DIRTY ALPHAS: The Alpha Bad Boy Collection

by Franca Storm

Axel Craven doesn’t matter. She does.

  I continue walking, pushing my way back through the throngs of people to the door. I hear Axel yelling and cursing me, but I ignore it.

  ***

  “Shh. It’s okay,” I tell Nicki as I hold her against me on my lap in the back of my truck.

  “I’m gonna kill that fucker,” Chloe says from the passenger seat up front.

  Mitch chuckles from the driver’s seat and asks her, “What are you gonna do? Set your sorority girls on him to claw his eyes out with their fake fingernails?”

  “Oh, shut up,” she snaps and punches him in the shoulder.

  “Ow! Don’t hit the guy driving. John will kill me if I crash his baby.”

  Chloe turns around to look at me and Nicki. “Is she okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Did Axel—?”

  “No,” I say quickly, cutting her off.

  “I’m sorry, John. I should’ve tried harder to keep him away tonight.”

  “It’s not your fault. Forget it.”

  “Do you think he’s gonna do something? You know, because you interfered with his sick plans tonight?”

  “No,” I say, forcing a reassuring smile.

  She sighs with relief and turns back around. “Okay. Good.”

  I catch Mitch’s eye in the rearview mirror. He knows I’m lying. I have little doubt that Axel will retaliate. I’d known that going in. I’m not stupid enough to think I can do shit like that without some fallout. But I didn’t give a damn and I still don’t. He can do what he likes to me as long as Nicki is safe.

  I look down at her in my arms and shake my head, trying to keep my shit together with seeing her like this—so out of it, so fucking terrified. Tonight was such a close call. Way too close.

  Chapter 20

  ~Nicki~

  I open my eyes to darkness. I feel pillows under my head, a duvet wrapped around me and I know I’m in bed.

  “Morning, sleepy head.”

  It’s John’s voice.

  I blink hard to adjust to the dark. He’s sitting beside me on top of the covers, fully dressed. I scan the room and realize that I’m actually in his bedroom, not my own. It takes me a moment to remember how I got here. Oh shit. Parts of last night come flooding back to me like an embarrassing nightmare.

  “My head doesn’t hurt,” I tell him.

  “After you stopped throwing up, I made you drink a gallon of water. And before you fell asleep, I gave you some quality painkillers.”

  “Thanks. I’m…sorry.”

  He moves closer and strokes my hair gently. “Don’t worry about it.”

  I rub my face tiredly. “What time is it?”

  “Early afternoon.”

  “What? Why is it so dark?”

  “It’s just the bedroom. I wanted you to sleep as long as possible. The longer you slept, the better you’d feel.”

  I smile. “You’re so sweet.”

  He grins. “Only for you, sweetheart.”

  I haul myself up into a sitting position. That’s when I realize I’m wearing one of his t-shirts. My favorite one—a collector’s edition shirt from Bruce Springsteen’s Born to Run tour. My favorite songwriter of all time.

  “Aww,” I say, gesturing to the shirt.

  “I thought that’d make you happy.”

  “So you undressed me, huh?”

  He grins. “Not exactly.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “You treated me to a little strip show when we got back here.”

  “What?” I sputter, shocked at this news.

  “Don’t worry, I kept my eyes off you.” He winks slyly as he adds, “Mostly.”

  “Oh my God,” I breathe, burying my face in my hands. And that’s when the rest of the night comes back to me. The Axel parts. The last thing I remember is him asking me if I wanted to come up to his bedroom for some peace and quiet. “No, no, no,” I murmur.

  “What, Nicki?”

  I remove my hands from my face and force myself to look at him. I swallow hard and ask, “Did Axel—did we—?”

  “No,” he growls. “No you didn’t.”

  “But I don’t remember. He asked me up to his room…he didn’t touch me because I was drunk, right?”

  I can tell by the look on John’s face that it wasn’t the case.

  “Let’s just say that the only thing that stopped him was my fist.”

  I can’t contain my absolute relief and I fling my arms around him. “Thank you. I don’t know what I would have done if he’d—if we’d—”

  “I would never let that happen,” he says, cutting me off. “Never, Nicki,” he growls, vehemently.

  “It’s not your job, though. I shouldn’t have put myself in that position. I’m so sorry you had to do that. I’m sorry, John. I swear it won’t happen again.”

  “I agree. It was stupid getting that drunk around a bunch of frat guys. But I know you were upset. You weren’t yourself. Besides, between you, me, Mitch and Chloe, you’ve made the fewest mistakes. So, I’ll give you this one.”

  We both laugh.

  “Do me a favor though?”

  “Anything.”

  “Never wear that outfit you were wearing last night again.”

  I pull back and eye him in surprise. “It wasn’t that bad.”

  “It was for you. I hated it.”

  At first I thought he was joking, but I can tell by his tone that he’s definitely not. Why is he being so insane over some outfit I was wearing? Wow, that’s majorly possessive. Boyfriend possessive.

  “John?”

  He straddles me over the covers and leans into me, his eyes locking with mine as he says, “I know you’ve been experimenting lately with…him…but it ends now. As you know now from last night, he’s dangerous. You didn’t believe me. But I hope it’s clear now that I wasn’t lying. He’s an asshole. He was manipulating you.”

  “I—”

  He presses his finger to my lips, silencing me. “You, sweetheart, are special. You don’t belong with an ass like him. It upsets me that you didn’t see that; that you let him inside your head. You don’t need to lose yourself to experience what you want to. You got me?”

  I nod.

  “Good. I don’t want any other man laying his fucking hands on you.” He looks away as though just saying the words is causing him pain. He climbs off the bed and throws his hands in the air as his pain turns to anger in typical John fashion and he yells, “You’re smart, Nicki. Independent. A go-getter. Your own person. You’re better than that! Better than him! You’re a fucking angel and he’s worth less than the goddamn devil! I can’t…” he runs his fingers through his hair and shakes his head, “…I just can’t understand why you let him touch you! Last night I saw you…on his bed…crying like that. Terrified. It…it nearly killed me!”

  “I’m sorry,” I choke out.

  He pounces on me, making me jump in surprise.

  “No, I’m sorry, Nicki. It’s all my fault. I pushed you away. All these concerns were running through my head: ruining our friendship; the band breaking up. But…the truth is….” he tucks a loose strand of hair gently behind my right ear and gazes at me, his eyes so intense it’s like they’re trying to bore right through mine, “…I was just making excuses. I was scared. You’re not just some girl to me. You’re my best friend. But all this shit that’s been happening; it made me realize that…I want you. I want you to be mine.”

  I’m speechless. For one thing, I’m not used to seeing John emotional like this.

  “Nicki?”

  Oh shit. I realize I’ve been sitting here just staring at him like a fool.

  “Can you throw me a bone here?” he says, tickling the side of my neck to get my attention.

  I giggle and bat his hand away. “You—John Kingston—are asking me to be your girlfriend?”

  “Yeah. What’s funny about that?” he asks off the wide grin plastered on my face.

  “Well, have you ever had one before? C
uz, in the four years that I’ve known you—”

  He silences me with a chaste kiss to my forehead. “I’m ready,” he tells me. “Are you?”

  “Yes,” I say. “Yes, I am.” I throw my arms around him, squeezing him tightly. He grunts in pain and I pull back instantly. “What is it? You’re hurt?”

  “It’s nothing.”

  My eyes narrow with suspicion. “Turn the light on.”

  “Nicki, it’s fine.”

  “John,” I press. “Light.”

  He climbs off me and crosses to the bedroom door. He flips the light switch and then turns back to me nervously. Immediately, I see why. He’s been in one hell of a fight. His face is messed up badly. He lifts his shirt and shows me his abs. I cringe at the stark bruising.

  “Is that from last night? Axel did this to you?” I ask with disbelief. How? Axel is…well, he’s a pussy. And John is a trained fighter.

  John scoffs. “Please. Give me the credit I deserve. He brought along two guys a couple of days ago. They jumped me in the parking lot downstairs.”

  “What?” I scramble off the bed. “Oh my God! Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”

  He breaks eye contact and looks away uneasily. “I didn’t want you to see me like this, cuz of the past.”

  I take his hands in mine and he looks down at me. “You don’t need to hide things from me. I can handle more than you give me credit for. Plus, at the gym, I see a lot of this crap. Right?”

  “This isn’t the same as what you see in a controlled fight.”

  I roll my eyes. “I’m not as fragile as you think. You should’ve told me. I could’ve helped.”

  “I had Mitch. It was fine. I’m fine.”

  I pull away and shake my head. “You’re still healing. You’re not fine yet.”

  “Nicki—”

  “Did you report it?”

  He looks at me like I just told him the sky is green or something. “No. It was retaliation for what I did to him at the gym. It’s over. Let it go. I have.”

  “What about last night?”

  “What about it?”

  “Well, tell me what you did to get me out of there. You already alluded to punching him. How bad was it?”

  He waves his hand dismissively. “It was nothing. Just a warning punch. I didn’t put my full weight into it.”

  “Really?” I ask, skeptical. I know what John gets like when he loses his temper.

  “Yeah. Mitch and Chloe were around. I wasn’t really alone with him, so how much damage could I have really done, right?”

  Shit. I can’t tell if he’s lying. This is odd. I can normally see right through him. If he is lying then he’s practiced this little spiel of his, anticipating my inquisition. And so, I let it go…for now.

  “All right.”

  He smiles and pulls me against him. “Judging by the way you jumped out of bed there, you’re feeling better. Are you up for going out?”

  “Out?”

  “Yeah. I wanna take you out today.”

  “Like, on a date?” I ask, pulling back to look at him.

  His eyes sparkle down at me and he smiles excitedly. “Yeah, a date.”

  “Absolutely,” I say, grinning like an idiot. “Let’s do it!”

  Chapter 21

  ~John~

  “I’m fine, John. Really,” she tells me.

  I grab the handle of the hard case carrying her acoustic guitar and pull it out of her grip. “I know you’re tough, but I’m trying to be a gentleman here, Nicki. We’re on a date. So let me do this.” I’m not exactly sure how to go about this date thing, but showing some chivalry seems to be a good way to go.

  She looks down at the other hard case in my hand—mine—and then glances at the backpack on my shoulders. “John, let me take something.”

  Stubborn woman! I put down my guitar case in my left hand and reach into the pocket of my board shorts. I pull out my car keys and hand them to her. “Here.”

  She rolls her eyes and I laugh as we step out of the elevator. I kick open the door leading into the parking lot and she runs on ahead of me to my truck. I find myself scanning the area like a paranoid stoner. It’s because of the attack. I’m not freaking out from fear for myself, but because Nicki’s with me this time.

  It’s clear. We’re good. Thank God. What a mood killer that would be; to get into a fight when I’m taking her out on our first date.

  As I push all thoughts of Axel and any other shit out of my mind, I hear her curse over by my truck. The passenger side is facing me. I can’t see the driver’s side and whatever it is she’s cursing about over there.

  “What’s up?” I ask as I approach. “You okay?”

  As I drop both guitar cases gently to the ground, she flashes me a nervous smile and wraps her arms around me. “I feel like walking. How far is this secret destination of yours?”

  “Fifteen miles,” I tell her. I try to pull back, but she holds fast, not letting go of me. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing,” she insists, squeezing me tighter and pushing her weight against me in an effort to move me further away from the truck. But I’m a big guy. She can’t move me.

  “Nicki, stop it.”

  I grip her wrists and peel her off me, holding her at arm’s length. I let go of her and dodge to the left, but she’s there instantly, blocking my path. Damn boxer training. I move the other way and she does it again. I blow out a breath, grip her hips and lift her out of my way. I stride over to the driver’s side. Immediately, I see why she was trying to keep me away.

  Fucking hell! My ride has been keyed. And I’m not talking a couple of scratches. I’m talking huge deep scratches covering the entire formerly black flawless surface. And the scratches form one enraging word: Pussy.

  Axel Craven is my only thought. That son of a bitch!

  “John?” Nicki calls to me.

  I turn to her and see the nervousness in her eyes. She thinks I’m gonna lose it. And she knows me well. Fury is quickly clawing its way to the surface. I’m right on the edge. Who wouldn’t be after finding their truck like this? Just as bad is the shit I know I’ll have to go through to get it fixed. It’s gonna be pricey and I can’t afford it. All the money I’ve saved from bartending non-stop during the summer is just enough to cover my living costs for the rest of the year. It means I have to go to my dad.

  “I have money. We’ll take care of it, okay?” Nicki tells me.

  “What? No fucking way.” Does she think I’m the kind of guy who would be okay with mooching off his woman? Screw that. “I can fix it myself. I just need access to the right tools.”

  She senses my tone and tells me, “I didn’t mean to insult you. It’s just; this is my fault.”

  “Your fault? Did you give Axel a black eye? Did you threaten him? Did you rip his bedroom door off its hinges and pound him into the ground last night? Choke him? Did you do any of that? No, what’s happening here is all on me. You got me?”

  “I knew it!” she yells. “You lied! You did beat the shit out of him last night!”

  Oh shit. I’m in trouble now. And so, I do the only thing I can do; the only thing any guy would do in my position…I deflect it away by pulling out my cell.

  “Let’s focus on the real issue here, Nicki.”

  She frowns at me and throws me that I’m-not-impressed look of hers. I turn away, draw in a deep breath to calm myself and dial my dad’s number. It rings forever before he finally picks up. Typical. When it’s a client, he picks up on the first ring. When it’s his son, he almost lets it go to voicemail. Most of the time it does go to voicemail. That’s the extent of our relationship, except for the grueling monthly Sunday dinners that my parents force Nicki and me to attend.

  “John,” his commanding drill-sergeant-like bark booms down the line.

  I tense up immediately and respond tightly, “Is this a good time?” It’s a Saturday, so it should be. But the old man has been known to work on the weekends.

  “Could be bette
r. I’m in the garage working on the Triumph.”

  Not as bad as catching him while he’s working a case, but it’s a close second to interrupt him while he’s working on his bikes or his cars. “I need to come over.”

  “How much?”

  “What?”

  “How much do you need?”

  “What makes you think—?”

  “I know you’re not coming here to spend some quality father-son time together. So, I’ll ask again; how much do you need?”

  Christ, he’s infuriating.

  “Nothing. It’s the truck. I can fix it myself if you’ll lend me your tools.” The garage at my parents’ house is basically an auto shop with all the shit that my dad keeps in there.

  “All right. See you soon then.”

  Before I can get another word out, he hangs up.

  “Argh!” I yell, just managing to stop myself from throwing my phone across the parking lot.

  I watch as Nicki picks up her guitar case.

  “Going somewhere?” I ask her.

  “Yeah. You’re going to your parents’, right? We’ll rain check this date. It’s cool.”

  I take her hand and pull her back to me. “No, it’s not cool. We’re having our date.”

  “But—”

  “We’ll swing by my parents’ place. I’ll fix up the truck. Then we’ll head out.”

  “John….”

  She’s worried about my mood, assuming it’s only gonna get worse around my dad. Normally, she’d be right. But not today. Nothing is gonna ruin our date.

  “I’m fine, sweetheart. Fine,” I tell her as I plant a kiss on her forehead.

  She sighs. “Okay. But I should change first. I don’t want Tom and Karen to see me like this.”

  I look her over. She’s wearing a short dress that bounces nicely against her ass as she walks. Her hair is loose, flowing down her shoulders underneath a little sun hat. She’s showing a lot of leg—hot as hell.

  “You look amazing.”

  She pulls at the hem of the dress. “It’s too short. Plus, I’m not wearing a bra or panties.”

  “What?”

  She slaps my hand away as I reach for the hem of her dress. “Not like that, you pervert. You told me to bring a bathing suit.”