I Need A Bad Boy: A Collection of Bad Boy Romances

by Sophie Brooks

  “Why didn’t you say anything?” Rafael let out a low on the heels of a pained wail.

  “I figured she must have noticed, too. She looked so happy, y’now? And… I figured, why be a cock-blocker? If the guy was dumbing down to keep her happy, chasing after her, well, she was more than okay with it so I let it slide. And then it comes out that he’s the ‘Demon of Santa Teresa.’ Fuck!” Craggs whirled and punched his office wall. It crumbled, leaving a hole.

  I think we all wanted to do that.

  “WE NEED a motive, guys,” Lupine said, his voice patient and calm. “Why’d he kill his girlfriend, again?”

  Taylor Nolan cleared his throat. “She might have been a whistle-blower. Remember that Provoid Brothers securities scandal?”

  Nolan nodded.

  “I’m a reporter and I’d been working that story at the time. There have been some deaths in their accounting department. I’ve tried to track it down this morning. All those people left for other jobs, but it’s not hard to find someone nowadays. I found one of her friends from work. A senior accountant, Mrs. Joanne Tovissi. She used to report to the Vice President of Operations, Logee was his name, I think. He’s the one who didn’t end up serving time due to medical reasons. Sudden blindness, and some other stuff.”

  The small office was filled with expectant silence.

  “So, where is she?” Lupine asked.

  “Joanne Tovissi popped up in a Google search. Her memorial service was held two months ago. She was run down by a speeding car – there was no license plate.”

  ONCE THE furor died and the countless speculations were given time to run their course, a bucket of ice water was dumped on the whole party.

  “Unfortunately, this gear will never be admitted into evidence,” Jubal Lupine said with a mournful expression. “Had the police collected it at the time her body was removed, it would have been okay, but the local force sees the occasional climbing accident and has little patience for out-of-towners getting killed on their watch.” He sighed. “The only way to nab him is to have him confess.”

  “I can arrange for that,” Craggs growled.

  “No you can’t. I’m her brother, it’s my job.” Rafael almost rose out of his seat.

  “Not like that, you ass… gentlemen.” Frustration and poorly concealed amusement warred on Lupine’s face as he shot me and Vicki an apologetic look for his slip of tongue. “It has to be coaxed out of him so it’s voluntary. It has to be wire-tapped. I can get an approval for that, but as soon as you lay even the small finger of your left hand on him, if it’s part of a police action, you’ll get his admission thrown out of court.”

  “So I can work him over afterward?” Raf asked, eyes glinting like hard ice.

  “I won’t comment on that. I depend on you guys to not be stupid.”

  He looked around, taking in our determined faces, men and women both.

  “I guess that’s too much to ask with your bunch, though.”

  THE WATER of my bath was cooling again. I turned the hot water tap again and slid under, enjoying its soothing warmth on all the parts that ailed me. My mind whirled. Blaine would have to be coaxed to fess up. This didn’t include violence, but it might include being wily.

  Of all of us, I was the one best suited to do just that. My climbing skills, my looks and my determination would help me take care of this pesky problem before Raf lost his patience, hunted down the traitorous asshole and killed him with his own bare hands. The law took dim view of such acts of personal vendetta – Raf didn’t want me in jail for burglary, but by the same token, regardless how I felt about him at the moment, I didn’t want him in jail for murder.

  A plan began to form in my mind as I swirled my hands through the water, watching the gentle waves travel out, then bounce back and come back to me. I’d need to employ serious safety precautions. My mind followed various avenues of attack, paying special attention to defense.

  There was a way to make Blaine talk.

  When I watched him climb that one time, there was one thing I thought I’d noticed – he seemed to have made an effort to flirt with me. It wasn’t anything obvious, just a meeting of the eyes and a quirk of a smile where there didn’t have to be one. I wasn’t entirely sure yet, but something told me I had a good chance with Blaine Kirby.

  RAF BURST through the doors, kicking his shoes off and dumping a shopping bag on the dining room table.

  “Dinner!”

  The clothing and personal items I’d brought in my huge duffel were all organized and stowed away; I was sprawled on my bed wearing Rafael’s new navy bathrobe, reading a climbing magazine.

  “Coming…” My lack of excitement for dinner had a lot to do with my general avoidance of conversation with my mercurial lover.

  My head was still a bit sore, but that had been my own doing.

  My boundaries had been violated with the way Raf had approached me in Chico’s shower.

  My shoulders bore the bruised imprint of his hands.

  Worst of all, I didn’t need to check with my friends to discover what possible words I might have exchanged with Raf the night before. The telephone call was etched into my memory.

  In vino veritas.

  There is truth in wine. Thinking back to the beginning of our unlikely relationship, I reviewed the milestones of our association one by one. The events were a comedy of errors and a compilation of embarrassments. The last of which was being held captive in a friend’s shower, Rafael’s intent eminently clear. The memory of an angry Rafael jumbled my conflicted feelings into a tangled mess – and considering the extent of the measures to which I had stooped in my pursuit of Raf Rinaldi, the situation had a sense of surreal poetic justice about it. Now he was pursuing me and I had the proverbial tiger by the tail.

  Below the waist, I approved of his vigor. Above the waist, I had a hard time reconciling the attentive, generous and gentle lover that was Raf Rinaldi with the possessive, primal beast that had tried to lay claim to my person, my schedule and my sense of independence. He had given me a glimpse of his dark side. His angry side, his violent side. That side was part of him and I had said that I loved him – and now I had to make sure that my statement held even now, under the light of new revelations of Rafael’s somewhat volatile nature.

  “HEY, EVE…” There was a soft knock on my doorjamb, then his chestnut hair poked through as he peered through the open door. “Dinner’s getting cold.”

  “Yeah. I heard.” I flipped the magazine face down to mark my page. Rafael’s eyes lit with interest.

  “Hey, Eve… we could go climbing together, y’know. I haven’t been able to, lately, but… I really miss it.”

  He was asking to enter into my world.

  I nodded.

  “Okay.”

  I followed him out to the dining room, silent and assessing. Could I love the bad with the good? Could I tolerate his fierce possessiveness along with the fatal attraction, the gentle caring?

  My internal alarms screamed “Danger, danger!” as I hurtled through unknown space, lacking a reliable navigation system. Capturing his heart seemed to have come with a lot more complications than just breaking into his house and taking some cash out of his freezer.

  THE SCENT of Indian food hit my nostrils. My favorite dishes were set out on the table in an elaborate gesture of apology. The dark sag paneer with its glistening cheese, the orange tikki masala with fragrant jasmine rice. Buttery nan flatbread. Cardamom and coriander and love.

  I stood there, stopped in my tracks, motionless in the doorway.

  There was a candle on the table. Its flickering light illuminated a sad, supermarket rose in its washed-out mustard jar.

  “C’m on, Eve.” His arm around my shoulders was gentle, leading me to a chair. There were no words, but the apology and regret in the deep, blue eyes spoke volumes.

  Maybe I didn’t have to move back into my solitary apartment with no bed.

  Maybe I could stay.

  CHAPTER 16

>   I WOKE up once again, restless and tired at the same time. Gray light of the early dawn filtered through the sheer curtains, leaving my room calm and cave-like. Six in the morning on an overcast Sunday, and my mind just wouldn’t stop spinning. I’d been like that all night long. It had been hard to fall asleep after a busy and confusing day, and I needed more time to process it all. Usually, that meant just falling asleep and waking up with a clever insight or two.

  Not this time.

  This time, small sounds kept waking me in the middle of the night.

  The building elevator.

  Raf tossing and turning two rooms away.

  Somebody flushing the toilet one floor above us.

  My door was closed. Unequipped with a lock. Every time I woke up, I looked at the door, making sure it was still shut.

  At that time, I didn’t know why.

  NO USE trying to force sleep to come. I rolled out of bed and stumbled into the shower. The hot water was a relief; the cold water, which always followed it, woke me up, infusing me with extra energy. Washed, shampooed and exfoliated, I stepped out and reached for a towel.

  Rafael’s towel.

  I felt my chest squeeze at the thought as I was drying myself off. Yep, still sore from climbing. A look in the mirror made my stomach tighten; the bruised grip-marks on my shoulders had darkened overnight. The Mark of Rafael. I shuddered at the memory of having felt so helpless and small. As I patted my tender bits dry, a strange sensation brushed the back of my hand.

  Stubble??

  I bent over to have a look. Sure enough – what had been shaven so smooth on Friday had started growing back. I had a scratchy, two-day beard on my most sensitive parts. I clenched my legs together experimentally. Sure enough, tiny little pricks impaled my tender flesh. Turning toward the full-length mirror on the wall, I tilted my hips to take a better look.

  My triangle looked like a dark-blonde hedgehog, the little African kind some people like to keep as pets. I touched it. The tender skin of my thighs was waiting to tangle with my hedgehog, except the hedgehog was hoping to score first blood.

  That asshole.

  Pain shot through my back as I straightened from the awkward position, letting me know that I overdid my climbing after my enforced rest. Even worse, thanks to Rinaldi, that asshole, my whole groin now itched with regrowth. I considered my options: I could wait a few days. There had to be some kind of an anti-itch cream for these things. Like a men’s aftershave – except just the thought of aftershave down there had me wincing with pain.

  How about shaving it again? The logistics of reach and visibility were considerable. I had nicked myself shaving my legs, and I had been able to see all the parts the razor was touching at the time. That option was out, definitely.

  I could ask Raf to shave me, but if I did that, he’d see it as a party invitation and I didn’t feel hospitable.

  Having decided to just suffer for a day and think about it, I reached for the door to get dressed. I turned the doorknob – it wouldn’t open. Slight panic seized me until I realized I must have automatically locked the bathroom door upon entry.

  I never lock the bathroom door.

  As I struggled into my clothes, I was absorbed by trying to figure out why I’d turned the lock without even thinking about it.

  I put on my own underwear. Unlike in the case of Rafael’s silk boxer shorts, the elastic edges of my briefs dug into my groin lines, irritating the growing stubble. I chose to tune it out.

  A locked bathroom door. Really?

  RAF EMERGED from his lair, hair wild, a bathrobe loosely tied around his waist.

  “Mmm. Coffee?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Want some?”

  “After my shower. You’re up early, Eve.”

  I nodded. “Yeah. Couldn’t sleep.”

  “You okay?”

  I shrugged. “Go take your shower.” I didn’t want to bellyache about my stiff, sore back, my tender parts and my jumbled thoughts. Having received his official apology over dinner last night, his behavior in the shower was officially forgiven. An apology didn’t mean I felt comfortable cozying up to him, though. I felt like I was walking on eggshells, waiting for the volcano to erupt again, spurred by a hitherto unknown transgression on my part.

  Rafael gave me a long look. “Okay then.”

  BY THE TIME he was set for the day, refreshed and dressed, my online purchases were finalized and paid for, and our toast and eggs were ready. We ate in tense silence.

  “What are your plans for the day?” My question was phrased with care.

  “The office,” he sighed. “I was supposed to go yesterday, meet with Rick Blanchard and go over those presentations for next week. We postponed for today. I should be done sometime after lunch. And you?”

  “I have some stuff to do at my place. Also, don’t forget. We’re meeting Vicki and Honore for dinner tonight. The River Run Café, down in the Village. Seven o’clock.”

  Raf groaned. “God. Honore can be so tiresome. Vicki and I do nothing but argue. Is this really necessary?”

  “Vicki’s my best friend, Honore’s a valuable business contact, not to mention a mentor of sorts. Yeah. It would be nice if you could join me.” I paused. “I can go by myself, if it’s too much to stomach.”

  “No. No! I’ll join you.” He spoke fast, his voice slightly alarmed. “You’re buying the drinks, though. You owe me that much.”

  MY OLD, black duffle bag was slung over my shoulder as I entered my one-bedroom apartment. It held my laptop and my grandfather’s old sword and a change of clothes for more than just tonight. I didn’t need much. Most of all, I needed some quiet time and space to myself. I needed to think.

  The kitchen had been cleaned last time I was here., This time, I vacuumed the empty bedroom, doing my level best to erase the spots in the carpet where my almost-new Ikea furniture used to be. Presently, my furniture sat in Rafael’s spare bedroom, where he had moved it moved there during my brief stay at the hospital.

  Without my consent.

  The thought riled me all over again. My mind wandered back, enumerating all the slights Raf had ever committed against my free will. Against my person.

  I’ve been punched.

  Pistol-whipped.

  Tied up.

  Blackmailed.

  I lost my job – but he bore only fractional responsibility for that one.

  I’ve been made drunk and got really sick on his… product.

  I had his papers thrown in my face.

  I was convinced, against my better judgment, to return some rich guy his drug money.

  I got shot in the ass – and for that, he bore some fractional responsibility as well.

  I was moved to his place without my knowledge.

  I had my privates shaved without being given a chance to have a say in the matter.

  My well-deserved time out with my lifelong buddies was invaded, by his nagging as well as by his person.

  I’ve been accosted while trying to take a shower alone.

  I got punished for hanging out with my friends by harsh words and bruised shoulders, not to mention the looming threat of unwanted sex.

  Of all those things, the last one was the straw that broke the camel’s back. As I hunched over my old vacuum, overcoming my nagging back pain to clean the dust bunnies and various crud, a feeling of panic kept invading my mind.

  Stuck.

  Helpless.

  Wet.

  Cold.

  Dominated.

  I had accepted his apology, but the alarming, dizzying feeling just wouldn’t leave me.

  RIGHT BEFORE lunch, the delivery guys brought several large boxes and a plastic-covered mattress up to my floor. They used the service elevator and moved them through the door with care, making sure they’ll fit.

  “Are we takin’ yer old stuff?” The foreman asked, his voice gruff. “I have no old stuff,” I replied. My old stuff was at Rafael’s. Once they left, I began opening the corrugated cardboard, mind
ful of nasty paper cuts. It was all there, black and shiny and beautiful.

  Vicki arrived at noon.

  “Hey, Evelyn. So what’s the emergency?”

  My eyes met her warm eyes and I only sighed and looked away.

  “Thanks for bringing lunch. What is it?”

  “Peruvian chicken, bean salad, and brownies. Oh, and drinks. Diet Coke for me, milk for you. Right?”

  “Right,” I smiled. “The lunch of champions.” We high-fived and took the food to the dining area to eat.

  We were halfway done with the juicy, delicately spiced chicken when Vicki leveled a serious look in my direction.

  “So… spill it.”

  And I did.

  “HE BRUISED you?” Furious lines marred Vicki’s forehead and her jaw was tight with anger.

  “It’s not as simple as that. I did tell him to stop, and I did say ‘no’ and he did stop… eventually.”

  “Bullshit,” Vicki spat. “Are you dumping him?”

  I paused, gathering my thoughts. “No, but I should have kicked him out of the bathroom right away.”

  “Why haven’t you, Eve? Had that been Nick, you’d have broken his nose.”

  A fierce blush rose to my cheeks. It got only worse when Vicki noticed and raised her groomed eyebrows.

  “Why the fuck do you think, Vicki?”

  “I dunno. You have a mouth on you most of the time. You tell me!”

  I stabbed a bean with my fork. The violence of my action made it jump out of the take-out plastic container.