Renner's Rules
Renner’s Rules
Copyright © 2018 K Webster
Cover Design: All By Design
Photo: Adobe Stock
Editor: Emily A. Lawrence,
www.lawrenceediting.com
Formatting: Champagne Book Design
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information and retrieval system without express written permission from the Author/Publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
I’m a bad girl.
I was sent away.
New house. New rules. New school.
Change was supposed to be…good.
Until I met him.
No one warned me Principal Renner would be so hot.
I’d expected some old, graying man in a brown suit.
Not this.
Not well over six feet of lean muscle and piercing green eyes.
Not a rugged-faced, ax-wielding lumberjack of a man.
He’s grouchy and rude and likes to boss me around.
I find myself getting in trouble just so he’ll punish me.
Especially with his favorite metal ruler.
Being bad never felt so good.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Epigraph
K Webster’s Taboo World
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Epilogue
K Webster’s Taboo World
K Webster’s Taboo World Reading List
Books by K Webster
Acknowledgements
About the Author
To the naughty man who taught this girl everything she knows.
I love you, Mr. Webster.
“To love is nothing.
To be loved is something.
But to love and be loved, that’s everything.”
—T. Tolis
K Webster’s Taboo World
Welcome to my taboo world! These stories began as an effort to satisfy the taboo cravings in my reader group. The two stories in the duet, Bad Bad Bad, were written off the cuff and on the fly for my group. Since everyone seemed to love the stories so much, I expanded the characters and the world. I’ve been adding new stories ever since. Each book stands alone from the others and doesn’t need to be read in any particular order. I hope you enjoy the naughty characters in this town! These are quick reads sure to satisfy your craving for instalove, smokin’ hot sex, and happily ever afters!
Bad Bad Bad
Easton
Crybaby
Lawn Boys
Ex-Rated Attraction
Malfeasance
Mr. Blakely
Renner’s Rules
Several more titles to be released soon!
Thanks for reading!
K
Summer of 2002
Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop!
I roar and sling my M14 around, my finger pulling the trigger to hit the bastards who’ve snuck up on me.
“Bonilla!” I yell, as I spray 5.56 bullets at several Taliban motherfuckers.
He responds by firing from somewhere ahead of me and mows down some more men who are chasing after me like goddamn flesh-eating zombies. I haul ass toward my best friend and the rest of our unit when fire explodes in the back of my thigh.
Fuck.
I’ve been hit.
Another burning punch to the back of my right shoulder and I go down hard, face first. The flesh rips from my cheek as I slide across the hard dirt.
I’m going to die.
Right here.
At nineteen fucking years old.
“Renner!”
The popping of the gunfire all around me becomes muted and fades. I’m dying. It’s happening. Fuck. I’m not ready, dammit.
“Renner!”
“Renner.”
Sounds of war have disappeared altogether and the only thing that can be heard is the hum and beeping of the machines beside my hospital bed. The pain medicine has long since worn off and I shudder at the realization, my hand blindly reaching for the button to call for a nurse to bring more.
“Renner.”
It takes me a moment to fully blink away my daze and when I do, I discover my best friend Mateo Bonilla staring down at me. His black brows are pulled together in concern.
“Hey,” I grunt, my voice a choked hiss. Scanning the table beside me, I seek out the ice water that will help my parched throat. I remember where I’m at. Same place I’ve been for the past two weeks.
Hell.
Not really, but it sure feels like it when the nurses wheel me down to physical therapy each day. A bullet completely shattered my left kneecap, entering in from behind. It ricocheted, destroying ligaments and bone, but what nearly ended my life was when it nicked my posterior tibial artery. And had I not had a medic just feet from me when I went down, I would’ve bled out before anyone realized what had happened.
Luckily, I had Mateo.
He dragged me to safety and applied a tourniquet.
My best friend saved my life.
“How are you feeling?” he asks, his gaze raking over my face.
I know I look like shit. Road rash ripped away part of my left cheek, forehead, and chin—it’s a miracle my eyelids remained unscathed. The nurses have done a great job of distracting me every time I mention it. I haven’t had the balls to look in the mirror yet.
“Been better,” I grunt, then grit my teeth when a throbbing wave of pain ripples up my leg. “Can you get a fucking nurse in here?”
Mateo finds a nurse and twenty minutes later, I’m flying high, happy as hell. Usually, he leaves once I get pulled under, but today he lingers. I hang on to clarity enough to finally get the words out without breaking down. The last thing a man wants to do is bawl like a fucking baby to his friend.
“Te,” I murmur his nickname. “Thank you.”
He chuckles and shakes his head. “It was nothing.”
I pin him with a hard glare. “It was everything. You’re the reason I’m still here, man. I owe you big time.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he says, a smile tugging at his lips. “When you get better, I’ll call in a babysitting favor. I get no booty from the old lady when we have a two-year-old squatting in our bed.”
I smile, but I don’t have the energy to laugh. He talks nonstop about his kid. One day I’ll meet her and let him and his Puerto Rican goddess of a wife go make more babies.
“I can babysit the kid for a night,” I tell him, “but you only need what? Three minutes?”
“Fuck off, gimp,” he jokes.
I flip him off and we both grow quiet. Despite our jokes, we were both shaken up pretty badly after that day over in Afghanistan. Half our unit didn’t make it. Mateo puts on a brave face, but I know he’s mentally dealing with the same shit I am. It’s going to be a long road ahead of us.
“I leave for Tampa next week.”
His eyes flicker my way, pain reflected in them.
“For how long? Taking the wife and kid on a vacation?”
He scrubs at his jaw. “I got stationed there.”
My gut hollows out. Mateo and I’ve known each other for a year, ever since I joined the Marines at eighteen. Not seeing and working with him every day comes as a shock.
Not that I can work anymore anyway.
“Don’t do that,” he grumbles. “I’ve seen too many of our guys dig themselves into a hole of self-pity and despair. They never climb back out. You need to get better and get the fuck out of here, man. Go home. Back to Momma.”
I shoot him the bird again. “As soon as I get out of here, I’ll be right there with you.”
“No,” he says with a sigh. “Not with those injuries. You’re done, Adam. Get better and finish college. Make something of yourself that doesn’t require you to carry a gun. Relax and enjoy life. Find yourself a wife.”
Before 9/11, I’d planned to get my degree in secondary education. I wanted to teach and perhaps get into the administrative side, like my mom. She was vice-principal at Brown High School, where I went to school, for twenty-three years. But then those motherfucking terrorists tried to destroy America and I had a change of heart. Teaching seemed unimportant when I could be out there making a difference—killing assholes who tried to kill us and those we loved.
“We’ll keep in touch,” he assures me. “I’ll be up for Christmas.”
I grit my teeth and nod. “Don’t be a stranger. And, Te?”
“Yeah?”
“I still owe you that favor.”
He flashes me a wide grin. “Don’t worry, gimp, I’ll call that shit in one day.”
And with that, I watch my best friend walk away.
Present
“I didn’t do it.” Zane Mullins sits sprawled out across from me, a smirk tugging at his lips. I know the fucker did it because the camera footage says so.
“Destroying school property is grounds for expulsion,” I say with a heavy sigh.
He runs his fingers through his messy black hair and shrugs. “I don’t like going to school anyway. Hawkins is an asshole.”
“Don’t curse,” I grumble. He’s right, though. Jake Hawkins is an asshole. But he’s this school’s basketball coach and valued by most people in this town. “Destroying school property when you’re eighteen years old means we could have you arrested.”
This gets his attention.
He sits up, no longer in a slouched position, and frowns. “Dude, don’t be like that.”
I straighten my tie before standing. “You can’t write derogatory statements on Coach Hawkins’ office door. Bottom line. Or on anyone’s door for that matter.”
“So it’s just like that? You’re going to call Sheriff McMahon and have me taken to jail?” he demands, his tone increasing with anger.
I scrub at my unshaven jaw and glance out the window. We’ve been back from the Christmas break three days and Zane is already on my radar. This kid stays in my office and for some reason, I keep giving him chances.
“Zane, you can’t keep doing this without punishment.”
“Whatever, man,” he grumbles.
For a brief moment, his hard features soften. He’s the kid who three years ago led the basketball team to a championship, despite being a freshman. His next season, though, he broke his leg and his basketball career went down the toilet. Gone was the smiling, athletic kid. Now we have this bitter prick who lives to terrorize everyone, especially Hawkins.
“What do you propose I do?”
At this, he rolls his eyes. “You’re the principal. Do what you want.”
My phone buzzes in my pocket, but I ignore it as I mull over what I want to do. He needs guidance. The kid is spinning and spinning. I need to stop this.
“Sit tight,” I instruct as I stride from my office.
Leah Compton, my secretary, brightens when I stick my head out the door. “Can I help you, sir?” She pushes her chest out a bit, but I ignore her. Leah’s been flirting with me for five years, ever since she came to work at Brown High School. I never return her advances because she’s fucking married, for crying out loud.
“Can you get Kerry to come see me? Tell her to bring Zane Mullins’ file.”
At the mention of our new guidance counselor, Kerry Bowden, her smile falls. “Of course.”
Ever since Kerry got hired on, Leah acts as though she’s a threat to whatever it is she thinks is going to happen between her and me. Truth is, neither one of them is a threat. I don’t date married chicks, and I’m not into dating my staff either. Tough shit for both women.
While we wait, I take a seat, ignoring the always burning pain in my thigh and behind my knee. Taking those bullets was one of the scariest days of my life. Not a day goes by where I don’t remember.
“How’d you get those scars?” Zane asks, his voice unusually soft.
I glance up to see him staring at the left side of my face. They’re mostly not noticeable. One might think they were acne scars or something at first glance. Each day, I carry another reminder of that fateful day. When my face was shredded by dirt and rocks. The flesh is mottled and uneven, but the pink has long since faded. I can grow a beard on my cheeks if I want and years ago I did to hide. Now I don’t give a fuck anymore.
“Afghanistan,” I say.
His brows lift in surprise. “Ouch.”
I give him a forced smile. The door to my office opens and Kerry steps in. Today she’s wearing a fitted pencil skirt and flowing white blouse that accentuates her full tits. Her blond hair has been twisted into a tight bun and her black-rimmed glasses help her achieve a hot librarian look. She’s pretty, I’ll give her that, and had I met her in a bar or something, I would’ve asked her out. But she works for me and I don’t fucking go there.
“Good afternoon, Principal Renner,” she greets, her cheeks blossoming pink for a moment before she regards Zane. “Mr. Mullins.”
He stares at her tits long enough that she pulls the file up to block his view.
“Have a seat,” I instruct and motion to the chair next to our school’s biggest troublemaker.
She sits on the edge of the seat and flashes a polite smile Zane’s way. “What can I help you with?”
“How are his grades?”
“All right,” Zane answers.
I lift a brow in question as Kerry flips through the files. “Mostly Bs and a couple of Cs.”
Color me surprised. “Can the Cs be brought up to Bs?”
“Considering they’re in PE and algebra, I think so.”
“I fucking hate PE,” he grumbles, earning a gasp from Kerry.
My leg burns and I sympathize with him. Injuries are no joke. They sometimes follow you for decades or even your lifetime. I can see how it might be hard on a kid like Zane.
“Change his elective,” I tell her. “I want him out of PE. Make him an administrative assistant here in the office. He can help Leah, you, and myself.” I glance up at him. “Stop cursing or I’ll make you write an essay on the evolution of curse words in different cultures and eras.”
“Fine, man,” he huffs.
Her lips purse together like she might argue with my instructions, but she decides to bite her tongue. “Is that all?”
“What’s the deal with algebra?” I ask him.
He shrugs. “It’s stupid easy.”
“Stupid easy?” I challenge. “If it were stupid easy, you wouldn’t be making a C.”
“I don’t care anymore. I told Ms. Hogg I already knew all of the work, but she didn’t believe me. So now I don’t care.” He shrugs his shoulders again as if this solves the problem.
“Pull him from Hogg and put him in Long’s class,” I instruct.
This time, she argues. “Coach Long teaches AP pre-calculus. If he’s doing poorly there, how will he keep up in that class?”
I rub at the tension on the back of my neck before pinning them each with a stern glare.
“Long will keep him in line and I’ll have him keep me updated on his progress. I want Zane meeting with you every Monday after school to go over his grades and his plans for college.”
“I’m not going,” Zane tells me.
“Yes,” I grunt, “you are.”
He glowers at me. “This is stupid.”
“This is my requirement if you want to keep from getting arrested,” I bark out, making Kerry jump.
“Whatever,” he concedes.
“Every Monday?” she questions, suppressing a look of distaste.
“And then I want you to see about getting Coach Long to train with him.”
“I can’t run track!” Zane’s outburst has him heaving, his face burning red.
I lean across my desk. “Then you’ll walk the track.”
“Unbelievable,” he mutters.
“When I got hit over in Afghanistan, I wasn’t sure I’d walk again. You have to keep your body moving. With Coach Long, I’ll see to it that you’re with him a little a few days a week so he can work with you one on one. You won’t have a whole class full of people watching you.”
His anger melts away and he gives me a clipped nod. “Fine. Anything else, Warden?”
I chuckle. “Nope. Now get out of my office and don’t cause any more trouble. I really don’t want to have to call your dad.”
The three of us all tense slightly. Zane Mullins’ father, Felix, is a district attorney who’s running for the state senate seat. I went to high school with him and hated his guts back then. Age has only made him more of an asshole. He thinks he owns this town and everyone in it because he has money. A pain in the fucking rear.
“Tell Hawkins to stop riding my ass,” he snaps.
I let his curse word go. “Hawkins won’t be your problem anymore. Coach Long will be.” I smirk at him. Despite Everett Long being tougher and broodier, he’s actually a great teacher and coach. He’d be a good role model for Zane. Hawkins is a whiney bastard who cheats on his wife any chance he gets. I don’t have much respect for Hawkins.