Lucas (A Billionaire Bad Boy Novel)

by Adriana Jones

  Red was there. And he was alive.

  “Red,” I screamed as I rushed into the small room and hugged him, embracing him madly. I heard the door creak closed behind us.

  I was thankful to have him against me again. I hadn’t noticed how cold I had gotten. Red warmed me right up. When I pulled away to look at him in bed, that’s when I noticed the sling across his arm.

  He was shirtless. Only in jeans. His old jeans were on the floor and spotted with blood. He looked drained, much paler than I remembered, but he still smiled. There were cuts and scrapes all over his muscled frame, but what worried me the most was the damage done to his left arm.

  “What happened?”

  He shrugged, flexed with a wince of pain, and looked down at the sling. “Took a bullet. It didn’t hit anything important. The doctor said I should be fine in a month or so.”

  Why did that not sound like the full truth? Putting a hand on my hip, I gave Red a quizzical look.

  “Took a bullet? Who says that like it’s an everyday thing? Where’s the doctor?”

  He shifted away. “Doctor is busy,” he grunted.

  “What are you hiding?”

  “Not hiding. I’m not going to lie, it hurts like hell, but I was lucky. There was blood loss. I collapsed. I came back and they had me loaded up in a truck, ready to head back. Doctor here took the bullet out, and it didn’t hit any nerves or bone, so I’m lucky, damn lucky. Not everyone was so lucky.”

  I reached for his hand. He brushed his fingers across my palm. His touch rang through me.

  “I was a nervous wreck.”

  “I know,” he said. “I’m sorry. I needed to do this.”

  He looked haggard, but still beautiful. How does one get more tired and more beautiful? It didn’t work that way for women most of the time—at least, I didn’t think so. It wasn’t fair.

  Fingers hooked, I let him caress my palms, helping me unwind. He was here. That was the important part. Red wasn’t taken from me.

  He brushed his fingers past my cheek. Red held me by the back of my neck, lowering my sights down to his intense stare.

  “Like I said, I’m not going anywhere. There’s nothing stopping me from being with you. Nothing could ever stop that.”

  Ready to hop onto his lap and be wrapped in his comforting arms, I was stopped once the door flung open and slammed into the wall. Bastards strode in and hollered, “Red. There he is,” like they were mega fans bursting into a star’s dressing room.

  One of them was Boots. He slapped Red on the shoulder. Red grimaced. A stab of pain seemed to sink into his arm, and his abs drew in, shaking and trying to hold him up.

  “Careful,” I told them.

  Boots turned to me quickly. “Hi, there, hun.” Then he turned back to Red while other men stood around in glee.

  “What you did was nothing short of heroic.”

  “Heard you took out four of them, and a machine gunner?”

  Red held a hand up. His nostrils twitched. His eyebrows practically met.

  “Thanks, guys,” he started, but they continued.

  “If you didn’t take that scumbag out, we would’ve been in major shit.”

  Boots nodded and crossed his arms. “Good job, kid. You were a beast out there. They’re all talking about you, ‘The Red Bastard’ they’re calling you now. I wanted to call you ‘The Red Beast’, but they chose ‘The Red Bastard’. Said it sounds flashier. The way you cut through them, that was something else. Haven’t seen that in a long time.”

  “Took the machine gunner out with his bare hands,” one of them added.

  Killed? The Red Bastard? How many men had Red killed?

  And with his bare hands? He hung his head low. He couldn’t look me in the eyes.

  “Thanks, guys. Sorry, I need time alone.”

  They grinned and chuckled. Boots waved them out. “We’ll let you get your sweet desserts. Come on, guys.”

  They exited as quickly as they entered. I searched the door, but I couldn’t find a lock. “Don’t you have locks here?” I growled.

  Spinning back to Red, I expected him to still be sheepishly looking to the floor. He honed in on me. He reached out for me to take his hand, the offering of a murderer. I was reminded of my mission, to bust The Bastards, to stop the senseless killing.

  This man, even if I cared about him, was part of that. I had a duty to stop him.

  “Come on,” he said. He reached for me again.

  Looking into his hazel eyes flecked with gold, I saw something more than a pure murderer. The ocean blue was stormy, but there was still a paradise in there, a greenish tint of a cozy forest retreat. Red, he was complicated, even his eyes told me that.

  I took his hand.

  “Nothing is going to come between us now,” he said. He pulled me in. My thighs spread, and I hovered above him, my stomach close to his lips. He could easily take me if he wanted to.

  Pressed so close to him, my body ached for him.

  But there was something he just said... “Nothing is going to come between us now,” that I couldn’t shake. It wasn’t true. Red had told me everything, but I wasn’t telling him truth.

  This would never work.

  My life was based on lies. Lies that I told him. To ruin his life.

  This was a fairy tale that couldn’t last. Nothing good could come from this. In the short term, maybe, but in the long term? This wasn’t serious.

  I placed my hands on his. I slowly peeled myself away from him. The excitement in me, the erotic energy, denied my retreat, and a rush hit me, telling me to take another step forward. Being in his arms would be easy. It would be a quick fix.

  But I couldn’t keep up with the lie. Not with Red. I cared about him too much.

  “I’m exhausted. I drove over after a long shift. If it’s all right, I’m going back to my place to pass out.”

  “Yeah, that’s fine,” he said, running his fingers through his slicked-back hair. He let them drop with a groan. He stopped looking at me.

  “I’m glad you’re okay. I was really worried.”

  “Yeah, thanks for coming,” he said. His face was stone. His eyes were fixed a million miles away.

  “Sorry I can’t stay,” I said as I reached for the door. God, this was awkward.

  “It’s fine,” he said. I shut the door. I slid my back against the wall and tried to catch my breath. I had made it out of the lion’s den.

  But the lion was still on the prowl...

  I knew I hadn’t gotten completely away. Not yet.

  It was a long night. Sleep didn’t come easily. Trying to decide what to do, I took out a pen and a paper and scribbled on the top “Red,” and the other side “Job,” and tried to think of the best reasons as to why I would leave one or the other. In the Red column, there were things like “Unbelievably sexy,” “many orgasms,” and in the right column under Job there was “Stop murderers,” “justice.”

  Taking some time to fantasize about those many orgasms that were in my future, I spread out and reclined on my bed. The contractors had fixed my sliding glass door. They also installed a security system. Like promised, Red had fixed what he had broken, and more.

  “What am I going to do?” I asked out loud, crutching my head, ready to wring my hair, but I bunched up the sheets instead and wrapped my legs around them like I was trying to put a headlock on it with my thighs.

  It was clear what I should do. What I was going to do was a different matter.

  Guilty pleasure, mind-numbing reality TV was on, so I watched housewives fight it out for a couple hours. Eventually, around twelve, I tried the bed again. Once I woke, and there was some real time that had passed since I last saw Red, my focus was sharper.

  I grabbed the paper and circled “Job.” There was a heaviness in my chest once I put the pen down. My decision wasn’t a happy one, but it was the one I would have to do. Picking up my phone, I stared at Red’s name in my contacts far too long.

  The text sent read “Hey, I
want to meet up at our spot. I’ve got something to tell you. It’ll be private.”

  Sending it without thinking, as soon as I did, I slapped my forehead. That sounded so creepy. Wasn’t I supposed to be tricking him? It was like I was trying to be found out. Remembering what they did to snitches, and remembering who Red really was, I went into action, pulling out a bunch of equipment from underneath my bed.

  There were many choices of documenting my case. Small cameras on keys, on a pen, and microphones that could be strapped around my waist and tucked beneath my collar. It was amazing how small they could make microphones.

  I tucked my pistol into my back holster.

  Red replied. “When do you want to meet?”

  That was good. The text hadn’t scared him off.

  “When can you meet? I can go anytime.”

  “I’ll leave in ten minutes. Leave in fifteen. I don’t want you getting there before me,” he replied.

  That was sweet. He didn’t want me adventuring all by my lonesome in the middle of the desert. He was looking after my wellbeing. Meanwhile, what was I doing? Trying to ruin him?

  I grabbed the pen, the key, and then strapped myself in with the microphone, letting the wire reach around my waistband, and then I left, making sure that I left fifteen minutes later, like he said, just to give Red a break.

  It was a cloudy day on the verge of rain. Sand whipped and dust blew from the roadside as if my car could be swept up in a sand storm at any moment.

  On the drive there, I wouldn’t allow myself to get emotional. If I started to think about it now, I would break. I parked near the path that led to our romantic scene far too soon.

  Red stepped off his bike. He somehow managed to drive it with the sling. His disposition was sunny, his form still tall and intimidating in the black Bastard colors, reminding me that he was strong, that he would survive, that it would take more than a bullet to the arm to take Red down.

  I didn’t want to get out of my car, but I knew I couldn’t hide in there forever. I shut the door and slowly walked up to Red. He straightened his jacket as I approached.

  “What’s up, babe?”

  “Hey,” I said.

  “What’s so urgent?”

  This was the part where I lied to him, telling him that I wanted to live with him at the compound, that I wanted to be inducted as an old lady. But I couldn’t force the words out. They were stuck. They were someone else’s words. They weren’t mine.

  Seeing Red so concerned, curious about any problem I might face, and ready to tackle it with me, how could I turn him away? He deeply cared for me. There was no doubt in my mind that this man would take a bullet for me. Who else would?

  “Red, there’s something we need to talk about.”

  “No kidding, that’s why I’m here. Spit it out.” The wind picked up, blowing the tail of his hair. He didn’t flinch.

  “I’m an FBI agent,” I spat out. He didn’t process it. “I was sent here to investigate you. To investigate The Blessed Bastards.”

  My heart dropped to my gut and wrung out. I was being crushed, my vision narrowing. If I didn’t get a grip, I would pass out before I could see his reaction.

  He cracked a smile. Then he burst out laughing, slapping his thighs he thought it was so funny.

  “That’s good. That’s really good,” Red said.

  “No, Red, I’m telling the truth. I have a microphone on right now.”

  He kept laughing, but when he saw my reaction his eyebrows skewered and he pointed at me.

  “Show me.”

  Red still thought this was some kind of joke, one with an elaborate setup. Taking my shirt, I picked it up to my bra line to show him the wires.

  “You’re not fucking kidding,” he said, taking a step back.

  “No.”

  He looked at me like I was cursed, like he didn’t know me. Once again, he put up his wall, blocking me out. The man that loved me turned to me with hate. There was so much pain and anger in that threatening flash that I was drained, unable to explain myself further.

  What was there to explain? This was it. It was over.

  Not only would I not have a job, I would be turning away the first man who truly loved me. The first man I could truly love back.

  “How could you do this to me?”

  The look on his face, I thought he might be willing to kill me. Was that protocol for The Bastards? The last agent who tried to infiltrate hadn’t made it out alive. Why should I be any different? If anything, I deserved a far worse fate. I played with a killer’s heart.

  Exasperated, I picked up my hands, about to say something, but they fell. There was nothing to say.

  “Why?” He pulled away again.

  “I didn’t know what it was like,” I began. “I didn’t know you would be so...nice.”

  A weak reasoning, but it was the truth. I expected murderers. Scum. Villainy. Black and white. What I got was grey. Real people with real problems.

  “Get out of here. Go. I don’t want to see you again,” he shouted. It was like his words were casting me out, burning a curse onto my back that I would never be able to shake.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. My eyes hit the dirt. I started to turn away. I waited for him to respond.

  My sorry didn’t help. He took an angry step forward. Tense, his hand shaking with rage, he pointed for me to return to my car.

  “Go. Don’t let me see you again. I don’t want to see you near the club again, either, or anyone I know.”

  That stung, biting into me, ripping me apart. That hole I was in before? Now I was buried. Heaviness weighing down my head, pressure erupting in my temples, I turned my back to him and hurried to my car. He watched me the entire time. His eyes were blazing, full of hate, and I didn’t blame him.

  He should hate me.

  I’m sorry, I wanted to say again, but by the time I gripped the wheel, emotion crashed down on me. Hot tears flowed down my cheeks. I shifted to reverse and pulled away.

  This was the end of my fantasy.

  Slamming my fists against the wheel, I screamed at nothing once I was turned around. I pressed the wheel into my forehead and then lashed out again, but when it did nothing to help me, I shook off my anger. The depression was still there, the longing for what I used to have. I had been so lucky to have Red before. Did I even realize?

  Loneliness which pulled me in wouldn’t let me go. Cast out, I drove back to my apartment. The drive back, in contrast to the drive there, involved a lot of racing thoughts.

  Rain would come soon. A torrential downpour to nourish the blistering, cracked earth. Behind me, a wall of gray spread its dark tendrils across the blue sky.

  I tried not to wallow in my pity. The least I could do, I told myself, was keep active, try to right my wrongs. There were currently a lot of new wrongs and maybe one right. Even though I did the right thing with Red, it still came back and bit me in the ass. More like a heavy biker boot to the ass, but whatever.

  The first phase of my “keep active” plan involved getting to my apartment and not throwing myself onto the bed, where I would surely surrender to the pillows and wail my stupid heart out. Next step, the first actual action, would be to go to Francis’s and slip him a note that described why I would have to quit.

  He deserved a goodbye, so writing my best goodbye to him, one which wouldn’t freak him out too much, I wrote, “Sorry, Francis. I’m really sorry to leave so suddenly, but something has come up back home in the east. I have to go back right away. Please don’t be worried. It’s nothing to be worried about. It’s a family thing. Thanks for all you’ve done for me. I wish you the best and I’m really sorry that I couldn’t give prior notice.”

  I tucked the note in my pocket. I looked over my apartment. How long would I have before I was called back, before the cleanup crew came to disappear me? Probably not long.

  The next step involved telling Wyatt the truth, which would be the hardest part. No, I wouldn’t tell him that I had fallen for
a wickedly handsome bad boy on a motorcycle. If I told him that, he wouldn’t understand. If it was a wickedly hot motorcycle babe, maybe he would...actually, scratch that. Wyatt was all about the job. He would roast me no matter what I added after “I quit.”

  A part of me was still rattled, still frightened that Red would tell someone else. I half expected someone to charge through my apartment and take me away. It could be any one of The Blessed Bastards. Maybe even an old lady. They would despise me as well.

  And they had been so nice...

  Focus, Ash, focus. The thought of wasting another minute in that apartment drove me crazy, so I snatched my keys and headed out.

  Red might’ve told me to leave, not because he hated me, but because he was worried about me. Could it have been a warning? That if I didn’t move fast enough, they would send someone to kill me? Maybe even Red himself, once they found out.

  My sights were on the parked cars around my apartment. Freaked out, looking over my shoulder, I hurried to my car and jumped in. I slammed the door shut. Then I sped off to The Long Road.

  As soon as I pulled away from my apartment, the dark clouds met me. The downpour began. I jumped at the first lightning strike in the distance.

  Francis wasn’t there. Kim was, but she was busy. She would hear what happened later. Moving through the kitchen, one of the cooks yelled to me, “Hey, thought you had the day off?” My last day, in fact, wanted to roll of my tongue. Slipping the note on his desk, I quietly made my leave.

  Wind pulled me sideways as I briskly walked to my car. Dark clouds surrounded the diner. It was a downpour, and I could barely make out the cars which blew past, their lights the only thing that managed to illuminate the dark. Throwing open my door, I was about to hop in when I noticed someone moving close.

  They seemed to only be getting into their own vehicle, a black truck parked next to mine. The truck hadn’t been there when I parked earlier. But the man got too close. His presence weighed on the back of my neck. Knowing that something was wrong, I spun around.

  The stranger, just a blur, but taller, bigger, and stronger than me, lunged.

  I screamed. Something shoved against my lips and the scream only came out a muted whimper. Taking a step back, I attempted to reach down for my holster.