Bad Boy's Bridesmaid

by Sosie Frost

  “What was I supposed to do? You were convicted.”

  “I was innocent. You fucking know that.”

  She dropped the egg. It cracked over the counter. She swore, forgetting our argument to count the rest of the eggs in the carton.

  Shit. Josie did have money problems. Who fretted about one lost egg?

  What the hell had happened since I was gone?

  A chill gripped the back of my neck, the hand of whatever god decided to hold me before I made another legendarily bad decision.

  “Forget the past. I want to keep you safe.” I paused. She didn’t look up. “I’ll take care of you.”

  “I’m safe on my own. And I’ve been taking care of myself and Granddad for a year.”

  “Then I’ll help.”

  “I don’t need your help.”

  I offered her a towel from the stove. She mopped up the mess, still avoiding my gaze. My temper got the better of me. I forgot to think before I jerked off my own rage.

  “There’s an arsonist in this town, Sweets. Someone who destroyed your store. And I got news for you—it ain’t me.”

  “No one is after me.” Josie’s voice lowered, the once sugar-sweet now lost in bitterness. “Except you.”

  “Damn right, I am. I’ve spent a year away from you. I’m done fucking around. I want you, Josie. I want you with me. I want you to be mine. Forever. You get that? I’m not wasting any more time.”

  “We broke up, Maddox.”

  “Yeah?” Easily remedied. “We’ll un-break up. Marry me.”

  “What?” The flour spilled. She turned, her almond eyes wide.

  “Marry me, Josie.”

  “I know you were in jail for a long time…”

  I moved closer. She stepped back. It never bothered me before, but this time, I wasn’t playing. I tossed my weight and strength around, but I wanted her to lean in, not seek shelter behind a pair of eggbeaters.

  “Yeah. I was in jail. Gave me some time to think. To figure out what I want. Sweets, it’s you. I want it all. I’ll find a good job, get some money. We can buy a house. Get your shop rebuilt. Start a family—”

  “A family?”

  I didn’t like the hush in her words, but mine mirrored the same quiet hope.

  “We tried…before the breakup,” I said. “We can try again. We’re good at that part.”

  She quieted. “I’m on the pill again.”

  I expected it. Still hurt. “You wanted a baby.”

  “I also wanted to enter the State Cake Bake-Off. And to perfect another éclair recipe. I wanted the candy shop, Maddox. But things change. Everything changed after the fire.”

  “I’m innocent. I didn’t set fire to your shop. And it won’t hurt to hear you say it. I needed to hear your voice. I just wanted to see you so I didn’t think I’d rot away forever in that goddamned prison without…being near you again.”

  She ran a hand through her curls. “I was told to stay away.”

  Rage surged through me. “By who?”

  “Really, Maddox? Everyone. Everyone who said I was an idiot for dating you finally got their chance to gloat. All of my customers told me to stay away. Granddad. Delta. Everyone agreed that you were bad for me.”

  “Is that what you think?”

  She turned away. I knew it was coming before she said it, but like a damn martyr I took the hit.

  “I think you should go.”

  I refused to make the only woman I ever loved feel unsafe in her own damn home. Not when the real criminal was still out there, lurking in plain sight and salivating for the chance to pounce on her when she was at her most vulnerable.

  It wouldn’t happen while I was free, not when I had too much to gain and so much more to lose with Josie.

  “This isn’t over,” I promised. “What we have? It’s real. We belong together, Sweets. And I’m going to prove that I’m not just some delinquent. I’m not a good man, but I’ll treat you good. I’ll swear that to you.”

  “Maddox—”

  “You know where to find me. You call if there’s trouble. I’ll be here. I’ll protect you.”

  She sighed. “There won’t be trouble.”

  She was still an optimist…or maybe dangerously naïve. Either quirk made me love her more.

  “Now that I’m back, the man who did this will try to hurt you again.” I didn’t care if I terrified her. She had to know what would happen, what we faced. “I’m going to find the son of a bitch who did this to us.”

  “Why?”

  So it was naivety. I expected nothing less, but I hated that I’d have to destroy it.

  “Because I won’t stop until I get my revenge.”

  Chapter Four - Maddox

  Josie’s world was sprinkles, frosting, and sugar plum fairies.

  Mine rotted in the gutter with druggie parents, bloody knuckles, and a bullshit parole after serving a year for a crime I didn’t commit.

  My reality, my life, was etched with broken bones and turf wars. I didn’t have a family, and the friends that replaced them used me only for muscle. I couldn’t hide my past from Josie. Hell, no one forgot where I came from—the town of Saint Christie especially. The holier-than-thou residents defined me by my tattoos and the rumors spread in the streets.

  But Josie hadn’t cared. Or she did, but she saw some flicker of good in me. Something worth baking me heart-shaped cookies, keeping me around to grab the flour from the top shelf, and letting me strip her down and dot her body with drips of chocolate darker than her skin.

  She might have kicked me from her apartment, but she’d never rid me from her heart. I was like an infection that dug in and festered. I clung to her because she was the only good thing that ever happened to me. Even the hardest bastard needed some light in his life.

  But I planned to kill the man who threatened us.

  Whoever he was.

  And I had a good hunch.

  This was where our Pixy Stick fairy tale ended. Revenge wasn’t about pride or sadism. It was justice when justice failed. Blind. Violent. Brutal. It was nothing Josie deserved to see, but it would protect her and right the wrongs that hurt us both.

  It had to happen. Once it did, we could move on, have a good life, be happy.

  But it was hard to convince Josie I was anything but trouble, especially surrounded by the saints of Saint Christie.

  Most of the townsfolk were two cats short of a hoarders’ documentary, the rest were so white bread they’d turned stale. They held bake sales to pay for potholes, and held contests to find the town’s fattest squirrel. Most drank in the fire hall Saturday night, while the more righteous prayed for their neighbors in church on Sunday. If a family needed help, the town banded together to rebuild homes and bake casseroles…if only to lord their preferred currency over their friends—favors.

  The streets of metropolitan Ironfield were cut-throat, but at least when I lived there, bleeding meant the fight was done. In Saint Christie, memories lasted generations.

  The town didn’t change much in a year, but Josie’s vacant lot was an eyesore. It should have broken my heart. Instead it hurt my scars—the ones I earned in the fire and the new marks from jail. I stared at it for too long. Enough of the townspeople were out in the early morning, and if their glares counted as evidence my ass would have been thrown back in prison. I ignored most of them.

  Not all.

  I recognized the tumble of artificially red hair bobbing up the street. Luann McMannis used to deliver the church’s donated food to my mom when we were kids. It wasn’t charity, and it wasn’t because she was brave enough to step in a meth addict’s house. She came because she had the best photographic memory and could regale the town with stories of the time she handed off two cans of green beans and some creamed corn to my mom.

  Luann counted her remaining political signs and forgot to look up. She nearly smacked into my leather jacket. The signs crashed onto Josie’s lot, facedown.

  “Oh!” Luann gasped, staring at me. Her w
ords bumbled fast and nervous. “Andrew Maddox? I…had no idea you were out of jail!”

  I doubted that. News traveled quick when the gossip was good. She edged a few steps away from me, like I carried a blow-torch and grudge.

  Luann gave me a fake smile. “Well, look at you. Back in town.”

  “Yeah.”

  “And…the police know you’re out of jail?”

  For fuck’s sake. “They know.”

  “And you’re…living here now? Permanently?”

  “Maybe.”

  “That’s early, isn’t it?”

  The town suspected Luann became a court stenographer to snoop on everyone’s business. I was sure she remembered the details of my sentencing. Parole wasn’t supposed to be offered to me for three years.

  But I had an agreement.

  Luann cleared her throat. She busied herself, prattling about the upcoming election. She jammed the political sign in Josie’s lot. The sign practically bled with crimson letters.

  Nolan Rhys - State Representative.

  Goddamn it.

  I ripped the sign out of the ground, forcing it into Luann’s arms. “Josie doesn’t want this on her property.”

  “But—”

  “Don’t let me see it on her land again.”

  Luann bristled. “Look here, Mr. Maddox, Mayor Rhys asked me to deliver these signs—”

  “Get them off her property before—”

  “Before you set them on fire too?”

  If she thought I was an arsonist why the hell would she piss me off? “They don’t belong here.”

  Luann got the point. She hoisted the signs. Nolan Rhys probably spent thousands on the damn canvassing, and another fifty grand on the rest of the campaign. He’d out-spend his opponent just like he did everyone in the damn town and think of himself some sort of noble champion of the people.

  At least he had money. I thought times were tough before. Being on parole meant I couldn’t risk my normal work on the streets in Ironfield. I called to Luann once she escaped to a distance where she felt safe enough to do me a favor.

  “Need a job.” I let the implication hang. “Who’s hiring?”

  Luann turned, her eyebrow arched in a perverse amusement. “A job for you?”

  I didn’t need her attitude. I knew I was trash. Everyone was better than me, but only one woman had the right to judge, and it wasn’t Luann McMannis with her fire engine red hair, two pack a day habit, and third husband waiting at home.

  “Try Freddie’s Auto,” she said. “He’s looking for a mechanic. I figure that’s…your type of work.”

  It wasn’t. I’d trained to be an electrician, but I could work cars. Luann bolted away, pulling out her cell phone. Probably to call Freddie, to warn him or to prepare others for the fireworks.

  Screw her. I’d work. Hard. Do what needed to be done to get money and support Josie—if she’d take me back. I had to think about the future. It was impossible in a town obsessed with the past.

  Luann didn’t lie. The mechanic’s shop had a busted bay door, but Freddie managed enough brake repairs and oil changes—as long as his customers drove domestic cars. A hand-written sign in the window read Help Wanted. Good enough for me.

  Not for him.

  Freddie Baulder didn’t welcome me into his grease-coated garage. Surrounded by too many flammable oils to feel comfortable, probably. He hitched up his jeans and leaned over the counter, eying me with a face so wrinkled I’d have thought he spent his years in the sun, not under a hood.

  “You back in town?” Freddie sucked on a toothpick.

  “Just got in.”

  “Out of trouble?”

  “Out of jail.”

  His expression pinched. Freddie was a good friend of Matthias Davis. I hadn’t seen Josie’s granddad yet, but, judging by his reception, Matt wouldn’t welcome me with open arms either. Not that he did before, but at least he’d understood that I loved Josie and wanted to take care of her.

  “I know cars,” I said. “Willing to work whatever hours you got.”

  Freddie eyed the sign in the window. He set his jaw. “Spot’s filled.”

  The calendar behind him was scrawled with more cars and appointments than he could handle. The phone rang twice while I stared him down.

  “Doesn’t look filled.”

  “The Kennen’s boy is helping on weekends.”

  A man could only take so much bullshit before breakfast. “Donny or Nate?”

  “Nate. Donny’s off in Ironfield, running his poor parents ragged.” Freddie snorted. “Thought he was one of your…acquaintances.”

  A polite word for gang. “Haven’t been in Ironfield for a long time. Wouldn’t know.”

  “Thought Donny was involved with Chelsea. Last I saw them at least.”

  “Not for a while.”

  Freddie’s eyebrow arched. “A couple weeks back.”

  Motherfucking liar. My sister didn’t have much in the way of dignity, but I scraped what remained of mine to give to her. She owed nothing to any man anymore—not debts, not her body. If he wanted to insult me, he should have insulted me. My sister was no one’s punching bag.

  I stared, hard. “No job?”

  Freddie shrank away. “Nothing here.”

  “Fine.”

  I slammed the door on the way out. The sign fell from the window. Fuck it. Had a feeling a lot of Help Wanted signs would get stuffed in the trash when I came around.

  Had my day not already turned to shit, I would have been surprised to find the black Escalade waiting for me on the corner, blinkers on. I considered ignoring the ride…

  But my job prospects were thin enough.

  His driver opened the back door for me.

  Nolan Rhys greeted me with a devil’s grin. I offered him a martyr’s silence. Blood could boil and bones break, but nothing would tempt me to jeopardize my vengeance. Nolan was the true criminal—a man who bought my muscle and shuffled his dirty work onto others. Money bought power and a form of innocence. I lost mine long ago. The least I could do was get a couple grand for my trouble.

  My past was ruined and lost, but I had a future to plan.

  A future with Josie.

  If she’d have me.

  Nolan gestured to his driver. “Go. Maddox and I need to talk.”

  The driver obeyed, adjusting his suit and tie before parading his charge throughout Saint Christie. The mayor had bulked up since I saw him last. Nothing like me, but he filled his suits with more than just money now. Apparently, he had someone new to impress.

  “Has your debt to society been paid?” Nolan smirked.

  His politician charm transformed into sheer condescension. I still remembered him from high school. His scrawny ass would have landed in the dumpsters had his father not pay-rolled half the town.

  Nolan tried again. “Do you think you’ve been rehabilitated, Maddox, or did the system fail your family again?”

  I didn’t answer. The SUV lurched onto the road and took a right off the main drag, surveying the more affluent parts of town. These were streets where I didn’t belong. Chief Craig had a habit of sending out his officers when I crossed the intersection.

  Hell, if the chief knew I was in town, cruising by his house, he’d toss my ass in jail cell for any bullshit excuse he could falsify.

  I waited for the moment I’d meet with him again. I’m sure the chief and I had a lot to discuss.

  And a lot of blood to draw.

  At least when I banded with men in the city, people knew we were no good. Here, I couldn’t shed any reputation. I didn’t belong in their town—not because of my crimes, but because of the family that shat me into the world and the addictions that eventually killed them.

  Nolan stared ahead, his voice flat. “I thought I told you to stay away from her.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “One request, Maddox. That was all.”

  I gritted my teeth. The asshole had no authority to corral Josie. I wasn’t about to honor an
ything that kept me from her.

  “So you didn’t learn any obedience in prison?” Nolan asked.

  “You thought I would?”

  “I hoped you’d gain some respect for authority.”

  “You’re not my authority.”

  Nolan disagreed. “Look, I arranged for your parole. Made a couple calls, pulled a few strings. Not to sound conceited, but I expected a bit of gratitude from a convicted arsonist, especially for saving you from another ten years in a six by six cement block.”

  “Six by eight.”

  “A veritable mansion.”

  “You’ll be measuring for curtains soon enough.” I let my warning rumble. “They kept the cell next to mine empty for you.”

  “Unlike you, I make the laws, I don’t break them.”

  “No. I’m just the one who got paid the price.” I gritted my teeth. “But you knew I was innocent.”

  “I knew you were a gang member. Priors on your record from your teenage years. You associated with known criminals, drug dealers, and whores.”

  My teeth would crack if I clenched my jaw any harder. Pain didn’t make me any more patient or tolerant, but neither did defending my sister from the judgment of the world.

  “What the hell do you want, Nolan?”

  “I have work for you.”

  “Not interested.”

  “Oh?” He pocketed his phone. “And how did the interview with Freddie Baulder go?”

  “Think I can’t find my own work?”

  “In this town?” Nolan gestured beyond the SUV as we toured his kingdom. “What jobs do you think are available to you?”

  “I don’t know, Mayor Rhys. Have an unemployment problem here?”

  “Only with convicted felons.” He paused. “You honestly believe you’ll find a living here?”

  “I might.”

  “Doing what? Electrical work?” He laughed. “Matthias Davis took you as an apprentice—a favor to Josie. After you burned down his granddaughter’s store, I doubt many of my citizens will be eager to invite you into their homes to update their basements.”

  “I didn’t burn it down.”

  “It was an electrical fire.” He laughed, watching as I seethed. “Who else would it have been?”