Blood In Iron (The Iron Series Book 1) Read online

  I ground my teeth, getting ready to slam the thing in his face when I remembered he knew nothing about me or my reputation. He really was simply trying to be nice and not out of fear.

  I gingerly took his calculator, surveying his hopelessly nerdy appearance as a thought popped into my head. I knew an easy, malleable target when I spotted one and this kid was the epitome of it. Ever sense Ronnie dropped out—my most recent underling—I had to do everything myself. It would be nice not having to deal with greasy coke face Adam or those snotty cheerleaders who liked to get toasted after the games. Maybe I could adopt this little copper headed dork for a while. It would keep him from getting beat up on a daily basis thus improving my cosmic karma.

  Right. As if I believed in that crap.

  I caught him at the end of fifth period and yanked him into the girls’ bathroom. He squeaked, but didn’t fight when he recognized me.

  “Beat it,” I said to the startled freshman girl washing her hands. She grabbed her books and hightailed it without a second glance.

  “Do you want to get your ass kicked for the rest of the year?”

  He shook his head.

  “Then stick with me, do as I say, and you’ll be fine.” I jumped up on the counter, putting him at eye level. “How about it?”

  “O-Okay,” he said, scratching his head, unsure of what he was getting into. “What do I have to do?”

  I pursed my lips, truly attempting not to hurt his feelings, but knowing I’d fail miserably. “Change your clothes, your hair, and that horrible name.”

  Three

  WE WALKED INTO A FULL cafeteria, everyone’s eyes curious of the stranger with me. They certainly didn’t recognize him as Milton, the uncool new kid. I’d taken that ridiculous tie off and untucked his shirt, unbuttoning the collar so it no longer choked him. I also tousled that parted hair until he resembled a normal seventeen year old guy. He reluctantly took his glasses off, but when he nearly smacked into a doorjamb I handed them back. It was a shame too. The black frames concealed his steel colored eyes that contrasted dramatically with his pale skin and copper hair.

  His name was tricky though. I was going to go simple and use his middle name, but when that turned out to be Einstein I had to nix it. Instead I shortened it to Stein. It was short, easy to remember, and almost sounded cool.

  “You got any money?” I asked, stopping at my usual round, faux wood table in the back corner of the cafeteria.

  Stein dug in his pocket. “Just five bucks.” He handed over the crumpled bill without question.

  Why was he so nice?

  I waved it away and handed him a ten. “They got pizza today. Go straight to that window and get me a pepperoni and whatever you want.” I pointed to the window where several boxes of fresh pizza were peeking through. There was also a giant line winding through the crowded cafeteria.

  Worry creased his forehead. “What about the…”

  “Don’t worry about the line,” I interrupted. “Go straight to the window and if anyone gives you shit say it’s for me.”

  He raised a speculative brow, but when I set my jaw and glared he started toward the window.

  I took a seat and shrugged out of my jacket, brushing my long hair behind my shoulder as I surveyed the cafeteria. I always sat in the far corner with my back against the wall. No one could sneak up on me that way—if anyone ever dare try—and I could see everything that was happening.

  A sudden commotion at the front of the cafeteria got my attention and I cursed out loud. Stein was being hassled by that football player douche Brett Baustic. I’d just have to remind him who he was dealing with before he pummeled the poor kid. Stein was almost as tall as Brett, but wiry and thin compared to the quarterback.

  Hardness crept into my expression and my eyes narrowed as I neared the pizza window. “Hey.”

  Brett spun ready to snarl, pulling up short when he saw who he was about to challenge.

  “He’s getting it for me.”

  Brett’s jaw clenched hard, anger staining his blue eyes. “I don’t care,” he hissed. “He should have to wait in the back of the line like everyone else.”

  My face didn’t change. This wasn’t my first run in with the football jerk and I doubted it would be the last. Our long standing feud was still going strong.

  “Kory I tried, but he wouldn’t let me get in front…”

  I waved a hand, quelling Stein’s frantic words.

  Brett’s chest puffed up as he attempted to appear taller. “You don’t own this place Kory.” His cheeks were turning red from the intensity he was trying to exert. “You can’t do whatever you want whenever you want.”

  I arched a dark brow. “Jealous?”

  He scoffed. “Of you? Please.” He flicked his golden locks from his face, a sneer spreading across his mouth—a mouth that I had punched multiple times already and he still hadn’t learned. “Now go to the back of the line where you belong white trash bitch.”

  Several gasps resonated from the line and my vision blurred crimson, my hands curling into tight, dangerous fists.

  Jamal ducked behind a couple of his friends. “Oh snap, Kory’s about to slaughter Baustic.”

  He wasn’t wrong.

  I took a step closer and, even as Brett attempted to loom over me aggressively, slight tremors rippled through his body. It wasn’t anger. It was fear. At least he had enough sense to be scared.

  My lips twitched, threatening a smirk, but it thinned back out when the football coach entered the cafeteria.

  I ground my teeth to squash the fighting urge inside me and leaned so close to him I could practically feel the erratic thudding of his heart. “You got lucky this time Baustic.”

  His body visibly relaxed.

  “But,” I continued, my eyes cooling to cold, hard ice. “Mess with my boy again…” I motioned toward Stein who in all the commotion managed to get the pizza anyways. “I’ll put my foot so far up your ass you’ll be licking my boots.” With my characteristic sneer I flipped my hair behind my shoulder and grabbed Stein.

  We made our way back to the table, everyone giving us a wide berth. “You did good,” I commended, grabbing my plate from him. Once Brett made a big deal I hadn’t expected Stein to sneak his way through the line.

  “Thanks.” He handed me the change.

  We were silent while we ate, but his gaze continued to sweep over my face, curiosity gleaming in his gray eyes.

  “What?” I finally asked.

  A smile spread across his lips, bunching up his cheeks. “Why is everyone so afraid of you?”

  I arched a brow as if to say, ‘isn’t it obvious?’

  He put his pizza crust down and shook his head. “It’s just you’re kind of small. It seems illogical for a guy that big to be shaking in his boots over someone so much smaller than him.”

  “I’m stronger than I look,” I replied, nonplussed over his observation. It was a mistake a lot of people made. “I’m sure you’ll see sooner or later.” My eyes grazed over Brett. “Probably sooner.”

  “Where I’m from guys like that would have been fighting over you.”

  “Why?” I asked, putting my soda to my mouth.

  “Cause you’re—you know.” He rubbed the back of his neck, smiling bashfully. “Real pretty.”

  My cheeks suddenly felt hot. I knew I was beautiful and guys found me sexy. What was not to like? Thick black hair, dark mysterious eyes, curvy figure, and warm honey skin. But no one’s ever quite put it like that.

  “Real pretty,” I said, mocking his accent to divert attention away from me. “Where are you from anyways?”

  He ran a hand through his hair, mussing it up more. “Charleston, South Carolina.”

  A joke about southern people was on the tip of my tongue when I noticed several light pink scars on the back of his pale hand. No one else would have detected them, but my eyes picked up a lot of things others ignored. “Where’d you get those?”

  Stein averted his eyes and tugged his sle
eves down over his hands. They were on both and some didn’t look all that faded. “Nowhere,” he muttered. Sadness and shame crossed his face and his shoulders slumped, dragging himself in as if he was trying to shrink. If he was a dog he’d be pulling his tail between his legs.

  An unusual feeling of remorse settled over me. And sympathy. “Cigarette burns.” It wasn’t a question. I already knew what those kind of burns looked like—and felt like. “Who did it?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “An ex-boyfriend of my aunt’s did that to me once,” I admitted, surprising myself.

  Stein finally met my eyes. “How old were you?”

  “Ten.” An odd knot formed in my chest, remembering the day the piece of shit did it. I spilled his bottle of cheap vodka on purpose so he took my punishment into his own hands while my aunt was out. He pinned me down and held a cigarette to my arm a couple of times.

  I rolled my shoulders, attempting to shake the ghost of those scared, helpless feelings away.

  “My dad used to do it,” Stein whispered. “He drinks a lot.”

  A tiny seed of anger was planted for the man who abused him. We might be nothing alike, but there was something in him I responded to. And that something made me want to protect him. “Does he still do it?”

  He shook his head. “It’s just me and my mom. He’s still in Charleston.”

  “Good,” I blurted.

  Surprise lingered in his eyes and a smile touched his lips.

  I made my face go hard. “Don’t get all mushy on me. I might still kick your ass.”

  He averted his eyes back to the table, but that stupid smile remained.

  Damn it. Why did this kid have to be so innocent and sweet?

  The end of the school day finally arrived and as I walked the parking lot with Stein, my eyes slanting toward him, hoping against all odds. “You got a car?”

  He shook his head. “No. I have to walk home.”

  Of course. Nothing could be that good. My eyes roamed the crowd of students, searching for a possible ride without finding any promising prospects. “Where do you live?”

  Stein rubbed his hands together, breathing on them. “Marion Street.”

  Not a stellar neighborhood, especially for this lanky, vision impaired southern boy. I pursed my lips, actually considering walking him home even though it was completely out of my way.

  My train of thought was interrupted when I spotted flashing blue and red lights at a house across the street. As we got closer more details came into view—yellow crime scene tape, nerdy types with Forensics printed on their jackets, and cops.

  My arm snaked out and grabbed the guy who was passing us in the other direction. “What happened over there?”

  Jamal’s face held an uncharacteristic serious note. “An old lady was killed.”

  My eyebrows rose. “Seriously?”

  “Yeah. They’re saying a dog went nuts and tore her throat out.”

  “What!” Stein squeaked.

  Unease settled in my chest. “When?”

  Jamal rubbed his head with a massive hand, feeling the ripples in his buzzed black hair while his dark eyes turned pensive. “Last night—around ten maybe.”

  My eyes flickered to the busy house, that unease growing into a pit of confusion and anxiety. I walked past that house last night around that time and I never heard a sound. I heard everything. It was silent. Nothing was wrong.

  “Stein, right?” Jamal asked.

  Lost in my thoughts I forgot those two were still standing there.

  “Uh yeah.”

  Jamal tossed an arm over his shoulder, nearly knocking him over. They were almost the same height, but Jamal’s chocolate skin was the opposite of Stein’s porcelain complexion. “Don’t worry man. If you stick with Kory nothing’s gonna get you.” He flashed me a crooked grin, displaying his straight, pearly white teeth. “Except for Kory herself.”

  “Get out of here,” I said, nudging his shoulder with a rueful expression. “Come on Stein.”

  Jamal trudged away, his heavy boots scuffing against the pavement.

  Steady approaching footsteps that were meant to be stealthy were suddenly closing in on me. My muscles tensed and adrenaline poured through my veins, but I kept my movements causal as if clueless to the impending attack. They were seconds away when I whirled around and rammed my shoulder into the oncoming guy. Brett Baustic.

  I saw the shock on his all-American face as he stumbled into the nearest car. Luckily it didn’t have an alarm to alert the entire parking lot of the unfolding fight. Well lucky for me. Brett on the other hand was about to get an ass kicking.

  I pushed Stein out of the way—I hoped not too hard—and was on Brett in a heartbeat. Bloodlust settled on my tongue and violence pumped through my body. I loved a good fight and I’d been waiting for a reason to crack my fists against this tool again.

  Brett was quick, his body aided by years of sports. It didn’t matter I was a girl, especially considering I could take on someone twice my size and maybe even two at a time. To Brett I was just an obstacle in his way of having a perfect, king of the jocks high school experience.

  He reared back for a punch, letting his meaty fist fly. I easily flicked it away and took a moment to savor the fear in his baby blues before landing a punch on his jaw that sent him into the car again with a thud.

  By this time a few people had gathered, their voices dulled by the throbbing of blood and adrenaline. With a growl of frustration Brett recovered and dashed for me. I feinted left then jabbed him in the gut once and then across the side of his face. His head snapped around, body slowly wavering until finally falling to the concrete.

  Cold disappointment over the quick fight cooled the raging violence boiling through me.

  Several shouts of elation rose from bystanders before the crowd began to disperse. I leaned over Brett as he curled on his side, cradling his ribs. “Don’t ever try to sneak up on me again,” I ground out, my tone woven with danger. “You’re lucky there are so many witnesses otherwise it would have been worse.” I turned away and headed toward the road before any teachers got wind of a fight.

  Stein quickly caught up with me. “Holy crap! You really just beat him up!” His voice grew two octaves higher.

  I nodded. “Now you know why people are scared of me.”

  “Yeah,” he breathed.

  I reluctantly glanced at him and saw not fear in his eyes, but wonder and excitement. My brow arched questioningly. “What?”

  Stein’s grin reached his red ears. “That was amazing. You are amazing.”

  I laughed in spite of myself.

  Four

  I WAS SITTING AT THE round Formica kitchen table, staring at a 32mm. “You can’t be serious Maggie. You don’t even know how to use a gun.”

  She waved her hand in the air dismissively. “All you do is point and pull the trigger.”

  I shot her an incredulous expression, knowing from experience it was a little more than that.

  Our kitchen resembled the rest of the house, in serious need of repair. The counters were old foe marble laminate and cheap cabinets painted white. The faded linoleum was curling up at a few edges, revealing the subfloor below. The appliances were a mismatch of black and white—well more like dingy beige now. A small murky window above the sink revealed our barren, miniscule backyard.

  “I need something to protect myself with. This place is dangerous. I heard about that old lady murdered by Duchene. A dog my ass. It was probably some sicko.”

  I thought it was needless to point out I might agree. “If you want to protect yourself get a taser. It would be safer.”

  She scoffed and flicked her cigarette. “Oh please. Like I could afford one of those.”

  My brow furrowed, suspicion worming its way in. “Where’d you get this?”

  “Nate.”

  I rolled my eyes, my lip curling in contempt. “Seriously?” Nate was a younger friend of hers that, while he wasn’t as bad as some of her friend
s, he was still shady. “You know this is probably stolen, right?” The guy was twenty-seven, but often had the brain of a sixteen year old.

  She shrugged, moving the blonde ponytail that rested on her shoulder. “I’ll take my chances.

  “Give this thing back to Nate and I’ll try to find you a taser gun or something.”

  A grin broke across her delicate face, her blue eyes bright with surprise. “Really? You think you could?”

  “Sure.” I unsuccessfully suppressed a smile. Maggie was having one of her good moments when she was lucid and alert. She wasn’t nodding off or mumbling. Or passed out with a half burnt cigarette. She hadn’t taken anything for a while.

  My smile soon faded. Her good moment wouldn’t last. They never did. She’d be in her pill bottles soon. I just wish she’d realize she didn’t need them.

  A knock on the back door resonated through the kitchen and in walked Nate without waiting on an invitation. He had a swimmer’s physique—tall with lean, defined muscles. A mop of shaggy dark brown hair brushed the tip of his ears and a lopsided grin parted soft, full lips. His t-shirt displaying some hockey team strained against his shoulders while the hem of his threadbare jeans brushed the floor. He wasn’t completely disgusting or anything…

  Okay. I admit it. He was kind of attractive.

  He kissed my aunt on the cheek and winked a hazel eye at me.

  I grimaced.

  “Nice to see you too Kory,” he said, taking a seat next to Maggie at the table, flashing a grin.

  Nate had a tiny white scar above his left eye. When I was fourteen he bet me a twenty I couldn’t knock him out. I won the twenty bucks.

  “You’re taking this back.” I slid the gun toward him.

  He rolled his eyes. “She needs to protect herself.”

  “I’m taking care of it.” My face hardened sharp enough to slice him.

  Nate flinched. “Fine whatever.”

  “Okay you two,” Maggie laughed. “Do you want something to drink Nate?”

  “Yeah. I’ll take a beer if you got any.”

  Maggie went to the fridge for a beer than started fumbling in the junk drawer for a bottle opener.