Torn (All Torn Up Book 1)

Kenzi ~ age two

Toren ~ age seventeen

She’s slamming one of the kitchen cabinets open and closed while I’m trying to read a magazine. Babysitting on a Friday night isn’t exactly my idea of fun, but Ash and Ember wanted to get away for a night to see a movie. So Uncle Tor said yes and stayed home. As usual.

Slam. Slam.

‘Kenzi,’ I warn. ‘You better stop slamming that door.’

She looks over at me, giggles, and slams it again. Harder.

‘I mean it, I’m gonna put you to bed early if you don’t stop.’

She looks at me, then the cabinet, then at me again.

Slam.

Pushing the chair back, I stand and she tries to toddle off, falls, and starts to cry. I kneel down and pick her up.

‘Where does it hurt, Angel?’ I ask, knowing she didn’t get hurt.

She holds out her palm, sniffling. ‘Here…’

‘Should I kiss it and make it better? Do you think that’ll work?’

She nods, her hair falling over her eyes. I grab her hand and plant a big noisy kiss on her palm.

‘All better now?’

Nodding, she wraps her little arms around my neck and rests her head against mine.

‘Uh huh.’

All she wanted was for me to chase her and hug her. It’s what she does.

And I melt every time.

Tor

As I drive to the shop, I’m still exhausted and pissed off from the night before. Sleep never came last night, fury racing through my veins for hours along with something else I can’t find the words to explain.

That asshole put his hands on her and had the nerve to call her a cock tease. He ruined a night that was supposed to be special and memorable, and now I want to wring his skinny neck. He’s an idiot for even thinking he could ever have a girl like her, and I’m proud of her for saying no to him. If I ever cross paths with Jason again, I’m going to beat some respect into him. He’ll be wearing the imprint of my silver skull rings on his pretty boy face for a long time.

I tell myself my rage stems from some punk pawing my niece like a twenty-buck whore. I’d feel the exact same way if someone treated my little sister like that and my reaction would be the same.

But, not quite the same, right, Tor?

The feelings that surfaced later, when her hands slowly crept down my shoulders to my chest and her eyes fixated on my mouth, her own lips parting and practically begging…I don’t know what the fuck that was.

I tell myself the way our bodies melted perfectly into each other for what could only have been mere seconds, and how her voice took on a sweet, sensual wistfulness when she told me she wanted to hide me away in her box of cherished possessions, all meant nothing and were figments of exhaustion.

I lie.

I’d live in that box for the rest of my life just to make her happy.

At the next stop light, I close my eyes and lean my forehead against the steering wheel, then pull back slightly and bang my head against it. Hard. And again. And again. And again. Until blood trickles down my face.

I did not just think that. I did not feel any of that. I did not pull her closer. I did not silently beg her to never take her hands off me. I did not want to touch her face and promise her the world. I did not love seeing her in nothing but my shirt in the middle of my kitchen.

I will never, ever let my mind wander to her again.

I will never, ever wish for what I can never have.

The car behind me blares its horn for me to move, rousing me from my thoughts and brain-banging.

‘Alright, alright…’ I mutter into the rearview mirror, gunning the gas and wiping my hand across my bloody forehead. Everyone is so fucking impatient nowadays.

My mood today could not be more perfect for the task at hand. Tanner and our buddy Sled don’t say a word as we drive to the address given to us by an anonymous tipper. I barely have to look at the address to know where the house is. Nine times out of ten, they’re in the same neighborhood, and this one’s no exception. It’s a seedy part of a nearby town, home to drug dealers, addicts, and assorted derelicts. There was a time when I spent way too much time in this part of town, fighting underground and engaging in other activities I’m not proud of. Watching my brothers follow me down that same destructive path forced me to get out, and I convinced them to get out of it too before one of us ended up in prison or dead.

So now, we build custom bikes, and we rescue lost and abused pets. And on some days, like today, we might just get the chance to fight and give some asshole a well-deserved ass kicking. That’s always a bonus, especially when I’m in a bad mood.

I park the truck across the street from the house in question and we take a quick inventory of our surroundings as we make our way to the front door. A large garage in the back has the tell-tale boarded up windows. Several rusty dog cages are stacked next to the garage, partially hidden in the bushes. We’ve been doing this for years with a decent success rate, but there’s always the chance we could get shot or stabbed by someone strung out on drugs or just unwilling to comply with our demands. All of us are trained fighters and know how to disarm someone, but that doesn’t make the risk any less real. We’re not cops, and these guys don’t have to go along with our plan, even though we’re giving them the easy way out, they don’t always see it that way.

Knocking on the door is my preference over the doorbell, and after three knocks the door opens and a guy with no shirt and sweatpants on squints at us.

‘Sup?’ He says.

Most of these guys aren’t too nervous when they see us at the door because we don’t look like law enforcement. When three guys show up at the door covered in tats, wearing leather vests and dark sunglasses, two with long hair and one with a half- shaved, tattooed head, they usually think we’re here to buy drugs or get in on their action.

‘Can we come inside?’ I ask.

He swings the door open. ‘Okay, bro. You lookin’ for something special?’

I’ve already noticed the white lines on the coffee table, the pill bottles, and the drug paraphernalia littering the house. A fawn pit bull is sitting beside the ratty mustard yellow couch, watching our every move. She has no visible scars, so she’s most likely a pet or a guard dog.

‘We heard you have fighting dogs.’ Tanner says, moving to my right.

The guy nods, and his suspicious expression shows he’s not quite sure how he wants to react to us. ‘I might. You lookin’ to buy or to bet? Shit goes down on Friday and Saturday.’

My teeth clench. ‘Does that all happen here?’

His eyes shift from me to my boys and it’s evident he’s not sure he can trust us. ‘Mostly, yeah.’

‘How much you asking for a fighter?’ Tanner asks, lighting up a cigar.

‘Depends on the dog. We got puppies you can train yourself or we got experienced dogs that will fight to the death and win every ring. They’re fucking gnarly terrors, man, and they go for a few grand if you’re serious.’

‘Oh we’re very serious,’ I say calmly. ‘We’re with Devils’ Wolves dog rescue.’

‘What the fuck is that?’

‘We rescue abused dogs,’ I answer. ‘Dog fighting is illegal.’

‘You the fuckin’ cops?’ He steps back, almost tripping over one of the several beer bottles on the stained carpet.

‘No, but we work with them and could have them here in about ten minutes if you don’t cooperate,’ Tanner says. ‘And it looks to me like you might not want the cops here. Unless you’re snorting baby powder over there.’

His nostrils flare at us. ‘Fuck you guys. Get out of my house.’

I shake my head. ‘Not without the dogs.’

His eyes shift over to the dog. ‘Achtung!‘ He commands, and the dog jumps to its feet, its eyes riveted on me.

‘Sitz!‘ I meet the dog’s brown eyes, unwavering, and she obeys my command and sits. ‘Bleib!’ I tell the dog to stay and turn my hard gaze to its owner after I’m convinced the dog will stay put. ‘You think I don’t know fuckin’ German?’

‘You’re gonna regret that, motherfucker,’ his arm swings up and I quickly block him. Delivering a hard punch to his face, he goes down fast to the floor. I’ve learned that making another man’s dog listen to your commands is right up there with sleeping with his woman – they don’t like it.

Sled flashes me an evil grin. ‘Nice.’

‘Thanks.’ Hitting him felt good. Too good. It’s eased some of my anger from last night, at least for the moment.

I kick the guy on the floor with my boot and he rolls over, holding his bleeding face. ‘Get up, buddy. We’re not done. Unless you like laying in your own garbage?’

‘What the fuck do you assholes want?’ He stands slowly, wiping the blood from his broken, crooked nose with the back of his hand.

‘We just want the dogs, that’s it. We don’t want your drugs, or your money. We won’t even tell the cops what we saw here. The deal is we take the dogs and you agree to never fight dogs again. Simple as that. You can sit here for the rest of your fuckin’ life and get stoned man, we don’t care. We just want the dogs.’

He attempts to talk but I raise my hand, making him flinch. ‘There’s no debates. Either you let us take the dogs, calm and quiet, or we’re calling the police, and that’s gonna go way worse for you. Your choice on how much you want to lose.’

Tanner leans down and pets the dog, which is still in the stay position, and it wags its tail at his gentle touch.

‘Take the fucking dogs.’ The guy mumbles, his voice thick and nasally.

‘Good choice. How many you got?’

‘Eight adults and four puppies downstairs and there’s four bait dogs out in the fucking garage.’

Puppies and bait dogs. What a scumbag.

I haul my arm back and crash my fist into his face again, knocking him back down onto the floor. ‘That’s for the puppies and bait dogs, asshole. You might want to stay down there, after all.’

My brother nudges my arm. ‘You in a bad mood today, Tor?’

‘You could say that.’

It takes us an hour to load the dogs up into the transport cages and into the back of my truck. Three of the dogs are in bad shape with fresh open wounds and ripped, oozing ears. The puppies are young, maybe eight weeks old, kept in the basement on the cold blood-stained floor but still wagging their tails. The bait dogs are assorted breeds, timid and shaking, and were most likely strays or picked up on Craigslist ads from ‘free to good home’ offers. Luckily, the puppies are young enough where they’ll forget the horrors they must have witnessed the first few weeks of their lives, but the bait dogs will need rehabilitation.

On our way out, we take the pretty fawn pittie that was in the living room because I don’t trust that asshole with any dog, pet or otherwise. Once an abuser, always an abuser.

My mother and a local vet who volunteers for situations like this are waiting for us when we arrive at the shelter to triage the dogs that need medical attention first. While they’re doing that, we bring the other dogs to the quarantine area and set them up in their kennels with fresh food, water, and beds. Most of them seem pretty friendly, which is a good sign they’ll be able to be put in foster homes and retrained. My guess is the guy who had these dogs was new to this sick hobby and hadn’t had them for very long. I pet each dog softly on the head before we leave. It’s a new beginning for them, and I always feel like a small part of my soul goes with each one.

My father used to tell us to try to make a difference in someone’s life every day. Even if it’s only to make them smile. Today, I made a difference. It was just for a bunch of dogs, but it still counts.

After dropping Tanner and Sled back off at the shop I decide to take the rest of the day off to unwind and get some sleep. Lisa calls my cell just as I’m turning down my street. She has the uncanny ability to always call me when I don’t want to talk to anyone.

‘Yeah?’ I say into my phone, not doing much to hide my irritation.

‘Hey. You didn’t answer your phone earlier so I called the shop and they said you went home.’

‘We took fighting dogs out of some guy’s place this morning. I’m in a shit mood so I just wanted to go home and sleep it off.’

‘Isn’t that something the cops should be doing?’

My teeth grind together. ‘We have an arrangement. We go in first.’

‘Oh. Do you think you’ll be in a better mood tonight?’

‘Maybe,’ Let me check my crystal ball first. ‘Why?’

‘I was thinking we could meet at the bar, maybe play some pool? I’ll be there with one of my girlfriends and thought it would be nice if you hung out with us.’

Lisa either wants to show me off or let her friend psycho-analyze me. Neither of those options sit well with me but I feel like seeing Lisa will be a good distraction after the weirdness of last night so I relent and agree.

‘Alright. I have to load my feeding traps but after that I can stop by. First I’m going home to shower and nap.’

‘Great. I can’t wait to see you.’

I wish I felt that way too, but I don’t. Lisa seems to want something I can’t give her, although I’ve yet to figure out what that actually is, and I’m starting to wonder if even she knows. Story of my life. After spending almost twelve years of my life back and forth with Sydni, I’m in no rush to get seriously involved or becoming another second best to someone. I’m totally fucking done with that bullshit.

My stereo system is blasting when I walk through the back door, and Kenzi is pushing the vacuum across the floor, dancing, completely oblivious that I’m even in the house. I watch her in amusement for a few minutes before she finally sees me and jumps about a foot in the air.

‘Tor!’ she turns off the vacuum. ‘You scared the hell out of me.’

‘Aren’t you supposed to be napping?’

‘I couldn’t sleep. And I felt bad for making you drive around last night so I wanted to make it up to you by cleaning.’

Shaking my head, I cross the kitchen to the sink and remove my sterling silver rings, revealing my bloody knuckles underneath. I douse my hand with dish soap, wincing at the sting, and rinse with warm water.

‘What happened?’ she’s next to me now, peering into the sink at my hand, and then up at my face. ‘You’re bleeding. And you have a cut on your head,’ she lightly touches my forehead.

‘I hit the guy with the dogs.’

She pulls about two feet of paper towel off the roll and hands it to me. ‘The dog fighting guy?’

‘Yeah. We got the dogs, though. That’s all that matters.’

She crosses her arms and leans her hip against the counter, and I’m relieved to see she’s got shorts on under my t-shirt now. ‘I thought you weren’t going to hit people anymore after your stint in the clink?’

I glare at her. ‘Drop it. He deserved it.’

Ignoring me, she grabs my hand and inspects it. ‘You should put some antibiotic cream on this.’

‘I will.’

‘Want me to kiss it better like you used to do for me?’ she teases.

Fuck, yes.

Pulling my hand out of hers, I bite my tongue to make sure my thoughts don’t escape out of my mouth.

‘Did you text or call your dad?’ I ask, changing the subject. ‘I’m sure he’s wondering how your night went.’

‘Yes. I told him the prom was boring and that I was at your house cleaning and making you dinner. Jason had the nerve to text me, do you believe that?’

My old friend anger has returned. ‘What the hell did he say?’ She follows me down the hall to the bathroom and watches me put ointment on my hand.

‘He said he was sorry for being a douche.’

‘He fucking should be.’

She chews her lip. ‘Chloe told me that Julie told her that while Jason was still drunk last night, he was telling everyone at the party that my porn star body was wasted on a prude like me and I was a big tease. I’m afraid everyone is talking about me now. So his apology doesn’t mean much.’

Porn star body? That’s it. Jason is going to eat my fist.

‘Kenzi, he’s an asshole punk who’s pissed because he didn’t get laid. I bet everyone at the party was equally wasted. No one will even remember this in a few days.’

Her blinking watery eyes crush my heart. ‘I hate that people might be saying bad things about me. I don’t bother anyone, I’m nice to everyone. I just stay in my own little bubble. And they always find something to start with me about. First Dad’s band, then my mom, then having money, being too quiet, and now this. I can’t wait to graduate and get away from all of them.’

I stick a bandage over my knuckle, wishing I could put one on what’s hurting her, too. ‘They’re immature and jealous, Kenzi. Unfortunately, it won’t change much as you get older. There’s always going to be people who will treat us badly because they’re jealous or just unhappy with their own damn lives. You have to rise above it and do your best to ignore them and focus on your own life and happiness,’ she gives me a sad little nod. ‘You’re a beautiful girl, Angel. You’re smart and you have a great personality. You have an awesome family that loves you, you have Chloe, and you’re getting a huge inheritance when you turn twenty-five. You can do whatever you want with your life. You’re going to be just fine, trust me.’

‘What about you?’

I frown at her. ‘What about me?’

She runs her finger along the edge of the sink, her eyes following it intently. ‘You said I have my family and Chloe, but you didn’t mention you.’

‘Oh,’ I rub the back of my neck, unsure of what to say. ‘I’ll always be here for you. But you’re getting older now. I’m sure you’ll have a boyfriend soon that isn’t a dickhead. You’ll be doing your modeling and calligraphy and chasing after all your dreams, making new friends…all that stuff. You’re not going to be wanting to be hanging around with an old boring guy like me.’

‘You’re not boring, Tor.’

‘I promised your dad I’d look out for you when your mom had the accident. You won’t be needing me around much anymore.’

‘Oh…I guess you’re right.’

I ruffle her hair and step out of the bathroom, uncomfortable with the feelings I’m having over not spending as much time with her in the future. Why should it matter? She’s just my best friend’s kid that I helped take care of.

In my bedroom, I pull off my shirt and toss it at the laundry basket in the corner, and I’m surprised when I turn around to see her standing in the doorway, still with a sad, worried expression in her eyes.

‘Don’t worry about the idiots at school, Kenzi. Just ignore them. What’s left, like two weeks of school?’

‘That’s not what I’m thinking about.’ She watches me pull clean clothes out of my dresser and lay them out on my bed.

‘Then what’s wrong?’

‘I never imagined there would be a time when I would see you less. I’ll miss you.’

‘I’ll miss you, too, but you can see me anytime you want, or call me. You know where to find me.’

‘I hope so,’ She sniffles. ‘I talked to your mom about continuing to volunteer at the shelter, too. She said she would love it. And I want to keep helping you with your rescues, if you still want me to.’

‘Of course I do. Fuck, you can still clean my house after you graduate if you want to, and I’ll still pay you. Nothing has to change, Kenzi. I just figured you’d be moving on, wanting to do different things with your life and not hanging around with me all the time.’

‘I like hanging around with you.’ The soft tone of her voice, and the way her eyes are roving over my chest is making me feel like all the air has been sucked out of my lungs. My house suddenly feels insanely small and lacking oxygen.

‘Then you can. Anytime,’ I refuse to let my eyes lock with hers. I don’t want to see what’s there, or what might not be there.

‘Good.’

‘Actually there was something else I wanted to ask you but I was going to talk to Ash about it first. But since we’re already talking, I’ll just ask you directly. The girl who works the front register at the shop and greets our customers and books appointments is leaving in September.’

‘Gretchen?’

‘Yeah. Her husband is getting transferred to Connecticut so they’re moving. I wanted to ask you if you wanted the job. It doesn’t pay much, but you at least know about bikes and you know -‘

‘Yes. I want to.’ She says before I can finish, without any hesitation. ‘I would love that.’

‘You’re sure? It’s not very exciting.’

‘I don’t care.’

‘I just kinda feel like you’re doing everything for me. The house cleaning, volunteering with my mom, and now this. I don’t want you to think I’m turning you into my own personal slave.’ And fuck…that’s wicked appealing.

Her tongue slides across her bottom lip. ‘I don’t mind at all. I love all of it.’

I tear my eyes off her mouth and walk across my room to open the window. I need air. Lots of it. Badly.

‘Okay, then it’s settled. Now I’m going to take a shower, grab a quick nap, we’ll load the traps, then I’ll take you home. Sound good?’

‘Yes, of course. I made lasagna, I just have to put it in the oven when you’re ready to eat.’

Damn. I figured she would have just blown that idea off, but she really made me dinner. And one of my favorite dishes, to boot. When was the last time anyone cooked for me who wasn’t my mother? I can’t remember.

‘That sounds great. Wake me up around four and we’ll eat.’

‘Okay. I’m going to nap on your couch. I’ll set the alarm on my phone so we don’t end up sleeping ’til tomorrow.’ She finally smiles at me, some of the sadness in her eyes fading.

I close my door when she leaves, which I’ve never done before. When she stayed here when she was little, she would leave the guest room in the middle of the night, drag about ten stuffed animals and her favorite blanket up onto my bed, and sleep on my king-sized bed with me. I’d usually wake up with a teddy bear or two rammed into my back.

I’m worried with her feeling sad she might try to crawl onto my bed with me again.

And I’m not sure I wouldn’t like it.