BARE SKIN: A Dark Bad Boy Romance

by Callie Pierce

  “Hello?”

  “Donna?” Her mother’s voice quavered out the name. It had the rawness of many hours spent crying. That wasn’t surprising—her mother was always crying about something, especially when the entire world wasn’t focused on her. “Donna, is that you? I swear if you put me back on hold…”

  “It’s me, Mom.” Donna already felt a headache forming behind her eyes. “I’m sorry, it’s been real busy at work and—”

  “How long does it take you to answer a phone?” The question was angry, shrill, more like the squawk of an angry bird. It was more honest than her tears had been. “Are you ignoring your mother?”

  The answer was yes, but somehow Donna did not think that it was a good idea to fess up. It had never been a good idea to admit her real feelings to her mother. The woman had a cruel streak that was fueled by cheap wine and poor life choices. “I’ve been working, Mom, I’m sorry.”

  “Fine,” her mother said in a tone that felt like anything but fine. “I understand. Big business girl, too busy for her own family.”

  “Mom, I’m sorry,” Donna repeated. “Running my own business takes up a lot of my time.” She knew full well that her mother wouldn’t understand that. Elizabeth “Liz” Mason had never worked a full-time job much less ran her own business.

  “You work too much,” Elizabeth muttered. For the first time, Donna heard the slight slur that told her that her mother had been drinking. A glance at the clock informed her it was only two in the afternoon.

  Donna managed to bite her tongue on an angry retort. If she got her mother blathering about all of Donna’s life choices, good and bad, she would be on this phone for hours. She took a deep breath and made her voice as gentle as she could manage. “Mom, what happened?”

  “My baby is in jail!” her mother blurted with a fresh wave of watery hysterics. It was classic Elizabeth. She didn’t use Kyle’s name, or even call him Donna’s brother. As usual, Liz had picked the phrase that would make it all about her. “My poor little boy. They just dragged him out of my home.”

  “They?” Donna did her best to ignore the demand for pity. “The cops?”

  “Well, who else?” Elizabeth demanded. “They broke open my door at three in the morning, shoved this warrant in my face. and took him.”

  “Warrant?” That was a little more serious than just getting arrested. A warrant meant that they had to come get him, that they had enough evidence about a crime being committed that a judge signed off on placing him under arrest. “What did they say he did?”

  “They didn’t say anything! Didn’t I just tell you that? They came and took him.”

  “Mom, take a breath, have a drink, and relax. Is Dad there?” Between her parents, Donna much preferred talking with her father. He was easier to handle.

  “I don’t need a drink. I’m not a drunk,” Elizabeth said defensively. “What kind of mother would I be if I got drunk when my baby needs me? But they won’t let us see him, and we can’t afford a lawyer for him. I just don’t know what to do.”

  “I’m sorry, Mom, I didn’t mean to insinuate—”

  “Oh, yes you did,” her mother cut in. “I know exactly what you think of us. I know exactly how you feel about your white-trash family still living in a double-wide while you go pretend to be better. Do all those people who hire you know that you didn’t even finish high school?”

  It was a low blow, and both of them knew it. Donna blew a breath out of her nostrils and dragged a hand through her short professional coif of rich red hair. It disrupted her careful do, but Donna wasn’t thinking about that right now. Right now, she was struggling not to lose her temper and yell. She was an adult. She was not going to get into an argument with her drunk mother.

  “Mom, my history is fully available on my website. Anyone who visits knows that I got my GED and used money from odd jobs and part-time work to put myself through college. I don’t make a secret of it.”

  “Oh la-di-da,” Elizabeth sneered. This was also normal for Liz Mason. If she couldn’t rile someone with one statement, she’d switch to something else. “Bet you don’t even have a man.”

  Well, that much was true. Donna hadn’t been on a date since she’d caught her last boyfriend horizontal on his desk with his secretary. It had been especially humiliating because his secretary had been Cadence’s husband. Nothing like complicated workplace romance.

  “I date plenty,” Donna responded coolly, “but that’s not why you called, remember? You called because of Kyle. Why don’t you tell me what you and Dad want from me?”

  “I did, you just weren’t listening.”

  Donna racked her brain while massaging her left temple in a vain attempt to stave off the impending migraine. She couldn’t remember her mother making any kind of request. “I’m sorry, but—”

  “A lawyer. We can’t afford one.”

  “Oh.” Of course it was about money. Donna wasn’t sure why she thought this would be about anything else. Money was all her parents really cared about, and only because it helped them give into their vices. “Mom, I need to know everything.”

  “Why? Can’t you just send us the money?”

  “Not without knowing what’s going on. Where is Dad?”

  Her mother made a sound of utter disgust. Donna could hear a door open and then the pounding of stomping feet. There was the crackle of a phone being passed from one person to another, and then her father’s deep baritone voice boomed over the receiver. “Donna-girl, is that you?”

  “Yeah, Dad, it’s me.”

  “How are ya, little wonder?”

  She heard her mother’s voice snap something in the background, but she was too far away to hear the words. It sounded pissed off and petty though. Her father didn’t respond. He was good at ignoring things. He much preferred to pretend like everything was just fine. Donna often imagined he would sit in his La-Z-Boy while the entire trailer burned around him. A fire that he had probably started with one of his perpetual stogies.

  “I’m fine,” Donna said. “Mom said that Kyle was arrested?”

  “Yeah. Yeah, he was. Damndest thing. He was home in his bed when it all went down. They didn’t knock or nothin’. They just kicked in the door and broke my dog statue when they did it. I liked that statue.”

  “I know you did. I’m sorry. Did they tell you why?”

  “Said he’d been racing his motorcycle again. Third time.”

  Third time, that was bad news. The law around here was pretty specific about committing the same crime over and over again. The first time was normally a slap on the wrist, the second usually came with a heftier fine and some weekend jail time, but the third was to throw the book at you. Kyle liked to brag that he liked everything fast: fast money, fast women, fast bikes. He was an idiot, but not a bad kid.

  Kid? God, he wasn’t a kid anymore. She was thirty years old, which made her little brother sixteen. Young, certainly, but no longer a kid. He was a teenager riding the cusp of adulthood, and it sounded like he wasn’t handling it particularly well.

  “Damn,” she cursed.

  “I was thinking the same,” her father drawled slowly. “You know I ain’t much for askin’ for help, little wonder, but we need the help. They got me on disability now on account of my leg, and your mom works part-time at the grocery store, but it ain’t enough. Kyle helps out—he pays for my medications and groceries and things.”

  “I understand,” she said. “All right, I’ll be there in a few hours.”

  “Be here?” Her father sounded almost hopeful. “You gonna come by?”

  This time she could hear her mother’s shouts. “We don’t need her to come. Just have her wire the money.”

  “Yeah, Dad, I am.”

  “Well, all right, then. Guess we’ll have to clean up the place a little if we are going to have such pretty company.”

  She found herself laughing. Her father wasn’t a bad guy when everything was said and done. He was just weak in a way that had nothing to do wi
th his messed-up leg. He didn’t know how to stand up for himself or anything else, and that meant that Donna’s mom could walk all over him. He dealt with it by pretending to be a log.

  “I’ll see you in a few hours.”

  She cradled the phone and hit the button for Cadence’s desk. A moment later the intercom hummed to life. “Yes, Ms. Mason?”

  “There is a family emergency. I am going to need you to rearrange my schedule for the rest of the week.” Donna pulled out her smartphone and began a new checklist of all the things she needed to accomplish before she left. “Separate my meetings between Rick and Lois, hand my in-person meetings over to Cynthia. Everything else can be pushed back.”

  “All right,” Cadence said. There was a short pause. “Is everything okay?”

  “Everything is fine,” she lied. “My brother just needs my help.”

  Chapter Two

  Cody

  “What the hell do you mean Maverick’s been arrested?” Cody Bannik’s voice boomed across the pool hall. The slap of his cue hitting the table of velvet green echoed loud enough to make half the patrons jump. “How the fuck did he get arrested?”

  The man standing in front of him was as tall as a mountain and as dark as the night. There was almost no difference between the pitch-black of his leather vest and his skin. “Just found out about it. Went by to ride with him to the meeting, but he ain’t home. His momma ran me off shouting that I was a bad influence.”

  Cody would have laughed if he wasn’t so pissed off. “Hulk, you let a tiny woman run you off?”

  Hulk shrugged his massive shoulders. His vest strained under the movement, making the feral-looking tiger patch plastered to one shoulder dance. There were some guys who were naturally built, and some who took working out more seriously than their jobs or their women. Hulk did both. He owned his own gym and used every piece of equipment in there at least twice a week.

  “She had a wine bottle. I didn’t feel like getting it thrown at me.”

  “Wine bottles hurt like a son of a bitch,” another voice chimed in. This was from a skinny blond guy who had a perpetual baby face that would get carded for cigarettes even when he was eighty. “You ever notice how they don’t break in real life like they do in movies? I read somewhere one time that the movie people have to like, precut the bottle, so when they film a scene their pretty-faced actor isn’t just like slamming the bottle on the bar over and over again like a friggin’ idiot.”

  “Twitch,” Cody said, “you are just full of all kinds of helpful information.”

  Twitch gave a little laugh, high-pitched and wild. “Yeah, man, I get it. Shut up, Twitch. Naw, man, it’s cool, it’s cool.”

  “How long ago was he arrested?”

  “According to our contact, he was brought in around two thirty this morning.”

  “For racing?” Cody snapped. “Shit.”

  He knew the law, even if he didn’t bother to follow it most of the time. Three strikes, Kyle was out. Unless a miracle was happening somewhere in the justice system, that boy was screwed.

  “All right, we wait until he makes bail, and then we ship him off.”

  Hulk and Twitch exchanged a significant look. It was Hulk who said, “Dude, that’s gonna be an issue.”

  Cody thought it was a good thing he had slapped his cue stick down. There was a good chance he would have broken it over his knee. “Stop with this tight-lipped crap, boys. Tell me what’s going on.”

  “Okay, man.” Twitch sprang from one foot to the other. “So, it’s like this. We know that Maverick’s family is like, really poor and all that, right? He’s been paying out to keep them all going. His dad needs a lot of meds, and his mom needs a lot of liquor. I mean, it’s not like he’s got great big savings put away for bail or anything. So, that’s like… his first problem. But see, his second one is that Judge Preston was sitting bench last night.”

  A sympathetic wince mixed with curses and raised beers slithered through the pool hall. Judge Preston was known for being against anyone she thought was mixed up in gang activities, and motorcycle clubs were her favorite target, especially the Wild Tigers. Sure, Kyle wasn’t an actual member—he wasn’t even a prospect—but the club liked him, and he liked the club. It would be good enough for Judge Preston.

  “What’s the bail?” Cody demanded, raking a tattooed hand through his pitch-black hair. Kyle, who had quickly been given the nickname of Maverick after hanging around with the club long enough, liked to haul off and make a mess of his life.

  “A lot,” Hulk said.

  “When does Boss Man get back?” Cody moved behind the small bar. An older man with more muscles than hair stepped aside. The patch across his chest was labeled “Prospect.” His real name was Albert; he hadn’t earned a nickname yet. Cody’s was Lieutenant; he had earned a nickname, but it rarely got used. “Next Friday?”

  “Yes, sir, Lieutenant,” the older man said, picking up a bar towel and washing down the immaculate bar top. “He checked in last night.”

  “All right.” Cody dragged a hand over his five-o’clock shadow and shook his head. He stated the plan out loud. “Boss is on radio silence until the end of the night when he checks in. So, it’s up to me, and I say that we are going to use funds to break Kyle out on bail.”

  He reached beneath the bar and knelt before a small safe. It was roughly the size of a minifridge but could probably withstand a nuclear blast. A small panel boasted a keypad. He put in the code and heard the telltale click of it unlocking. Nested inside were stacks of cash.

  “What do you need from us?”

  Cody pulled out one of the stacks and shoved it into his side pocket. If that wasn’t enough, then Kyle was going to be out of luck. “I need you to find out who ratted on our man. There were no cops there last night, and Maverick isn’t stupid enough to race where the cameras are. Find out what happened.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Cody headed out of the pool hall and into the cool night. It wasn’t exactly protocol to spend this kind of money on a younger member of the club, but Cody had a soft spot where Kyle was concerned. The kid had spirit, and a good head on his shoulders most of the time. Yeah, every now and then his bad habits would get him into trouble, but what was life without a little trouble? The kid came from a crap home with crap parents. He had earned getting into a little trouble.

  He swung one leg over his Harley Sportster and felt the familiar shift of the bike beneath him as he plopped himself in the seat. The key was already in the On position. It wasn’t like anyone would dare to steal his baby. He pulled the choke all the way out and hit the button that would bring the engine to life.

  The trip to the Carson jailhouse took all of twenty minutes. To be fair, it didn’t take very long to get anywhere in Carson, Nevada. The splotch on the map had started off as a boomtown that quickly got overlooked as people kept heading on west. The main street that cut the town into two equal halves was framed in buildings that would have looked right at home in a cowboy flick. At seven thirty at night, most shops were closing up and everyone who was out was doing their best to ignore the sound of the engine as he blasted past.

  A bright sliver of the moon hung in the sky. Cody gave it a wink as he tilted his body to take a left past Elmer’s Hardware and Supply and past Main Street Post Office. Tucked next to that was the jailhouse, which was little more than a brick building one story high and fifty feet deep. Cody knew by way of firsthand experience that there were four jail cells in there. The town didn’t even have its own judge. They had to share Preston with Tonopah County, which must have made setting that bail for Kyle a hassle.

  Cody pulled his bike into place next to a sleek-looking BMW. It had Nevada plates but an out-of-towner look. There weren’t a lot of people in Carson who could afford a pretty car like that. He gave it an appreciative glance before heading into the station.

  There wasn’t a whole lot to the building. A row of old seats was set to one side, and a water cooler was set to the other. A
television as old as Cody was tucked into a corner, currently set to an old comedy show. The picture was hazy, and it flickered when the door slapped shut behind him.

  A lone officer was on duty, and he was currently occupied, arguing with a curvy blonde who matched the car outside. She wasn’t tall, but she had that kind of ‘better-than-you’ presence that took up space. The business suit she was sporting had all the lines of professionalism, but the body underneath begged to be undressed.

  He worked his eyes from her sleek legs, made sleeker by the icepick heels she’d shoved her feet into, and all the way up to her face. It was a damn good face, framed by hair that was somewhere between red and brown. It would have been a shame if the face hadn’t matched the body. It had that round shape that made a person look a few years younger than they really were, with a set of lips that just begged to have her lipstick ruined. It wasn’t until he got to the eyes, a smoky, misty color that was neither green nor blue, that he saw the resemblance.