BAD Beginnings (5 page)

C
hapter Seven

B
aden thought it funny that
it mattered to her whether they were inappropriate –and that he should care. Nothing in his life had an ounce of propriety to it. Asking her in for warmth was exactly that. His time was getting shorter with every moment they stepped into public view. This life would be over for him any day. The near miss with his friendly D.A. was a hearty reminder. Gemma would be gone along with all this frickin’ finery. Forever.

Why not have a memory that could last as long too? He motioned her toward the kitchen where the bird scratched a few seeds on the floor but otherwise remained quiet.

Don’t be an idiot. Why would she bother with someone like you? Oh, right. Maybe because, for the moment, I’m not me—I’m him. And sadly, he wouldn’t even notice her. The idiot.

Bam. Bam. Bam. The door rattled behind them as they moved toward the bar. Gemma jolted and dropped her bag. He lunged down, scooping it just before her fingers brushed his. “Someone’s at the door,” she whispered.

Neither of them moved. He slipped his hand around hers as she took the bag and watched for something in her expression. It was there. He knew enough to see the spark.

The musical sound of the doorbell tried to break the electric current her fingers sent through his. Not happening. Without lights, her eyes were like shiny black glass. “Ignore it, they’ll go away.”

As if to argue, more banging on the door followed his words. “Doesn’t sound like it.” She tensed and he realized there was fear lurking just below the sizzle. Of what? More impropriety? “Someone really wants you. You’d better get that.”

No. Dammit. I’m not ready to give up yet. Go the fuck away. He dropped her fingers and stood, trying to invent a plan. Their car had just pulled away, so whoever it was saw them enter and knew they were here. Would they think she was involved? God, he’d never thought that far. By continuing the charade, would someone believe Gemma a part of his act? An accomplice.

“Shhhh. Let’s tiptoe back to the other room and see if they leave. Get out of sight of the windows.” He toed off a shoe, then the other. In his sock feet, he slipped a hand down her leg and found the strap of her heel. Damn, she had tiny ankles. And muscular calves. He tugged one heel from her foot then the other and with them in hand, pulled her along through the corridor.

“Ummm, Logan, the windows are waaay out of sight now.” She dropped a hand to her hip and stared over his shoulder. Okay, the bedroom loomed behind him. That was purely coincidental.

He grinned and whispered, “You think they’re gone?”

The rasp of a key in the lock answered his question and he spat out a curse. The asshole chose this moment to come home? Fuck. “Not now.” Only it wasn’t him.

He heard the clip of heels on the shined entry, then he shivered as Sharon’s voice called, “Where the hell are you, you little shit-ass? What do you mean running out on us like that? You’ll have— Oh, well look who’s here.”

Sharon’s perfectly manicured fingers trailed along the wall as she moved toward them like a panther approached its prey. Baden’s breath caught. A chill ran down his spine and lodged in his ass. So, Mommy dearest had a key even though she was never anywhere near her son. Interesting.

He frowned but the darkness swallowed the expression. “Normally when someone doesn’t answer the door that means you’re not welcome. Or maybe they’re not home. What do you want?”

“I came by to see you. Don’t be shy now. I know you’re not real keen on my new hubby but hey, a girl’s gotta find her own happiness, right? Besides, your dad’s been gone for a decade.”

“Not a good time right now, Sharon.” Baden couldn’t shake the chill.

Gemma pulled her shoes from his fingers and cleared her throat. “I’d better go Logan. You seem to have a bit of catching up to—”

He grasped the shoes, then her wrist in a failed attempt to intercept her departure. “No. Don’t go.”

The light from the entry glanced across her face, a mere moonbeam in the dark. “It’s okay. I’ll see you at the office on Monday.”

He groaned as she raced down the hall and out the door. With the car gone, he had no idea how she’d manage to leave and he wasn’t about to—

“You need a ride.”

She pulled a keychain from the bowl by the door and jingled it. “Mind if I borrow yours? I’ll bring it back clean on Monday.” Without waiting, she slipped through the door and disappeared, leaving him with—Cruella Deville.

Sharon crossed her arms and leaned against the wall. “Let her go, dear. She’s a big girl. She can manage fine.”

Yeah, she can, but what about me?

“So why are you here, Sharon? What’s so important that it can’t wait until tomorrow? Or next year?” He brushed past without letting her get a closer look and headed toward the bar. Forget the hot tea, he needed bourbon.

“Tsk. Tsk. Such a cold welcome after all this time.” Sharon tossed her clutch on the bar, grabbed the glass he’d poured, and tossed it back. “I expected you to stick to your end of our bargain.”

He hadn’t a clue what she referred to but the bitch had depleted his patience when she drank his healthy portion of the glorious bourbon. Logan’s stash was the best he had tasted. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Sharon leaned toward him, the hot stench of her alcohol-infused breath blew against his cheek. “Enlighten me, Looogaan, what’s that writing on your chest all about?” She slid a finger along his lapel then traced the top of the tattoo on his bicep. Her eyebrow raised when a button gave way, exposing the words. “The Truth Shan’t Set You Free. Seriously? Sweetie, I am the only truth in your book. If it weren’t for me, you’d be rotting in prison just like that—” She shook her head and let his shirt fall closed. “You want to tell me why you decided not to send my check this month?”

“Your check?” Damn he wished he knew what this woman meant. And why he felt like an angel of death was standing before him.

“Don’t fuck with me, sonny boy. I made you. I saved you from that truth you flaunt on your chest. And I can take it all away, just like that.” Snap. The loud click of her fingers made him jump. She was threatening him? Seriously? His blood thawed a bit and started to heat. He felt the hair on the back of his neck hit a full tilt.

“Go ahead. I dare you. You take it away from me…and you’ll end up with what?” He yanked the glass from her fingers, filled it again, and chugged the golden liquid. “Nothing. And you know it. Don’t fuck with you? No, sorry, Sharon. Don’t fuck with me. Now get the hell out.” He walked to the front door, yanked it open, and waited for her exit. Would she call his bluff? Would she realize she wasn’t talking to the real Logan?

Would she call the police?

Her mouth opened but no words followed. Seconds ticked by. She closed her mouth and left. Just as the door clicked shut, she hissed. “I want my ten grand by Friday or I’ll go public about you and who you really are. Don’t think you can mess with me, you little shit. You know what I can do.”

She strolled to a car down the street, where the new hubby must have waited. Does the man know who he married? Or care? Baden shivered. And what exactly was all that cryptic shit about? Money? Her son owed her money? Ten grand that was apparently more important than finding her son since she tossed an ultimatum.

He grabbed another bourbon, dropped onto Logan’s leather recliner, and clicked the flat-screen television on for a late night glance at the news. He was asleep ten minutes into the show, and dreamed of being chased—by himself and Gemma.

C
hapter Eight

B
aden wasn’t a stranger to
passing out— he was no drunk either. He’d had his first bout of light-headedness the week Natalie disappeared. Now he knew it to be his fear of public speaking that turned his nuts into tiny balls of concrete before drawing the blood from his brain. When he was a teenager, he imagined it was hormonal. Just before they were to do their semester speech project, Natalie had teased him on the phone the night before. She wasn’t exactly one of those pure and simple girls. No, Natalie liked to infer sex, even though he had been pretty sure the inference was hollow. It wasn’t until after her disappearance that he realized how deeply wrong he had assumed. And how disturbed the poor girl was.

He and Natalie had speech class together, as well as gym. Though in gym, the girls were either on opposite ends of the basketball court…or opposite ends of the football field. Gym was definitely off-limits for interaction. No sweaty bodies intermingled in Coach Worth’s watch. Speech, however, was a playground. Mr. Deifenbacher, the teacher, was ancient and usually gave an assignment then sat back and let the kids “do their thing”. A thing that included a lot of flirting and talking, all part of class. And all of it intended to hold as much shock value as the student felt they could get away with.

Natalie’s voice on the phone the prior night had held as much innuendo as a teen looking for action could lace into a conversation. Baden had dated virtually no girls before her. His sexual experience started when he ran into a graduate student after driving to Dallas to visit colleges. He had been a fairly good tight-end in football and a few b-list schools thought him worthy of a look. The girl who gave him a campus tour thought him worthy of a lot more…and who was he to decline the offer? That had been between his first and second date with Natalie.

So, when he told Natalie he was nervous about the speech project because he’d never stood in front of a group and talked—she gave a breathless giggle that instantly made his newly awakened parts hard. Okay, they’d been awake since he was twelve though not used by anyone but him.

“Just keep your eyes on me, Bad, I’ll give you a show that’ll make you feel like I’m the only one there. You’ll be great. Look at me and talk to me. Forget everyone else.”

Natalie was one of the dance team leads and had an ass that made every high school boy drool. It also made him pass out that day. The perspiration had beaded on his forehead before his name was called. Mr. D had given him a bored look as he trudged to the head of the room, his notecards shaking in his pale fingers. He was nervous as hell. Not Natalie. She had worn a skirt.

He swallowed hard and tried to begin but his voice failed. Two kids snickered and he looked around at the staring faces, then swallowed again. Natalie ran her tongue over the end of the Bic pen in her red painted fingernails. She crossed her legs and the skirt hitched up, giving him a full view of her thigh.

Heat flared in his chest and surged toward his head, then completely disappeared as it changed to a clammy coldness. He opened his mouth but the words failed, refusing to come out. So did his legs when she lifted the skirt just enough to show him the lacey thing underneath. He sucked in air, when the sexual tingle mixed with the nervousness. He knew his face waffled between crimson and ghost-like. He concentrated on the notecards. Come on, Bad. Spit it out. Concentrate.

But he couldn’t because the words on the notecards faded into oblivion. An indistinguishable pile of white with dark dots funneling into them like a vortex—sucking him down. Thud. With everyone staring and waiting, he hit the floor with all the grace of an elephant.

Fear of public speaking. Right up there with death. Baden hadn’t been sure whether it was that or the loss of blood from seeing Natalie’s drawers that had taken him down. She called him that night and joked about it, right before she promised to make it up to him on Friday night.

That was the Friday night that never happened because she ditched him at the Sonic when some longhaired dude in a refurbished roadster showed up and told her she looked amazing. Damn, he wished he had used that. Baden just hadn’t enough experience then to know that girls actually liked it when you told them they looked good. Most girls actually craved it, unlike guys who really couldn’t care less most of the time.

Ironically, in those days it had been cool to be nicknamed “Bad” by his friends. He had felt tough and part of the popular crowd. Of course, that was before the shit hit the fan. He was a big football star about to be laid by the girl that promised to put out—even though they’d only seen each other a few times.

They had pulled into the Sonic for smoothies before heading out to the lake after a movie. The red lights of the pharmacy blared at him as if to remind that he needed protection. Yep, the college girl had been prepared…thankfully. But Natalie? Well, based on how comfortable she seemed with the concept, he thought that a pack of condoms would be a wise investment. For him, not her. Who knows where she’d been or who she had done.

It was a little embarrassing to look at all the different labels, colors, and—other stuff. Not to mention how he would explain if someone he knew happened to walk by. A kid about his age, maybe a year or two older, with hair below his collar walked past. Baden had turned and pretended to be searching for something on the other side.

The guy reached up and grabbed a pack of the ones with the gold ribbon on the side. He snickered and slid a glance Baden’s way. “You got any idea what the difference in these might be? Fuck, who knew there were forty different kinds. What happens if you get the wrong one? Do the ones that are cheaper still work? They aren’t going to fall apart are they?”

Whew. Thank God he wasn’t the only one who wondered about that. “Yeah, they all work the same as far as making sure nothing bad happens. You know.” He winked as if he actually knew what he was talking about. “Just some are different sizes and smell or something. See?” He pointed at a label.

The guy held his head back and shook the shoulder length hair to get it away from his eyes. Damn fine hair too—Baden imagined that was a hit with the girls. He dropped the pack back on the shelf and grabbed one of the scented ones, then shrugged. “Nothing wrong with smelling good, I guess.”

Baden grabbed the same pack. “No shit. Guess I’d better get some too. My girl out there’s been dogging me for a week to be prepared.” Had he really said such a stupid thing just to make the guy think he actually knew what he’d spoke of?

“Lucky you. Mine will probably sit in the glove compartment for weeks. Still, my mother seems to think I need to be ready. Just in case, you know.”

Baden screwed up his face. “Your mother?

“Yeah, can you believe that shit?” The guy tossed his hair back and headed to pay. At the counter, he grabbed a ball cap from the rack and tossed it down too. Baden figured he was a bit uncomfortable making only a condom purchase. No surprise. Baden also grabbed several other items, all as cheap as possible, because he only had forty bucks and he needed some of it to pay for gas.

Baden started for the counter to pay. He sucked in a breath at ten feet from the register and whirled around another isle. Shit. Was that Mister D? Just his damn luck. No way in hell was he buying condoms in full view of his teacher! Baden hid out for a few more minutes. Long enough for Mr. D to pay and leave, then rushed to pay for his items before anyone else delayed. Natalie was probably wondering what happened to him. Outside and back at the Sonic, he searched his truck and all the others vehicles.

Nope. She had just up and fucking left without a word.