Claimed by the Bad Boy

by London Saint James

  “Enough with the PDA,” Ryker groused. “You two are going to make me lose my appetite.” He strode over to the bar with his cup of coffee, took a seat on one of the stools, pulled a few sugar cookies from the package, and dunked one into his coffee. After he wolfed it down, he dunked another.

  “Here.” His brother slid a plate of pancakes toward him and slapped down one of the containers of maple syrup. “Eat something besides cookies.”

  He gave a salute. “Yes, Mom.”

  Deck snorted. Tiffany busied herself by covering her plate in syrup and then placed one fluffy cake into the middle of the puddle. With her fork she raked a hole in the center of the pancake and poured more syrup there.

  “That’s how you eat pancakes?” he asked, intrigued by the oddity.

  “Yep.”

  “Weird.”

  Declan glowered at him before he palmed her cheek. “You go on, sugar, and eat your pancakes any way you want.”

  She smiled up at him. “I was planning to.”

  “Good,” said Deck.

  Ryker took a bite of his breakfast then a sip of his coffee.

  “Listen,” he said. He’d only been home for three days, but there was no reason to avoid the subject of leaving. “I’m going to get ahold of a realtor after the holiday and start looking for a condo or something. That way, you two can have the house all to yourself.”

  Both of them turned to stare at him, but it was his brother who said, “You don’t need to do that, Ryke.”

  “Yeah. I do, bro. It’s time for me to make some changes.”

  Declan’s right eyebrow arched. “What’s going on with you?”

  He shook his head. “Nothing, man.”

  “Ryke.”

  “Deck.”

  They had a stare down, neither of them willing to give an inch. Tiffany interjected, “It took me a while to figure this out, but sometimes change can be a good thing.”

  The tension snapping in the room subsided a bit.

  “Anyhoo,” she said, placing her syrup-drowned, pancake-covered plate by the sink. Did she even take a bite? “I have to go paint my toenails for the pool party.”

  His brother grabbed at the sleeve covering her arm, stopping her. “I love you, baby.”

  As if they had a secret language only they were privy to, she bounced up on her tiptoes, arms going up in time with his brother putting his large hands on her waist, and lifting her until she was face level. She gave him a peck on the cheek. “I love you, too,” she said. Tiffany rubbed her nose along his jaw and whispered loud enough for Ryker to hear. “Talk with him, babe. Not at him. And don’t fight.”

  Declan nodded, placed his forehead to hers, and then put her back on her feet before she flounced out of the room.

  It was quiet for a moment, Ryker sitting at the bar, Declan leaning his hip against the counter, both of them eating their pancakes.

  “So,” said Declan.

  Ryker glanced up. “Yeah?”

  “The other day, you mentioned staying for a while.” He nodded. “Why the talk of moving out?”

  Ryker put his fork down. “Come on, Deck. Don’t act as if it’s not uncomfortable having me around your woman.”

  His brother scowled. “I’ve made peace with the fact you two were together.”

  “Together implies something more than it was.”

  Deck rolled his head along his shoulders. “I know what it was, bro. A one-time hook-up.”

  “Yeah. But, still. It doesn’t bother you to know I know what she looks like under those clothes? And what she—”

  “Yes,” he snapped, tone harsh, eyes narrowing. “Knowing you touched her bothered the hell out of me, but I had to let it go. None of us were saints. What happened, happened before I knew her.”

  “Bothered?” Ryker kept his gaze trained on his twin. “Or don’t you mean bothers?”

  “What do you want me to say, Ryker? Do I sometimes feel more than a pang of jealousy and possessiveness? Yes. I do. Did I want to kill you for touching her? You know I did. Will I always feel a bit jealous when it comes to Tiffany? I suppose I will, but the thing is. I’ve chosen”—he emphasized the word chosen—“to let the past go. She’s the woman I’d die for. The woman I want to spend the rest of my life with. And you are my twin. We shared the same womb. We share the same face. The same blood. I’ve always had your back, and you’ve always had mine. I love you, man. I don’t want what happened in the past to keep us distant. I don’t want to close you out of my life like you’ve shut me out of yours.”

  Ryker’s brows knitted. “I haven’t closed you out of my life.”

  “You have, and you’ve been doing it for a long time.” Declan shifted his weight. “I know something is going on with you, and it began several years ago, then poof. You up and started traveling, which is cool. Travel if you want, but you started staying away from home longer and longer. Only a call here and there to let me know you were still alive and kicking. Now, after a year-long stint of nothing but brief layovers in Denver, you come back, say you’re going to stay for a while, and then tell me you’re going to move out.”

  “You’re getting married. I just figured it best to let you and Tiffany have this place. It makes sense I should be the one to go.”

  “It’s not the fact I’m getting married. And it’s not the fact you worried about the awkwardness of your entangled past with Tiffany either. Whatever is going on, it’s something else.”

  “I told you. There’s nothing going on.”

  “Right,” Deck said, scrubbing his jaw with his fingers. “I know better.”

  “What do you think you know?”

  “I think….” His brother eyed him. “All of your running has something to do with Molly.”

  The muscle in Ryker’s jaw ticked. “I haven’t been running.” He said the words, but they weren’t true. He didn’t have to travel for his work. He could have sent one of his employees.

  “No?”

  “No,” he confirmed.

  “Okay,” Declan said, hands up. “I won’t push.”

  ***

  Using her spoon to play with the crunch berries in her bowl, Molly blurted out, “Ryker came home.”

  “Pissflaps,” her sister spluttered. “Now I get the whole puffy-eye thing you have going on.”

  “He texted me last night.”

  Mary frowned. “What did he want?”

  “Nothing. He just told me he was home.”

  “I wish our parents had never left Chicago when we were kids. If we had stayed, and not come to Denver and moved next door to the Cages, you would have never met Ryker.” She paused. It was quiet, except for the birds chirping outside the kitchen window. “Why, Moll?”

  She glanced up from her cereal. “Why what?”

  “You’re not some silly girl anymore. You’re going to be thirty next month.”

  “Don’t remind me.”

  Her sister shook her head, her brown sugar-colored hair swishing around her face. “The point is, you two have been doing the on again, off again tango since you were sixteen. Even before that, you guys would hang out then fight like cats and dogs. Heck. You swore you’d never talk to him again then went to the same college in order to chase after him.” Molly saw the pity flicker across her sister’s face and lodge within her eyes. “Hasn’t he hurt you enough? Why do you let him make you crazy?”

  “He’s always been the one,” she whispered.

  Mary made an irreverent noise. “I’m sure that’s what Mom thought about Dad, too. Don’t pattern your life after Mom’s and let a man ruin you.”

  Molly straightened her shoulders. “I’m not Mom, Mary. And Ryker’s nothing like Dad was.”

  Mary tapped her fingers on the table. “I just don’t get the attraction. I mean, he’s good looking, but a person has to be more than muscles and a handsome face. Taking him as the whole, well, I’ve never—”

  “You don’t know him.”

  “And you do?”

  “He h
as moments of being more than you see. More than anyone sees, including himself.”

  “What’s that mean, Moll?”

  “He’s the one who’d sneak up to the rooftop to sit with me and talk when I was hiding out from Dad’s rampages and you were out living your life,” she said. A wince of pain, or maybe guilt, flickered across the features of Mary’s face. “He gave me my first kiss sitting up there on that roof. He’s the one who beat up Billy Shire for spreading those horrible lies about me going down on him behind the bleachers. Ryker was the one who helped me learn to drive a stick shift so I could pass my driving test to get my license. He’s the one who held me while I cried hysterically when Dad was pulled out of the house and taken into custody. The one who stayed by my side when I was too scared to go by myself to see Mom in the hospital. And then, when he swooped into that college rave and got me out of a bad situation, I knew.”

  “Knew what?”

  “I’ve always loved him.”

  Mary sighed, reached across the table, and placed her hand over hers. “But he’s never loved you. Not in the way someone should be loved.” She paused. “If he loved you, he wouldn’t run hot and cold. Wouldn’t pull you into his life then walk away. He wouldn’t flaunt other women in your face. He….”

  Unbidden, she closed her eyes, wanting to hide from her sister’s words, and her mind drifted.

  “Listening to me, Moll?” Mary asked.

  Molly’s eyelids fluttered open.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Those ‘moments’ he’s dropped your way,” her sister said, “those moments don’t, and never will, give you what you deserve in a man, Moll.”

  Her stomach tangled, and the tears she was helpless to control threatened to overflow in a torrent of emotion. “I know,” she said in a quiet tone. “I know.”

  Chapter Six

  Past.

  Molly was on her way to the library when some goth dude shoved something toward her, saying, “Party tonight, babe,” as he hustled past. She glanced down to see a psychedelic image of a face, with the words Rave or Die printed on the paper she held in her hand.

  “Molls.”

  Her heart skipped a beat at the sound of his voice.

  Turning, she smiled. Ryker strode up to her in long-legged strides, the two roomies he and his brother shared their place with off the CU Boulder campus flanking him. “Hi.”

  He reached and mussed the top of her head, as if she was a child and not a college sophomore. “Whataya got there?”

  Sighing, she brushed her fingers through her hair, attempting to straighten the mess he’d made. “Someone gave it to me.” Ryker tugged the paper from her hand. “Hey.” Her brow creased. “Rude much?”

  He snickered and glanced at the flyer. “Rave, huh?”

  “We should go,” said Zach, face beaming.

  “Yeah.”

  That came from Randy.

  “I don’t know,” said Ryker.

  “Come on¸” Zach said. “You know there’s going to be hotties shaking their tasty bits.”

  Molly frowned, not at all pleased with the image of some girl shaking her ass and Ryker watching her. Or, even worse, rubbing up against him—a bitch in heat.

  “And, this will be the last major party before we graduate. I say we should go out in style.”

  She rolled her eyes. “By ‘style,’ don’t you mean puking your guts out from drinking too much?”

  Zach chuckled. “You haven’t lived until you’ve choked up a lung, baby doll.”

  “Hm….” Molly pretended to look thoughtful, tapping her chin with a manicured fingertip before the snarky, “I’ll pass, thank you.”

  “You going?” he asked.

  “I don’t know.” She glanced at Ryker and shrugged. “Maybe.”

  “I don’t think a rave is your scene, Molls.”

  Okay. That pissed her off. She wasn’t a child. And she was sick of the way he insisted she couldn’t handle anything. Her whole brilliant go-to-the-same-college-as-Ryker plan was done in order to gain his attention, yes, but not the type of attention he gave her—as if he were a big brother. Crud. Some of her ire deflated then transformed into despair. She wanted him to see her as a woman.

  “You don’t think so?” she asked, letting the snark fly.

  He shook his head, causing some of his long hair to flop over his right eye, crumpled up the paper, and tossed it. She was dying to swipe those silky strands from his beautiful face. Let her fingertips linger on his chiseled cheekbones. Trace his lips. Instead, she took a breath and turned her attention to the wad he’d made arc through the air, hitting the trash can dead center.

  “Score,” Zach said.

  “Nice shot.” Randy sounded impressed.

  Ryker ignored them, gazing back at her. “No,” he said. “It’s not, Molls.”

  “Since you don’t have any idea what my scene is—” she said, her mouth working to form the rest of her snappish retort.

  “Molly.”

  The way he said her name with that stern tone stopped her—nipples gone hard from the sound.

  “What?”

  “No rave.”

  She put her hand on her hip. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

  Randy and Zach busted out into a belly laugh before Zach said, “Do you two ever not argue?”

  “Maybe it’s their brand of foreplay,” Randy interjected, slapping Ryker’s back. “Remember the fight they got into a couple of weeks ago? That was over a movie.”

  Ryker flipped his friend off.

  “I came over to hang out, and you guys were watching some girl displaying her pink parts in a grainy porno flick,” she said.

  “You came over to do your laundry,” Randy corrected. “And, if you must know, it was an art film. Not porn.”

  Molly snorted.

  “Why don’t you guys get a room somewhere, lock yourself in for a couple of days, and, you know, go at it.” Zach winked. “And by go at it, I mean making the beast with two backs, so you can settle this shit between you.”

  “Shut the hell up, dickweed,” Ryker said.

  “Yeah,” said Molly. “Shut up, Zach.”

  The tall, lanky Zach held up a long-fingered hand. “I’m just saying. We might all have some peace if you did.”

  “I’ll see you guys later,” she said, brushing her hair over her shoulder. “I’ve got better things to do.”

  Molly whipped around and headed in the direction of the library.

  “No rave, Molls,” Ryker called out.

  “Whatever,” she said, and kept on walking.

  Nothing could have torn Ryker’s attention away from the sway of Molly’s hips in those low hip-hugging jeans as she left. Damn, he shouldn’t want to peel the denim off, sink his teeth into her luscious backside, then lick the sting away.

  “Woo,” said Randy. “Look at her go.”

  “Man. Are you ever going to taste her little strawberry piece, or what, Ryke?” Zach asked.

  Ryker glowered. “Didn’t I tell you to shut the hell up?”

  Zach chortled. “You did, but when do I ever listen to you? Besides. I don’t get you two.”

  “There’s nothing to get.”

  “Ha, yeah right. She’s got it bad for you. Why not sample the goods?”

  “I’ve known Molly forever. She lived next door.”

  “Yeah, and your point is?”

  She deserves better than me. He was rough and flawed. And she was soft and perfect. Not to mention, he wanted things she’d never be into. “It’s just not—”

  “I’d be living out some X-rated peaches-and-cream girl next door fantasies if I were you, dude.” Zach paused. “But if you’re not going to partake…mind if I do?”

  Ryker’s jaw ticked. “Molly is off limits.” He turned his hard stare from Zach to Randy. “And so you know. The off limits status extends to both of you shitheads.”

  ***

  Strobe lights and differing colored lasers were snapping across the
semi-darkened space inside the old warehouse when Ryker and his brother, along with Randy and Zach, strode into the crazed rave. The techno music was so loud and blaring, he couldn’t even hear himself think. People were everywhere, and the raised platform someone had created as the dance area had them packed in like sardines, jumping, bumping, grinding, and just going nutso.

  Randy elbowed him then gave the two-finger air swirl, indicating he was going to go circulate. And Zach? He glanced past Declan. Apparently, they’d lost Zach to the chaos seconds after entering.

  Some bleached blonde swathed in neon-green glow sticks and wearing an almost nonexistent miniskirt, and a tied off, low-cut shirt sauntered in Ryker and Declan’s direction. She pulled one glow-in-the-dark necklace off and reached up on her tiptoes to put it over his head then did the same to Deck before crooking her fingers at them as if she had a secret to tell.

  “I’ve always wanted to be bookended by twins,” she hollered between their two bent heads, but with the volume of the music, whistles, and shouting people, her suggestion—more than a comment—came out muted.

  Ryker smirked over at Declan, who shrugged. It wasn’t the first time they’d been propositioned by some curvy babe, and he figured it wouldn’t be the last.

  “Sugar,” said Declan, “you couldn’t handle both of us. One of us is more than a handful.”

  She batted her long lashes and hit him with a coy grin. “I like a handful.” Deck winked at her. She took hold of his T-shirt and led him into the swirl of partiers.

  Shaking his head, Ryker started to navigate the crowds, and that’s when he saw her.

  “Damn it.” She’d come even after he told her not to; nonetheless, that wasn’t what thoroughly ticked him off. What had him seething with anger and his hands fisting at his sides as he took in the threesome? Molly being bookended.

  A dark-haired guy ground his crotch into Molly’s stomach, and the sandy-blond dude pressed himself into her ass. They swayed back and forth, their hands all over her, but, besides the obvious, something wasn’t right. She glistened with sweat, her hair stuck to her neck and cheeks, and she appeared to be drunk off her ass. The thing was, Molly didn’t drink. Ever.