Sinner's Kiss: A Dark Bad Boy Romance

by April Lust

  Jace leaned his head against the pillow and closed his eyes. But every time he did, he saw flashes of fists hitting his face, felt them kicking his sides and stomach, felt the stinging cuts across his back. And then the eerie silence. When he’d passed out, they’d stopped at some point. He woke up and the world around him was so still. He’d tried to sit up, but everything spun and he collapsed again, kissing the gravel. He’d lain there, hoping for salvation. For one of his boys to come along and see him. For someone to help him. And then Isabella was there.

  When he’d opened his eyes enough to see her, she seemed to glow. Of course, it might have been him half hallucinating from the pain, but he’d never forget that first sight of her. The concern on her face, the way she reached out to see if he had a pulse. And then how she’d helped him into the car, had listened when he said not to take him to the hospital. How many women would have done that? And then she’d cared for him ever since. If he didn’t know better, he’d think he was falling for her already. And then figure in her perfect face and body. She was the whole package. Despite whatever he tried to tell himself, he wanted her. Badly.

  Chapter Three

  Isabella looked up from her book at the flashes of red and blue light on the wall. She went into Sara’s room and looked out the window. In the parking lot below was a cop car with its lights on. Immediately, she panicked and hurried into her bedroom.

  “Jace, are you in any sort of trouble?”

  He’d been lying there with his eyes closed and now they opened to look at her. “What?” he mumbled, and pushed himself to sit up.

  “Are you in trouble?”

  “Usually. Can you be more specific?”

  “With the police? Is there any reason the cops would come looking for you?”

  He looked over toward the window at the red and blue light. “I don’t think so.”

  “You don’t think so?” She went to the window to look out again. She didn’t see anyone. “Have you done anything illegal lately?”

  He raised an eyebrow at her. “Maybe?”

  She sighed, then went to her front door. The peephole was grungy but she could see out of it. No cops in the hall. No cops coming to knock on her door. She went back to the bedroom and looked out again, hoping to gain some insight as to what was going on.

  “What are you into? Guns?” That was what Craig had been into. Buying and stealing and selling guns illegally to people who couldn’t buy them or didn’t want to buy them through legal channels.

  “I have guns,” he said.

  “Do you sell them? Illegally?”

  “No.”

  “Then what it is?”

  “Why do you assume I’m a criminal?” His voice gained a slight hard edge.

  She put her hand on her hip. “Well, you were beaten within an inch of your life and left for dead. You didn’t want me to take you to the hospital because they’d come to kill you. Usually people in those situations want help from the police. So, if you don’t, it’s usually because you’re into something illegal.”

  “Guess you have a point.”

  “So, what is it, then? What illegal thing are you into?”

  “How many cops are out there?”

  She looked again. “Just one. Oh.” She saw him finally. He got out of his car and went to a car parked nearby to hand the man inside something. Then they both drove off. “Maybe he was just giving someone a ticket. He’s gone now.”

  “Then nothing to worry about.”

  “Were you worried? That the cops might show up here to arrest you?”

  “No.”

  She looked at him for a moment.

  “Look, you don’t have to worry,” he said. “As soon as I can get up and walk on my own, I’ll go. I appreciate all you’ve done for me, and I’d never want to overstay my welcome.”

  She thought of him going to the bathroom earlier and how he could nearly walk on his own. She’d helped him a little, but it wouldn’t be long before he could move without her help. He’d made significant improvements since last night. So, he wouldn’t be here much longer. The thought saddened her. But in the next thought, she knew that was ridiculous. Her first thought when she’d seen the lights was that Jace was in trouble. She couldn’t be with someone like that. Someone who might get arrested and disappear at any time.

  There was a knock on the door. Jace looked at her and she looked back, worried again.

  “Expecting someone?” he asked.

  She shook her head.

  At the front door, she looked out the peephole again and saw two people standing in front of her door. One, the shortest one, had on a bright pink sweatshirt and a t-shirt with a gray kitty underneath. She smiled and opened the door.

  “Mommy!” Sara jumped into her arms.

  “I am so sorry, Isabella. I’ve just got a call that my mom was taken to the hospital. I’m sorry to just drop her like this with no warning. Is your friend still here?”

  She said “friend” as if Isabella had been up to no good last night and that was the reason she wanted Sara to stay.

  “No problem, Jeanine. Go to the hospital. See your mom. I appreciate you keeping her last night.”

  “Okay, then. Bye, Sara.” Jeanine waved and walked away, and Sara waved back as Isabella closed the door.

  Sara wiggled free of Isabella’s arms and dashed into her bedroom, emerging a moment later with armfuls of stuffed animals. She turned toward Isabella’s bedroom and froze.

  “Mommy, there’s a man in your bed.”

  Isabella felt her face go warm. The way she’d said it made it sound so much less innocent that it was. “Yes. Come meet him.” She guided Sara into the room.

  “Sara, this is my friend, Jace. He’s not feeling well, so he came here to get better.”

  “Oh,” Sara said.

  “Hi, Sara.” His eyes softened and the less swollen one crinkled in a half smile.

  Sara dropped the animals on the bed. “These are all my friends.” She picked up a black and white cat. “This is Spot. And this is Cuddles.” She held up the purple bunny Isabella had slept with last night. Sara went through several more animals.

  Jace, to Isabella’s surprise, nodded and looked carefully at each one.

  “Okay, Sara, let’s let Jace rest and get some lunch, okay?”

  Sara picked up her animals and dumped them on the couch in the living room before joining her mother in the kitchen. Isabella took out some bread and cheese. She started to make a grilled cheese, and by the time she was done, she noticed Sara was no longer in the kitchen, sitting at the table with her stuffed cat.

  Isabella went to find her and she was sitting on the bed beside Jace, a handful of cards in her hand. She was explaining, “You have to get all the same colors and then you win. See?” She showed him her hand of nothing but red cards. “I win.”

  “Oh, I see.” Jace looked down at his own hand. “How do I get all the same color cards?”

  “Well, you just give me the red ones.”

  “And what about the black ones?”

  “You keep those. Or put them here.” She patted a spot on the bed where a short stack of cards sat.

  “What if I want to collect red cards, too?” he asked.

  Sara shrugged. “You can. But you have to have only red cards to win.”

  “Gotcha.”

  Sara handed cards back and forth, and Jace picked up the ones she dealt him to add them to his hand.

  “Are you teaching Jace to play cards, Sara?” Isabella asked, leaning in door frame.

  “Yup! I won!” She eagerly showed her mother her hand of all red cards.

  “Good job. Your lunch is ready. Come eat.”

  Sara hopped down from the bed. “We can play again when I’m done.” Then she dashed from the room.

  “Sorry about that,” Isabella said. “I wasn’t expecting her back yet, but my babysitter had an emergency come up.”

  “It’s okay. Gives me something to do.” He smiled at her.

&
nbsp; “If you need a book or magazine or something—”

  “No, really, it’s okay. She’s fun.”

  Isabella raised an eyebrow at him. “Do you have kids? Or nieces or nephews or anything?”

  “No.”

  “Then it might not be fun for too long. Preschoolers take some getting used to.”

  “How old is she?”

  “Four.”

  He nodded. “Seems like a fun age.”

  “It is. Until she’s tired or mad or doesn’t get her way. Then it’s tantrum city. I made her a grilled cheese. Do you want one? Or something else? I can make you a sandwich or something.”

  “I’m okay. I don’t know that I could eat yet.”

  Isabella pulled her mouth to the side in thought. “You should probably eat something soon, though. You need to keep your strength up. Maybe some soup?”

  He nodded. “Sounds perfect.”

  A few minutes later, once it was done heating and she was sure that Sara was settled, Isabella took a steaming bowl of chicken soup to him. She grabbed another towel and folded it so he could set the bowl on his lap to eat.

  “Thank you,” he said, blowing on a spoonful. “I’m actually feeling hungry now that I smell food.”

  “Good.” She watched for a moment as he ate. He slurped a few spoonfuls after blowing on each one. “How does your stomach feel?”

  “Empty.” He laughed. “I needed this.”

  “Let me know if you want toast or something to go with it.”

  He swallowed another spoonful. “Actually, yes, if you don’t mind.”

  “Sure.”

  By the time she came back with two pieces of toast on a plate, he’d eaten half the bowl. She handed him the toast and checked his complexion.

  “You don’t feel like you’re going to throw up or anything?” she asked.

  He took a big bite of toast and shook his head. “I feel better. My head isn’t spinning as much.”

  “Maybe you got dehydrated. Drink more water.”

  He took a few long sips between bites of toast.

  “I think you should still take it a little slow.” She took the empty plate from him. “I’ll gladly bring you more food, but we should wait to make sure your stomach can take it.”

  He nodded and closed his eyes, leaning back against the pillow.

  “Let me know if you need anything. I’ll make sure to keep Sara out while you’re resting.”

  “You can let her in. It’s okay.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah. She’s fun.”

  Isabella left the room, closing the door behind her. He really thought her daughter was fun? Sara’s own dad hadn’t even thought that.

  ###

  When he woke the next morning, Jace felt markedly better. The aching in his muscles had lessened, as had the swelling in his face. Good. Lionel’s idiots could even manage a decent punch. He could open both eyes fully now. The stinging cuts on his back burned less, and, overall, he felt stronger. Less dizziness, less fatigue, less foggy mind. But that meant it was time to go. Time to leave her be.

  Yet his feet didn’t hit the floor. He didn’t try to get up to see if he could walk on his own, like he’d told Isabella he’d need to be able to do before he left. He watched the morning sun brighten through the sheer curtains and waited. He could wait a bit. That wouldn’t hurt anything.

  A while later, she came in the room. Isabella’s face was slightly puffy with sleep and her hair stuck out in all directions from her face. But if this was what she looked like in the mornings, he wanted to wake up to her every morning.

  “How are you feeling today?” she asked.

  “Getting there.”

  “Good. Do you want breakfast?”

  His stomach growled just thinking of it. He’d eaten a full dinner yesterday. An awesome dinner of meatloaf and mashed potatoes with gravy and green beans. Of course she was a good cook, too. Why wouldn’t she be good at everything? Like she was trying to torture him.

  “Breakfast would be great,” he said. “Or even just another protein shake. Don’t go to too much trouble or anything.”

  She dropped her head to the side. “Eggs? Pancakes? French toast?”

  “I’m a sucker for scrambled.”

  “Coming right up.”

  She left the room and minutes later, he smelled eggs cooking. How long had it been since someone had cooked for him? He really needed to get a girl again. He wanted Isabella, but she was far too good. He needed someone like her who he didn’t have to worry about ruining. Especially now that this thing was going on with Lionel. What he really needed was a girl who could take care of herself. Win a fight, carry a gun or a knife. That way he wouldn’t have to worry about her all the time.

  Isabella came in with a bowl of scrambled eggs and orange juice. She watched as he dug in the fork and put a bite into his mouth. It was perfect. Moist and flavorful, like his mama made them.

  “Are they okay?”

  “They’re perfect.” He stuck another bite in his mouth, tempted to just tilt the bowl and dump it all in his mouth.

  “Really? Not too dry or anything?”

  “No. They’re perfect. Really.”

  She smiled and seemed to relax. Then he realized what she was doing. She was waiting for him to say something was wrong. Her whole body had been tensed and waiting for it. And when he said they were good, and convinced her of it, she let go of the tension. Let go of the readiness for a fight. Man, what had the last guy done to her? Probably was one of those meat heads who liked to punch her every time she messed up dinner. Maybe that was even why she was such a good cook. Maybe it was a survival skill. Sickening. If the food wasn’t so good, he might have been unable to eat.

  “You don’t have to worry,” he said. “I think you’re a wonderful cook and an awesome mom. You’ll make a really great wife for someone one day.”

  She pulled her eyebrows together for a moment. “Thanks…” She didn’t even believe it. Sad.

  “There are good guys out there,” he said. “You might have to really search, but they’re there.”

  “Oh yeah? And I suppose you’re one of the good guys?” She pulled her mouth into a half smile.

  Say yes, say yes. Oh, how he wanted to convince her. She would believe him, too. He’d been a total gentleman the whole time he’d been here. Charm level ten. But this wasn’t the real him. This was him when no one was around to see his weakness. This was him with nothing to fight back against. As soon as he stepped out the door, he was back on the battleground. Lionel’s club and life in general—everything was a fight for him.

  “Nah.” He shook his head. “I’m one of the ones you should avoid.” He gave her a sad smile. He’d never wanted to become a good guy so badly. But she deserved someone who didn’t have to force it. Who was naturally good. And that wasn’t him one bit.

  “Oh, that’s too bad. I was starting to think you were the rare exception.”

  “The exception?”

  “You know, they’re like unicorns. The mythical beast that is the bad boy with a heart of gold. The one who defends his woman, then comes home and treats her sweetly and gently.”

  “Oh, that.” Were any of the “bad boy” types as she called him actually like that? None of the guys in his club were, even if they tried to be. Some were nice enough to their girls, but the things they did and said when they weren’t around…it wouldn’t seem so nice to any of them. “Maybe that guy is off riding a unicorn instead of a motorcycle.”

  She broke into laughter. Her whole face lit up and shone as her eyes glittered. He wanted to make her laugh like that forever.

  “Maybe.”

  “Was that it, then?” he asked. “Your ex was a bad boy type?”

  “I guess you could say that.”

  “And he, what, used to hit you? Yelled at you if you didn’t cook something exactly he wanted?”

  Isabella stared at him, her jaw hanging open.

  “Is he talking about Daddy?�
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  Isabella whipped around at the sound of Sara’s voice. Jace hadn’t known she was there either, but she’d been standing just outside the door, listening. Now she peered around the edge, clutching a purple bunny to her chest.