KENNICK: A Bad Boy Romance Novel (5 page)

Chapter
Eight

Kim was immediately impressed by the change in the
trailer park. Gone were the used needles, rubber ropes, empty liquor bottles,
and myriad trash that had once littered the grounds. There were about 14
trailers, of varying sizes, in three rows. Each one was brightly painted and
decorated, with flowers blooming out front and in the windows. Barbecues and
patio furniture, pink flamingos and wind chimes, delicate spinning ornaments
that caught the sun and bashful stone lawn gnomes had turned the once-seedy
park into a homey, joyful place.

She parked in a general lot near the entrance to the
park and scanned the area spread out before her. There was a good collection of
children running around, and older people sitting on their small lawns watching
after them.

She didn’t know where to start looking for him. All
she knew was that her appearance was something interesting to the people she
passed. That wasn’t too surprising; this
was
a gypsy caravan, after all, and outsiders probably weren’t welcomed with
open arms. But it did make it a little unnerving to wander around aimlessly,
since she didn’t feel comfortable asking anyone where she might find Kennick.

When she’d walked to the center of the trailer park,
she heard a ruckus coming from a trailer in the leftmost row. It was a dull
roar punctuated by grunting. The sounds ignited her anxiety; it was one thing
to walk among the spattering of people who milled about, another thing entirely
to walk right towards what appeared to be the center of activity. But she
wasn’t about to turn around and run home, so she forced herself towards the
noise.

As she grew closer, she saw a ring of people standing
around with animated interest on their faces. Some were chanting and howling,
others murmuring to their neighbors. The grunting continued, and seemed to come
from the center of the ring. When she got close enough, she attracted some
attention, but apparently wasn’t as interesting as what was happening in the
middle. She rose up on her tip-toes and leaned to catch a glimpse.

Two men were in the center of the ring, both
shirtless. Their bodies were entwined, huge muscles bulging, tanned skin
gleaming with sweat, vibrant black tattoos almost melting into each other. One
was landing a series of blows to the others’ ribs, though they didn’t look very
forceful. The crowd let out a unified whoop as the bodies separated and began
to bounce around in a circle. Kim’s interest grew; she recognized them as the
two
other
Volanis brothers. She
recognized Damon’s jet-black hair, Cristov’s lean, chiseled face.

Cristov put his hands up and Damon began to rain blows
upon them, audible smacks above the crowd’s yells. The brutality in their
movements was tempered by the skill with which Cristov tested his brother,
moving his hands this way and that, feinting one and then the other, Damon
keeping up with each quick, metered movement.

Kim gasped as Cristov suddenly swooped forward, taking
hold of Damon’s waist and trying to forcefully propel him backward, but Damon
dug his heels into the dirt and stayed fast in place, responding to the assault
with a deftly delivered headlock that landed Cristov on his back, struggling to
rise until finally slamming his hand down on the dust beneath them.

As the men released, both panting, the crowd murmured
and began to disperse. Whatever the hell that was, it seemed to be over. Kim
couldn’t see what the point had been; neither man seemed to be overly hurt by
the fight. It looked like they’d been
practicing
for a fight more than anything else.

She didn’t see why that would have drawn the crowd it
did, but maybe there was a general lack of entertainment around the trailer
park. Either way, as the crowd shoved past her in a wave, she watched the
brothers embracing, patting each other on the back and moving towards the
trailer with their arms still draped over each other’s shoulders.

She rushed forward, ignoring the curious looks she
got. Yeah, outsiders
definitely
drew
interest.

“Cristov! Damon!” she called out, waving her arm above
the crowd. The brothers turned in unison as she approached, slightly out of
breath. She’d seen how cut they were from a distance, but now that she was only
a few feet away, their physical forms were something to behold. And then some.

Damon definitely had a good twenty pounds of sheer
bulky muscle on his brother, but neither seemed to have an ounce of fat on
their sculpted bodies, and deep 6-packs that invited the eye further downward.
Both were covered in tattoos, like Kennick, but the style and type varied;
Damon seemed to mostly have Sailor Jerry-style flash art dotting his body,
while Cristov was adorned in elaborately colorful flowers and koi fish and
nature scenes. She blushed, willing herself to keep her eyes in an appropriate
place.

“It’s you,” Cristov said with a smile. “I remember
you. How you doing, girl?”

“I’m…I’m good,” Kim said.

“I bet you are,” Cristov said, his tone suggestive.
She was caught off-guard for a moment but shook it off, which was easier to do
when she saw the exasperated look Damon shot his brother. Something told Kim
that Cristov talked a big game to all the girls he met.

“I’m looking for your brother,” Kim said. “I
just…wanted to talk to him about something. Is he inside?”

The men shared a glance, then looked back at her with
their eyebrows raised. A smile split across Cristov’s face while Damon seemed
like he was biting back a smirk.

“He’s not,” Cristov said. “But he could be soon. Want
to wait around? We got cold beer and…”

“He’s over there,” Damon interrupted, pointing to a
trailer in the middle of the park, kitty-corner to the one they stood in front
of at the moment. Cristov glowered at his brother.

“Oh,” Kim said. “Is he busy?”

Damon shrugged. “If he is, he’ll tell you.”

“If he is, come on back,” Cristov said. “The beer
won’t get warm anytime soon.”

“Uh, thanks,” Kim said, backing away towards the
trailer Damon pointed to. The two men watched her, curious and engaged, until
she turned and trotted away, feeling their eyes burn behind her with every
step. It was not, surprisingly, an entirely unpleasant feeling.

She paused on the stone steps. She could hear faint
conversation inside; a woman’s voice, and a voice she immediately recognized as
Kennick’s.

“I’m just tired as hell of watching him kill himself,”
the female voice said, sounding as tired as it claimed to be.

“Can’t change a man like that,” Kennick’s voice
responded, smooth and sympathetic. “I wish he’d listen to me but…”

“He ought to,” the female voice interrupted, now
sounding terse.

“He won’t. I’m too young. Hell, I feel weird trying to
give
you
advice, Beebi.”

“Ah, Kennick, you
are
young. But you have the right mind to lead us,” the female voice said. In
the pause that followed, Kim knocked, feeling awkward about having eavesdropped
in the first place.

She heard the people inside moving, and heavy
footsteps approaching the door. When Kennick pulled it open, she was caught
once more by his raw sex appeal. He was wearing a tight black shirt and
low-riding jeans that accentuated his lean, triangular frame. His ink-adorned
biceps were tanned and popped in the tight sleeves. His reddish beard invited
fingers to scratch it, while his long brown hair hung in a well-managed mess.
And those green eyes…shit.

“You,” he said, seeming more than a little surprised.
At first, she wondered if her association with the man who’d so recently
threatened him and his family would make her an unwelcome guest; but when he
smiled, slightly crooked and revealing a line of straight, white teeth, she
relaxed. “Ain’t this a surprise. Come in.”

His voice never ceased to thrill her; it was an
amalgam of accents and dialects. Sometimes, she swore he had a southern accent;
then, the next sentence would be pure Maine. She figured this was probably a
side-effect of having lived most of his life on the road.

He moved backwards and made space for her to enter.
She had to duck underneath the arm that still held the door open, and she
imagined what it would be like if that muscled arm fell, crossing her chest and
pulling her against that hard body. She blushed at her own thoughts and hoped
that he couldn’t read minds.

The woman she’d heard speaking was small but looked
strong in experience. Kim guessed her to be about forty. Her eyes were green,
her frame slight, and she wore a long, black dress that seemed exotic for its
plainness.

“Hello,” Kim said, looking around the trailer. It was
much bigger inside than it looked from the outside. The main room seemed to be
a mixture of a kitchen and a dining room, which opened on one side to a living
area with a bathroom at the far end. A wall built into the kitchen formed a
hallway on the other side, with three doors; two on each side and one in the
center. Bedrooms, she supposed.

More interesting than the layout was the way it was
decorated in bright colors, none of which seemed to fit together but somehow
made a cohesive and attractive pattern. The table was bright green, the two
hard-backed benches that served as seats flamingo pink. The walls were a soft
yellow, and decorated with elaborately dyed hanging shawls and ancient-looking
photographs. It looked every inch the gypsy caravan of myth.

“Beebi, this is Kim. She works at the Mayor’s office.
Helping us with our business licenses. Kim, this is my Aunt Ana,” Kennick
introduced the women. Ana studied Kim for a long moment before breaking into a
wary smile and offering her hand.

“A pleasure,” Ana said and Kim took her hand,
impressed by the woman’s no-nonsense grip. “Kennick, I’m going to go talk to
Baba Surry. She was asking me to show her how to make that cornbread from last
week. You all make yourselves at home. Beer in the fridge, you know.”

“Make sure you take Baba Surry shopping if she plans
on making that cornbread tonight,” Kennick said with a joking grimace. “I’d
hate to see a repeat of that chili debacle.”

He shuddered at the memory, turning to Kim with a
conspiratorial wink.

“Gave the whole damn
kumpania
the runs for a week,” he explained. “Baba Surry has
trouble reading expiration dates.”

Left alone in the trailer, Kennick gestured to one of
the benches and Kim took a seat, appreciating the way Kennick’s large body
moved with feline grace as he took the seat opposite.

“So,” he said, raising his eyebrows and lifting his
palms in a sweeping gesture across the table. Kim waited for him to continue
with whatever he had planned to say, but apparently the single word and the
hand gesture were all he planned to offer.

“I wanted to come by and…well, I know it wasn’t
really, you know….I just wanted to apologize for Mayor Gunderson,” she said,
feeling his eyes dancing over her, his expression playful. “At the bar the
other night…”

Kennick waved his hand in front of his face.

“You can’t help the opinions of others,” he said. “I
won’t take an apology on someone else’s behalf. But thanks all the same.”

Kim bit her lip. She had more questions, but she was
afraid how they’d be received. As though sensing her hesitation, Kennick leaned
across the table, a smile on his lips and in his eyes.

“You’ll find I’m pretty hard to offend, Kim,” he said.
She could smell him; his breath had a hint of cinnamon, and his body was
fragrant with sandalwood. A heady combination that awakened parts of Kim that
she wished would stay asleep until the conversation was over. There was no
denying that the part of her that was attracted to Kennick was automatic,
animalistic…bold. The feeling was such a departure from her usual self that she
found herself welcoming it wholeheartedly.

“Well, I suppose…I was wondering about your…plans
here. I looked over those applications. It’s an…interesting medley. Are you and
your brothers in charge of all of those places? Must be a lot to deal with.”

“No,” he said, leaning back and studying her as though
he knew there would be more questions to follow. Less pleasant ones. “Cristov,
he’ll run the tattoo parlor. My Aunt Ana – Beebi is Romani for Aunt – she runs
the grocery. Peta Kristena, she’s our resident vet. Had to marry her into the
equation; Rom aren’t exactly known for our pursuit of higher education. The
Surrys run the gentleman’s club and the hairdresser.”