Badd Boy

by Jasinda Wilder

  Low was in the limo beside me, breathtaking in a custom gown that looked like it had been crafted from spider silk and starlight, molded to her curves and allowing tantalizing glimpses of her skin without revealing anything.

  The limo ahead of us disgorged its occupants--Low's co-star, Dawson Kellor, and his wife Grey. Once they finished waving to the gathered crowd of photographers, they moved up the carpet and away from the staging area outside the front of the theater, and our car pulled forward and it was our turn.

  Low squeezed my hand. "Are you ready, Xavier?"

  I swallowed my fear, lifted my chin, and recited pi to the thirtieth digit before answering. "Yes."

  She laughed. "Liar. You're never ready for this part. I know I'm not." She let out a shaky breath as the valet opened her door, and gave my hand another squeeze. "Smile, breathe, and just be you."

  She slid out gracefully, adjusting the train of her gown as she stepped aside so I could exit behind her, and then there was a blinding barrage of flashes and voices.

  "Smile, baby," Low murmured, tucking her hand into the crook of my arm.

  I smiled, focusing on her, on how lovely and perfect she was, on how lucky I was, and my smile was as genuine as it could be. The flashes never seemed to stop, but these voices weren't desperate or clamoring, and once I remembered to breathe, my nerves subsided some. There were a million questions, mostly about me, and Low didn't answer any of them.

  We moved to stand in front of a black and white checkered background stamped with sponsors and posed for more photos, Low subtly guiding me where she wanted me. An older man wielding a cell phone like a handheld recorder leaned into her space.

  "Harlow! Who's the guy, honey?"

  She seemed to know him, and smiled. "Hi, Benny, how's the wife?"

  Benny, the reporter, grinned. "Bah, she's as contrary as ever."

  "You love her that way, and don't pretend otherwise," Low said, laughing.

  He guffawed. "Got me there, Harlow, but don't tell her that." He eyed me, and then shoved the phone at her again. "Now come on, hon, give me something. Who's the guy?"

  She tucked both hands around my arm and leaned into me. "This is Xavier Badd."

  "He's your boyfriend?"

  She gazed up at me as she answered. "He's my everything."

  Benny turned the phone to me. "Xavier, how do you feel about landing the woman every man in America dreams about?"

  "I have died and gone to heaven," I said, unable to stop myself from lapsing into formal eloquence. "And I will thank you not to wake me, should this prove to be but a dream."

  Ben laughed. "Hot damn!" he laughed, pocketing the phone. "What a sound-bite, kid!"

  I glanced at Low for translation, and she just laughed, pulling me toward the theater entrance. "That's a good thing," she assured me.

  The rest of the night was a whirlwind. I met a hundred different people as we milled outside the theater, memorizing names and faces, and we watched Harlow be brilliant on the screen and I applauded louder than anyone, and then we were whisked away to a party on a rooftop somewhere.

  I found myself with my socks and shoes off, pant legs rolled up, feet in a pool with Low beside me and Dawson Kellor on the other side and his wife beside Low, talking among the four of us into the smallest hours of the night. Even though I was nervous enough to lapse into Spock-speech, and though I forgot myself enough to lecture the director about everything I'd read on film theory, no one seemed to care, and everyone was amazing, and it was the most fun I'd ever had.

  And then, with dawn approaching, Low nudged me. "Time to go home," she said, sleepily.

  "Okay. Is there a car to take us?"

  She smiled mischievously, blinking sleepily and rubbing her eyes. "Not quite," she said, gesturing at a sudden welter of noise from across the rooftop.

  A helicopter was landing on a designated pad on a higher portion of the roof.

  I glanced at her. "A helicopter?"

  She just yawned. "Now that the premiere is over, I'm done in LA for awhile. We're going home."

  "We don't need a helicopter to get your house from here," I said, still confused. "It's only a few miles."

  "No. Home to Ketchikan."

  I blinked. "Oh." I smiled. "Home to Ketchikan, then."

  "We'll have to crash in your room until my yacht gets there, though."

  I laughed. "You have a yacht and a multimillion-dollar home in Beverly Hills, and you're going to crash with me in a three-bedroom apartment I share with my brother and his wife."

  "As long as you're there, I don't care where we are."

  "Oh. I see," I said, not understanding at all, but--like Bast had advised--I didn't question it.

  "I do have plans, though." Low smiled up at me.

  "Plans? For what?"

  She shrugged. "Buying a place in Ketchikan and building you a proper lab so you can play evil genius to your heart's content."

  "I'm not an evil genius," I protested.

  "So you can play Tony Stark, then. Genius billionaire playboy philanthropist." She bumped me with her shoulder. "The point is, I'm gonna build you a big, fancy lab with all the most expensive equipment we can find. I need something to spend my money on."

  I blinked at the prospect. "You don't need to do that, Low."

  "Obviously. But I want to."

  "Because you love me, and it would be a way to show me that," I said, explaining to myself out loud.

  She yawned again. "Exactly. And you can show me you love me by letting me sleep on your lap on the way."

  "There are other ways I could show you I love you," I said.

  Low giggled. "Later, big boy. When we get home."

  "That's not what I meant."

  "Yes it is."

  I laughed. "Okay, maybe it was. But I also meant--"

  She touched my lips, quieting me. "I know." She gestured at the helicopter, idling with its rotors slowing. "For now, just take me home."

  * * *

  THE END

  Afterword

  All of our books are special to us, and if you know anything about Jack and I, you know we like to pull from real life and personal experience when we create characters and situations. The touch of real life makes everything feel more real, we think.

  That being said, Xavier Badd is truly special to us. We have children on the spectrum, and so writing Xavier's story was a particularly emotional experience for us. We didn't intend to publish this book in the middle of World Autism Month, but we find it a lovely bit of serendipity.

  To learn more, go to https://www.autismspeaks.org/what-autism. It is a fantastic and informative website, and it answers pretty much every question you might have on this topic.

  * * *

  Jasinda Wilder

  * * *

  April 2018

  Sneak Peek

  You didn't really think I was done writing about Badd boys, did you?

  Keep reading for a sneak peek of

  BADD KITTY

  Epilogue

  Roman

  * * *

  The trailer was hot, stuffy, and smelly.

  Of course, that's to be expected when you're sharing a double-wide in the ass-end of Oklahoma with three other men.

  I was bored.

  And cranky.

  And horny.

  And I needed a drink, but my brothers and I had agreed to keep the trailer dry, for Dad's sake. Not like it'd do any good--the ornery old bastard was bound and determined to drink himself to death no matter what my brothers and I did.

  Remington was out breaking horses with our neighbors, the Callahans, and he wouldn't be back for hours yet, and Ramsey was out on a bender, and had been for a week, so I didn't expect him back for another day or two.

  Which left me here alone, with Dad, babysitting his grouchy, surly ass.

  Speak of the devil--he blinked awake from his nap, and glared at me. "Rome. Get off your lazy ass and get me a beer, dammit."

  I flipped channels until I fo
und a daytime replay of a celebrity gossip show, which I left it on, because there were often highlights of hot celebrity chicks.

  "You're on the wagon, you old drunk." I heaved my carcass off the protesting, sagging, creaking, ancient couch and snagged a diet Coke from the fridge, tossing it to him. "No more booze for you."

  "Fuck that shit," he snarled. "I been a drunk for thirty years. Ain't quittin' now."

  "Doc Mullins says you'll die if you don't quit."

  "Doc Mullins can kiss my ass." He popped the top of the soda and slugged back half of it. "And who gives a good goddamn, anyway?" he groused.

  "Uh, well, Rem, Ram, and me, for one."

  "That's three, dipshit."

  "Yeah, but we're identical triplets, so it counts as one."

  "'Cause you can only muster half a shit between the three of you?"

  "We came back, didn't we?"

  He lit a cigarette and puffed angrily. "Yeah, and who asked you to? Not me, that's for fuckin' sure."

  "You had a heart attack, Dad. How're we supposed to be effective smoke jumpers when we know you could keel over dead any minute? You're all the family we got."

  He had nothing to say to that, and we watched highlights of a fancy dancy Hollywood movie premiere from the night before. The main actor, Dawson Kellor, I'd seen in a few flicks--and his wife was hot as fuck. The next to pose for photos was Harlow Grace, and standing with her was a tall, lean, dark-haired guy with green eyes; something about him struck a chord in my head somewhere, and I paused the image on the TV.

  "He look familiar to you, Dad?" I asked.

  Dad peered. "Maybe a little. Why? You know him?"

  I shrugged. "Naw, but that's why I asked you."

  "Well un-pause the fuckin' TV, and maybe they'll say his name."

  So we watched them pose and then the narrator rambled on about Harlow's recent hiatus from acting:

  "Recent photos of Harlow surfaced recently, showing her locked in what appeared to be a passionate kiss with this same guy you're seeing her with now. She vanished more than two months ago after a lewd video was leaked online, only to be discovered in a dive bar in Ketchikan, Alaska, making out with this guy...one Xavier Badd. Who, apparently, is the youngest of eight brothers--"

  A female voice cut in. "Eight brothers who are mighty damn fine, I might add."

  "His last name is Badd? What are the chances of that?" I paused the TV again, glancing at Dad. "Ketchikan. Ain't that where you grew up, Dad?"

  He was staring at the TV, frowning furiously at the close up of the dark-haired kid, who looked freakishly familiar.

  "The fucker had eight kids?" Dad murmured. "Thought for sure I'd have beaten him there, at least."

  "Who?"

  "Your uncle."

  I gaped at him. "Uncle? What uncle?"

  Dad heaved himself out of the chair and shuffled into the kitchen, digging around in the cabinets.

  "What are you looking for?" I asked. "I threw away all your booze."

  "Even the stuff I had hid in the cereal?"

  I laughed. "Yeah, even that."

  He growled like the bear he resembled--six-four, heavy and huge and hunched, with shaggy hair that had once been grizzly bear brown, but had now gone gray. "Damn you."

  "What fucking uncle, Dad?" I demanded.

  He gestured at the TV. "Him. The bastard."

  "That's just a kid, you idiot. Can't be more than twenty, twenty-one."

  Dad hurled the empty Coke can at my head. "I know that, you dumb sonafabitch. His dad--my twin brother."

  I shoved up out of my chair and faced my dad; we were of a height, and I had the build he'd had when he was young--bear-strong, bull-necked, heavy in the shoulders and chest.

  "The fuck are you talking about, old man?" I snapped. "You don't have a brother."

  "Fuck you know about it, boy?" he snarled back, straightening to his full height and reminding me why he'd been so feared in his time. "I had a brother, just never told you about him. He's dead now."

  "You're not making any damn sense."

  He glared at me, eyes bloodshot and sagging. "Get my trunk from my room."

  "Why?"

  "You wanna know, or don't you?" He gestured at the TV. "That kid is your cousin. An' apparently you got eight of 'em."

  I groused under my breath as I fetched his antique seaman's trunk from his closet and set it by his chair. He flipped the lid open and rummaged around in it, hunting through overstuffed manila file folders and stacks of paper bound with twine, and bags of trinkets and sheaves of old photos, until he found a tattered leather photo album covered in dust. This he opened, flipping through the pages until he found what he was looking for and tossed it onto my lap.

  "Look there," he said, tapping at a particular photo. "See what you see."

  One of a handful of old black-and-white photos featured two young men, big and burly and strong, thick-shouldered, with shaggy hair and beards and flannel shirts, their arms around each other's shoulders, standing in front of what looked like a log cabin. They were identical twins, and looked to be in their early twenties. Happy, grinning, in the prime of life.

  It was clearly Dad, and an identical twin I hadn't known he had.

  I stared at him. "You had an identical twin fucking brother, and you never told us about him?"

  "Weren't none of your business."

  I glanced at the other photos, all of him and his twin, and a stunningly beautiful woman with black hair, seen sitting on the lap of...one of the twins--I certainly couldn't tell which.

  "Who's the hot lady?" I asked.

  Dad didn't answer, toying with a loose flap of Formica on the edge of the counter. "Your aunt Lena."

  "Meaning, the wife of the uncle I didn't know I had? The one who's dead?"

  "She's gone now, too."

  "She was gorgeous."

  There was a butter knife crusted with old peanut butter on the counter; and in a swift, angry movement, he hurled it across the room where it smashed handle first in the fake wood paneling by my head, and then fell to the thin, threadbare carpet with a dull thump.

  "The fuck, Dad!"

  He didn't answer, instead stomping across the trailer, kicking the screen door open, and pacing out into the tall grass beyond the trailer.

  I gave him a minute, and then followed him into the blazing Oklahoma air. "What the hell is going on, Dad?"

  He bent and snagged a blade of grass, breaking it apart in his thick fingers. "You think it's coincidence I had multiples?" he asked, his voice surprisingly quiet. "Liam and me were twins, as alike as you three are. We were as tight as the three of you are, too. Did everything together."

  "So what happened? Why is this the first I'm hearing of him?"

  "What do you think could happened that could split up twins?" He gestured back at the trailer. "Lena happened," he spat, and paced farther away.

  "You fought over a woman?"

  "Not just any woman. The woman. Lena Dunfield. Most beautiful woman either of us ever saw."

  "You loved her, and she loved him."

  "Bingo."

  "So you never spoke to him again because of it?"

  He spat. "Ain't tellin' that story twice. Get your brothers back here and I'll tell it all at once."

  "I have cousins," I said, after a long silence, trying the thought on for size.

  "Eight of 'em, it seems."

  "I've always wanted to visit Alaska," I remarked, watching him for his reaction.

  He laughed bitterly. "Be my guest. Just leave me out of it."

  I had eight cousins, living in Ketchikan, Alaska. One of whom was apparently shacked up with the hottest actress in Hollywood.

  This could prove to be interesting.

  I pulled out my cell phone and called my brothers and told them to get their asses back home. And while I waited for Rem and Ram, I did some Googling on my phone.

  Apparently my long-lost cousins had a bar in Ketchikan called Badd's Bar and Grille...

  When th
e boys got back, demanding to know what the panic was, I shot them a wolfish grin. "Have I got some news for you."

  * * *

  BADD KITTY

  * * *

  Book 9 of the Badd Brothers series...

  Coming soon!

  Also by Jasinda Wilder

  Visit me at my website: www.jasindawilder.com

  Email me: jasindawilder@gmail.com

  * * *

  If you enjoyed this book, you can help others enjoy it as well by recommending it to friends and family, or by mentioning it in reading and discussion groups and online forums. You can also review it on the site from which you purchased it. But, whether you recommend it to anyone else or not, thank you so much for taking the time to read my book! Your support means the world to me!

  * * *

  My other titles:

  * * *

  The Preacher's Son:

  Unbound

  Unleashed

  Unbroken

  * * *

  Biker Billionaire:

  Wild Ride

  * * *

  Big Girls Do It:

  Better (#1), Wetter (#2), Wilder (#3), On Top (#4) Married (#5)

  On Christmas (#5.5) Pregnant (#6)

  Boxed Set

  * * *

  Rock Stars Do It:

  Harder

  Dirty

  Forever

  Boxed Set

  * * *

  From the world of Big Girls and Rock Stars: Big Love Abroad

  * * *

  Delilah's Diary:

  A Sexy Journey

  La Vita Sexy

  A Sexy Surrender

  * * *

  The Falling Series:

  Falling Into You

  Falling Into Us

  Falling Under

  Falling Away

  Falling for Colton

  * * *

  The Ever Trilogy:

  Forever & Always

  After Forever

  Saving Forever

  * * *

  The world of Alpha:

  Alpha

  Beta

  Omega