BADDY: A Small Town Crime Romance

by Nikki Wild

  Still, Slickboy, Tanner, Shark, and Millions had always been thick as, well, thieves. They worked together most of their lives, and worked well. On the few jobs I’d done with them, they’d proved to be an impressive team. Mostly because of Millions. He’d made rich men of all of them. You’d think some gratitude was in order.

  Plus, Misty-Lee was everyone's little princess, wasn't she? Not mine, but I certainly knew the older guys doted on her damn near as much as Millions. Being good to Misty-Lee was a surefire way into Million's good graces, but that couldn’t have been the whole reason. She was a cute kid, pretty even, and more than any of that she was a good girl. The kind they all wished they had for a daughter. Stayed in school, did her homework, played the damn piano.

  She was the angel sent to redeem every last one of them.

  So where were all those fake uncles and candy-hander-outers when she needed them most? Hiding out in the barbershop or the pool hall, pretending they don't know her?

  Cowards.

  But was I going to be any better? If she came back – when she came back – what could I really offer her? I'd been young when I went in. Too young to know as much as she probably needed me to know. Too young to even know that I should be knowing things. That was something I only learned on the inside: knowledge is power.

  Then again, maybe I could protect her. And in that way, we could scratch each other's backs. I guess she didn't know about me being up for parole at the end of the month or she probably would have mentioned it – or even waited until I was out to have our little chat.

  How would she know? Nobody knew, because I didn't tell anyone. My connections might be good for a beer at the Piper, or a lead on a job (legal or otherwise), but they sure as hell weren't putting me up for a month while I got on my feet.

  There was no woman waiting anxiously for my release with a warm bed to welcome me into. There was my brother, but he was too blinded by drugs that he couldn’t see me if I was standing in front of him wearing a day-glo dress. No parents to speak of either. Closest to it was an uncle abroad who didn't even know I was in jail. Mickey was my best chance, and he was a full-grown man who only had so much patience for another full-grown man showing up asking for a hand-out.

  I was a lonely man about to enter an alien world.

  But Misty-Lee might be my answer to all that. Maybe I couldn't expect her to let me into her bed, but she might let me into her house. She might let me into her life long enough for me to do some digging and figure out how to take care of the shit she was drowning in.

  She might do it out of fear. She might do it because I knew her father, and she knew he trusted me. She might do it because even after all these years, she still saw the James Dean in me. I knew she saw it. I wasn't that out of practice. I could tell which of those female guards feared me, and which of them feared how much they liked me.

  Anyway, there was a chance she might let me in the door, and I've always been a man who likes to take chances.

  Hell, you don't wind up in Guvcheck for always doing the sure thing.

  Chapter 5

  Misty

  This time I had nothing but the legal pad and the pen. And I wasn't convinced I even needed those two things. I was prepared. Prepared to see him, for one. Looking crazy good even in enough orange for hunting season. And I was prepared to 'fess up. I had nothing to lose in telling the truth. I had my safety and my sanity to gain.

  Buzz and click and low, authoritative voice, and I was finally led into the visiting room. This time, there was a small army of visitors. Men and women alike. Some looking like they couldn't hold their excitement inside, some looking like they were on their way to the guillotine. I didn't have time to catalog all of them – I'd arrived later than last time.

  And there he was. Smirking. Head shaved, inviting peach fuzz on top. A hint of ink crawled up his neck. He was wearing white sleeves under his orange shirt this time, hiding his tattoos, but nothing could hide the muscles underneath. What do men have to do in prison besides work out? The Rev I remembered was a little ropy. He was cut but lean. Now he was roughly the size of Godzilla – and based on the look in his eyes, he was quite comfortable using his reptilian brain.

  But I wasn't there to collect mental pictures to use between the sheets later.

  “Did you get prettier, Misty-Lee?” he asked as I slipped into the seat across from him. I sacrificed a tiny smile.

  “You tell me,” I said. “And call me Misty.”

  He blinked, leaning back.

  “Please,” I said, insisting.

  “Whatever you want, Misty,” he said, opening his hands in supplication. “Now, lay it on me. You didn’t bring your pretty little ass in here for a conjugal visit. Not that I’d mind if you wanted to open that blouse up a few buttons. Four years is a long time to…”

  “Someone's threatening me,” I said, cutting off his words. I could sympathize with him, spending so long behind bars without women around, but I wasn't there to be his masturbation fodder, either.

  “So we’re all business today, huh? I figured as much,” Rev nodded. “Go on. Why’s somebody want to hurt the very symbol of purity and innocence?”

  “I think they’re after money”, I said, ignoring his little jab. “They think my dad kept a rainy-day fund or something. But they’re wrong. There is no money. He gave me everything Uncle Sam couldn't find, and it was enough to keep me comfortable, but that's it. Dad wouldn't have held out on me. If there was some treasure chest buried in the yard, Dad would have given me the map.”

  “Hmm,” he said, and for the first time he looked engaged in my words instead of my body. “You sure about that?”

  “Positive,” I said, then hesitated. “I mean... you can't be totally sure of anything. Not where my father was concerned. Maybe he stocked something away for his release… but it's hard to believe he wouldn't have told me about it. He'd trust me with that kind of information. He knew I wouldn't spend anything he didn't want me to spend.”

  “Maybe it's not you he didn't trust,” Rev observed, and it wasn't the first time that thought had crossed my mind. I desperately wanted to believe there was no money; because if there was, it would be that much harder to convince them that I didn't have it.

  “I'm pretty sure the people who killed him are the ones threatening me,” I went on.

  “I'm pretty sure you're right,” he said. The way he said that, he must have been thinking since my last visit. Maybe this wasn't a totally one-way street. Maybe he was going to be more helpful than I thought.

  “But I don't know who it is,” I said. “I mean, there has to be someone who had it out for my dad.”

  “All good bad guys have enemies,” he smirked, dimples showing. I bristled a bit. My dad was a 'bad guy'. But not to me. And it always hurt to remember that the world saw him that way, when I just saw Dad.

  “So that's it,” I said. “That's why I'm here. I need to know – anything. Anything at all. Any detail. Any name. Anything.”

  Rev regarded me coolly for a minute. His eyes didn't leave my face, and that was impressive. They hadn't been able to leave my chest for more than a minute at a time up until then. Another thing I could forgive, but not something I was going to pretend to like or invite. I'd worn a turtleneck despite the springtime heat for just that reason.

  “I don't know if I can give you the name you’re looking for,” he finally said, slowly, clearly. My whole chest seemed to deflate. I should have been better prepared for that answer. I should have kept my hopes on the low side. He shifted, leaned a little closer, black eyes engaged. “But I think I can help you.”

  My lips parted, then closed. I didn't need to respond to that. If he wanted to explain something, tell me something, whatever, he could. I wasn't going to give him the pleasure of hanging on his every word like a desperate little girl.

  “What kinds of threats are you getting?” Rev was forced to ask when my silence didn't falter. “Describe them.”

  “Nothing physical so f
ar,” I said, eyes shifting around the room. A nervous habit that might very well save me some day. “Well, I mean, they're threatening me physically, but there's been no property damage. I haven't seen them. They haven't called, either.”

  “So they've, what, written?”

  I nodded.

  “I've gotten two letters so far. One at home and one at work.”

  “And the letters say...?”

  “There's an e-mail address. It's one of those throwaway addresses you set up for spam. They want me to send them the location of the haul, or to wire them the money… or...”

  He waited patiently as I let the wave of fear, cold nausea, sweep through me.

  “...or bad things will happen to me and Purrloin.”

  His eyebrow quirked, and I immediately wished I could take it back.

  “My cat,” I said quickly, wanting to get past that little point.

  “You’re getting death threats, and you’re worried about a cat?” Rev laughed, sitting back in his seat.

  “It’s not just that. How do they know I even have a cat? How do they know his name? I’ve been hiding for years Rev. I’m good at hiding. I don’t share this shit on Facebook for Christ’s sake. And fuck you for being so insensitive. I don't think it's that weird for me to not want my cat to get killed by assholes who think I have money I don't have!”

  “For a pretty girl, you sure do have a dirty mouth,” Rev said quietly.

  “This is life and death I’m talking about. Life and fucking death,” I mouthed back, trying to calm myself down as I noticed one of the guards glancing over in our direction.

  To my surprise, Rev nodded slowly, not cracking another joke or laughing or even giving me one of those goddamned smirks.

  “They give you a deadline?”

  “Not really,” I admitted. “But I think they're pretty serious. They know where I work.”

  “You keep saying they,” he went on, analyzing my every word in a way I found mildly fascinating. “You think it's more than one person?”

  I shrugged.

  “Don't assholes always travel in packs? I think it’s safer to err on the side of caution. Besides, from what Gino's told me...”

  “What's Gino told you?”

  I sighed.

  “Gino was kind enough to inform me that whoever they are, they haven't been too quiet about their interest in my old man, or his nonexistent loot. But you know how it is with Gino…”

  “They've been talking around town?”

  “Not quite,” I said through a frown. “Or, I don't know. No one else is saying shit. Which probably means something in and of itself. I have to believe that my father's friends would tell me if it was some dumbass punk...”

  “But a big ringer, that might convince them to keep their mouths shut,” Rev answered for me. I nodded. Geeze. This was the first person who actually seemed interested in what was going on. I got a lot of pity and a lot of false promises and a lot of empty lies from my father's old mates. But Rev seemed...invested.

  “So...can you help me, or not?” I finally had to ask, my fingernails digging into the cheap plastic chair, sure to leave half-moon dents there. Rev leaned back, his chest moving steady with his slow breath.

  “Depends,” he said. Now, it was my turn to crook an eyebrow. Here it was. A catch, of course. But what kind of catch would it be?

  “I’m not going to hug you,” I replied, eyeing him cooly.

  “Well that’s fine, but I’m looking for something more than a little hug.”

  Chapter 6

  Rev

  “You want me to let you live with me?”

  I might as well have asked her to bring me a penguin and three dozen watermelons. I’d have gotten about the same response.

  “There's a mutual benefit here,” I said. “I’m up for parole and I’ve got nowhere else to go. You get a live-in bodyguard and I get a happy parole officer. And it gives me a chance to figure out who’s coming after you.”

  Her mouth opened, then snapped shut. She reminded me of a deer again, brown eyes wide, elegant nose twitching.

  “I don't really see how that could possibly work,” she finally said. “I can't really afford a full-time bodyguard. And, I mean...I live...uh...”

  “With a boyfriend?” I suggested. She shook her head, then immediately looked like she wished she could take it back.

  “Look, I'd consider food and lodging as partial payment.”

  Now, her eyes narrowed. “You seriously expect me to pay you?”

  “My parole officer sure as hell will. He’ll be up my ass six ways to Sunday if I don’t have gainful employment.”

  “And why the hell would I do that? What kind of bodyguard could you be anyway? It’s not like you have any training.”

  “I’ve got the best training there is,” I smirked. “I've survived prison with everything intact.”

  She made a noise in her throat that didn't mean anything to me.

  “These muscles aren't just for show,” I said, tensing my arms to show how they rippled. Well, that got her eyes wide again. And her lips parting. And her chest moving up and down a little faster than it was before. Ah, the sweet signs of surrender.

  “Besides,” I said, leaning forward, knowing she was circling the hook and getting ready to bite. “All those guys who won't talk to you? I think I can get them to talk to me.”

  “What makes you think that?” she huffed. “I'm Millions' daughter. Who are you?”

  “Someone's son, for one thing. No offense, beautiful, but those guys have some very old-fashioned opinions about what people carry between their legs. And besides, I've got friends on the outside.”

  That wasn’t entirely a lie, but it was close.

  “Friends who're still active in the scene. The scene you need to be privy to. I can talk the talk and walk the walk. I could be the answer to your prayers.”

  “Could be,” she pointed out. “Why the hell would any woman open her home to a con? A stranger?”

  “I’m not just any old stranger, sweetheart. You’re here because your old man trusted me,” I said. She flinched. So that was a sweet spot. I'd have to remember that.

  “But you've been inside for four years,” she said, sounding less sure. “How do I know you're the same man my father trusted?”

  “Well, I guess you don't know that,” I said. “But you also don't know who's threatening you, and your best hope of finding out is sitting right in front of you. I need a bed, a job. Three squares. No funny business. I'll get you out of this whole shit storm in one piece.”

  It was a promise I wasn't in the position to make, but she was getting closer. The worm on the end of the line was hypnotizing her. She was opening wide and -

  “Fine,” she hissed. Chomped down. “I’ll give you three days. You have three days to prove to me that you're worth this. Once you get out, I mean. And once this whole matter is resolved, you have to find other arrangements. And no drawing this out just to keep yourself employed. And...”

  “Why don't you draw up a contract,” I said, glancing at the clock. We were out of time. “If you’re gonna start making demands, lay it all out for me sweetheart.”

  “Stop calling me that,” she said.

  “Misty-Lee,” I said.

  “And that. Just Misty.”

  “Misty,” I gave the appearance of caving. Rising, my chair scraped the linoleum and drew some attention. Mostly, hers. She looked up at me with those big, beautiful eyes. One lip under the other, falling prey to her teeth. Her chin sharp but her hair soft. “One last thing.”

  She quirked an eyebrow.

  “That hug...?”

  Now, she grinned. And even laughed a little bit.

  “You're not getting the deluxe package,” she said, shaking her head. “Know your budget, and stick to it.”

  “And how much would hugs cost me?”

  “More than you have in your commissary.”

  I had to smile. She was cute when she was feisty. I could
n't tell which of her I liked better. Doe-eyed or shark-toothed. Either way, the buzzer told us it was time to get going, pulling us our separate ways.

  “I'll call you with my release date,” I said.

  She bit at her cheek now, but she nodded. I filed into the line of cons going back to their bunks, leaving crying kids and wailing lovers behind. Me? I didn't know what I was leaving behind. My new boss, I guess. And my new landlord. And the girl I'd just sworn to protect.

  So much for adjusting to life outside of prison. I was gonna have my hands full just adjusting to being around her all the time.

  Chapter 7

  Misty

  “So,” Janie said. “When's the last time a man crossed your threshold? You've had a moat full of crocodiles around your pink castle for how long?”

  “Pink castle?” I scrunched my nose as I looked in Janie's direction. She leaned in the doorway of the spare bedroom, holding her drink. Her freckles were in full bloom, her ruddy hair frizzy. She had the kind of figure you'd call voluptuous and I almost hated her for it. What I did hate her for was not seeing how damn sexy that figure was. Compared to me, slight and bony and barely able to boast a B-cup, she was Aphrodite. How could she find the nerve to complain about the jiggle in her belly when she had thighs for days?

  “This drink is strong,” she said in her own defense, reaching her lips out to snag the straw and take another hearty sip. My own drink was sitting on the table beside the bed. Rev's bed. The bed Rev would sleep in. In the room next to mine. In my house.

  What in the hell was I thinking when I agreed to this?

  “You're not answering mee—eee,” Janie sang, crossing the room to help me with the sheets.

  “I don't know,” I said, smirking. “I don't keep a conquest diary, like some people.”