Page 18 of Avenging Kelly

Kelly stood next to me, so I turned. “I won’t let you die.” I leaned closer and brushed my lips over his cheek before he grabbed my sweatshirt and balled his fists in it, pulling me in front of him and aggressively commandeering the kiss.

At first, the kiss was filled with rage. His lips were hard and his teeth nipped at my tongue as I sought his, but after a second, he seemed to sink into me, and his mouth softened. His tongue swirled with mine at an easier, more sensual pace. He relinquished control, and I took over. It was almost like some sort of test, and when I passed, we both relaxed.

Too soon, Kelly pulled back and took a step away from me. “Don’t. Don’t care about me,” he whispered before walking into the house.

My goddamn heart continued to pound in my chest as I watched him close the door.

Too late… I already care too much.

* * *

“Chef, this was damn good,” Dallas announced as he sat back in the dining room chair, rubbing his non-existent gut over his black sweater. It was an unexpected look for my biker brother.

Dallas was a solid wall as men came. He had scars from unknown sources—I’d seen them when he was changing—but like me, he kept his business to himself. Out of respect, I didn’t ask where he’d gotten them, and he’d returned the favor.

“Thank you. The seafood chowder, of course, is traditional in many coastal areas. I made it with fresh steelhead that I had brought over this morning before we got here instead of monkfish because it’s abundant in this area. The onion gratin is my own personal recipe,” Rafe explained. The food was quite decadent, and how fucking lucky were we to have a world-class chef cook for us?

We were all working to clean up the kitchen as Rafe poured all of us another round of Torrente Sauvignon Blanc. That family had wine making down to a science.

“So, Rafe, why did your father send you to help us?” Dallas asked.

Kelly’s head swiveled to my brother. “Us?”

“Where my brother goes, I go. I have to make sure he doesn’t do something stupid because he fell—”

“Shut up, Dal,” I gritted as I gave my brother the evil eye.

“What? I was gonna say because he fell in a hot, tight hole,” Dal teased, the prick.

Rafe laughed as Dallas handed him the dry dishes to put away. Kelly was wiping the table and counter where Rafe had prepared the food, a smile cutting across his handsome face at my brother’s jabs at me.

After the clean-up, the three of us took seats at the table again while Rafe went to the bar in the dining room, returning with a glass bottle holding an amber liquor. Of course, I recognized the Torrente family truth serum—their grappa.

I’d seen its powers more than once, and if one found themselves without sodium pentothal, two glasses of the high-octane grappa produced at Torrente Vineyards in Siena, Italy, would do the job just fine.

Rafe poured four small glasses of grappa and set them in front of each of us, placing the bottle next to himself. “If we’re going to help you, you must tell us everything,” he directed at Kelly.

Dallas glanced in my direction, but I said nothing. Rafael wasn’t wrong about us needing more information, and he seemed to have a plan to get it with the golden elixir to his right.

Kelly shot back the grappa like it was whiskey, holding out his glass for more. Dal turned to me, and I took a small sip, winking at him. Thankfully, he mirrored my actions. Knocking that stuff back would fuck a guy up as bad as hard liquor, but maybe that was what Kelly needed?

Rafe filled Kelly’s glass and put the bottle down. “So, when did you get involved with the secret society—what is it? Operation…”

Kelly downed another grappa. “Operation Jackpot. It’s a really fucked up deal to use prisoners as… Wait, I can’t tell you anything about it. I told Mathis a little, and now he’s dead.”

Rafe glanced my way before he turned his gaze to Dallas, who nodded that he’d caught the comment as well. That was something we needed to check into further.

I sat forward, glancing at my brother before I spoke. “Mathis visited you pretty often at Leavenworth, right?” I took another sip of my drink, waiting for Kelly to answer.

“Yeah. He came about every six weeks to keep me updated on my sister. Most of the time, there wasn’t anything to tell, so he told me about you guys at GEA-A and about the kids at the community center.”

I was sure if Casper was there, he’d have bitched that there wasn’t always news about Mia because he’d worked so damn hard to find the girl. No, there wasn’t always anything to tell about Mia, but that didn’t mean we’d stopped looking for her.

“I’m gonna guess that Leavenworth was a lot like any other prison—a visitor can’t bring much inside, right?” Dallas asked.

Dal glanced at Rafe, who filled Kelly’s glass again. He gulped it down, not flinching at the strong taste. The man hadn’t asked about the alcohol content, either.

“Nah. No guns, knives, or phones,” Kelly responded.

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