The Bad Boy’s Woman: Hidden Masks Book 2

by Arthurs, Nia

  Monique squirmed against me, heightening my excitement. Then out of nowhere, a pillow slammed against my head and Monique screamed, “Get off!”

  14

  FIRE RAGING IN ME

  Monique

  The blood drained from James’s face. His fingers held the limp string of my shorts in his white-knuckled grip. “What?”

  My pulse ricocheted.

  Every single inch of me throbbed.

  My body wanted him, even if my mind said ‘no’.

  I hadn’t meant for it to go this far, but when James kissed me all reason and common sense skipped out of my head and parked somewhere else to watch.

  I scrambled up and my pants slipped, revealing a hint of my bunny-themed underwear. “I think you should leave.”

  James stood too. His eyes were narrowed, chasing mine like he was trying to bore into my soul. He shook his head. “You’re kidding me, right?”

  I walked to the door and opened it, staring at him.

  “Monique.”

  I gestured to the hallway, saying nothing.

  “I’m sorry, okay?” He ran a hand through his hair and remained in place. His gaze tripped to the television. “We can just study. It’s fine.”

  “Please, just… go.”

  He licked his lips and strode forward. I trained my gaze on the floor, but I heard his footsteps thudding closer. He slid beside me to get through the doorway. My heart thumped at his nearness, but I didn’t lift my head to acknowledge him.

  “Unbelievable,” James mumbled. Anger rose from him, thick as car fumes. But I wasn’t ecstatic either. The fact that James was irritated only served to piss me off more.

  He strode down the hallway.

  I slammed the door and slid against it. My legs trembled slightly. I didn’t want to think about what just happened, what could have happened if I hadn’t gotten through to him.

  Panic and desire still whirled in my chest. Feeling hot, I slogged to the kitchen for some water and spotted James’s laptop on the table. It was in hibernation mode and his pictures were running across the screen.

  “He left his stuff,” I mumbled, moving closer to the computer as it shifted to another photo. It was one of him with his guitar playing on stage at the school rally. Someone must have sent it to him last year.

  I sighed and flipped the laptop closed, setting it back into its case. It felt good to focus on something else and, before I knew it, I had all of James’s things packed up neatly in his school bag.

  I’d return them tomorrow if I had the courage.

  Or maybe I’d send Angie with it.

  Suddenly, the front door opened and Dad strode in. He saw me in the kitchen and smiled, walking over to greet me. “Momo…” Then he froze. Peered closer. “What’s wrong with your face? Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine, Dad.” I brushed my hair back. My gaze wandered to the living room. The pillow I’d used to knock the sense back into James was on the ground. The punctures his knees made in the couch when he rolled over me hadn’t bounced back yet.

  Was it obvious what we’d been doing?

  Dad wouldn’t be able to tell with just a look, right?

  Man, I hope not.

  Dad jerked his chin at the table. “What are those?”

  “Oh.” I pressed down on James’s backpack. Awkwardly, I laughed. “I helped James study while you were gone. Mom suggested it.”

  Dad didn’t look happy about having James over with no one in the house, but at least he didn’t scold me. If he’d brought up the ‘one thing’ boys were after again, my guilty expression would probably give it all away.

  “Okay.”

  “Do you want some water?” I asked.

  Dad nodded.

  I poured us both a glass and sat around the table. He accepted his cup with a nod. I wrapped my fingers around the glass, allowing the ice seeping into my hands to shift my mind away from my relationship problems.

  “How are things going at the site?”

  “They’re okay.” Dad sipped his water. “The pay’s good. The work is hard, but it’s honest.”

  “Are you alright with that?”

  “I am.” He studied my face. “I promise, Monique, I’m never going back to where I used to be.”

  I set my hand over his. “I’m really glad to hear you say that.”

  My phone rang.

  Dad sent me an inquiring gaze.

  “It’s Mom.” I picked up. “Hello?”

  “Monique,” Mom said, her voice urgent, “that place you used to work after school. What was it called?”

  “Pandora’s. Why?”

  “My bus just passed by.” Mom paused. “There were flames in the store.”

  An explosion boomed in the background.

  Mom screamed.

  I shot out of my seat so fast the chair skittered back. “Mom, are you okay? What happened?”

  “Hold on, baby. I’ve got to call the police. I’ll be home soon.”

  Dad scrambled up, his hands grappling the air. “What happened?”

  “Can you drive me somewhere?”

  Dad’s eyes widened.

  I didn’t wait around for his answer. Grabbing a jacket and a pair of pants from my bed, I shot back into the living room. Dad was waiting by the door with his keys. His brown eyes zipped to the clothes strung over my arms.

  “Is your mother okay?”

  “I think she’s fine. She said she’s on her way home.”

  I slipped the jacket on.

  “Then where are we going?”

  “To Pandora’s.” I stuffed my legs into the sweat pants and pulled them up over my shorts. “Lauren’s house is on fire.”

  “If that’s true, she doesn’t need our help. She needs the fire department.”

  “Dad!” I yelled. When he flinched, I lowered my voice but kept the intensity. “Lauren has animals that could be scared. If she goes in there and tries to save them all by herself, she’ll get hurt. I have to go. Now.”

  “O-okay.” Dad’s voice shook. He opened the front door for me and followed as I rushed down the stairs and into the parking lot.

  The wind was cool on my back and I was glad I’d gone for the jacket. There was no moonlight and dark clouds covered the stars.

  As Dad sped to Pandora’s, I chewed on a fingernail and prayed Lauren was okay.

  The closer we got, the more nervous I became.

  In the distance, a ball of light appeared. It loomed larger as we neared Pandora’s and soon, I realized that the flames had already engulfed the entire building.

  Tires shrieked as Dad slammed the car into park a safe distance away from the blaze. “Good Lord,” he mumbled.

  I sucked in a deep breath, my eyes roving the orange flames that roared against the dark, velvet night. Smoke billowed from the roof. The glass windows near our nook had been shattered and, through the thick grey mist rolling inside, I saw flames licking at the books.

  “Lauren,” I hissed. My fingers grappled for the handle.

  Dad slapped his hand over my arm. “Are you crazy? You can’t go out there!”

  “But Lauren…”

  “She’s probably okay.” Sweat glistened on Dad’s temple. He seemed unsure, as if he didn’t believe his own words.

  Shaking Dad off, I launched myself out of the car and scrambled toward the fire. “Lauren!” I screamed. The scent of torched books slammed my nose. The wind carried the smoke my way and tears burned the back of my eyes. I bent over and coughed. Between hacking, I yelled again. “Lauren!”

  The heat was oppressive, even from this distance. I knew that the flames inside would be strong enough to melt someone’s skin clear off.

  If Lauren was still in there.

  “Lauren!”

  “Monique!” I heard my name and spun to find Dad slamming the car door and running toward me. “Tie this around your face so the smoke doesn’t irritate your eyes.” Dad handed me a scarf. “Keep back. We don’t know if there’s a gas line that could explo
de.”

  My eyes landed on the bookstore with horror. I hadn’t seen Lauren yet.

  “Describe this Lauren person to me,” Dad demanded.

  I tied the cloth around my nose. “She’s short and has brown hair and glasses.”

  Dad gritted his teeth. “Okay, I’ll check around. You call her and see if she answers.”

  I nodded.

  He took a step forward.

  I called him back. “Dad!”

  He spun.

  I locked eyes with him. “Be careful.”

  His lips curled up in a small smile and he trotted away. I pulled my cellphone out of my pocket and dialed Lauren’s number. It clicked and went straight to voicemail. Frustration boiled within me, as fiery as the blaze that consumed Pandora’s.

  Something rubbed against my foot.

  I glanced down and saw a cat winding around my leg. My breath hitched. I bent to pick it up and rub its sooty fur.

  “Mr. Paws?”

  It mewled in response.

  I glanced up just as a tall figure emerged from the front door. My eyes burned from the smoke, but that build looked familiar. I was walking before I realized I was moving too close to the flames.

  “James?”

  The name was muffled against the scarf, but his head whipped up like I’d whispered in his ear. Our gazes collided. Soot marred his broad forehead. Sweat glistened on his temples. In his arms, he held an unconscious woman.

  I ran closer when I recognized her. “Lauren!”

  “Monique!” Dad’s call forced my gaze to him. He ran toward me, an army of cats streaming between his feet. “I found them holed up on the fire escape.”

  James coughed. “Lauren must have been helping them escape before she passed out.”

  “James?” Dad skidded to a stop in front of us, his eyes bulging. “Did you run into that building by yourself?”

  Before he could answer, I butted in. “Where’s Alex?”

  James just shook his head.

  Lauren coughed. “W-what happened?”

  Sirens wailed in the distance.

  Lauren’s brown eyes widened. Her pale skin was dirtied with soot and her hair billowed in the breeze, looking wilder than usual. She launched up, almost falling out of James’s arms in her frenzy. “My babies! Where are all my babies?”

  “Hey, calm down.” James said.

  I reached out. “They’re here. You got them all out safely.” I leaned closer. “Lauren, was Alex inside the apartment when it caught on fire?”

  “No.” She shook her head.

  I let out a breath of relief.

  James set her down and Lauren stooped to count her cats and rub them down. Tears sparkled on her cheeks. I watched her gather the cats up in groups and squeeze them tight. They squirmed to be let down, raging against her show of affection.

  Amidst the chaos roaring in my head, I felt a moment of clarity. Lauren probably didn’t have insurance or any means to rebuild, but as long as she had the people—or in this case, the animals—she cared for, she’d survive.

  My gaze traipsed to James. He was breathing hard, his eyes on the flames.

  Dad touched my arm. “I’m glad your friend got out safely.”

  Lauren glanced up then as if just realizing that Dad and I were standing there. “Monique!”

  “Hey, you okay?”

  Lauren stood, holding a cat in her arms. “Yes, thank God. I have no idea how the fire started, but my first thought was that I couldn’t leave these precious babies.” She pressed a kiss to the cat’s head. “I might not have made it if not for James.”

  I looked at him again.

  He avoided my eyes and explained roughly, “I passed by and saw the smoke. I went in to check and found Lauren on the ground.”

  I untied the scarf from my face and offered it to him.

  He arched an eyebrow.

  “You might want to clean up.”

  “I’m good.”

  The tension between us made me squirm.

  Sirens screamed in my ear. A police vehicle and a fire truck shrieked to a stop on the sidewalk. Firemen jumped out and streamed into action like expert soldiers. Soon a hiss of water flowed from a long, drawn out hose.

  We all stood back and watched as the fire was wrangled, tamed and finally extinguished. The flickering police lights flashed over the crumbled ashes of Pandora’s.

  I snuck a peek at James. His jaw was hard and clenched. I could tell that he sensed me watching, but he didn’t look over.

  Was our relationship as ruined as Lauren’s store?

  15

  HERO TO ALL BUT HER

  James

  Monique was watching me. I couldn’t meet her gaze. Guilt swamped me every time I met those dark brown eyes, so I figured it was better if I just pretended she wasn’t there.

  In spite of my intentions, it was impossible to ignore her. I found myself peeking at Monique from the corner of my eye. She’d changed out of her tank top and shorts to a bulky blue jacket and sweat pants. Her hair was still out and wild around her face.

  At that moment, she spun and found me staring.

  I looked away, just in time to see a police officer approaching. Relief wound through me. I nudged Lauren’s hand to get her attention and jutted my chin out toward the officer.

  Lauren straightened. “Monique, would you do me a favor and watch my babies while I report this?”

  “Of course.”

  Mr. Hughes sneezed. He wore a khaki-colored shirt and faded jeans. His dark skin reflected the red and blue lights that flashed from the police cars. I saw wrinkles in his forehead that I hadn’t seen before. Had he aged that much since I last saw him?

  Monique’s dad gave us a sheepish grin. “Sorry. I’m allergic to cats.”

  “Go wait in the car.” Monique nudged her father’s arm. “It’s okay.”

  “I won’t take long,” Lauren promised.

  “Uh, I’ll come with you.” I rubbed the back of my head and hoped it wasn’t too obvious that I was running from being alone with Monique. “I can help.”

  Lauren arched an eyebrow. “Sure, if you want.”

  I avoided Monique’s gaze and escorted Lauren to the officer. He was a thick man with tan skin, black hair, dull brown eyes and the type of moustache I’d assumed had gone out of style a long time ago. The name sewn into his lapel read ‘Tony Dawson’.

  “Goodnight, officer.” Lauren tucked a lock of ashy brown hair behind her ear. “I’m Lauren Baxter, the owner of the building.” Lauren pointed to Pandora’s and then with a sheepish smile added, “Well, whatever’s left of it.”

  “Hello, ma’am. I’m Tony.” He leaned forward. “That must have been a troubling ordeal. I’m glad you’re okay.”

  Lauren batted her lashes. “Well, thank you.”

  They stared into each other’s eyes.

  What… is going on here?

  “I’m sorry,” Officer Tony said. “You have such lovely eyes.”

  Lauren adjusted her glasses. “Do I?”

  “Yes.”

  “Ehem.” I coughed. “What about my eyes?”

  “James!” Lauren smacked her face with enough force to make Officer Tony cringe. “I’m such a dolt. Let me introduce James Sawyer. He was my knight-in-shining-armor tonight.”

  “Mr. Sawyer.” Tony shook my hand. His grip was strong, his fingers calloused. Funky moustache aside, there might be some substance to him after all.

  “Night, officer.”

  “Thank you for your bravery.”

  “No problem.”

  “I have a few questions about the fire. Mrs. Baxter—”

  Lauren threw her hands up. “Oh, it’s ‘miss’. Just ‘miss’. I’m not married.”

  “I see.” Tony’s eyes glittered. “Then may I call you Lauren?”

  Two red circles appeared on Lauren’s cheeks. “Would you?”

  Yeah, I should definitely get outta here.

  I was about to turn and leave them to their flirting wh
en footsteps pounded the pavement. A man sped past the police vehicles and darted around the firemen.

  “Lauren!” he called.

  “Did you hear that?” Lauren blinked. She looked up and gasped. “Alex?”

  Her brother stopped in front of us, panting like he’d run half a mile. Sweat stains filled the front of his grey shirt. His black hair stuck to his forehead. He grabbed Lauren by the shoulders and pushed her back a few steps, inspecting every inch of her.

  “Excuse me.” Officer Tony grabbed Alex by the arm and wrenched him back. “Who are you?”

  “He’s my brother,” Lauren said.

  “Are you okay, Laur? Is anywhere hurt?”

  “Why are you so sweaty? And where did you go tonight?” Lauren didn’t pause to take a breath or allow him to answer. “I thought you were in your room when the fire started. I was so scared when I didn’t see you.”

  “I went out for some air,” Alex said.

  “You should have texted,” Lauren grumbled.

  Alex turned and glared at me.

  I frowned in return. “What?”

  “Wanna tell me what you’re doing here?”

  Lauren gave him the stink eye. “Drop the tone, Alex. If it wasn’t for James, I could have died tonight.”

  Officer Tony cleared his throat. “Now that the introductions are over, can I get a detailed account of what happened before the fire?”

  Lauren rubbed her forehead, pressing the soot more deeply into her skin. “I didn’t realize there was a fire until it was too late. Which is my fault, I’ll admit. My smoke detector ran out of batteries a while ago and I kept telling myself to replace it but I never—” Lauren’s voice trailed when she saw us all staring.

  “It’s okay.” Tony smiled gently. “Go on.”

  “You’re probably not going to believe this, but I was folding laundry in my room and listening to music when Mr. Mittens—he’s the oldest and he considers himself my boss—rolled into the room and started meowing like crazy. I could swear he was trying to communicate.”