Kell couldn’t breathe. “Dad, I’m trying to be honest with you. I’m not lying to hurt you.” A tear ran down one cheek and he hurried to wipe it away, not wanting to show more weakness. “I need your help. The upper classmen at school are getting crazier!” Kell twisted his hands nervously. “Then do you think you can pay for me to have more one on one lessons at the dojo?”
His father stood from his desk so fast his leather chair flew back and slammed against the expensive china hutch behind him. “Ugh. That goddamn dojo won’t see another dime of my money. It never made you a man. Hell, I deserve a refund. Get upstairs. Pack your bag, you’re heading back to school early.”
His father had James, his driver, haul him back to the best private Catholic school in Georgia, the school from hell. Little did he realize that it would be the last time he’d see his father.
Kell got up from the table on shaky legs and stared out of the window. No matter how much he wanted to deny it, being cast out of his family still hurt like hell. All because of how he looked and how he chose to love. It’d been twelve years since that terrible day and the wound was still raw. Kell took another deep breath and held it for five seconds before blowing it out slowly. Why do I continue to look down that road? Nothing can be changed. Questioning himself was meaningless. His sensei would say, “Your past can’t be changed but your future is within your power.”
He had a good life and he should be grateful, because most outcasts like him didn’t always land on their feet. If it hadn’t been for Quick, Kell was positive he would’ve been one of those negative statistics. But, his sensei had seen something in him and had taken him in. Helped him to finish his classes at the school that his father continued to pay for, and nothing more. Kell had a minimal allowance that his father gave him each month, which would’ve been enough if he’d had the balls to stay on campus, but he’d been convinced those seniors were going to follow through on one of their deadly threats. Instead, he’d started sneaking back into the dojo after classes and sleeping in a sleeping bag until Quick had caught him and made Kell tell him everything. From that day on, martial arts had become his life.
Damnit, he had to stop letting his sensei down. Quick wanted him to join Duke’s bail recovery agent training course. Kell’s eligibility had already been determined. He was of legal age and a permanent resident. He’d had a gun permit since he was twenty-one. He’d completed the eight-hour fugitive recovery course required by the state of Georgia and had passed with flying colors. One thing Quick had done when Kell’s father sent him into exile, was to make sure he finished high school, but at another Catholic Academy. He said that Kell deserved the best education and he shouldn’t let his pride keep him from receiving just that. So, he’d let his father continue to pay for the tuition, and Kell had stayed away as promised. His sensei had coupled his own teachings with his honors studies.
Quick wouldn’t lead him astray after all this time. He’d guided him through the most important years of his life—young adulthood. Never making him feel like he didn’t have a family. Quick welcomed Kell into his home, and to dinner every night, on trips with Quick’s son, Vaughan, who didn’t hesitate to treat him like a baby brother.
Kell’s path was right there, laid out for him, Quick pointing him toward a newer, more fulfilling path. All that remained was for Kell to join a reputable bond company and start training. And there was no agency better than Duke’s.
It was time for a new direction. He didn’t want to retire a martial arts instructor. He enjoyed assisting Quick and working with the students, but it only put a couple of bucks in the bank. In a few years he’d be knocking on thirty’s door. It was time to make some grown-up decisions. He couldn’t keep going like this. His anger and bitterness getting the better of him. Him thinking it was his duty to stick his nose into any situation and try to right any wrong. Like the man who’d been rude to the pregnant woman on the bus by refusing to let her sit as she held a grocery bag in one hand a toddler in the other. Kell had made sure that bastard learned some manners that day. Or the selfish, entitled frat boys—those were the ones he really hated the most—were fussing at a homeless man for begging too close to a restaurant they were dining at. Kell was more than happy to rid them of their “spare change” and give it to the homeless man. People could be so damn disrespectful, and it ate at him until he had to do something. But sometimes his somethings were overdone just a bit. However, the word ‘overdone’ was a gross understatement for describing his latest bout.