Bad Boys Teaser: A Sizzling Bad Boys Anthology

by Warren, Rie

  “You’ll have to do what I say so I can be sure you’re safe,” I added, already caving in as she towed me down to the bed.

  I struggled to keep up with the internal one-eighty. Even if I could think of a way out of Vicente’s trap, I didn’t have the resources to fight him, and I didn’t want to go into hiding. That would be no life at all. Or I could agree to join him. Just take myself out of Jessica and Jack’s lives.

  That thought was more painful than death itself—seated deep inside me and filling me with dread. For Jessica’s sake, at least for tonight, I was willing to pretend. I didn’t want to hurt her anymore.

  She hadn’t answered me, silently lying down on the bed, holding her arms up to me.

  “So, you’ll do what I say,” I repeated, crawling over her.

  “We’ll see.”

  “Jessica,” I said firmly.

  She pulled me on top of her. “Did you forget I said I love you?”

  I muttered a few colorful curses underbreath. “So I guess I’m staying.”

  “Seems so.”

  My lips found hers. “Mostly because Walker is stinking up my place.”

  “Jackass.”

  “Your jackass,” I mumbled, my lips already on her skin. I slid down her body, licking all the way.

  “Oooh, Hunter!”

  Fourteen

  “YOU ARE NOT REALLY going.” Walker blocked the doorway.

  “Hell yeah I am. It’s Thanksgiving.”

  “So you want your head served up for dinner?”

  “Rather eat turkey and homemade apple pie.”

  He cussed me out in every language he could think of. Who knew he spoke Farsi? I did, too.

  When he finished his tirade, I grinned. “Nope. Never been fucked in the ass by a camel. And what is it with everyone wanting a piece of my ass these days?”

  “You are too fucking happy for your own good, my friend.”

  “Scary, isn’t it?” I tugged on my jacket.

  “You’re not worried about Vicente today?” Walker was well aware of my grace period running out.

  He’d watched the days tick by almost as anxiously as me. With four days remaining before the death squad came a calling, I was no closer to formulating a plan to get out of the decision, which entailed death one way or the other. I’d gotten on the computer and drawn up plans of the Cigar Factory warehouse and surrounds from memory, adding in the watchtower crew on the rooftops and the explosives rigged at every entry point.

  Walker and I both agreed it would be a FUBAR situation to walk into, and I remained adamant about no heroic measures from any of our fellow operatives.

  “I’m worried about him every day. And I’m done living my life like that. Besides, Jack is coming too.”

  “Fucking great. Two birds, one stone.”

  “I’ll bring you home some leftovers.” Maybe the promise of food would get him off my back.

  “I don’t want leftovers. I need to get laid. And you’re giving me gray hair.” Walker inspected his jet black braid with a worried frown.

  “I’ll be back by nightfall.” I patted him on the shoulder then headed out.

  My time with Jack and Jessica had been limited c/o Vicente. Jack wasn’t allowed to come over, not while Walker was my roommate. The tables, sideboard, and counters in the living room, kitchen, and our respective bedrooms piled high with ammo, guns, knives, and other assorted weapons of our trade while Vicente’s threat hung over my head.

  I went to Jessica after dark and rode away on my motorcycle before the break of dawn. So when she’d invited me to Thanksgiving at her parents, I’d decided Hell yeah I was doing that, and bringing Jack along, too.

  Mel was okay with it, more than happy in fact not to have to cook a turkey, and to get the day off to herself.

  Yeah. I was in denial. It wasn’t a bad place to be at this late stage in a career like mine. As long as Jack, Jessica, and Mel stayed safe, I didn’t much give a fuck what happened to me. I’d dealt death from my own two hands. I probably deserved it in return. No matter what I’d told Jessica, I didn’t believe there was an out. Vicente had it bad for me, and in a sick way I understood it.

  In the meantime, while I waited out his ultimatum, I was going to eat some damn Thanksgiving dinner and meet my woman’s parents. I wanted to play happy families for a change. I wanted just one day of being normal, and this might be the last chance I got.

  Jack bounced in his seat after I picked him up, bounded up the steps at the Barnes’s house, and jammed his finger on the doorbell.

  “Remember to say Yes sir and No ma’am,” I reminded him, slicking his wild black hair down.

  “But can I say no sir and yes’m, too?”

  “Yeah, I think that’ll work, monster.”

  He looked excited. I probably looked sick to my stomach. Meeting the parents? That was not my MO, and as eager as I was to spend a day with my kid and Jessica, this was completely unchartered territory.

  Jack tugged at his neck-choker. Mel had dressed him in a little man suit complete with a tie. “I can’t breathe, Daddy.”

  I knew the feeling. “So take it off. I don’t care.”

  “But you’re wearing a suit.”

  I was. And clearly for the first time in front of Jessica because when she swung the door open her mouth dropped open, too.

  “Going to invite us in?” I asked after she’d gawked at me for a reasonable amount of time.

  She stepped back only to be hip-checked by a younger JB version. “Oh my gawd, Jessie! You didn’t say he was total eye-candy!”

  After a quick scan of her younger sister, I couldn’t take my eyes off Jessica anymore than she could me. She wore a soft clinging sweater dress that rode high above her knees and low along her breasts.

  Our staring only came to a stop when Jack barreled into her legs, throwing both his arms around her. “Miss Barnes!”

  She bent to kiss his cheek, and her dress dipped low. My eyes followed. The teen redux of Jessica stood to the side, her hand to her mouth, her eyes on me.

  “Mommy! You gotta see this!” she yelled.

  And then there were three. Mrs. Barnes appeared in the entryway, dark chestnut colored hair flouncing around her face.

  She stopped. Fanned her face with a potholder that was burnt around the edges and had seen better days. Then yanked the younger girl’s ear. “Behave. He’s a guest.”

  “Ooookay. When you stop drooling, I will.”

  Had I thought this would be a normal family get together earlier? Scratch that.

  “My sister Qwynn, my mom Della. Mom, sis, this is Hunter Angelo.” Jessica made the intros. “And this of course is my prize pupil, Jack.”

  “But I’m not a pupae,” Jack exclaimed with a miniature frown marring his forehead.

  Jessica laughed. “Of course not.” She looked up from Jack, explaining, “We just finished our unit on metamorphosis in school.” Then she bent to kiss the crown of his head, and the sight of the two of them together nearly undid me. “As for you, I said pupil. It means student.”

  “And I get prize too?” He jumped on his tiptoes.

  After we all laughed, I turned to Della and Qwynn. “Pleasure to meet you both.” I shook their hands then leaned across the top of Jack’s head to brush my lips against Jessica’s. I lowered my voice and spoke against her ear, “And I don’t know about the turkey, but you look good enough to eat.”

  Her eyelashes fluttered like black butterfly wings, and her pink lips tipped up in a smile. I glanced aside to find Della and Qwynn staring, slack-jawed.

  “Go tell your father Hunter’s here.” Della recovered first.

  “DADDY! New guy is here!” Qwynn shouted.

  “Do you want him to murder Hunter?” Della asked her younger daughter.

  Qwynn shrugged in response. “I don’t see why Jessie gets to have all the fun.”

  Jessica came to stand beside me, taking my hand in hers. I wasn’t surprised to feel my palm was a little damp. I’d never
met a girl’s parents before—well, besides Mel’s but that was different—and then there’d been that little mention of murder.

  The man who stalked down the staircase and halted in front of me had swirling brown hair turning shades of white in patches, lively gray-brown eyes, and gunnery sergeant lips.

  “New boy!” Mr. Barnes barked out.

  I saluted Mr. Barnes without even thinking about it although I was anything but a boy. It had something to do with the firm force of his voice. He’d clearly been in the military. “Hunter Angelo, sir. Pleased to meet you.”

  “Hmm.” After leaving me hanging a good half-minute, he held out one hand slightly gnarled with arthritis. I grasped it in a steady grip. As he applied more pressure, a flicker of amusement lightened his eyes, making them almost hazel. “Tank Barnes.”

  “Oh, shoot. No one calls you Tank anymore.” Jessica’s mom grinned at me. “His name’s Garrett.”

  Tank fit him completely. Maybe I’d stick with that since I had the feeling he was considering steamrolling right over me.

  His eyes lightened even further, glancing toward Della. “Well, you still call me Tank, sometimes.”

  “Oh my gawd! So embarrassing!” Qwynn’s face turned bright red. “Do you have to? In front of hot new guy?”

  After relaxing his grip, Tank continued to scrutinize me, and my knees almost turned to Jell-O. Then he harrumphed loudly and retired to the living room.

  The rest of us stood in silence a moment or two before he bellowed, “JESSICA!”

  She walked sedately toward the living room, throwing a wink at me over her shoulder.

  “And bring the son with you.” Her dad’s voice softened abruptly.

  Jessica held out her hand for Jack who scrambled after her. He wasn’t daunted at all. I wished I could say the same for myself.

  Della grabbed my arm and jerked me after her. “In the kitchen with you.”

  She turned to Qwynn who trotted behind us. “And you? Set the table.”

  “Mooom. No fair you get to monopolize the hottie.”

  Della merely lifted her eyebrows into an arch and snapped her fingers at her younger daughter, and apparently that was the end of that. Qwynn stomped off in the opposite direction, muttering none-too-quietly.

  “That child. Be the death of me,” Della also muttered. “She and Jessica couldn’t be more different. Aside from their looks and that’s where the trouble always starts.” She fluffed her hair with a girlish smile. “I should know. Had Tank chasing after me from one end of Charleston Air Force Base to the other.”

  “Both of you were in the military?”

  “I’m a nurse. He was in COT when I met him. And I just didn’t have the time for any old enlisted man.”

  Commissioned Officer Training. I knew the lingo well. I turned my laugh into a cough when she slapped me lightly on the arm.

  “He’s a doctor of course, but we’re no longer with the Air Force. We didn’t reenlist when I got pregnant with Jessica. We wanted to put down strong roots.” Della opened the oven door, the mouthwatering aroma of turkey wafting out. She peered over her shoulder at me. “Not afraid of woman’s work, are you?”

  “No. But I’m not all that good at it.” Thirty seconds later I found myself minus my suit coat, with my shirtsleeves rolled up, and elbows deep in the soapsuds in the sink scrubbing all the pots that had been used to prepare the meal because the dishwasher was already full and running.

  Della puttered around adjusting this and tasting that. “Tank means no harm, you know. But Jessica’s never brought a boy—a man—home before.”

  That made me very, very happy. “I’ve never been brought home before either. So I guess that makes us even.”

  “As long as you treat her right, I’m sure you’ll do just fine by her dad.” She pulled the turkey out of the oven and motioned me over to transfer it to the serving platter.

  “That’s exactly how I intend to treat her. She’s”—I placed my hand on my chest—“she’s very important to me.”

  Della nodded judiciously, her eyes shining. Then she handed the carving knife over. “Carve the turkey, thin slices. I assume you know how to handle a knife?” The question was innocuous enough, the look behind it more than shrewd.

  “Been known to.” I looked her squarely in the eyes.

  “Well, don’t let it get cold now.”

  I set about the task while she hovered beside me. “You’ve had a difficult life, Hunter?”

  “I suppose.” I shrugged a shoulder. “I . . . well, not many people would’ve chosen the path I’ve taken.”

  “Does Jessica help?”

  “Very much.” I cleared my throat and kept slicing. “I don’t think she knows how much.”

  There was a small twist to my heart. I didn’t have that much time left with Jessica one way or the other. I smiled at Della but was sure it didn’t hit my eyes.

  “Oh, I’m sure she does. She’s very perceptive. She can tell things about people.” Della clapped her hands with finality. “Well then, best get the bird on the table before the gravy turns to turd.”

  She bustled out of the kitchen in front of me. I took a moment to slip into the dark blue jacket and straighten my tie. I even glanced at my reflection in the microwave to make sure my hair waved somewhat neatly back or at least looked like I’d dragged a brush through it earlier.

  In the dining room, Qwynn sat with one hip propped on the table, swinging her leg. As I entered, she stared at me with soft brown, hooded eyes until Della flicked her on the forehead.

  I was glad she wasn’t my kid. She was trouble.

  “Hunter. Go find that husband of mine. Check upstairs, third floor. I reckon he would’ve taken young Jack up to explore.”

  Explore what? Instruments of torture?

  I took the stairs two at a time to the second landing and the third beyond. Up here the layout was one big open room. A train set that looked to have miles of track looping through a miniature landscape dominated the room.

  Jessica kneeled beside the table, her arms resting on it, her chin propped on her joined hands. She saw me and waved me over.

  “Jack has a new friend,” she whispered, letting her lips linger on my earlobe for a moment too long.

  On the far side of the tracks, the older man sat with Jack on his lap and they both laughed when the train chugged past them with a tinny high whistle and even a small cloud of steam.

  Well, I’ll be damned. If the man liked my son, perhaps I’d escape a whipping behind the woodshed later.

  “Is it time to eat?” Jessica traced light patterns on the palm of my hand, tickling my flesh and triggering a reaction low in my groin that would be hard to explain during Thanksgiving dinner.

  I pulled her to her feet and said quietly, “It is. But I don’t think I should sit next to you.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because I want you. And the littlest touch makes it hard for me to . . . not get hard.” I stared down at her, her full bottom lip, and her very full breasts. “And your dress. Not helping.”

  “You like it?” She smoothed her hands down her sides, highlighting the way the soft thistle-colored dress hugged her figure.

  “C’mon, temptress. Time to eat.”

  With an exchange of looks between her and her father, some silent signal was given, and Garrett the Tank nodded.

  He lifted Jack off his lap and set him on the floor. “Okay, Engineer Jack. You ready for some turkey?”

  “Yeah!”

  “How about a drumstick? I’m partial to those myself.”

  Aside from continued obvious stares from Qwynn and a few messes from Jack, Thanksgiving lunch started off without a hitch. They were all nice, wholesome people, well, besides Qwynn as was more than evident.

  This was in fact my first true family Thanksgiving. I’d never had this growing up, but I was so grateful to be here now.

  Jessica sat next to her sister across from me, and Jack was on the corner between her dad, at the
head of the table, and me. In order to avoid fixating on Jessica, I talked with her mom in between bites of food and sips of wine. So I was caught off guard when a slight skirmish erupted between the sisters, under the table. Their parents blindly ignored the scuffle as if this was a normal occurrence. Jack only had eyes for the giant drumstick he was busy gnawing like a dog with a bone.

  I watched to see how it would play out, whatever Jessica and Qwynn silently argued about. I heard what sounded like a boot stomp, and Qwynn’s eyes popped wide as did her mouth.

  Jessica gave me a triumphant grin while Qwynn seethed beside her. For the remainder of the meal, Qwynn ate dinner with her gaze finally averted from me.

  Later Mr. Barnes and I sat out on the screened porch. It was a nice day—calm and blue and clear.

  The taciturn man tapped a pinch of tobacco into an old polished pipe. “Military,” he stated, clearly referring to me.

  I supposed with his background he’d recognize a fellow soldier although I wondered if he’d ever seen any combat.

  “Not exactly. More like a Lone Wolf. In the past.” I sat next to him on the long, whitewashed bench, my back straight and my gaze on his slightly crooked hands as he lit the pipe.

  “Mt. Pleasant PD now, Jessica mentioned?” A small sail of rich sweet smoke curled lazily in the air.

  “Well, that’s complicated, sir. I’m sidelined for the moment.”

  “Why’s that?” His sharp eyes narrowed on me through another plume of smoke.

  “Colored outside the lines to save someone’s life.”

  “I see.” He took a deep inhale and let it out slowly, facing forward to blow the stream of smoke. “Would you do it again?”

  “I’d forfeit my life and my livelihood for anyone important to me. Yes.” Decision made, just like that. I would die for Jessica and Jack. I blinked over the blue and gold horizon, suddenly sure of my choice.

  “Then I’ve judged you correctly, Hunter.” He nodded with a satisfied air.

  We sat in silence a while longer, and I began to feel more at ease with the man.

  In fact, I felt so at ease that sometime later—with Jack occupied in the kitchen sampling every homemade dessert Della had made—I traced a finger down Jessica’s neck and asked quietly, “Show me your bedroom?”