Discovering Zhara: Bad Girl Training (Bad Boy Rebels Book 4)

by Jessica Sorensen

  He eyes me over curiously. “In the bathroom. Together?”

  “It was an accident,” I quickly explain. “There was an incident with my shirt and it flew out the window and I…” And now I’m stupidly babbling.

  Face palm.

  Jett rubs his hand across his mouth, probably to hide a smile. “So, you lost a shirt?”

  “Not on purpose.”

  “Of course not. No one ever loses anything on purpose.”

  “That’s not true. Alexis, my sister, used to lose her homework all the time on purpose.”

  “Alexis?” He pauses. “Alexis Baker is your sister?”

  “My twin actually. Not identical, but that’s probably pretty obvious.” I pause, noticing how uncomfortable he’s gotten. “Do you know her?”

  “Not really.” He scratches at his neck with a pucker at his brow. When he notices me observing him, though, he simply offers me a small smile. “I’m going to go check with Ridge and make sure everything’s okay. Holler if you need anything.” Then he darts away so swiftly you’d think I had cooties.

  And I’m left wondering what happened between my sister and Jett.

  Um Yeah, of Course I Can Dance

  I take a longer shower than I normally do, partially to clear my head and partially because the warm water feels good on my aching muscles. I know Ridge said devil’s poison has no side effects but with how achy my body is, I have to question if I react differently to the drug.

  After I’ve scrubbed down my body and washed my hair, I step out of the shower to get dressed. Strangely, a crisp black shirt that looks about my size is sitting on top of my shorts and underwear. Weird, since I didn’t hear anyone come in. The idea of one of the guys walking into the bathroom while I’m showering makes my stomach somersault, and not necessarily in a bad way.

  As the cold air nips at my skin, I hurry and dry off, put the clothes on and then search the drawers until I find a brush. I also stumble across some cologne and spray myself a few times, since I don’t have any deodorant. Between using Benton’s body wash, shampoo, and cologne, I smell just like him.

  “Hey.” Jett greets me with a smile as I walk out into the living room.

  The air smells like a mixture of strawberry air freshener and skunk, a lot like Loki’s bedroom used to smell back in his high school days. But the air is smoke free, so I’m guessing Jett smoked a bit ago and then tried to mask the stench with a fruit scented air freshener.

  When I enter, his gaze lazily scrolls up and down my body and a lopsided grin tugs at his lips. “I see you found the shirt I left you.”

  “Yeah, I did.” I self-consciously tug at the hem of the shirt. “But how did you have a shirt that’s my size?”

  “It’s actually Benton’s. He has a whole drawer full of them.” His gaze sweeps up and down me again and something indecipherable flashes in his eyes.

  The look makes my tummy flutter.

  I inch my way into the room. “Why does Benton have a whole drawer of tiny shirts?”

  Jett chuckles. “Because the damn fool didn’t know how to use a washer and dryer properly and kept shrinking all his clothes. He went through like ten good shirts and pants before Wilder finally gave him a proper demonstration.”

  I giggle. “How old was he when this happened?”

  “It was actually about when he moved back to Honeyton. Right after his…” He trails off and hastily clears his throat. “But yeah, anyway, apparently, he’d never touched a washer and dryer before. His mom always washed his clothes for him.”

  I’ve never heard the story of why Benton moved back to Honeyton or where his parents are. From what I understand, he’s lived in this apartment, alone, for a while.

  I take a seat beside Jett and tuck my hands underneath my legs. “Can I ask you a question about Benton?”

  Wariness crosses his expression. “Sure.”

  “Can I ask… I mean, do you know why he moved back to Honeyton? And if his parents moved with him?”

  “His parents didn’t move back with him.” He restlessly drums his fingers on top of his knee. “As for the why, you’ll have to talk to him about it. And I’d be careful when you do… Benton… He gets kind of uncomfortable talking about his past.”

  “I won’t ask him then,” I say. “I don’t want to make him uncomfortable.”

  “No, you should ask him,” he insists, fiddling with a lighter he picks up off the coffee table. “It’s good for you to get to know everyone, especially since you’re supposed to be all of our girlfriends.”

  “So, then, what’s your story?” I say bluntly then instantly want to retract my statement. “Never mind, that was way too blunt.”

  “You need to quit being so polite.” He playfully tugs on a strand of my damp hair and then sighs heavily. “I can tell you my story, but it’s not very pretty.”

  “Neither’s mine,” I tell him. “Or well, the last few years of it anyway.”

  He offers me a sad smile. “Mine hasn’t really been since the start. But that’s okay. It’s decent now.” He rises to his feet and makes his way over to an iPod dock balanced on top of the flat screen. “Look, Zhara, I know I said you should get to know everyone, but I don’t think telling you my entire story all at once is a good idea.”

  “Because it’s too personal?”

  “No, because it’s too painful and I don’t want to make you sad.” With his back turned to me, he picks up the iPod and begins scrolling through songs. “But how about this. Every day that we hang out together, I’ll tell you one thing about me if you tell me one thing about you.”

  I nod. “That sounds doable.”

  “Good.” He still doesn’t turn around, seeming extremely fixated on the iPod. “So, here’s one thing about me. I grew up without a family.”

  The crack that’s permanently been in my heart since the day my parents died, splits open even further. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry.”

  He holds up a hand. “It’s okay. No one died or anything. I just never had one.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, my mom gave me away when I was about three years old and I grew up in foster homes from then on.”

  My heart aches even more. Yes, my parents are dead, but at least they took care of me until then. “Jett, I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” He finally turns around. His eyes look a bit red, and I’m uncertain if he’s tearing up or still stoned. “Everyone has their bad shit to deal with.”

  “Yeah, I know.” I swallow hard. “My older brother’s been raising me since I turned fifteen.”

  He gives me an empathetic look. “Yeah, I know.”

  I wonder how he knows. If he heard the rumors around town or if maybe Alexis told him, since he seemed to know her. I want to ask him how he knows and why he seemed like he knew my sister, but a song clicks on.

  “Okay, enough sad talk.” He sets the iPod down in the dock and faces me, rubbing his hands together. “So, I was instructed to give you some bad girl training lessons while everyone’s gone.”

  “Wait, everyone left?” I ask, suddenly realizing how empty the apartment seems.

  He nods, making his way toward me. “Benton, Xavier, and Jackson haven’t come back yet and Ridge and Wilder got called out on another job. They’re actually not that far away, so they shouldn’t be gone for too long. But I was instructed to keep an eye on you and give you some training.”

  “You want to give me some bad girl training?” I ask skeptically, then glance at the clock. “At three o’clock in the morning?”

  “Hey, the first rule of being a bad girl is that they don’t worry about how late it is.” He stops in front of me. “In fact, the later you stay up, the more bad you are.”

  I have a feeling he’s teasing me, but find myself smiling.

  “Well, if that’s the case, then I’m not very bad.”

  “Oh, but we’re about to change that.”

  “By doing what?”

  He offers me his hand.
“By teaching you to dance.”

  I shoot him a doubtful look. “That’s your magical teaching lesson to making me a bad girl?”

  “Yes,” he replies simply. “All bad girls need to know how to dance.”

  “But I already know how to dance,” I point out.

  Now he’s the one to give me a doubtful look. “Really?”

  I nod. “I’m a cheerleader. Of course, I can dance.”

  He considers this with an amused grin. “Maybe that’s true. But I don’t really think the kind of dancing I’m talking about is the kind of dancing cheerleaders do.”

  “You mean, sexy dancing?” Warmth creeps across my cheeks and I mentally curse myself for blushing over something so ridiculous.

  Jett smiles amusedly. “You know what. Wilder was right. You’re cute when you blush.”

  It’s always cute. Cute, cute, cute. I guess it might be time to accept my cute fate. And hey, it could be worse. He could be calling me Pink Cheeks.

  “But anyway,” I change the subject and Jett chuckles. “I know how to sexy dance.”

  His brow quirks upward. “Really?”

  “Yes really.” I square my shoulders. “Taylor taught me.”

  “Taylor.” He pulls a face. “I forgot you were friends with her.”

  “You don’t like her?” Weird, since most guys do. Well, except Ridge and Benton.

  “Well, I wouldn’t necessarily say dislike so much as loathe.” He offers me a semi-apologetic look. “Sorry, I know she’s your friend, but the girl does a lot of bitchy stuff to people who don’t deserve it.”

  I frown, realizing the truth. “She wasn’t always that way. Up until a few years ago, she was really nice.”

  “I’m not surprised.”

  “Really?”

  He nods. “Of course. Otherwise there’s no way you would’ve become friends with her. Unless you’re one of those firm believers that opposites attract.”

  “So you think she’s a bitch and I’m really… nice?” I’m unsure if I like that word more or less than cute.

  “That’s not a bad thing.” He urges me to take his hand. “But right now, you’re supposed to be being bad. So get your cute ass up and show me those sexy dance moves.”

  I can tell he still seems amused by the idea that I know how to sexy dance and that he doesn’t fully believe me. While I don’t blame him for doubting me, it makes my frustration tick, like when Benton wouldn’t let me into the party.

  “You don’t think I can do it, huh?” I crook my brow.

  “Of course I do.” He presses his lips together, stifling a smile.

  Squaring my shoulders, I plaster on a sassy grin. “Fine, I’ll prove it.”

  I take his hand, but instead of letting him pull me up, I tug him forward while I jump to my feet. Then I wiggle my hand from his, line my palm to his chest, and push him down into the sofa. When he gapes up at me, I put my hands on my hips and flash him another sassy smirk. On the inside, though, I give myself a mental high-five for pulling off the move. Sure, Taylor taught me how to sexy dance, but I never actually used the moves on any guy, so I’m a little shocked I managed to do it so smoothly.

  Jett’s shock shifts to interest. Reclining back in the sofa, he places his hands behind his head. “Okay, now I’m really interested in where this is going to go.”

  I smirk. “I bet you are and maybe if you’re lucky I’ll show you.” What the heck! Why are words spilling out of my mouth? I’m such an idiot. Think before you speak, Zhara. You’re not Taylor! “I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I said that.”

  Jett shakes his head and motions for me to continue. “No, keep rolling with it. Don’t lose the character.”

  Is he kidding me right now?

  Apparently, he isn’t, because he stares at me expectantly, waiting for me to continue.

  I rack my brain for what Taylor would do next and then frown at the mental image that pops into my mind. Crap, I’m way in over my head.

  Still, I have to try. Besides, sexy dancing in front of Jett can’t be worse than getting tranquilized by a drug lord.

  I hope, anyway.

  Summoning a deep breath, I spin around while dragging my hands up my body. Once I do a full turn, I shimmy my hips, lower to the floor, then push back up. Jett watches my every move, his gaze transfixed on me. The longer I dance and the longer he continues to look at me with heat in his eyes, the braver I become. I start to lose myself in the music, the rhythm, the sultry lyrics, the way I move my body. I get so lost I barely comprehend climbing onto Jett’s lap and straddling him. That is, until he slips his hands underneath the hem of my shirt and grips my waist. The skin to skin contact makes me freeze.

  “No, keep going,” he encourages, holding me in place.

  “I…” I don’t know how to keep going. Taylor never taught me how to dance while I’m on a guy’s lap.

  Sensing my panic, Jett strokes my side with his fingers. “Zhara, you’re doing fine.” He wets his lips with his tongue, his gaze flicking to my lips. “Way better than I expected.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” He wets his lips again, drawing all of my attention to his mouth. “In fact, I think you were made for this.”

  “Sexy dancing?” I ask, sounding a bit dazed.

  “Sexy dancing. This job. Being a bad girl.” The last part comes out more teasing and playful. But then his smile fades as he starts to lean in to kiss me.

  I’m not sure what to do. Am I supposed to kiss him? Because I’ve kissed Wilder and Benton already. But I’m not technically working undercover right now, am I?

  Despite all of these thoughts, I remain motionless as Jett’s lips near mine. What that says about me, I have no idea, but it kind of feels like I might be being the tiniest bit bad. But then his lips brush mine and all thoughts evacuate my brain.

  I think this might be the most intimate position I’ve been in when someone is kissing me and it definitely makes the experience… different. Not in a bad way. At all. In fact, it’s really, really nice. No, scratch that. Nice is not a good word to describe a kiss. Warm and soft and fluttery. This kiss is all of those things and more.

  Unlike Wilder and Benton, Jett kisses slowly, yet somehow, my heart is pounding faster. My pulse only quickens when he parts my lips with his tongue, kisses me deeply, then pulls back. I think he’s ending the kiss, but nope, his mouth stays on mine, his teeth grazing my bottom lip as he nips and sucks and gently bites.

  I let out a moan.

  Oh my Gosh, I actually moaned!

  Embarrassment rises inside me, but Jett lets out a soft moan too. Then his hands slip around to my back and he presses me closer as he kisses me deeper. I start to relax, my muscles unwinding, when suddenly the music stops.

  Jett pulls away with a smile on his lips. “I think we’ve been busted.”

  I don’t know why he seems so happy about the fact when I feel like I want to crawl in a hole and never come out. I mean, sure, Jackson saw me kiss Wilder, but that was different. I was working undercover with them then, not messing around in Benton’s living room.

  But all my worries go right out the window when a voice rises over the quietness. A voice that doesn’t belong to any of the guys

  “Well, well, well, what do we have here?”

  .

  The Not-So-Familiar, Yet Familiar Intruder

  “Shit.” Somehow, Jett manages to rise to his feet without pushing me off his lap, and then moves me around so I’m standing behind him. “How the fuck did you get in here without the alarms going off?”

  “I have my ways.” The guy pauses. “Who’s that lovely little thing hiding behind you?”

  “That’s none of your damn business,” Jett snaps, his fingers sneaking into his back pocket for his phone.

  “Don’t you dare touch your phone,” the guy warns, his booming voice making me shudder.

  I hear a click, like a gun click, and Jett slowly moves his hands away from his back pocket and raises them to his side. />
  My heart rate quickens so swiftly I worry I’m going to pass out, so I take a deep breath, trying to calm down. Still, I’m terrified. This is the second time I’ve been held at gunpoint in less the twenty-four hours. Is this going to become a thing when I’m with them? Will I quit if it is?

  “Good, now that I have your attention,” the guy says. “I need you to answer a few questions for me, starting with you giving me the passcode to The Vault.”

  Jett lets out a low laugh. “I should’ve known that’s what you’re after. It’s always the same with you Rogues.”

  “I’m not the same as the rest of them,” he growls. “I’m different.”

  Jett snorts a laugh. “Yeah, okay.”

  “I am,” the Rogue screams, causing me to nearly jump out of my skin. “And besides, you don’t even know what you’re talking about. You don’t even know what’s really in there. You just believe everything your boss tells you because you think that’s how things are supposed to be. But believe me, if you knew the truth, you wouldn’t be so trusting.”

  Jett’s phone vibrates from inside his back pocket, the screen illuminating. I don’t know what overcomes me, but I find myself moving to fish his phone out. He momentarily tenses when I dip my hand inside his pocket, but then continues talking to the Rogue.

  “Like I’d trust a Rogue.” Jett laughs and shakes his head. “All you guys ever want is one thing—revenge. And you’ll say just about anything to get what you want.”

  “Is that what they tell you?” The Rogue lets out a snide laugh. “That we want revenge?”

  When I get the phone all the way out of Jett’s pocket, I hold my breath as I slowly swipe my finger over the screen. Crap, it’s passcode protected.

  “Of course that’s what you want,” Jett laughs. “And you want to know how I know this? Because I’ve heard the same story about Rogues nine thousand, four hundred, and fifty-seven times.”

  Okay, that was a really random number.

  Or maybe it wasn’t.

  I type in nine, four, five, seven, and the screen unlocks.

  Yes!

  I hurry and open his texts and type a message to Benton.