I think I’m going to take a nap before I get started on all that homework. I have to go now, but call me when you get home from school tomorrow, okay?”

Belle nods. “’Kay! Love you, Jazz!”

“I love you too, sweet girl.”

Her face disappears as I hit the button to end the call. Carefully crawling under the covers, I rest my head on the pillow and close my eyes. I only remember taking a few deep breaths before I’m fast asleep.

CHAPTER FIVE

JAZZ

The persistent knocking on my door wakes me up. I carefully sit up in bed, swinging my legs to the side.

“Hold on a sec.”

I slowly make my way over there, turn the lock, and open the door. Ms. Williams is standing in the hallway with her resting bitch face firmly in place.

"Miss Jasmine, you have a visitor waiting in your theater room. Would you like to meet him there, or shall I send him in here?"

I sigh. “Neither. Please tell Kingston I’ll call him when I’m ready to talk. Just like I’ve told him every day in the week that I’ve been home.”

“It’s not Mr. Davenport.”

Huh?

"Who is it, then?"

“Bentley Fitzgerald.”

What is Bentley doing here? Did Kingston send him? I look down at the tank top and pajama shorts I’m wearing. It’s not covering any less skin than I would show on a warm day, but