Better When He's Bad

  He made a noise in his throat and rolled his head around on his shoulders.

  “You grew up in the ghetto. Are we ever really kids?”

  It was a valid point, but that still didn’t explain a nice house in a pricey neighborhood.

  “Why doesn’t she live here if you did something so nice for her? It had to cost an arm and a leg.”

  I was really starting to think Race hadn’t bothered to tell me anything about his life before finding me. A few insights into his complicated friend would have been really useful right now.

  “Whoever said crime doesn’t pay is an idiot. It pays great, which is why there is so much of it. I bought her a house because I knew eventually I was going to end up dead or in jail and I wanted her to be okay no matter what happened to me. The one stipulation I put on her was that she had to be sober. She can’t stay here while she’s drinking.”

  I hissed out a breath, because addiction and mothers were a sore spot for me as well.

  “You mean to tell me she has this house free of charge and all she has to do is not drink?”

  “Yep.”

  “Wow.”

  He looked at me and opened his door. “Anyway, it’s empty and no one knows about it because she never dried out enough to move in, so you’ll be safe here for a while. We’ll try and figure out some food and clothes tomorrow.”

  I got out of the car and looked up at the house. This was my dream. A cute little house in a safe place. I had never even been close to something like this. It was just sad that some people couldn’t let go of their vices long enough to appreciate a gift like this.

  “It’s lovely. Who took care of it for you while you were locked up?”

  He grunted, his standard response when I asked him anything he didn’t want to answer.

  “Same person that took care of my car.”

  I wanted to ask who that was, considering the only friend he seemed to have was on the run and in hiding right now, but I didn’t want to push my luck and I really wanted to see inside the house.

  “Are you leaving me here alone?” I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. I was worn out from being in his presence for the last few hours. Being around him was like constantly getting shocked by a jolt of electricity. I just couldn’t find solid footing around him, and yet, besides Race, I had never felt more like someone wouldn’t let anything hurt me.

  Those dark eyes were fathomless. I wished he was easier to read.

  “For tonight I’ll crash on the couch.”

  I wasn’t going to ask where he typically spent the night. I was sure the answer had to do with the impressive package I had felt pressed against me when he kissed me earlier. It wasn’t my business and I didn’t want to start feeling like it should be.

  As he cracked open the door and walked inside, I asked, “What did you set up with that guy at the rave? A race or something?”

  “No, I wish. No one will run a street race with me anymore. I never lose, so they stopped asking.”

  I had seen him drive, so that wasn’t really a surprise.

  “What then?”

  He cocked an eyebrow at me and flipped on a light switch. It looked like a model home. Everything inside was pristine and untouched, all cool, neutral colors that reeked of professional design. It was so lovely it almost hurt. I looked at Bax and noticed he was taking it all in with a more cynical eye.

  “The master bedroom is in the back, off the kitchen. It has a bed in it and I think the sheets and stuff might be in the closet. I’m sure everything is covered in dust, but it’ll do for a night or two.”

  I could hear the disdain in his gruff voice. He pulled out a cigarette and headed toward the front door.

  “A fight. I set up a fight.”

  I frowned at his back. “Like a fistfight?”

  He chuckled, but it had no humor in it. “One can hope only fists will be used. Try and get some sleep, Copper-Top. If my luck holds, shit is going to get way worse before it gets better.”

  I bit my bottom lip and noticed his eyes followed the movement intently. That made something hot and tingly slide down my spine. I wasn’t used to overt male attention and Shane Baxter was most assuredly overtly male.

  “That’s an awful attitude to have.”

  “It makes for less disappointment later. Go to bed, Dovie.”

  It was the first time he called me by my name. As I turned and went to find the room he had indicated I could use, I couldn’t deny that the sound of it in his raspy, rough voice made me remember I was a girl, with all kinds of girl parts that reacted to a hot guy. Even if my head was screaming RUN AWAY! as loudly as it could.

  What had Race gotten me into?

  CHAPTER 5

  Bax

  I WAS A LIGHT sleeper. Always had been, but being locked up made me even more so. Not to mention this house made my skin crawl. It just reminded me that even when I tried to do good, it blew up in my face and ended up bad. I lifted my head up at the barest sound of feet on the floor. I was sprawled out on the couch; I hadn’t bothered to go find a blanket or anything¸ so I hoped if Dovie was making her way toward me, she was ready to handle me in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs. I wasn’t motivated enough or gentlemanly enough to bother to scramble for my pants. I didn’t embarrass easily, and since she was the one all up in my space, she could deal with me in my skivvies.

  The footsteps drew closer and I leaned around the arm of the couch enough to see her lingering in the walk-through between the kitchen and the living room. None of the lights were on but there was no missing the minimal light glowing off her white skin. She was luminous, and missing her pants as well. She still had on that gigantic sweater, but the expanse of leg sticking out from the hem that hit her at midthigh was all toned and elegantly curved. If I was a leg man, hers would’ve been in the top of those I had ever seen for sure.

  “What’s wrong?” I saw her jump a little and twirl a curl around her finger. I noticed it was what she did when she was nervous or uneasy.

  “Did I wake you up?”

  I ran my hands roughly over my face and swung my legs so my feet were on the floor. I leaned my neck back on the cushion and stared at the darkened ceiling.

  “No,” I lied. “I don’t like being here.”

  She came around the side of the couch and flopped down next to me, close but not touching. She curled her bare legs up under her and I tried not to watch. I felt as her eyes skated over my mostly naked form and then snapped back up to my face. My body was a road map of a short life lived hard and too fast. I had a nasty scar on my ribs from a dirt-bike accident when I was ten. I had a wicked scar that ran the entire length of my bicep from putting my hand through a car window when I was first starting out. There was also a lovely battle wound on my back to match the scar on my head from the one and only time I hadn’t been fast enough to get away from an angry cop and his baton. Not to mention I had a giant tattoo of the classic V8 logo on my stomach, and BAX in huge letters that ran across my upper back from shoulder blade to shoulder blade. On the opposite side of my ribs I had a naked hot-rod girl straddling a spark plug, and in places that it was too dark and too private to see, I had twin checkered flags indicating that whoever was lucky enough to see them had indeed reached the finish line.

  I was sure she was appalled by it all, appalled by me in general, but she tapped her fingers on her naked knee and told me, “That sucks. It’s a really nice house. My mom was messed up too. That’s how I ended up in the system. She wanted to do drugs, not be a parent.”

  I wasn’t big on talking, much less on sharing, but she didn’t seem like she was going anywhere, so I sighed and closed my eyes and crossed my hands over my flat stomach.

  “She gets dry. She tries. It just never sticks, and I’ve learned to stop pushing. It’s not like a guy with a prison record and no legitimate means of employment can cast judgment on what anyone else is doing right or wrong. I love her, she’s my mom, so this is the kind of relationship we have.”

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nbsp; She made a little noise of sympathy and it twisted something inside my chest. If it had been pity I would’ve just shut her out, but since it was empathy, I wasn’t sure what to do with it.

  “Tell me about Race. I need to understand why you’re doing this, making people mad, rattling cages. Clearly you’re putting yourself in danger for him. Why?”

  I tilted my head and pried my eyes open to look at her. Her head was bent and she was staring intently at the stack of my hands on my abdomen and the Road Runner tattoo perched there. If she looked any lower, she would be blushing, because right or wrong, we were both missing enough clothes in the dark to make my dick interested in what was going on.

  “I got us into trouble, Race got us out.” She snorted and I had to grin. “When Nassir said Race didn’t like the way he did business, he wasn’t lying, but that was because his business normally ended up with me risking my neck or getting my ass kicked, and Race hated it. When I first started boosting cars, Nassir was the middleman between me and Novak. He took a cut of everything I did and it bugged Race to no end that I was the one on the line, the one breaking the law, and Nassir could just sit back with clean hands and let me do it.”

  I shifted my leg to give my burgeoning erection some room and saw her blink. I bit back a grin.

  “Race was the one who told me to cut out the middleman and go right to Novak. He was a big-picture guy and competitive as hell. It didn’t matter how much I wanted to party, Race partied harder. It didn’t matter how many chicks I wanted to plow through, Race wanted more. It was like he was trying to prove who he was despite his background, instead of because of it. It was like that with breaking the law. I did what I did because I was good at it, loved the cars and the thrill. Race wanted it to be a business, wanted to be smart about it. At first it was awesome, and then we started to realize just how deep in we were. I never wanted to be owned by anybody, and Race was still tied to the Hill and the Hartman fortune. We got disillusioned, stuck, risking bigger and bigger scores, and he had enough. He was supposed to be working on a way to get us out when I got busted.”

  She cleared her throat and I watched as she had to drag her eyes up from what was happening below my waist.

  “How did you get caught if you were so good?”

  That was dangerous territory and I wasn’t sure she was ready to hear it.

  “I was set up.”

  She blew out a breath that sent her red curls dancing.

  “By who?”

  I lifted my hands up off my stomach and pushed them out in front of me until my knuckles popped loud in the quiet house.

  “By Race.”

  Dead silence met my words. More for shock value than anything else, I reached down between my legs and adjusted my junk. I heard her make a strangled noise.

  “No way. He loved you like a brother. He never would’ve done that to you. He never would’ve told me to trust you if you came looking for him if he thought you were going to use me or seek out revenge.”

  I got to my feet and went to where I had tossed my discarded pants. I yanked them on and fished out a cigarette from the pocket.

  “You also never thought he would bang a stripper, when I know for a fact he used to do that very thing on a regular basis. We never really know anyone all the way through and through, and it is ultimately every man for himself on the street.”

  “I just don’t understand. He must’ve had a reason. He never would betray you like that. I told you he talked endlessly about how guilty he felt that you went away.”

  I stuck the smoke in the edge of my mouth and moved to the couch. I put one hand on the arm and the other on the cushion behind her head so that she was caged in between them. I looked down at her. Those green eyes were full of a mixture of compassion, disbelief, and fear. I could see the delicate flare of her nose expand when I leaned down so that we were almost nose to nose.

  “No one can ever know a man’s motivations when he’s desperate. I don’t know why he did it, but I’m going to find out.”

  She gulped a little and put a shaky hand to her throat.

  “And then what?” It was barely a whisper from her full, trembling lips.

  “Depends on his answer.” I shoved up off the couch. “Go back to bed.”

  She nodded mutely and I went out the front door to suck some calming toxins into my lungs. I stayed outside for a few minutes, long enough to get my raging hormones under control. I needed to stop associating Race’s sister with anything sexual. That was a whole bag of “not going to happen.” I didn’t need to be wrestling with blue balls until I figured out my buddy’s agenda.

  I locked the front door and went to kick my pants back off when I noticed she had listened to me, only instead of going back into the bedroom, she was curled in a little ball on the end of the sofa. I just stared at her, dumbfounded. I didn’t know what to do with her. She didn’t look comfortable, but I wasn’t sure she would stay asleep if I snatched her up and dumped her back in the room. I scratched my head and decided I would just leave her and go take the bed for myself for the rest of the night. I was in the kitchen when I heard her whimper. Whatever had woken her up originally obviously hadn’t worked its way out of her system.

  I whispered a litany of swearwords and sat down next to her on the sofa. I got an arm around her shoulders and wiggled so I could put her back against the cushions, and stretched out in front of her. I was more than likely going to end up on the floor. I wasn’t tiny and it was already a tight fit, but she wound an arm around my neck, situated a leg between my own, and settled into a much more comfortable- and restful-sounding sleep. I was glad one of us could rest. Being this close to any girl, but really being almost on top of this intriguing and surprising girl, was doing a number not only on my restraint but on my willpower. I shouldn’t be interested in anything about her; instead, I was interested in everything about her, and I didn’t like it one bit.

  Her soft breath feathered against my neck and I groaned out loud and resigned myself to a long, sleepless night.

  “I WAS JUST GOING to wait until I saw you at work to ask, but the situation is more serious than I thought.”

  I groaned and threw an arm over my eyes as all my stiff muscles tried to straighten out. I was by myself on the couch and Dovie was obviously on the phone. Morning light was smacking me right in the face and I had a crick in my neck from holding Dovie close to my chest all night.

  “Yeah, everything is gone. No clothes, no books, no anything. I’m not sure how long I’ll have to stay with you, but my place just isn’t safe.”

  I heard her mutter something else and say a quiet “thank you,” then her footsteps as she came back into the living room. She perched on the arm of the couch and looked down at me. I lifted my arm to meet her leafy gaze. She was gnawing on her lower lip and messing with her hair, so I knew she was uncomfortable.

  “My friend Brysen lives about six blocks from here. I’m going to go stay with her. No one knows that I talk to her since we’re really only coworkers, so it should be fine, safe.”

  I don’t know why she thought I would argue with her, so I just put my arm back over my eyes.

  “I’ll drop you off.”

  She cleared her throat and I sighed because clearly she wasn’t going to let me go back to sleep. Something had gotten under her skin at some point between using me as a pillow and waking up.

  “I still really want to help find Race, to make sure he’s okay. After last night and what you told me, I’m not sure how honest your motivation to help him really is.”

  It was early, I was sore and cranky, and I had zero interest in trying to convince this uptight chick I wasn’t out to cause Race any more trouble. I swung my feet to the floor, found my T-shirt, and pulled it on over my head. My teeth felt gross and I needed an Advil for my neck in the worst way. I cut her an impatient look as I tugged my boots on impatiently.

  “Do you need some cash?”

  She blinked at me like an owl. “Excuse me?”
r />   I swore and shoved up to my feet. I was hungry. I needed to ditch her and find some food. She was messing with my game and my head. I didn’t have time for any of that nonsense.

  “Cash, money, dollars, currency . . . do you need some money to get some clothes and girly shit until you can stop laying low?”

  She tilted her head at me like I was speaking a foreign language, so I swore under my breath and pulled a couple hundreds out of my wallet and shoved them into her hand.

  “Let’s go. I’m starving and I’ve had enough of this house.” I headed for the front door, not bothering to see if she was following me or not. She was acting scared, and it irritated me. I hadn’t done anything scandalous or forward toward her and she was acting like I had followed through on my threat from the night before.

  I heard her scrambling behind me, and before I could round the car, she stopped me with a hand on my elbow. She tried to shove the money back at me but I just shook her off and went to the driver’s door.

  “I can’t take this from you. We aren’t friends. I don’t even think we’re on the same team anymore, and I don’t want anything to do with your criminal enterprise.”

  I gritted my teeth and lifted an eyebrow. She was being a bitch this morning. I figured waking up on top of me might not have been something that thrilled her, but I would be damned if I was going to be a target for her ire.

  “Get in the car. The money is clean.” Well, clean in terms of that I earned it selling an old Super Bee I had fixed up and turned into a straight street rod. Not clean in terms of I won the Bee in an illegal race before I was even old enough to vote. “I don’t have the patience to deal with you this morning, Copper-Top, so your choice. Get in and let me drop you off, or walk. I don’t give two fucks either way.”

  She was considering it. I could see it, but I started the car and she climbed in. Her hair was a tangled mess. I knew it was softer than anything I had ever felt in life and it was real easy to get your hands all twisted up in those curls, but I didn’t want to think about that. Her lips were compressed in a tight line and she had her arms crossed under what I was beginning to suspect were some seriously awesome breasts, if her legs were any indication as to what the rest of her looked like. She resembled a little kid pouting. I think it peeved her I wasn’t going to delve into the complicated girl reasoning that made her need to get away from me. It was what it was, and all it meant for me was that I could move about more freely while trying to find Race.