Kindred: Kingpin (The Kindred Series Book 1) Page 4

  “I’m listening,” she replies in a soft, resigned voice.

  “Agree to it and you and your family will remain safe. I’ll take care of that personally. Disagree, and I can’t guarantee that you will leave this building alive.”

  She understands the suggestion for what it’s for: a thinly veiled threat and nods her head in understanding. Her soul Mark continues to thrum on her skin.

  CHAPTER THREE

  On her second day of work, she finally musters up to speak to Lucas – June’s bodyguard and the man who had been following her.

  “Why were you following me?” she asks him a trembling voice and he looks her over curiously.

  “June’s orders,” he shrugs.

  Tara nods, glancing down at the papers in front of her before her eyes drift up to him again, “Why hasn’t he killed me yet?”

  Lucas eyes her, “Do you want the truth?” Tara nods, “I just think it’ll cause too much of a fuss. Blackmail has always been June’s preferred method of control.”

  Again Tara nods. A beat of silence passes before, “Would you kill me? If he asked you to?”

  Lucas eyes her and in a quiet, almost sad voice, mutters, “Probably.”

  Tara nods, blinking against the frightened tears that threaten to stream down her face.

  Contrary to what Tara first believes, Lucas is the friendlier of the two men. He’s amicable, asking about her with genuine curiosity and listening attentively when Tara prattles on about the stories she’s previously covered. Ren – the bartender – is as charming as they come, with his friendly demeanor and soothing presence. Sola had made it her mission to take Tara under her wing, teaching her about the club and its customers. They become fast friends and Tara even meets her son on one of their off days. In the two months that Tara has worked at Tempest, she’s grown rather fond each one of them. It’s June that makes her blood run cold.

  She ends up working as the secretary for June Park, one of Westbrook’s richest men and kingpin of an underground smuggling ring. She doesn’t know why he’d insisted on having her work for him instead of just killing her but she can’t say that she’s exactly grateful. Leaving her job at the media house and taking up a job as June’s nanny slash secretary wasn’t something she’d have chosen willingly. She’d lost all her integrity as a reporter – rumors having spread of how she’d killed her story for a large sum of money, of her sleeping with June to get her position at the club – and her days are now spent ordering various ridiculously priced beverages and chasing away nosy reporters instead of helping people through her stories.

  She’d signed the contract just over two months ago; two months of deflecting any other snooping reporters or police who came asking questions about club Tempest just like she had. She hasn’t spoken to Soran since then, June having ordered her to cut ties to any law enforcement personnel once she’d started working for him. She sees Eric from time to time but it’s not the same and she wonders when he’ll finally work up the courage to cut ties with her completely.

  She sighs to herself, standing as she pulls out a contract concerning the club that she needed June’s signature for. She grips the paper tightly, knocking on the door a few feet away from her own office.

  “Come in,” she hears June’s voice from inside and opens the door. She takes one look at him and refrains from rolling her eyes.

  June stands in front of his desk, hips leaned against the wood as one of the dancers kneels on the floor in front of him. Her head bobs back and forth between his legs.

  “What is it?” he asks, hands lifting to grip the woman’s hair tightly.

  “I need your signature for one of the orders,” she tells him, eyes never leaving his face. She doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

  He sighs, pushing the dancer’s head away, “Leave us.”

  “Yes sir,” she sighs, standing and exiting the room in a rush.

  “Bring them here,” June tells Tara, hand stretched out impatiently.

  For a moment she contemplates just leaving, consequences be damned, before she sighs and walks towards him. She hands him the papers and averts her eyes, staring out of the high rise window to the right.

  “Did Ren order the Russian bourbon I asked for?” he asks.

  “Yes,” Tara replies, eyes darting to his face for a moment. It’s a mistake. Her eyes fall to the open slit of his shirt, pulled away so that she can see most of his chest and she spots the unmistakable Mark atop his collarbone. It’s a scar that mirrors her own – a jagged line that runs an inch across her skin in a deep burgundy – and her heart clenches as painfully as the first time she’d seen it.

  The first time she’d discovered that they were Kindred he’d been shirtless after fucking one of the dancers over his desk. Bile had risen in her throat at the sudden realization and her knees had gone weak; she’d almost collapsed then and there. She doesn’t know when he’d found out but Tara has a sneaking suspicion that it had been before her realization, which had made the scene all the more gut-wrenching.

  Now, June sees her hard expression and a smirk spreads across his face. He signs the papers and hands them back to her, “Send Anna back in,” he tells her with a lazy drawl, “I’m not quite finished with her yet,” he quirks an eyebrow, “Unless you’d like to finish what she started?”

  Tara’s fingers clench over the papers as her teeth snap together, “I’ll send for Anna,” she tells him before she turns and walks out of his office.

  Lucas is standing near the door, back from his break. He takes one look at her and sighs tiredly, “You should be used to it by now,” he chides, eyeing the tears in her eyes, “Your reactions only make him want to torment you even more.”

  “Shut up,” she snaps and immediately feels guilty when she knows he’s just looking out for her. They’d grown somewhat amicable in the two months that she’s worked here and Lucas is the only one who seems to be privy to the information about her and June being Kindred. She sits down with a huff, drying her eyes quickly before sending him down to bring Anna up.

  Tara puts up with the sounds they’re making for a strong twenty minutes, gritting her teeth and trying her utmost to concentrate on the clicking of her keyboard as she types. When she can no longer take it anymore, she informs Lucas that she’ll be taking her lunch break. He nods sympathetically, telling Tara that he’ll come find her should June need her. Tara thanks him politely as she grabs her lunchbox and tries to leave the office as gracefully but as quickly as she can.

  She makes her way to the rooftop, a section of the club she’d found one day while trying to run away from June and his incessant torment. It had quickly become her favourite place to sit and calm herself with its quiet view over the city. An array of birds also visited every so often and today she sees a pair of grey doves resting on the ledge.

  She scratches around in her lunchbox for a moment before she finds what she’s looking for; pulling out the bag of bird seed she’d bought the other day. She makes her way over to the ledge as quietly as she can, stopping a few feet away from where the doves are sat. Pouring a bit of bird seed out, she steps away again and waits. The birds curiously hop over to the pile of seed and begin to peck at it. Tara smiles in victory and strolls over to the lone plastic chair leaned against the side of the wall. She’d brought one up a few weeks ago and now she pulls it over to the edge, using it as a stepstool so that she can hoist herself onto the ledge. She swings her legs over and settles in to eat her lunch.

  Tara had made herself a simple cheese and tomato sandwich along with an apple to snack on. As she bites down, she looks ahead at the city before her. It’s around 5PM and the sun is finally setting. As she eats, she listens to the honking of cars, to the busy city beneath her, watches people as they go about their daily lives. The sun is just low enough that the sky looks a pale pink in certain areas; the colour reflects off of some of the building’s windows and Tara marvels at the colours she sees.

  “It’s a really nice
day,” she mutters, to herself or to the birds, “So pretty.”

  Her throat closes with emotion and she wipes at the stray tears that have fallen down her cheeks. When the tears keep falling, she gives up trying to wipe them away and just lets herself cry for a few minutes. She sniffles pitifully as she continues to eat her sandwich.

  A few minutes pass by before she hears the door to the rooftop open, “June’s asking for you,” she hears Lucas tell her.

  “Okay,” she tells him with a nod.

  She hears footsteps and when Lucas nears her, he holds out a handkerchief, “Here.”

  Tara takes it without a fuss, gently dabbing at her face, “Thanks.”

  He helps her off of the ledge and escorts her back into the building as they get ready to open the club for the night.

  It’s a cold night in July as she walks back to her apartment, a few hours later. It’s almost 1AM and she hates the long nights she has to spend at Tempest but she’s finally gotten a few days off.

  The sight of the tall, high rise building – her new apartment, a courtesy and warning from June – makes her feet rush forward in anticipation of a hot shower. The security guard greets her with a warm smile, chastising her for coming home late and alone, and bidding her a safe trip up to her apartment.

  “You worry about me too much, Marv,” she chuckles, “I know I’m safe with you around.”

  They speak for a few minutes and Marv promises her a piece of the blueberry pie his wife had in the oven when he’d left home that night. She bids him good night and strolls over to the elevator, hitting the tenth floor button.

  Nibbles meows loudly when she enters the apartment, winding between her legs as she shrugs off her coat, “Hey baby,” she greets him, bending down to scratch his ear and place a kiss on his nose. She makes her way to the kitchen, grabbing his food and filling up his bowl again while she heats up a microwave meal for herself. They eat together in silence, Tara casually scrolling through her phone all the while.

  Once done with her supper, she scurries off to her bedroom to dig up some warm pajamas and steps into the bathroom for a long, hot shower.

  The water is relaxing, easing her muscles and distracting her for a moment, her mind blank and only physically registering the hot water. It doesn’t last long, her mind drifting off to work and June and in the quiet solitude of her shower she lets a few bitter tears escape.

  Her eyes are swollen by the time she steps out but she’s too tired to care, drying herself off hastily and throwing on her pajamas. After her shower, she curls up with Nibbles underneath the thick blankets and logs into her Netflix account. She falls asleep shortly after clicking on some sitcom she’d seen in passing.

  A jiggle of the doorknob and faint footsteps causes Nibbles’s head to rise from where he’s curled up next to Tara’s. It does nothing to wake the sleeping girl, which makes the moment she’s shaken awake ten times more frightening.

  She gasps deeply at the hand that shakes her harshly, hands flying to the lamp switch. The light clicks on and illuminates June’s angry face.

  “Wake the fuck up,” he hisses in anger.

  “What are you doing here?” she gasps, “How did you get in?”

  His eyes narrow angrily at her questions. He doesn’t answer them, simply scowls until she notices the bloody patch near his abdomen.

  “Shit, okay,” she sighs, pushing him away as she stumbles out of bed and to the medicine cabinet where she keeps her first aid kit. June sags into her bed, sending Nibbles running with an angry hiss.

  When Tara returns, she orders him to take off his shirt and scowls at the smirk on his face, “I can let you bleed out instead,” she quips angrily, exhaustion making her irritable. June chuckles and shrugs out of his shirt, hissing in pain when the material brushes over the stab wound.

  Tara kneels in front of him, trying to clean the wound as best as she can with the limited amount of knowledge she has from both Lillian and hanging around Jin – June’s resident medic. Once the wound is bandaged, June sighs in relief.

  “You should probably go see Jin. It looks like it needs a few stitches,” she tells him.

  “In a moment,” June replies, voice dipped low and husky.

  She glances up to find that he’s watching her intently, eyes hooded and dark, “You look pretty like this,” he adds in a husky voice, cupping the back of her head, “Kneeling for me.”

  Tara has to physically stop herself from poking at the wound in retaliation. Instead, she narrows her eyes with a scoff, “Please leave,” she grumbles before shrugging out of his hold and standing to her feet. His hand suddenly reaches for her arm, gripping around her wrist and tugging her back harshly until she’s stumbles back into the bed with a harsh bounce.

  He straddles her waist, thick thighs caging her in as he looms over her, “I own you, kitten,” he mutters with a playful lilt, “If I want you, I’ll have you.”

  Her heart jumps at the insinuation and she feels her throat close up in fear; dread sits in her stomach before the anxiety kicks in and she starts to tremble beneath him. June lifts a hand to her neck, gripping around it loosely before his hand trails lower, to her chest. His fingers brush over her collarbones and he stills for a moment. His eyes flit up to her face before he leans away, hands leaving her body, “Lucky for you, I don’t particularly want you.”

  He gets up and strides out the room without another word and after a few seconds she hears the sound of her front door closing again.

  For a moment, Tara lays on the bed, trembling slightly before tears pool at the corner of her eyes. She turns into her side and sobs into the bed sheets. She has nightmares thereafter, her home never feeling quite as safe as she’d thought.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The next day is one of her leave days so she stays in bed for as long as she can before she finally decides to eat something. The television is on in the background as she prepares her meal but when she recognizes a street address on one of the news broadcasts, she stops to listen. It’s a story about a murder on her street. When she looks up Marv’s full name flashes across the screen, images of his dead body found in an alleyway appearing for a few seconds. Her hands tremble as she looks up the story on her phone, hoping for details on who killed him and when. The police have found nothing, so far.

  For a moment, she feels calm and almost thinks she won’t breakdown. Then, suddenly, like a tidal wave, the situation hits her and she feels such an aching guilt settle in her chest that it makes it difficult to breathe. She sits on the floor of her apartment for a long time, crying into her hands.

  The apartment owner announces that Marv’s funeral will be held the next day and that those who wish to pay their respects were welcome. Thankful for her few days off, Tara attends his funeral and offers his wife her condolences.

  The elderly woman knows her, has heard Marv speak of her and thanks Tara for taking the time out to visit. She tells Tara that Marv would appreciate it, that Marv considered her something of an adoptive daughter, always worried about her late shifts and whether she was taking care of herself.

  Tara allows herself to grieve for only that one night and is immediately overcome with guilt when she’s grateful that Marv was the one found dead and not one of her family members, a constant fear that she struggles to contain every time she looks at June.

  When she goes in to work a few days later, Ren tells her that June is away on some yacht cruise with one of his model girlfriends and Tara doesn’t know why but the information makes her heart clench painfully. She thanks Ren with a stiff smile and wanders off.

  “You look like crap,” Sola tells her when she passes by Tara’s desk, “Didn’t you just take a few days off?”

  “It’s been a trying few days,” Tara tells her with a tired smile.

  The dancer looks at her with pity, “I’m always around if you need to talk,” she shrugs, “Or let off some steam.”

  “Thank you,” Tara gives the older woman a grateful smile, “I was actu
ally going to go to Nona’s place after the club closes, to check in on her mother.”

  “I’ll come with,” Sola tells her, “I haven’t seen Mrs. Pivick in forever.”

  Tara tends to the club in June’s absence, making sure everything is running smoothly. She tries to ignore the fact that under-aged teenagers are getting drunk or high on the floor below her simply because they’re rich and pay June to shut up about it. It doesn’t stop her from ‘accidentally’ flushing down a packet of what she assumes is cocaine when the boy who’d brought it is too busy sucking on one of their dancer’s necks.

  Tara gives the dancer – Jewel – a worried glance but the other woman simply waves away her concerns, giving her a cheeky smile. Tara nods and heads over to where Ren is preparing drinks.

  “You’re hovering,” Ren tells her when she nears him, “And that patron’s not gonna be too happy when he finds out that you flushed thousands worth of drugs down the toilet.”