Kingston steps into my closet, picks up my fallen pajamas and hands them to me. He briefly looks over my shoulder and seems lost in thought. I turn my head and see nothing but a stark white wall. The same wall where I climbed him like a tree and let him finger me. Aw, hell. Now I’m thinking about it.
He smirks, obviously picking up on my train of thought. “Good memories in this closet.”
I hold my hand out, shaking my head. “Nuh-uh. Don’t do that.”
The jackass laughs. “Do what? I didn’t do anything.”
I swirl my finger in his direction. “You’re not going to charm me with your sexy smirky smirk. You owe me answers, buddy, and I refuse to wait any longer. Once I get those, I’ll tell you what happened.”
“So, you think I’m sexy?”
I’m pretty sure I actually growl. “Not the point, asshole.”
He takes a moment, stretching his neck from side to side before he answers. “Fine. But we meet at my house. I have something I need to show you.”
I narrow my eyes in suspicion. “If that something is in your pants, keep it to yourself.”
Kingston steps forward, crowding me against the built-in dresser in the center of the closet. “We both know you don’t really mean that Jazz, but don't worry; I can control myself if you can."
I stare him right in the eye. “I can definitely control myself.”
He steps back and looks me over, making no effort to disguise his thirst. “Fine, then it’s settled. You feel well enough to come over tomorrow after you hang with Ains?”
“Yeah.” I nod. “I can hitch a ride with her when we’re done.”
Kingston raps his knuckles on the doorframe. “Just text when you’re on your way.”
“Okay.”
“One more thing. Pack a bag. It’s going to take a while, so you’re staying over. And before you say it, I can sleep on the couch.”
I shake my head. “I never agreed to that.”
“I didn’t ask.” He flashes a wicked smile and walks out of the room without another word.
Cocky jackass.
CHAPTER NINE
KINGSTON
“I have the equipment. When can we meet up?”
John thinks we should install a surveillance camera in my dad's corporate office because he's not getting anything useful from the bugs we placed in the home office. Since Monique, Davenport Boating's head receptionist, is freakishly vigilant, placing the camera falls on my shoulders since I'm one of the few people who can get past her desk without an invitation or appointment. I need to somehow get into Charles Callahan's office, too, but there never seems to be an opportunity. Ms. Williams lives in the Callahan house full time, and I swear the woman never leaves.
“I’ve got something going on tonight, but I can do it tomorrow. Same place?”
"That works," John answers. "One o'clock, okay?"
“Yep. See you then.”
I hang up the call and open my GPS tracker app. Ainsley's car is only about a mile away, so I head to the front of the main house. When my sister initially said she was spending the day with Jazz, I had assumed they'd lie low since Jazz is still recovering. What I hadn't counted on was the fact that they'd go to Ainsley's ballet studio. They're right around the corner now, so I tuck my phone into my pocket and wait for them to pull up.
I originally installed the tracker on their phones for safety purposes—okay, maybe a slightly different reason on Jazz’s—but I have to admit, it’s come in handy outside of that. Even if they’re perfectly safe, it eases my mind knowing where they’re at considering all the shady shit up in the air. I thought for sure Jazz would throw a fit when she found out I had installed it, but since the tracker had proven useful when Peyton cornered her in the bathroom, she’s logical enough to see its value. I rarely check it, but since I hadn’t heard from Jazz as expected, my paranoia got the best of me.
I hear the roar of the Huracan’s engine shortly before they pull into the driveway. Ainsley spots me before she makes it to the garage, so she rolls the car to a stop and shifts into park.
Rolling down her window, she says, "What are you doing?"
"Waiting for you." I bend low, so I can make eye contact with Jazz. "You were supposed to text when you were on your way."
“Why?” she sasses. “So you could clear your groupies out of the house?”
I give her a half-cocked smile. “Careful, babe. Your jealousy is showing.”
Jazz’s gorgeous brown eyes roll back. “I’d have to care to be jealous.”
Ainsley rubs her temples. “Oh my God, you two. Do you ever stop? You’d think finally screwing each other would get this out of your systems.” She turns her head toward Jazz, then to me. “Or maybe you need to screw again because that’s the only way you can tolerate each other.”
“I’m open to testing that theory. What do you say, Jazz?”
Jazz scoffs. "Uh, no, thanks."
I laugh. “Don’t pretend you didn’t love it when I—”
“Don’t say it!” Ainsley shouts.
I look down at my sister. “Not so fun being on the other end of it, is it?”
The impertinent little shit gives me the finger.
I round the car and try opening the passenger door, but it’s locked. “Unlock the door.”
Jazz flashes a toothy grin through the window as she mouths, “No.”
Ainsley throws her hands up and mutters something before hitting the button from the master control panel. The second the door is unlocked, I swing it open.
“Get out of the car, Jazz.”
Jazz turns toward my sister and grumbles, “Traitor.”
"Oh, for fuck's sake, Jazz, the whole reason you're here is to talk to him, so go talk to him.”
“Yeah, Jazz, come talk to me.”
She gets out of the car and slams the door shut. Ainsley wastes no time shifting into gear and pulling into the garage, leaving Jazz standing in front of the house with me.
“Where’s your bag?” I ask.
She parks a hand on her hip. “I didn’t bring one.”
“Suit yourself.” I shrug. “You won’t hear me complaining if you want to sleep naked.”
I can see her bronzed cheeks pinken under the outdoor lighting. “I won’t be sleeping here at all. Ainsley offered to drive me home when we’re done.”
I slant my head to the left, ignoring her comment. We can save that argument for later. “There’s a path to my place along the side of the house. Can you walk on uneven ground?”
Jazz straightens her shoulders. “I’m fine.”
As we start walking, I can tell she's doing her best to hide her discomfort. This girl won't let anything hold her down, and it's hot as fuck. I rub a hand over my mouth to hide my smile because I suspect Jazz will take it the wrong way and give me even more attitude. Even though her feistiness turns me on, I need to deescalate the situation because what I'm about to tell her is likely going to birth a whole plethora of messy emotions.
Jazz looks around when we enter the pool house, making me realize she's never been here before. It's nothing special—just a standard guest house you'd find on any property around here—but every square inch is mine to do as I please, and that's important to me. Having my own security system is a nice perk, especially considering all the digging I'm doing into our fathers' activities. I moved out here right before my freshman year, and I haven't missed the luxuries of the main house one bit.