Cruel Shame (Knights of Templar Academy #3) - Sofia Daniel Page 0,28
pleading for him to back down. “I’ve seen Sammy fight. He doesn’t stop, long after he’s knocked the other guy unconscious, and if the other guy’s stronger, he’ll pull out a knife.”
Kendrick’s gaze wandered to the door. “Then I’ll have to knock him out in the first few minutes.”
I wrapped my hand around his bicep and gave him a hard shake. “Ken—”
“Lilah.” His sharp voice cut through whatever I was about to say. “As much as I appreciate your concern, I must do this.”
“What will I tell Maxwell if you get hurt?”
He huffed. “This is about my brother, then?”
“And you.” I cupped his cheek. “Please, don’t do this.”
Kendrick’s eyes softened, and the corners of his lips curled into the barest of smiles. “Save your concern for that braggart. He’s about to learn never to mess with a Deloraine.”
He walked around me, strode to the door, and held it open, letting in the sound of barking. I trudged across the room, grumbling under my breath about psychopathic cocaine barons, sociopathic exes, and stubborn assholes who crawled under my skin.
Sammy and Billy waited at the other end of the marble hallway, by the passage that led to the kitchen. Behind them, Nichelle wrung her hands. I swept my gaze up and down my former friend. She looked the same as ever, save for the dark circles under her eyes. I expect that was from all the partying she did with Sammy.
I hoped she knew what she was doing. Sammy on his own was bad enough. He had only exposed the violent maniac the day I’d caught him in bed with Nichelle, but Billy Hancock was a whole level of demented. Just because I’d navigated the underworld unscathed, it didn’t mean she would be so lucky.
Kendrick offered me his arm. Ignoring Nichelle’s gaze sweeping up and down my body, I looped my arm through his and followed the two other men to the kitchen.
It was the least gaudy room in the mini-mansion, largely because neither Billy Hancock nor Mother cooked. The marble tiles continued across the vast space, where floor-to-ceiling kitchen cabinets took up the far left-hand corner.
Margaret the housekeeper stood at the kitchen island casting us furtive glances over her shoulder. In front of her was a pile of packaged meals from Marks and Spencer. A great grocery store, but proof that she was just an expert at putting things in the oven. I pulled my gaze away from the woman and followed the others to the back door.
Billy Hancock turned and met my eyes with a smirk. “Don’t worry, Treacle. The dogs are safe behind locked doors.”
Everyone in the room except for Kendrick knew about my dog phobia, yet only Nichelle had the poor taste to snort. Even Sammy cast her a filthy glare. What was the stupid cow doing here, anyway?
Kendrick turned to me with a sympathetic smile. “Would you like to stay inside in the warmth?”
I shook my head. “The least I can do is offer you moral support from the sidelines.”
We stepped outside together into the cold Richley morning to a burst of excited dog barks.
Pale sunlight streamed out through the clouds, making the garden less gloomy than usual. The dew that had settled across the lawn and on the sandstone patio shimmered. I kept my gaze on the first fifty feet of the garden and away from the kennels at the back.
Even without looking at them, past experience had committed them to memory. Calling them kennels were an understatement. An insulated, wooden structure with a galvanized roof stood on the property’s left boundary, and a U-shaped run of seven-foot-high steel fences took up the garden’s borders.
Out of the corner of my eye, a gigantic, black creature leaped at the fence. A burst of terror lanced through my heart, but I held firm at Kendrick’s side and resisted my instinct to skitter back into the kitchen.
Sammy pulled off his leather jacket and shoved it into Nichelle’s arms.
I turned to Kendrick. “Can I take your jacket?”
He rolled his shoulders and folded up his sleeves. “There hardly seems any point.”
Billy Hancock threw his head back and laughed. “What is this, fisticuffs?”
Every fiber of my body wanted to charge at the man and hurl him into the kennels for a Game of Thrones-style execution. It wouldn’t work because Billy Hancock was too heavy a brute, those hellhounds loved their master, and they would probably attack me instead.
Kendrick strode across the lawn with his back as straight as a broomstick, looking like