Secret Exposure_a bad boy new adult romance novel

by London Casey

  She was gone.

  She didn’t even scream, either.

  I made it to the edge just in time to see her…

  And the kicker?

  He was gone, too.

  That fucker.

  I’d never get my hands on him.

  He just disappeared into the night, his bike wailing in the wind, and he was gone.

  I thought about what I’d give up to get a chance to face him. Better yet, what would I want more? A chance to face him or a chance to bring her back to life? Now that was the million-dollar question. Beat the shit out of the guy who was supposed to be my best friend or hug the woman I had fallen for. Yet she had been sleeping with my best friend. And he had been the one giving me the advice to just bail on her. To just let shit go.

  The anger and grief was a motherfucker to handle sometimes.

  That’s why I always ended up back at the bottom of the ridge.

  Figures, it took her jumping for the town to do something about it. The outrage finally kicked in. Teenagers drinking up there! Teenagers partying! Teenagers smoking the drugs! Teenagers falling!

  Trust me, she didn’t fucking fall. She fucking jumped. She wanted to go over the edge. It was there in the note she left for me to read. A note that I kept to myself. A note that nobody else knew about, not even the police. Not even her parents.

  I looked up at the ridge and decided to take the hike.

  Mind you, the outrage turned into a plan to fix things, and that plan fizzled along with her memory. What happened from there was that the town put together some cash to plant bushes to deter people from climbing up on the ridge.

  Bushes.

  Bushes that I stepped over in a matter of seconds. Not even picker bushes, either.

  I climbed to the top of the ridge and spotted two people. A guy and a girl sharing a bottle of booze. He was holding her in his arms, swaying back and forth. They were laughing. She was holding his arms. He was laughing, then started making scary noises.

  “I’m going to let you go,” he teased. “Then you can fly.”

  “No, don’t. Don’t mess around, Rob.”

  “What? Come on. We’re not that drunk. And we’re not that stupid, to fall over that edge?”

  I gritted my teeth.

  “Hey, don’t joke,” the girl said. “I heard that girl didn’t just fall. I heard she jumped.”

  “Well, either way, she’s an idiot. If you could fall off that edge, you don’t deserve to live anyway. And if you were going to do yourself in, why jump like that? You know how long it would take the reach the bottom?”

  “About twenty seconds,” I said.

  That got their attention.

  The guy spun to look at me, leaving his girl behind. She stepped back, her left foot sliding on the edge of the ridge. She let out a scream and grabbed for her guy.

  That’s how fucking easy it is to fall.

  “Jesus, man,” he said. “Hey…Maddox, right?”

  I walked right to him and grabbed him by his shirt. I pulled him nose to nose.

  “She didn’t deserve to live? She was an idiot? Huh?”

  “Fuck,” he said. “I wasn’t just talking shit.”

  “Stop,” the girl said. “Please. Maddox. Please. He’s an asshole.”

  I shoved the guy back. His shirt was stretched out. He showed me his hands.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

  I looked at the girl. “Get out of here. This is my spot.”

  She ran to her guy and he grabbed her hand and hurried to pull her to the side of the ridge where they could climb down.

  I noticed the bottle of booze left on the ground.

  There was still a few sips left in it.

  I blinked and was right back at that night. The bottle of cheap ass whiskey on the ground. The thing that finally gave it all away. Looking up at her. Seeing the cut at her eye. The fear in her eyes. The pain…guilt…regret…sorrow…

  She never gave me a chance to show her who I could have been. That I could have helped her. That I could love her, even though she fucking cheated on me.

  I held the bottle of booze in my hand.

  I growled and threw it as hard as I could.

  I watched it sail through the air, and then drop. I listened intently but never heard it hit the water. The distance was too far, and the bottle was too small. It probably smacked the water with a weak plunk and that was that.

  I plopped down on my ass and sat there.

  With my right hand, I reached for the dirt. Using just my pointer finger, I started to draw something. A portrait of her. The face I’d never forget. The girl I couldn’t save.

  I told myself right then…I would never fall in love again.

  7

  HAZEL

  PRESENT DAY

  His name was Charlie. He sat in River’s chair while River worked on a tattoo on his hand. From his wrist to his knuckles. A bright red rose with black trim and lots of other designs around that. Why the rose? Because that was Charlie’s mother’s favorite flower. One day, she had a stomachache, and a week later, she was gone. Some kind of rare condition that just finally took over.

  That was one thing I started to see in St. Skin.

  The stories.

  A lot of people came in to get tattoos that had heavy stories behind them.

  Charlie was a big guy with a thick, scruffy face, greasy hair that came past his ears, and a smile that could make any woman smile back. He wore a leather jacket with a black t-shirt under that, ripped jeans, and black boots.

  He was totally fine with my taking pictures of River tattooing his hand.

  I positioned myself in the corner, zoomed right in, and got some seriously amazing pictures of the needle depositing ink into Charlie’s hand.

  “Doesn’t that hurt?” I asked him after River finished the ink.

  “Yeah,” he said. “A lot.”

  “Then…why?”

  “Why not?” Charlie asked. “Do you know why I got this on my hand?”

  “Easy to see?”

  Charlie smiled. He had cute dimples. I envisioned a picture of him with his hand at his chin. Showing his ink and showing his manly yet slightly boyish features.

  “No, not because it’s easy to see,” Charlie said. “Because when I got out of line, my mother would backhand me. With her left hand. So now when I look at my hand, it reminds me of two things. One, how much I miss my mother. And two, to never to get the fuck out of line.”

  Charlie laughed.

  River put some ointment on the freshly inked skin. It was so beautiful bright and shiny, but it was swollen all around. I couldn’t imagine having a needle like that getting jammed into my hand for as long as Charlie did.

  I slipped out of the room and into the hallway.

  I was looking through the pictures when Charlie emerged.

  Between his fingers was a piece of paper. For me.

  “What’s this?”

  “My number,” he said. “If you ever want to hear more stories about my life. Or maybe just grab something to eat. Bring your camera, too. I’m not shy.”

  He smirked.

  I smiled.

  “Door’s that way,” a voice said.

  It was Maddox.

  Charlie glanced back at Maddox, eyebrow raised. “I know.”

  “Oh, okay. Just checking. I’m sure Hazel has to get back to work here.”

  “Right,” Charlie said.

  I just smiled.

  Charlie walked away and I looked at Maddox. “Haven’t seen you yet today.”

  “Were you looking for me, sugar?”

  “No. I don’t want to get in your way.”

  Maddox nodded.

  It had been almost a week since I started coming into St. Skin. I already had hundreds of pictures. I reviewed a lot of them with Tate, and he wanted more. A lot more. So I kept working because he kept paying me to work. My interactions with Maddox had been few and far between.

 
; I turned and felt Maddox approaching me.

  “Get any good shots?”

  “You actually care?”

  “Of course I do.”

  “Of course you do,” I whispered. “So, now you’re interested in what I’m doing here?”

  “I hate what you’re doing here,” Maddox said candidly. “But picking up guys while you’re working? That doesn’t seem professional.”

  “Picking up guys?” I asked. “Him? Charlie? I wasn’t…”

  “Thin ice, sugar,” Maddox whispered. He leaned down and got way too close to me. “I hope I don’t have to tell Tate.”

  I gasped. “Are you threatening me?”

  “No,” Maddox said. “Not at all. Just making sure Tate and St. Skin get exactly what they’re paying for.”

  “Like pictures of your ass?”

  “You took the picture.”

  “You showed me your ass.”

  “You came into my room uninvited.”

  “Correction. Tate invited me to do anything I wanted.” I smiled big. “And by the way, you’re the tough, brooding guy around here, but you’ve got a tattoo of lips on your ass. How does that happen?”

  Maddox put a hand to the wall, almost boxing me in. Anyone else who got so close or did what he did would have gotten a kick to the balls. Or at the very least, I would freeze up and start to panic. But that didn’t happen with Maddox. Instead, it was the opposite. I felt at ease with him.

  “You want to know about the tattoo on my ass?”

  “Yes,” I said. “I’m curious.”

  “I’ll make you a deal, sugar.”

  “Sure.”

  Maddox leaned down again. So close I felt the stubble on his face rub against my cheek. It made me shiver and my heat move through me in places it shouldn’t go.

  “I’ll tell you my story when you tell me about that tattoo on your hip.”

  Maddox then left me with my mouth hanging open.

  I touched my right hip.

  How? How did he know? How did he see? How…

  Maddox paused at his door and looked back at me. He winked.

  I caught my breath a second later.

  Then it occurred to me…

  I was supposed to watching Maddox—but he was watching me.

  I spent the next few hours constantly pulling down my shirt, making sure I wasn’t showing off any skin. Not that it mattered. I was in a tattoo shop, after all. If anything, it was weird to show bare, clean skin since everyone I encountered seemed to be filled with tattoos.

  As I wandered around the front of the shop again, taking it all in, I really began to understand this amazing world. What the tattoo meant. What the artists did and why they did it. I knew Tate had built a massive business, but this went far and beyond the money aspect.

  My phone buzzed with a call from a client. A woman named Leslie wanted to get pregnancy pictures done. It was her first child with her husband after trying for almost two years. She wanted me to capture the last few weeks of her pregnancy. I had to meet with her and her husband to figure out what they liked. I didn’t really ask people what they wanted, but I still talked to them. It helped me pick up on little things here and there. And then I used that information to set up a photo shoot.

  Leslie left me a voicemail that she wanted to meet up soon.

  I had parked around back, so I walked through St. Skin so I could get into my car and call her. I didn’t need her to hear the sounds of tattoos in the background.

  As I passed by Maddox’s room, I glanced to my right out of habit and saw him sitting on his stool. I paused and realized there was nobody else there. He wasn’t tattooing anyone. He didn’t have any music playing. He was just sitting there. Leaning forward a little. His elbows on his knees, his right hand on his face. In his left hand was what looked like a picture.

  He just sat there. I’d never seen Maddox so still and quiet before. He always seemed to be doing something. Moving. Talking. Cursing. Throwing those evil glances at me. Reminding me how much he hated that I was there.

  There was a moment of hesitation.

  I wanted to take a picture of him.

  There was something so raw and beautiful about what I was seeing.

  I told myself I’d take the picture and then remove it from my camera and never show it to anyone but Maddox. I’d put this single picture on a memory stick and give it to him. Or better yet, I could text it to him. But I’d need his number.

  Or I could I just leave him alone.

  But the moment was too good.

  The rough and tough tattooed bad boy just sat there as though he had his heart broken. From the side of his face, I could see it. Beyond that, just the sheer outline of his face and his jaw was totally sexy.

  Like a hunter in the woods moving stealthily to not scare the deer, I slowly lifted my camera. I made a small step forward, almost entering the room. All around me there was music. Different sounds and noises flowing through St. Skin.

  The silence in Maddox’s room was such a dark contrast.

  I managed to get the camera turned back on. I didn’t have time to adjust any settings, so whatever I could get would be it.

  My finger eased over the button, and I pressed.

  Normally the click of the shutter wasn’t that bad. But in that moment it sounded like a sledgehammer hitting glass.

  Maddox turned and looked right at me.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” he growled.

  With the flick of his wrist, the picture flew from his hand. I turned the camera and took a quick picture, wanting to capture the picture floating in the air.

  Then I looked at Maddox.

  That look on his face.

  A look I had lived with all my life.

  The terror and the panic set in. It was like stepping into icy water. Everything just went stiff.

  My finger pressed again for another picture.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Maddox bellowed at me.

  His massive hand grabbed my camera. Holding it by the lens, I took another picture.

  “Hazel!” he snapped. “What are you doing?”

  I just looked up at him. I felt the terror climbing through me like a growing vine. Twisting, turning, tightening, constricting my muscles, bones, around my stomach, my heart, my throat.

  I couldn’t breathe.

  I stepped back as I let the camera go.

  Maddox was still holding it. The strap around my neck floated in the air.

  Panic made people do weird things. A switch just went off sometimes, turning everything into survival mode. I had no closet to dive into. I had no one-eyed bunny to hold. And I had no picture books to go through to find happiness.

  So I bent my knees and let the camera strap move over my head. That left Maddox holding the camera all alone. I found strength in my legs and hurried to get out of the room. In the hallway I saw Prick, Max, and River.

  “Where’s your camera, babe?” Prick called out. “I’ve got something for you to take a picture of.”

  Prick grabbed between his legs.

  River punched him in the arm.

  “No worries,” Max said. “She needs to get a lens that can really zoom in.”

  The three laughed.

  The laughs were bubbly and echoey all around me.

  I turned and saw that the back door was my closest exit.

  I blasted through it, and someone was waiting for me.

  I screamed.

  I burst into tears.

  8

  MADDOX

  PRESENT DAY

  I stood there holding the camera by its lens. I raised an eyebrow trying to figure out what the hell just happened. I grabbed the camera by its strap and rolled it up tight.

  I gritted my teeth, really fucking annoyed.

  My room was my room. My space. My private area.

  Ever since Hazel came busting into the shop and into my life, I had been thinking back on some old memories. It was the camera thing that got to me most abo
ut it all. There was a time when I was followed for a few weeks by cameras. People yelling to me. People wanting to know a story that they had no business of getting involved with.

  Looking down at Hazel’s camera, I had the urge to throw it against the wall. But I knew the damn thing was expensive, and I knew the damn thing meant a lot to her.

  I hit a few buttons on the back of the camera and the pictures she had taken popped up. The first was mostly black with some light around the edges. That was my hand over the lens. When I grabbed it.

  When Hazel went into a state of sheer terror. Like she thought I was going to hurt her. Did she really think I would hurt her? I would never put my hands on a woman without the intention of pleasuring her or helping her if something was wrong. Maybe I came at Hazel a little strong, and maybe I scared her. But I would never hurt her. Not with my hands.

  I clicked the button on the camera.

  The next picture that popped up was the picture I was looking at floating through the air. When I threw the picture, Hazel took a picture of it. It was a picture of her, the only one I had of her. And it was just there, floating through the air.

  Just like the last time I saw her alive…

  I shut my eyes and clicked the button again.

  The next picture was me. Just sitting on the stool, staring at the picture of her.

  It really pissed me off.

  This was why I hated pictures. Capturing the realest moments of life and then they remain there. Almost like stealing a memory. I didn’t need Hazel throwing herself into my life. She wanted to take pictures of tattoos? Fine. She wanted to appease Tate’s fucking ego? Go for it.

  But my personal stuff…

  I turned the camera off and left my room.

  I was met with Tate.

  We were eye level, but he was puffed out like an animal ready to attack.

  And that’s just what he did to me.

  His hand pressed against my throat a little tighter than I cared for. I felt the color rushing to my face but held a straight expression. His other hand had a handful of my shirt.

  “What the fuck did you do to her? What did you say to her? Huh?”