The Complete Bad Boy Series (5 in 1): Best Billionaire Romance Collection (Bad Boy Billionaire Stepbrother Romance Paranormal Series)

by Wallace, Brenda

  “I’m sorry. Do you not like my talking about this stuff?” she asked, pulling the articles back quickly. He shook his head.

  “It’s not that…it’s just…let’s just talk about something else tonight,” he said, glancing up at her. She nodded.

  “Sure. Of course. Where are we headed?” she asked. Every night, Ian had a new adventure planned for them around town. Some nights they snuck back into the library, sometimes they sat under the fountain in the town square, sometimes they would sit in the middle of the road eating ice cream, quite confident no cars would come driving down the road of their sleepy town.

  Laura spent her days thinking of Ian, his piercing cold eyes that were offset by the most genuine smile, his height that towered over her, his dark and husky voice. Her mother would glance at her often during lessons, saying her name harshly, and it would snap Laura back to reality forgetting about Ian for a moment.

  She focused on her studies, exuberant in her photography and creative writing, and she noticed her parents’ attitude towards her had changed and she felt confident and content with this. She felt a twinge of guilt at times, knowing that if they were aware that she snuck Ian into their basement nightly, they would be furious, disappointed, and, her father probably, disgusted. She had suggested Ian come meet her parents and say hello to them during the day, hoping that this might erase some of her guilt, but he had yet to do so. Laura also had yet to meet any of the other kids on her block, only of which there were a few. Before meeting Ian, she would watch them from her bedroom window, too shy to run out after them and introduce herself, often aware of the starts she might get in her long black attire and deep, darkening makeup. However, now that Ian had showed up in her life, she never thought about them anymore; she didn’t think of much besides him, actually.

  Ian spent most of his passing time thinking of Laura as well, the way her eyes would watch him intensely, like an animal after its prey, her blue eyes piercing him to the core. She had a way about her, an originality that he wanted to eat up like the bowls of ice cream they shared, cold and soothing to his throat. Her pale skin sat innocently over her long, frail body, her nose speckled with small freckles that he had only noticed when sitting only a few inches from her face, lingering on her face like a soft whisper. She had the face that was so pure it made him want to tell her everything about him, and her lips were so full and ripe he wanted to lose himself in their deliciousness. He found himself finding ways to brush against her, feeling the energy between them pass like a strong magnet or a flicker of lightening, him losing him breath for a moment when it happened. He realized that she felt it too, as she would look up quickly, her eyes wide, and smile.

  “Let’s go into the fields,” he said and she had agreed, grabbing a large quilt from the boxes where they kept their storage. She grabbed their two flashlights that they used every night and took his head, him guiding her a mile or two downtown and then into the vast array of the fields. They lay under the stars, him taking her hand, her head nestled in the crook of his arm.

  “I feel so safe with you,” she said bluntly and he felt his heart quicken; Laura heard it too, the beating in his chest, which made hers quicken as well. With that, he turned to her, taking her sweet and gentle face into his hands and moving his lips to her slowly. She returned the kiss, moving her tongue into his mouth, circling its way around.

  He undressed her slowly under the moonlight and he watched her sweet face smile under the light of the moon, her hands reaching up and undressing him. They lay naked together under the stars, their bodies pure and clean while in each other’s arms, lying beside nature.

  He caressed her body smoothly and slowly from her beautiful head down to her delicate toes, his full lips kissing her softly. Her long blond locks lay under her, and he ran his fingers through them as he held a breast in his other hand, their kisses the only sound in the darkness of the night.

  “I love you, Laura,” he heard himself mumble as he entered her gradually and slowly, gauging her face as to not hurt her. He realized as he spoke these words that he meant them, having never met a young woman quite like herself, feeling as if he had known her for eternity.

  He knew in that moment what she was; knew she was one just like him, that their bond was inevitable and pulling like a strong chain. As he rocked above her, she kissed him softly on the shoulder, mumbling into his ear that she loved him too, and they welcome dawn together as one body, fireflies buzzing and lighting the way above them.

  Chapter Four: Life Shattering News

  Laura sat in her room the next morning, blissful and happy, imagining and remembering the night she had previously had with Ian, her stomach turning into excited knots just thinking about his touch and kiss.

  She felt suddenly as if the binder she kept hidden underneath her bed was calling to her, and after the showered, grateful that it was a Saturday, she sat on her bed, looking over the articles she had yet to read. She decided on the old house, the house they had left, feeling emotionally ready and strong enough to read now about where she had come from and what had happened in her old home. On the front were pictures of her old home, its tall brick demeanor, seemingly modern style, front white picket fence. As she looked closer at the picture, she saw the small garden her mother kept it the front of the house, and found this odd, but then figuring the picture must have been taken years after the murder, when she and her family still lived there. She shrugged and also noted that the article had been written while they had still lived in the house, and felt an urge to read on.

  On 555 Brayshaw Avenue in New York, New York, Beatrice and Bernard O’Hara lived a comfortable and stable life with their young, beautiful daughter.

  Laura paused, felt her heart stop in her throat, as if she were choking on it. She continued on quickly, her eyes running and tumbling over the words on the page quickly and deliberately.

  Laura was a happy child, and her mother described her love of the outdoors and helping her mother and father in their garden. She had many friends and went to the elementary school down the road, loved by all and known by most in the town.

  This all changed for the O’Hara’s on a devastating Friday night, November 3rd, when Laura snuck out into the street and was hit, tragically, by a drunk driver. Chris Hayes, age 33, has been charged and will face prosecution. His son, in the back of the car, was killed as well. Hayes’ wife was unavailable for comment.

  “I would give my life to bring hers back,” Beatrice was quoted as saying. Her father refused to speak to us, his wife stating that he had not left their bedroom for a week.

  Laura O’Hara’s memorial service will be held this Sunday at Princetown Church in New York.

  Laura sat on her bed, stunned, her hands shaking vibrantly, at a loss of breath.

  “MOM!” she screamed bloodily, and within moments her mother had flung open her bedroom door.

  “What? What is it?” she asked and Laura had only to hold up the entire article, and she watched as her mother’s face dropped, becoming as pale as her own.

  “BERNARD!” she yelled just as desperate and frantically. Her father came in shortly, toothbrush still in his mouth, hair disheveled and a mess.

  “She found it,” her mother’s voice was barely a whisper. Suddenly, the toothbrush dropped to the floor, stunned and shocked.

  “Oh Good God,” she heard her father breath. Laura stood up, pacing in her room.

  “What is this? Someone explain this to me now,” Laura insisted, searching for words and meaning. Her mother took her hand and together the three of them sat on her bed.

  “Sweetheart, do you remember that night? Do you remember that crash?” her mother asked, her identical blue eyes wide. Laura felt tears welling in her eyes, and she nodded.

  “Yes, yes I do. I remember the big lights coming right at me and being so scared, but then I remember a peace and calm…and then a few days later, you holding me in my room, whispering and crying over me.” She looked at her parents, and they nodded.


  “Laura, you’re dead. You died on November 3rd…14 years ago,” her father said, taking her hand. His words sat and resonated with her deeply, dark and harsh. She shook her head.

  “No, no, no, no, no…I don’t understand…”she said continually but then it all did make sense to her, as it rolled and rumbled around in her mind: never being allowed to leave the house, her pale skin, her call to her black attire, her interest and pull to the dead. It all made sense, and in a twisted way, this brought her calamity during a time of disaster.

  “The important thing, sweetheart, is that you’re here with us now,” her mother said, taking her hand. Laura suddenly felt the need to fold herself and her body within her mother’s to sob and ask all the questions that came to her mind.

  Her father took her hand and kissed it. He suggested they go downstairs, drink coffee, and talk. Laura, unsteady and gaunt, felt herself nod her head, and so their day went on, as seamlessly as it seemed her life had.

  Chapter Five: Life and Death and Life Again

  That night, Laura sat in her basement, her binder spilled out, feeling a loving desire to research each and every one of these people and their stories, almost felt as if it had been her purpose. She had shown her parents the binder, explaining to them that her discovery made her feel a close kinship to the dead, and she knew why now. They had actually turned around and encouraged her to do this, asking her to come to them with this information. She wasn’t sure if she was ready for that, had felt lied to by her parents, even though once they had spoken all day, she easily understood their fear and reasoning.

  She felt empowered as she sat with her truth, but there was a little voice inside of her warning her about this truth and Ian. She felt tears form in her eyes, one single, cold tear dripping down her face, coming to the realization that Ian would find her crazy and disgusting, a step away from a corpse. She mustered the courage to tell him that night, felt that she would have to tell him it all and tell him quickly, similar to ripping a Band-Aid off.

  He came a bit earlier that night, as if he sensed something was different in their bond. She heard the soft rapt on the door. Suddenly, Laura was scared and backed herself into the corner. Her tears drained down her face like a loose faucet and she left his rapping taps, running upstairs and slamming the basement door shut.

  As she lay in bed that night, she went over the conversation she should’ve had over and over again in her mind, rotating like a wheel in her brain. She was plagued with a broken heart, but didn’t know if she could stand the rejection and fear that would surely be in Ian’s eyes and demeanor. She cried herself to sleep that night, her mother hearing her, and coming to sleep next to her, holding her the same way she had when she was 3 years old.

  The following morning brought sunshine and birds’ chirping, and Laura tried her best to get pull herself out of bed. Her mother lay next to her, running a finger through her Ian, similar to how Ian had.

  “Mommy,” she heard herself whine and her mother kissed her on the forehead.

  “What is it sweetheart? Is there something more going on as well?” and Laura felt her head nod in her mother’s chest, needing her mother as she had needed her as a child.

  “Don’t be mad,” she whispered and her mother agreed.

  “You tell me what it is,” her mother said.

  “I met a boy and I love him. I’m so scared…I don’t know how to tell him any of this. But I need to, I know I need to,” she spat out. Her mother was silent and calm.

  “I’m not sure this is something we should share with just anyone; the judgement that will ensue, the harshness, have you considered any of that? We have tried our best to hide you from these things, sweetheart.”

  “Mom, this is something I need to do.”

  “If you love him, truly, then I support you,” and her mother had sat with her for another hour before turning to her and telling her honestly that their lives needed to proceed and go on, and this would begin with a big breakfast and a hot shower. She ran the shower for her, placing freshly cleaned towels on the sink and told her that she would make her favorite French toast and Laura agreed, finding her own strength within her mothers. She knew she had to get up, step one foot in front of the other, and find this strength to continue on and to speak to Ian that day.

  She sat with her parents around the kitchen table, hair wet against her bare back, fidgeting with her French toast, forcing herself to eat every minute or two. It was a slow process, but with each bite she felt herself feeling stronger and more durable.

  Suddenly, there was a gentle rapping at the door and her heart stopped in her chest, knowing immediately who it was.

  “Oh my God,” she whispered. Her mother’s eyes met hers. Laura forced herself out of her chair and walked slowly and deliberately to the front door, chastising herself for having not had this conversation alone with Ian the previous night. She opened the door slowly, it creaking with every light tug.

  “Ian,” she said breathless as her eyes met his. He stood before her, a look of worry and concern across his face.

  “I was worried…you didn’t come to the door last night and I thought I heard you in there. Are you okay?”

  “Well, I need to speak with you,” she said slowly and opened the door further. Ian’s eyes looked scared and concerned.

  “I hope everything is okay,” he said, stepping alongside her and into their home. “I look forward to at least meeting your parents,” he said, trying to erase some of the tension, smiling.

  There was a sudden abrupt shatter behind her and Laura averted her eyes up, saw her mother standing there, having dropped the plates with the French toast onto the floor. She let out a howl, bare and to the core. Laura felt a shiver overcome her and then heard her father gasp.

  “Ian Hayes,” her mother screeched. Ian stood in the doorway, shuddering himself.

  “How do you know my name?” he asked quickly.

  “Laura, this is the boy that was killed in the crash that killed you.” Laura turned to Ian quickly, saw his knees buckle and his body seep slowly onto the floor like warm molasses.

  “You too?” Laura breathed breathlessly and Ian nodded his head, taking her hands in his.

  “I-I-I… I didn’t know how to tell you…I-I….I knew you were my kind, sensed it from the moment you all moved in, but I had no idea we were connected in the same incident,” he breathed, his eyes searching hers for answers. Their eyes darted to Laura’s parents. Her mother motioned for them to follow her, her own legs unsteady, and they fumbled their ways into the family room, sitting on the couch.

  “I think we should get your mother over here as well…is she home?” Bernard asked and Ian nodded, he himself silent and desperate. He sat next to Laura, their cold hands freezing to one another.

  They sat in silence until Angela came to the door, shaken herself. It had taken Bernard a good half hour to coax her into coming, discussing with her how he understood the deep impact this would have on their families, how voicing their history and going through it would be messy but it was necessary and something their children needed. Amanda had sobbed and cried and when she finally sat beside them, her tears had been left evident on her face by the charcoal mascara that had run on her cheeks. Laura was thankful that she was fresh out of a shower, no makeup applied, so her tears could stay fresh and pure on her face.

  “My God, what does all this mean for us?” Angela asked, sobbing again.

  “My mother told me years ago, when I began coming to her with questions upon questions about my life. And I had flashbacks, a lot of them. I remembered heaven,” Ian began, staring at his hands. Laura felt a twinge of jealousy, wishing she herself could recall this. Ian continued on, “but I could’ve never anticipated this. I knew from the moment I met Laura that we had a connection, a bond. I knew she was dead a few weeks later, and didn’t know how or if I should say anything. She’s one of my kind,” Ian said, taking a chance to lean over and kiss her on the cheek. Laura waited for her fa
ther to get upset, but in the wake of all that was forthcoming, he barely seemed to notice.

  “Can others see us?” Laura asked and Ian shook his head, taking the lead of the conversation, the adults allowing it, feeling unaware and awkward themselves. They couldn’t speak to being dead, and they certainly couldn’t speak to becoming the undead either.

  “No. We have a presence, people may feel us, but I have found that anyone outside of my mother, or those who are also dead, cannot see us. There needed to be a previous strong bond prior to death to allow someone to see you. That’s why when we sneak out at night, no one ever stops us or questions us. Remember that one night when there was a cop on the road and you pulled me into the bushes, worried we would get in trouble for breaking curfew?” Laura nodded, all the puzzle pieces beginning to fall into place…or at least a few pieces at a time.

  “Is all that true?” Laura asked her parents and they nodded.

  “Seems to be so. We didn’t want to take any chances, knew we couldn’t send you to the public school or anything,” her father said, taking in a long breath.

  “I know this seems ridiculous, but I need you all to know that we have had no contact with Ian’s father…the stranger of a man I married who did this. I could never find it in myself to forgive him…even when I got Ian ‘back’,” Angela stated. Laura watched her mother nod and then took Angela’s hand, and in this motion of forgiveness, Laura’s heart melted. She realized how much her parents had to sacrifice as well, the lives they too had to give up.

  “Is that why we moved?” Laura asked, remembering the night she found the brief blurb of their about their house throughout her research.

  “Yes. It may have been the wrong decision, or the right one, considering,” her father began, pointing to she and Ian, “but we wanted to shield you from this haunting truth for as long as possible.”