The Wicked Bad (Crimson Romance)
Karyn Gerrard
Avon, Massachusetts
This edition published by
Crimson Romance
an imprint of F+W Media, Inc.
10151 Carver Road, Suite 200
Blue Ash, Ohio 45242
Copyright © 2013 by Karyn Gerrard
ISBN 10: 1-4405-6674-7
ISBN 13: 978-1-4405-6674-5
eISBN 10: 1-4405-6675-5
eISBN 13: 978-1-4405-6675-2
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organizations, events, or locales in this novel are either the product of the author’s imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. The resemblance of any character to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.
Cover art © 123rf.com
My thanks to Crimson Romance for accepting this story.
Also, as always, I dedicate this to my live-in hero, who would not let me give up on this manuscript. A few years and a few edits later, turns out he was right. There, I said it publicly. You were right, babe. Love you.
A Sneak Peek from Crimson Romance
You can’t go home again.
But what did Nick Crocetti know? He’d never had a home.
One thing he could not stand was any form of rank sentiment. Especially in himself. The emotion had been missing from his tumultuous life for years, so why in hell did it rear its ugly head now?
Nick glared at the name on the colorful flyer he had pulled from under the door of his bar. Veronica Barnes Titus.
Ronnie Barnes
. The annoyingly cheerful flyer announced the grand opening of Titus Bakery on Waterloo Street.
It couldn’t be her; she had left town ages ago. Titus? Right, he’d heard talk she’d married, was she still? He hoped the rumors of her recent divorce were true. Any talk of Ronnie Barnes perked his interest through the years, though he would outwardly pretend he didn’t give a damn what she’d been up to.
Nick crossed the threshold and closed the door behind him. He tossed his keys on the bar and hit the light switch by the door. Fluorescent lights flickered and buzzed washing the brick interior in a hazy illumination.
He spread the flyer out on the counter and read it again. When he saw her last at her father’s funeral, he’d kept a respectable distance. She was still the luscious blonde he remembered and she still wore glasses that always seemed to slide down her nose. It’s not as if they’d ever spoken to each other. Nick knew her brother Tyler slightly, they were the same age. He should’ve walked up to her and offered his condolences, but she no doubt would’ve seen the blatant lust in his eyes. A crass statement at a funeral, especially her father’s.
The memories roared back whether he wanted them to or not. Nick arrived in Rockland, Maryland in the twelfth grade. At the time, he had nowhere else to go, so he lived with his uncle, a man he barely knew because his parents had washed their hands of him. Nick’s home had never been a happy one, and with his parents obtaining a divorce and going their separate ways, neither wanted a hulking six-footer who hadn’t finished growing and who had a penchant for getting into constant trouble.
His lips curved into a cynical smile as he thought of his first motorcycle, a fire engine red 1975 Indian. Nick removed the baffle plates from the bike’s exhaust muffler just to annoy the hell out of everyone with the noise. The personification of the bad biker dude, he’d been all attitude and presence on his red Indian. He spoke to no one and everyone got out of his way when he walked down the hall at school. Nick hated Rockland High. Talk about not fitting in. He wore black leather even back then.
One person he’d noticed was Ronnie Barnes. Two years younger than him, she’d been outgoing, gregarious, and popular and everything he wasn’t. She had a killer body then and from what he observed three years ago at a distance, she still did.
While her glorious curves attracted his attention and stirred his raging teenage hormones, the intense feelings expanded beyond lust the more he’d observed her. Kind and generous with her friends, affectionate and teasing with her brother, she appealed to him in all ways. His first crush. Hell, his first serious bout of puppy love, unrequited though it had been.
Nick leaned on the counter and gazed outside into the parking lot of his small bar, The Chief. There stood the object of his current affection, his 2013 Dark Horse Indian, one of two motorcycles he owned. Damn, the bike was beautiful, all black and sleek with the tell-tale fringed leather seat. If anyone touched his baby, he would rip out their spine. The bike was parked where he could keep an eye on it while he worked in his bar.
His thoughts drifted back to Ronnie. Nick wasn’t afraid of anyone or anything, then or now. However, Ronnie Barnes rendered him mute. For months he tried to screw up the courage to approach her and to talk to her, but by March of his senior year — he was gone.
The bakery was located at 35 Waterloo Street; if he remembered right it used to be a beauty parlor back in the day. Maybe he should check it out.
Suddenly, Nick felt as if he were back in high school. Why did Ronnie Barnes have him acting this way? The unsure teenager he used to be, which he thought he’d moved past. Not as far as she was concerned, apparently.
Over the years, there had been no shortage of women. One of Nick’s rules since he lost his virginity at age sixteen was that he never slept with a woman more than once. Cold and calculating perhaps, but it worked so far. Sex to Nick was a necessity of life, like air or food, nothing more. He never once engaged his heart in his many encounters.
When did he last have sex?
Oh yeah.
He smiled knowingly. Four days ago he hooked up with a waitress at the Top Hat Diner. What a night. Is that what he wanted with Ronnie Barnes? A night of hot, wild sex? Swinging from the rafters, pounding, driving with plenty of raw, animal lust? Hell, yeah. Nick dreamed about sinking into her luscious body since his teens. He imagined how tight and wet she’d be when he’d finally get her under him. He hardened just thinking about it. His leather pants groaned in protest at his sudden erection.
Down boy
. Nick folded the flyer and stuffed it in his back pocket. Guess he’ll be buying cookies or bread in three days’ time. He watched as the Budweiser truck pulled into the parking lot to make his delivery. The time had come to get to work and push Ronnie Barnes out of his mind.
• • •
You can’t go home again.
These words haunted Veronica Barnes for weeks leading up to her return to her hometown.
She cocked her head and watched as the MacDougall company crane put into place the sign advertising the name of her new business, Titus Bakery
.
The temptation to call out to the workers that the sign didn’t look level nagged at her, but surely these guys knew their business. After some measurements, the men did hang it to her satisfaction.
She scanned the front of the building. Not too large and kind of quaint with the old brick facade. This building had been around since the Twenties. The place was hers now, lock, stock, and worn bricks. The ceramic tile by the front entrance looked decades old, but was still in beautiful shape. The large store front windows were also a big plus. However, sun beating in on baked goods might not be a good idea. She would see about shaded glass or maybe refrigerated units for her cakes. Veronica pulled out her iPod Touch and typed reminders for later.
The unmistakable hum of a V-8 engine came up behind her. It had to be her brother, Tyler. Who else would be driving an obvious unmarked police cruiser? Tyler Barnes opened the door of the black Crown Victoria and leaned on the driver’s side window.
“Hey sis, what in hell is this Titus Bakery? You’re a Barnes again.”
Veronica pushed her glasses up her nose; they had a habit of always slipping down no matter how many times through the years she bought new glasses. She slipped her iPod in her pocket, and then crossed her arms in mock annoyance. Tyler, her older brother by two years, was a detective with the Rockland Police Department. He was blond and at least six-one in height with a lean musculature a cover model would envy. He always spoke his mind, at least to her.
“I don’t like the name Barnes Bakery. Besides, since I’m using the settlement money to start this venture, it seems fitting to call the place after Billy-boy Titus.”
William Titus — her fourteen week mistake. A lesson learned. Hot, feral sex doesn’t translate into a lasting love or marriage. She secretly wished it did. Caught up in the throes of a passionate, drunken weekend with rich, real-estate entrepreneur, William Fortesque Titus II, they’d wound up at one of those cheesy Vegas chapels that dot the strip. Thirty-six hours later, they’d realized their mistake.
Now divorced, she’d been given a check with an obscene amount of zeros on it. Sucking up her courage, she quit her consultant’s job in San Francisco, California, and headed back home to Rockland, a small blue-collar city nestled on the Chesapeake across from Washington, D.C. Her brother was the only family remaining in town. Her father died three years ago, and her mother moved to Port Ritchie, Florida, to live with her older sister, Elmira, among the orange groves and alligators.
At twenty-nine, Veronica was ready for a little life change. She took a deep breath hoping to inhale some fresh air. Instead, she wrinkled her nose.
“Ewww, is that the pulp mill? It smells as bad as when I left.”
Tyler shrugged. “I don’t even smell it most days. Besides, it’s always worse when it’s hot and muggy like this.”
This was hot? Tyler should’ve come out to California for a visit, she thought to herself.
Before she could speak, Tyler sighed at what he knew was Ronnie’s unasked question. “Yes, I put someone trustworthy on getting the flyers out, slipped under doors, left on car windshields, yadda, yadda.” He held up his hand to still her response. “Get that look off your face, I supervised. It was done to your exact directions. Besides, I shouldn’t have done it all as it’s actually illegal.” He grinned mischievously.
Veronica hugged her brother tight.
“Thank you, I’m so nervous. The mixers and ovens were delivered this morning and Ty, I had no idea the flour’s in seventy-five pound bags! How am I going to lift it?”
Tyler stepped back and placed his hands on her shoulders.
“Are you sure you’re ready for the grand opening in three days? Have you even hired any help yet?”
“I can manage for a while until it gets off the ground.” she replied.
“You’ve got the money, Ronnie, hire someone and fast. Damn, you told me with the baking alone you will be up at four in the morning. You can’t put in fourteen hour days.”
Veronica rolled her eyes. Tyler always ragged her ass since they were kids. But, she grudgingly had to admit the golden haired Adonis had a point.
“I’ll call the employment agency. The reason I called you besides lifting the flour is I want you to inspect the rooms in back. I’ll be living there.”
Tyler’s mouth dropped open. “Why? I said you could stay with me as long as you like. Why live in cramped rooms in back of the bakery? You’ll never get away from the heat and the smell.”
“There’s nothing wrong with the smell of fresh baked goods. In fact, it’s been proven no one gets angry in a bakery, the odor soothes people. Plus, they come in to purchase baked goods for happy occasions like birthdays and bar mitzvah’s,” Veronica laughed. “How can you have your lady friends over if your sister’s there? I must be cramping your style at the moment. Of course, there were a few nights you didn’t come home.”