PAYBACK (A Bad Boy Romance) (19 page)

E
xhausted and ravenous
, I walked on unsteady feet out of the bedroom and into the kitchen.

We’d fucked slow and hard in the shower and then once more on the bed.

I was dehydrated as fuck and if I didn't get some fluid, I’d collapse.

I tossed a bottled water to Ivy and guzzled one of my own.

She wore one of my shirts, an old metal rock tee, a throw-back from my misguided youth.

And damn, it looked fucking hot on her.

But then, she'd probably look pretty damn good in a garbage sack.

“You hungry?”

“I could eat.”

“Good.”

I grabbed a package of steaks from the fridge and a pan.

While I made quick work of frying up the steaks, she hopped up on the counter to watch.

Her blond hair, tumbling down her back, still damp from the shower, made wet spots right where her tits were.

It took great restraint not to lift her shirt and suck on her nipples like a baby needing milk.

“You can cook.”

I nodded. "A man should be able to do two things in this world; cook and fuck. The rest will fall into place."

She bit her lip. "Pretty simple philosophy."

"I'm a simple guy."

"You're anything but simple. I've figured that much out."

Her observation struck a chord but I hid it well.

I was a loner, which was why I was a good deep cover cop. I didn't form attachments and I excelled at making superficial connections with dirtbags.

Maybe because my own childhood had been an excellent training ground.

"How do you like your meat?"

"Medium rare."

"Smart girl."

I served up the steaks and buttered two slices of thick French bread. “Grub’s on“

But before I allowed her to take her plate, I wanted a kiss.

She met my gaze and I saw strength of will staring back at me.

It was sexy as hell. She could've told me to fuck off, that she'd given me enough.

But she didn't.

She kissed me.

Hard.

On her terms.

And I nearly busted a nut right there in my kitchen.

She broke the kiss first. I could’ve kissed her for much longer.

The balance of power felt tilted. As if everything had just tipped on its axis and I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.

I gave my power to no one.

I took a bite of steak and grunted with satisfaction. I was weak as a kitten and I need to power up.

But I wanted to talk to her, too. She intrigued me. Against my better judgment (why start using good sense now?) I pressed her for details.

“Before you get your panties twisted…don’t take this the wrong way. Why are you doing all this for your brother? You have to know that he’s not going to appreciate whatever you do for him.”

I was trespassing on personal ground but I didn’t care. It made me prickly that Ivy was so loyal to such a shitbag such as Frankie.

She deserved better — and yes, I recognized the irony of that statement coming from me.

I expected a ‘fuck off’ glare but she surprised me with an answer. ”Frankie didn't always used to be this way. He used to be my big brother, always looking out for me like a big brother should."

"Drugs will turn a person inside out and backwards; he's not the brother you used to know. Not anymore."

She met my gaze with unflinching strength.

As it turned out, I wasn't the only one with questions this night.

"Tell me why you leveraged your career for one night of sex."

I shrugged, uncomfortable. I’d been asking myself the same damn question since I stepped off that cliff. "Too long in deep cover, I guess,” I admitted around a hot bite.

"How long were you in?"

"Six months."

"Just to take down my brother?"

"Naww, your brother is small-time. I wanted the distributor."

"Did you get him?"

"No."

“Are you going to keep trying?”

“Probably,” I answered bluntly.

“I know Frankie deals with dangerous people. On more than one occasion he’s told me to stop asking questions. He said it was too dangerous for me to be caught snooping around.”

“He’s right. The people he works for don’t mess around. You ought to follow his advice and steer clear. Better yet, lose Frankie, too. He’s going to bring you down.”

"Are you going to keep coming after Frankie?" she asked.

I wasn’t going to lie. “Unless he proves useful in some other way.”

"What if he's trying to change?"

"He won't."

She frowned. "He might."

"And unicorns might fly out my ass when I fart."

"That's gross."

"And just as improbable. Your brother, like any fart can be, is toxic and likely to smell up the place just by popping out. Do yourself a favor and cut bait. That piece of shit is going to ruin you."

"Funny advice coming from the man who propositioned me to get what he wanted."

I didn’t care if I sounded like a hypocrite. "It is, what it is, baby girl."

Ivy made a sound of disgust, irritated. “Spare me your patronizing hypocrisy and leave my brother out of things.”

I jerked a nod, agreeing but there was an edge to my gaze as I pulled her roughly onto my lap. "Good reminder that we're not going to ride off into the sunset together. You're a hot piece of ass and I'm going to enjoy every second of fucking you but once you step over that threshold, you're on your own."

"Good. As if I would chase after you for a date or something," she said hotly, blinking back tears.

I wiped away the tiny tear that’d escaped. "Glad we got that out of the way," I murmured, reaching beneath her shirt to squeeze her breasts. "You know, you have the best tits I've ever seen. Like a porn star’s only real.”

"Charming." She glared, removing my hands as she climbed from my lap. "On that note...I think I'll say goodbye."

"Keep the shirt," I said, surprising her.

She hesitated and glanced down at the faded rock tee. I half expected her to throw it at me but she nodded and gathered her things.

I hated watching her leave but a part of me was relieved.

There was some confusing shit going on in my head.

I was thinking like a chick.

Needy.

Wanting.

If I listened to the insistent voice in my head, I would be tying her to my bed so I could fuck her a half dozen more times but that was crazy talk.

Hell, at this point, the poor girl probably was sore as fuck.

I’d definitely ridden that virgin pussy hard.

I walked her to the door, lazily leaning against the doorjamb.

“You'll hold up your end of the bargain?" she asked, holding me to the deal.

I nodded. One thing I didn’t do was break my word. Unless it was to dirtbags. Then, I could give a shit.

She released a shaky breath. "Good. I guess that's it, then. I don't suppose we'll ever see each other again."

“You never know.”

But just as her hand reached for the door handle, I pulled her into my arms, sealing my mouth to hers in a kiss that stole her breath, reminded her that something wild throbbed between us — something dangerous — and it was all I could do to turn her loose.

Our kiss, deep and commanding, was everything a kiss between lovers should be.

Tender.

Ravenous.

Insatiable.

In an instant, I was teased with the drugging desire to feel her just one more time, a traitorous voice begged — but I shut it down with ruthless force even as I broke the kiss and released her.

Her lips, glistening from my kiss, trembled as she said, “Don't forget our deal."

A small smirk lifted the corners of my lips.

“Stay sweet, baby girl."

Never look back, Ivy.

And then she was gone.

I watched as her taillights disappeared from the quiet neighborhood, the early morning still dark as pitch.

This was the time when the criminals came out to play.

When people were supposed to be sleeping.

I exhaled, shoving my hands in my jean pockets, still not quite sure what was happening to me.

Ivy Callen.

I wanted her back already.

Maybe it was time to dig a little deeper into the Callen family history…see what I could find to put away her shitbag brother for good.

One thing was for sure, I wasn’t going to let anything happen to Ivy.

Even if she didn’t want my help.

She was going to get it.

I
couldn’t stop thinking
about her.

By her, I meant Ivy.

There was something about her that refused to leave my brain. I dreamed about her skin, the way she moaned, the scent of her sweet pussy.

I’ve never been the kind to fixate on any woman.

I’m not ashamed to admit that I’m more comfortable with the soulless encounters that are more about getting off and letting out steam than anything emotional or deep.

But Ivy…was under my skin.

It’d been days since she’d been in my bed, beneath me, but I was thinking of nothing else.

I didn’t even notice the general din of the precinct, which usually drove me fucking batty after months of intense undercover work because my head was so preoccupied.

I didn’t know what was going on with me but I knew it wasn’t good.

My partner, Hank Grogan, dropped into the chair next to mine and stared me down.

“What’s your deal? You coming down with the flu or something?” he asked.

I scowled. “No. Why?”

“Because your head is somewhere else when it should be on our fucked up case.”

Ah, that
. Yeah, my thoughts
should
be on that problem.

Maybe that was why I was focused on Ivy because if I was too busy thinking about her, I couldn’t obsess about how we’d ended up with absolute nothing after a six month under cover stint.

“Captain’s chewing nails on this one,” Hank said, stating what I already knew. “We shouldn’t have busted Frankie Callen early.”

“It was all we had,” I growled, irritated that it was my decision to pull the trigger on Frankie and it’d backfired. “I thought Frankie would lead us to the person in charge.”

“Yeah, well, either he’s too afraid to talk or he doesn’t know jack shit and we cornered the wrong fucking rat.”

I didn’t need Hank’s assessment. “Either come up with a solution or fucking stop busting my balls. I know the operation went sour. Leave it.”

“Funny you should say that. I have a plan,” Hank replied, a faint grin on his mouth. “And I think you’re gonna like it.”

“Yeah? I’m listening.”

“We all know Frankie is a piece of shit but he seems to have a weakness…his sister. I say, we put her into play and see what we can get Frankie to cough up.”

Use Ivy?

Hell, I’d already used her for my own gain so I shouldn’t have a problem putting her to work for the greater good, right?

Wrong.

I fucking hated the idea.

But maybe Hank was right.

“How so?” I asked, curious.

“When we busted Frankie, he had pictures of Ivy all over his dresser. She’s a sweet kid. Somehow, she’s managed to steer clear of the shit Frankie’s been swimming around in. I think he’ll do anything to protect her.”

“He told her to sell her fucking car to bail him out,” I told Hank, poking a hole in his theory. “The dirtbag’s protective instincts only extend so far. He’d do anything to save his own skin…including sacrifice his kid sister.”

“I’m not saying that Frankie ain’t a loser and wouldn’t sell out his sister eventually…but I think if the guy’s got an Achilles heel…it’s her and we should use it to our advantage.”

Hank was right. Ivy was Frankie’s weakness but I didn’t hold out hope that the slightest bit of pressure might cause him to push her over a cliff.

“And just how are we supposed to get him to play ball?” I asked.

“Let’s offer him a deal. We both know Frankie’s got enemies on the inside. The last time he was locked up, he got the shit kicked out of him. If he’s desperate to get out of jail, he’ll do anything we ask him to.”

“Word on the street moves fast. The players are going to know he was arrested. If he doesn’t do some time, they’re going to assume he got offered a deal and he’ll either end up dead and/or useless to us. Not that I would care if Frankie Callen ate a bullet sandwich, but if he’s not going to be useful, I don’t feel like giving the guy a free ticket.”

“That’s where Ivy comes in.”

“I’m listening.”

“Ivy is hot. She’s got this innocent thing going on that could be used to reel in the big players.”

I didn’t squirm but inside I was fighting a battle that shouldn’t even be a skirmish. I used people all the time to close a case. People who trafficked with drug dealers were fair game.

I shrugged. “Yeah, sure.”

Hank grinned. “I knew you’d be down. No one is as ruthless as Jameson Reed and that’s just how I like you.”

“Calm down. We ain’t running off to get married or anything,” I said but gave Hank a grin. We were a good match because we were both dedicated to the job and getting it done, anyway possible.

He also didn’t blink an eye if we had to color outside the lines.

And neither did I…most times.

“The captain wants results and we’re gonna get them. Round one was just a warm up for the main event,” Hank said.

“Let’s go have a conversation with our newest bait dog,” I said, rising. “Time to put words to action.”

“Amen,” Hank agreed, just as hungry as I was for redemption.

We weren’t used to being on the losing end and it didn’t feel good.

T
he funny thing
about your world slowly crumbling apart is that life still goes on.

For everyone else.

Including the people who expect you to clock in for your shift at the crappy diner where you work.

“You’re late, princess,” barked Marg, my manager. She lived to mock me but I let it slide because I knew that I needed this job, no matter how much it ate into my soul. “You’re on toilet detail today.”

“Fabulous,” I muttered, grabbing the plunger to remedy whatever nightmare a customer had left behind.

Marg smirked as I bit my tongue and pushed open the bathroom door.

Thankfully, I wasn’t squeamish.

Or if I had been, this job would’ve beat it out of me.

I made short, efficient work of fixing the toilet, wiped everything down, washed my hands (like, a thousand times) and then returned to the floor where Marg was flirting with Jose in the kitchen, leaving me and Roxy to wait the tables.

The diner was a run-down ‘50s era themed craphole and our costume was a short, pink mini-skirt and an even tighter pink top that was tied in the front.

It was degrading, ridiculous, and offensive.

And yet…we were told often enough that we were lucky to have the job.

The worst part…Marg was right.

Times were tough. Jobs were hard to come by for people without much education and paltry experience out in the work field.

I won’t lie, college hadn’t been my goal, so I hadn’t pinned my hopes on landing a good one.

But my dream of becoming a dancer had never fully died.

Classical, jazz, tap, even swing…I loved it all.

The beauty of movement filled my soul with light.

But it didn’t pay the bills.

Reality was ugly when the electricity was turned off for nonpayment.

So I continued to work at Mamie’s Diner.

“Watch out, table 2 is filled with grabby assholes,” warned Roxy as she passed by me. “I’ve already been felt up, and mentally undressed within the space of five minutes.”

“Thanks,” I said, drawing a deep breath as I headed for table 2. I was used to the grab-ass games guys played, especially late at night.

Especially college guys.

Like the three eyeing me like coyotes drooled over a piece of meat.

I forced a tight smile. “What’ll it be, guys?”

“Are you on the menu?” the one asked with a sloppy grin. “I haven’t seen you around…do you go to USC?”

“Nope, sorry. Did you decide what you want? The meatloaf is pretty good,” I lied. The meatloaf would probably give him a raging case of diarrhea for days.

“I’m sure I’ve seen you someplace,” he persisted and I wanted to roll my eyes at the dumb games they all played. I was tired and I had little patience for this bullshit right now so I decided to set him straight. “Look, you don’t know me. You won’t know me. I’m here to take your order and that’s it. You’re not getting my phone number and I’m not impressed that you attend a private college. Are we finished with these little pointless games?”

“You’re the most unfriendly waitress I’ve ever met. Do you understand how this works? You play nice, I tip nice. Get it?” he said with a condescending smile.

“College kids like you tip like shit whether I’m nice or not. Either order or leave. I’ve got better things to do than listen to you try to bully me.”

I was calling him a kid because in my mind, he was exactly that but we were probably the same age.

Except I felt as if I’d lived whole lifetimes in comparison to the cushiony life this boy had enjoyed.

And how did I know he was spoiled? Well, appearances gave a lot a way.

Expensive shoes, too much product in his hair, and high-end cologne that was, coincidentally, giving me an instant headache, gave away the fact that his parents probably paid his tuition otherwise how could he afford such luxuries?

Besides, the kid had “snotty brat” written all over his expression from the moment I laid eyes on him.

Even though Mamie’s wasn’t a high-brow place, it was popular with the college-aged set. Maybe it was retro-cool or something.

Couldn’t be for the food.

How anyone hadn’t died yet from what came out of that kitchen was beyond me.

His buddies snickered but decided the fun was over and placed their orders. Mr. Mouthy gave me a couple of dirty looks but otherwise gave up his pursuit.

As expected, they tipped like shit but I was glad to see them go.

There was something about the mouthy one that gave me a bad vibe.

Usually, I played nice. I put up with the grabbing, the teasing, the inappropriate comments about my uniform — but I couldn’t tonight.

I hadn’t slept well since…I turned away so no one could see the sudden heat in my cheeks.

Since losing my virginity to Jameson, I hadn’t been able to shake the aftermath.

The day after had been brutal.

The soreness between my legs was a constant reminder of what I’d allowed him to do to me.

The memories playing in my dreams wouldn’t let me forget how good it’d felt.

But the shame…
that
lived with me every waking second.

I retreated to the kitchen for a moment when there was a lull, needing a minute to breathe.

Roxy found me as she was returning from her break.

“You okay, girl? You look pale.”

I nodded, wiping at my face with a wet paper towel. “I’m just tired. I haven’t been sleeping well.”

Roxy immediately took a protective stance. “Is it that no-good brother of yours again? Girl, I told you, that boy is dead weight around your damn neck. Please tell me you’re ready to move on.”

I wanted to defend Frankie but fatigue had weakened my usual resolve. “He’s in jail again. He wants me to sell my car to get him out.”

“Sell your car? You are not going to do that,” Roxy said adamantly. “Girl, that boy needs to learn that he can’t just do what he pleases without consequences. It’s called growing up. I know all about no-good family members. Trust me, they’ll use you up until you’ve got nothing left. And then, they’ll steal your identity and ruin what good credit you’ve got left!”

Roxy was talking about her sister, Ruela. And yeah, Ruela had done all those things.

But Frankie wasn’t like Ruela.

At least I hoped he wasn’t.

“I’m not going to sell my car,” I told Roxy, leaving out the part where I’d bartered something important to me to a crooked cop. “But I’m still worried about him.”

Relieved that I wasn’t going to bail Frankie out, Roxy said, “It’ll be good for him. Let him sweat it out, get a taste of what prison life is like. Maybe it’ll scare him straight for once.”

“The last time he was in, he got beat up.”

“Probably needed it.”

I leveled a look at Roxy. “He was fending off a rapist.”

“Incarceration sucks,” Roxy said with a shrug. “It ain’t supposed to be Margaritaville. Maybe if prison and jail life was less cushy, there’d be less crime. Ever think of that?”

There was no arguing with Roxy tonight. She was feeling her oats. And I didn’t blame Roxy for her opinion. We all came to different ideas about things through our experiences.

But it wasn’t fun knowing that people were silently judging you for your love of another who wasn’t easy to love.

“Let me ask you something…what’s he done for you lately?” Roxy asked, really digging in. “What has he done for you but drag you through the mud alongside with him? As far as I can tell, that boy can exit outta your life and you’ll be nothing but better for it. Harsh truth, baby girl, but truth the same.”

Baby girl.

That’s what Jameson called me.

And the way it’d rolled off his tongue with that sexy growl.

Oh man.
I never thought such a thing could be so hot.

I suppressed a shiver at the inappropriate memory.

Fuck Jameson. He wasn’t a catch.

I wasn’t going to allow a man like Jameson to weasel his way into my life under any pretense.

Not if I wanted to free my life from the constant never-ending drama and chaos that seemed to be part of the tapestry.

“How do you deal with something that you had to do because you didn’t have a choice?” I asked.

Roxy frowned. “What happened?”

Did I want to share with Roxy the details of what’d happened between me and Jameson?

It could ruin him.

What did I care?

“Never mind, it’s nothing,” I said quickly, wishing I’d remained silent. I wasn’t ready to talk about what’d happened, not because I wanted to protect Jameson but because I wasn’t ready for anyone else to see my private shame. “I’m just PMSing.”

Roxy smiled and then yawned as she glanced at the clock. “God, I’m glad this shift is about over. My dogs are barking tonight. You cleaning the walk-in?”

“Yeah, I’ll do it if you can wipe down the tables and refill the salt and pepper.”

“That’s a deal,” Roxy said, winking, before returning to the floor.

Roxy was like the older sister I never had. She was about eight years older than me and seemed as if she’d lived a hundred lives compared to my one.

Some of those years had been hard, too.

Roxy wasn’t shy about sharing her struggle. I think Roxy liked to think that she was helping others avoid the same fate by sharing. She also wasn’t shy about telling someone when she thought they were being stupid.

And Roxy had strong feelings about Frankie.

Didn’t everybody?

It was hard being the sister of someone universally believed to be a loser.

No one knew Frankie like I did.

If he could just get off the drugs and out of that lifestyle…maybe I’d get my brother back.

The next hour dragged by but we finally were able to close up, clean up, and ditch the diner.

Usually, I gave Roxy a ride to her apartment but tonight she was being picked up by her new boyfriend, Rick.

Roxy had designs on that one. She’d jokingly said that he was The One because Roxy and Ricky had a nice ring to it and would look cute on a wedding invitation.

I kept my dubious opinion to myself on that score. Rick didn’t seem like much of a catch to me.

For all her talk, Roxy seemed stuck in her own patterns, too.

Her last boyfriend had beaten her so badly, she’d been hospitalized.

So far Rick hadn’t touched her but he seemed…
controlling
, which to me, was a bad sign.

However, there wasn’t much I could do about Roxy’s problems when I couldn’t solve my own.

I locked up the diner and headed for my car. It was brisk enough to pop goosebumps along my skin as I walked but Los Angeles in the winter was still pretty mild.

I’d just started to push my key into the lock when I yelped as my head was wrenched painfully back as fingers dug into my scalp.

“Someone’s not so uppity now, is she?” a familiar voice at my ear taunted.

I stiffened, trying not to panic. “Get your hands off me,” I demanded, gritting my teeth against the pain in my scalp as he tightened his grip.

“Oh, I don’t think so, sweetheart. You and me are going to have a little fun after-hours,” he said, dragging me away from the parking lot and toward the scraggly bushes hidden in the shadows. “You see, I was actually trying to be nice but you had to go and be a bitch about it so it’s up to me to teach you a lesson.”

“Fuck you,” I spat, drawing a deep breath to scream my head off but he anticipated my move and covered my mouth and nose, nearly cutting off my air supply.

I struggled frantically, needing to breathe. He released me long enough to spin me around but before I could react, his fist crashed into my face, stunning me as the world began to dim.

Blood gushed from my nose and busted lip, the taste of copper strong in my mouth as I struggled not to gag.

I knew if I passed out, I was done for.

But my head was throbbing viciously and I couldn’t stop the edges around my vision from clouding.

He was fumbling with my top, ripping at the ties in the front but the thing about cheap polyester was that it was remarkably tough.

I would’ve laughed but I was fading fast. Maybe being unconscious was the better choice anyway.

I sure as hell didn’t want to be awake for what was to come.

But then a surge of rage gave me an shot of adrenalin and I kicked at my attacker, landing a good one to his nuts.

He went down with a grunt but he didn’t stay down and I was too disoriented to do much more.

He retaliated with a hard kick to my stomach with his booted foot and I couldn’t breathe.

Another kick like that and I would die.

The pain was too much.

I heard him unbuckle his pants, calling me all sorts of names as he descended on me, the weight of his body pressing me into the dirt as he shoved my skirt up.

Pebbles dug into my back. The brisk air bit at my skin. A few stars stared dispassionately down at me through the smog blanket smothering Southern California.

Tears dripped from the corners of my eyes but I made no sound.

Suddenly, he was gone.

My right eye was swelling fast but I managed to force my eyes open.

College Boy was getting the shit kicked out of him.

By whom, I didn’t care.

Actually, I didn’t much care about anything at that moment because I was checking out.

See you on the other side, compadre.