Chasing Bad Boys: A Bad Boy Romance Series (Chasing Bad Boys Book 6)

by Kylie Parker

  “Oh, my God! James, sweetheart, what happened to you?” She dropped to her knees on James’ right and put her hands on his face. His eyes were only partly open and he his breathing was short.

  “Tried to install FS-7 on that…piece of…junk,” James whispered.

  “The screen got…blank. I…saw sparks from below. Next thing I knew; the plane was on fire. Dean…” At that moment, James pulled his hand out of Dean’s palms, put it on his left cheek and looked at him right into his eyes.

  “Promise me.” After his statement, James coughed five times. He tried to speak but coughed yet again. This time, though, he coughed up blood.

  “Make it safe, son,” he urged him. With every passing second, Dean realized that his uncle did not have much time.

  “Save the …the world from…irresponsible pilots… like me…” James’ tone was getting lower and lower. Dean leaned forward towards him before he grabbed his uncle’s forearm with his left hand.

  “Uncle James, stay with me. Don’t give up…” He squinted at him. Dean’s voice was shaking. He tightened his grip on his uncle’s forearm as if he was trying to keep him alive. A tear rolled down his left cheek. James’ breathing got shorter. He was panting.

  “Helen…I’m…I’m so sorry, baby. Take…Take care of our son…” he whispered to his wife, looking up at her. Helen put her hands under his head and leaned towards him.

  “Together, James! We…can take care of him together!” she yelled.

  “Promise me, Dean!” James slightly raised his tone. He placed his bleeding hand on Dean’s collar and pulled him closer.

  “I promise…” Dean closed his eyes and squeezed out two more tears.

  “It hurts so much…” James could barely speak. Dean sensed the grip on his collar loosening. In a second, his uncle’s hand literally dropped onto the ground. James Livingston had drawn his last breath. His eyes were still open; they were fixed on Dean. He extended his right hand and closed his dead uncle’s eyelids. Helen collapsed onto her husband, crying hard.

  “James…Come back to me! Oh, my God! We still got so much to do…” she cried. Dean bit his lower lip, trying to hold back the tears. But, the loss of his uncle was too much for him to bear. Gritting his teeth, he looked up in the sky. Then, he put both hands on his head, grabbed his hair and let out a deafening cry:

  “Noooooooooo!”

  Unbeknownst to Dean, Isabelle had watched the whole scene, sat behind a bush on the right edge of the runway, ten feet away from the site. Her initial thought was to go to Dean and comfort him. When she realized that she had been lied to, though, the young woman felt the need to confront him, even though he had just suffered a terrible loss.

  “His aunt was not getting a divorce. And what the hell is ‘FS-7’?

  ”It was at that moment that she remembered Dean’s business card.

  “Artificial Intelligence. What the hell is he up to? I don’t know yet, but I’m sure I can find out more about it on his laptop…

  Isabelle then heard sirens. She had to leave the Livingston estate as fast as possible. She took one last look at it, on her way back. It was an island unto itself. Yet, the young flight attendant had no time to reflect on that. By now, she was obsessed with finding out more about Dean’s project.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Luckily for Isabelle, Dean was in such a hurry to go to his uncle that he had left the door to his study wide open. Deep down, Isabelle had a bad feeling about what she was about to do. However, she believed that Dean had left her no choice. He would not talk about his job.

  She turned on the laptop on his desk and waited patiently for it to load, staring at the poster of the movie Terminator across her. Certainly, a poster with an iron skull was too creepy for her to look at. Yet, at that moment, she felt that there had to be an explanation for each and every one of Dean’s obsessions.

  Isabelle expected to see a company logo, used as a desktop background. Amazingly, though, she saw the poster of that exact same movie, along with several documents on the left side of the screen.

  “Let’s see… ‘FS-7 specs,' ‘FS-7’ minimum system requirements, ‘FS-7’ Chief Programmer, “FS-7” summary. Gotcha!

  Isabelle wasted no more time. She did not even think before she double-clicked the MS-Word document. It read:

  “Fly-Safe-7 is a revolutionary program that can be used in modern avionics. Despite its immense size (currently more than 5 GB’s are required for installation), Fly-Safe-7 is the first step to a world without pilots. We have all seen the catastrophic consequences of pilot error over the years. The Germanwings disaster is the most recent example of how a single pilot can lead 150 people to their deaths. He was being treated for severe depression and those people paid the price. After six unsuccessful attempts, software designer Carl Mitchell and CEO of ‘Marshall’s’ Artificial Intelligence Dean Marshall are proud to present their latest achievement: Fly-Safe-7: The first (and hopefully, not the last) piece of software that will replace human pilots in the controls of modern-day aircraft.

  Fully capable of performing every action (Takeoff, cruising, landing), Fly-Safe-7 can be installed on any airplane that is flying in our skies today, equipped with powerful enough computers. It should be noted though that Fly-Safe-7 should not be used on smaller, single-engine aircraft, particularly in wet environments. Installing it on older computers can lead to short circuits in the power supply. The resources of those systems are not enough to support it, which leads to a spike in power that is needed when a computer uses up its entire RAM memory and CPU usage is at 100%.”

  “Mother of God…Machines that think?” Isabelle was thinking out loud. Those two short paragraphs explained all the mysteries.

  “What about pilots? My God, all those people are gonna lose their jobs, because Dean got ambitious all of a sudden? And his uncle James got…blown up because he tried to use that thing on a Cessna?”

  Isabelle felt her blood boiling. To her, it did not matter that Dean had just lost his uncle. Had it not been for Dean’s “smart” piece of software, James would still be alive.

  “Monica was out on a date tonight with the man that actually designed it. I’m just glad Kate came over when she did. God, I’m exhausted…”

  It was 3:15am. In spite of her rage, Isabelle was way too tired to stay up any longer. She lay back in Dean’s large, executive chair, which could probably fit two women her size. Wondering how she should handle the situation, she closed her eyes and fell asleep.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  An hour and a half later, Monica heard someone knocking on the front door. Fast asleep on the couch and almost 400 yards away, neither she nor Kate had heard the explosion or anything about the death of Dean’s uncle.

  She got up and rubbed her blurry eyes. Kate was nowhere to be seen.

  “Ask for permission to open her door in the middle of the night? Nah…It’s not gonna end well. I guess I better get that. Where’s Izzy? Wake up, Monica. She’s with him…

  On her way to the door, Monica looked outside, through the kitchen window. She saw quite a few red lights and got worried.

  “Who is it?”

  “It’s Carl…”

  “Carl? What’s he doing here”

  Monica hesitantly opened the door.

  “Hey…Sorry for coming over so late, but I called Dean like ten times and he wouldn’t pick up. I take it you’ve heard…?” Carl was talking way too fast for Monica to comprehend what he was saying. A quick look to the left was enough for her to understand that something bad had happened. Dozens of police cars were parked along both sides of the road, and two fire department trucks were on their way out of “Actors Colony Road”.

  “It’s ok…What happened, anyway?” She squinted at Carl.

  “It’s all over the news. Some kind of plane crash, but no one’s saying anything more. No word on injuries or fatalities. Can I come in? I just drove here from New York…” Carl slowed down a little. His polite tone would be enough
for her to open the door to her house, but she was not in her third-story apartment in Washington. She looked inside, hoping to catch a glimpse of Kate. To no avail. Despite the commotion, Kate was still fast asleep in her bedroom.

  “Yeah, sure…” she murmured. The tequila she had had the night before had given her a bad hangover. Instinctively, she placed her left hand on her head while holding the door handle with her right one.

  “Thanks a lot, I appreciate it. Rough night?” Carl entered Kate’s mansion but stopped next to Monica.

  “That’s an understatement. I need some coffee. Bad…” Monica pointed at the kitchen. However, Carl wanted to show her what he was talking about and began to walk towards the living room.

  “Um, Carl?”

  “Yeah?” He looked at her over his right shoulder.

  “Don’t go there; it’s a mess. Besides, my head’s buzzing right now. I’d rather hear the short version, anyway. Care to join me for a cup of coffee?” Monica invited him to the kitchen.

  “Sure, what the hell…” Carl agreed and followed her. She took a couple of blue mugs out of the cabinet over the sink and Carl sat on the chair closest to her.

  “Carl…Show a girl some mercy and don’t talk so fast, will ya?” Pouring the coffee into the mugs, Monica sweetened her voice.

  “Yeah, my bad.” Carl raised his right hand in the air.

  “Well, the word is that a small plane crashed near the Livingston’s residence. James Livingston is married to Dean’s aunt, Helen. You knew that right?” he hesitantly asked.

  “No, I didn’t. Here…” Monica handed him a mug of coffee and preferred not to sit next to him. She was pretty sure that she still smelled of alcohol. More than that, she had just met him and was not so sure about his character.

  The young woman put her right elbow on the kitchen table and sipped some coffee. Still too intoxicated to think about anything, she waited for Carl to finish his story.

  “So…Is that it?”

  “Pretty much…Like I said, the cops are not saying anything to the press. By the way, why did you leave last night?” Carl’s voice got high-pitched.

  “That’s a long…long story. Let’s just say it involved your…friend,” Monica’s voice was still raspy.

  “Who? Dean? Yeah, my buddy’s got an act for messing with the wrong people. He’s not like me. I’m more…”

  “Civilized?” Monica remembered her sarcastic nature.

  “I was gonna say ‘restrained,’ but I’m really not surprised you think he’s some kind of…a barbarian. He’s been like that since we were kids.” Monica liked the fact that Carl was being so forward, but, at that point, it occurred to her that coffee was not the best remedy for her hangover. The only thing that would relieve her headache was a shower.

  “Carl…Could you please wait for five minutes? I need to take a shower and--”

  “Go ahead,” Carl interrupted her.

  “Just pretend I’m not here,” he went on.

  “He’s sweet. I’ll give him that. He did that outside the Plaza, too. Keep it up, Carl. Who knows...

  “Thanks for the understanding…” Monica smiled at him and left him alone in the kitchen.

  As the cold water suddenly shot out from the showerhead, Monica recalled some of the things she had to forget. Not having been with a man in months, the leggy flight attendant was starting to get jealous of her friends and their…adventures in bed. Although she was a lot more restrained than Kate, Monica was only human. The extreme detail in her story had triggered her imagination, as had Isabelle’s encounter with Dean in the sauna. Just by hearing her friends’ stories, she had gotten so aroused that she needed a release. Some masturbation would relieve her, but only temporarily. Monica had to find herself a man.

  “You crazy bitches…You got me all worked up, and now I can’t stop thinking about sex. Kate, you screwed up my date last night. I don’t know if I’d actually put out, but hell, I could well be on my second date with him tonight. He looks like a nice guy, and he’s so gorgeous... But, I’m not like you, darling. I like you; I love you, but we’re very different on this. Yeah, you seduced that moron, and I’m sure you had actually planned it, just the way Dean had done to you. But, I can’t do that. I’m an old-fashioned type of girl. A guy should go after me, not the other way around…

  Wiping her wet hair and her long, slender body, Monica struck a pose in the bathroom mirror. Her eyes sparkled with excitement. But, she would have to find the right outfit for her plan. She did not have to look for long. Next to the mirror, she found one of Kate’s many robes. This one was silk and silver. Yes, Monica was much taller than Kate, but she could use that to her advantage. If Carl liked her -and she had every reason to believe that he did- his gaze would be fixed on her long, lush legs. The robe she would put on was barely knee-length.

  “Seduce him? No. Entice him? Hell, yeah…

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Like every self-respecting woman, Monica knew very well how to draw a man’s attention. What’s more, she had a very good understanding of body language. Men who could not take a hint had no chance of being with her and that was the main reason why she had been alone for so long. In her opinion:

  “A male cannot call himself a man if he can’t understand when a woman is trying to lure him.

  For that reason, Monica just wiped her hair and decided to just let it flip on her shoulders. Sure, her layers looked fantastic, but, that way, Carl would be able to see her gorgeous face a lot more clearly.

  Sauntering barefoot towards the kitchen, Monica smiled down at Carl, who was getting more anxious by the minute. He had not heard from Dean yet.

  “That was…fast,” he remarked.

  “Yeah, that’s me. I don’t spend hours in the bathroom,” Monica chirped, just before she sat back in her chair. This time, however, she pushed it lightly to the left, so that Carl could see her entire body, not just everything from the waist up. Crossing her right leg over her left, Monica leaned slightly forward.

  “So…How come you’re so…different than Dean? I’m not taking your word for it, but I’ve heard stories about him being too…direct,” she lowered her voice.

  “His reputation precedes him, doesn’t it?” Carl laughed. Monica nodded.

  “Yeah. In a way, it does, really. But, I think we’re just two sides of the same coin. We both like pretty much the same things. It’s just our approach that’s different. My friend is too passionate. I like taking things slow. And that’s not necessarily good, sometimes.” Carl sighed after his last statement and maintained eye contact with Monica.

  “I wonder what’s gonna draw his attention. I really don’t wanna just spread my legs like Sharon Stone in ‘Basic Instinct.’

  “Hmm…Interesting. Wanna know my opinion?” Monica leaned back and ran her fingers through her wet hair. Then, she tilted her head to the right and started twirling a strand of hair with her right index finger.

  “Yeah.”

  “I’d like to think that every situation requires a different approach.” Monica leaned forward again and placed her left hand on her right knee. Carl opened his mouth, but just when he was about to verbalize, his phone rang. He had left it on the table, just next to his left hand. Carl glanced at the screen. The caller ID was unknown.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, man. It’s me…”

  “Dean! Where the hell have you been? I’ve been trying to reach you…”

  “Listen, something’s gone very wrong. Just letting you know I’m ok. There are a hundred reporters outside, and I can’t deal with them. Not now.”

  “Dean, what’s wrong?”

  “I can’t do this over the phone, bro. Gotta go get some rest. Just don’t talk to the press, will ya?”

  Dean hung up without waiting for Carl’s response.

  “Couldn’t if I wanted to…” Relieved that his friend was unharmed but also frustrated to be treated like that, Carl tossed his phone on the table.

  “You two are
pretty close, aren’t ya?” Monica smiled at him, rubbing her knee.

  “We are. I hate it when he does that, though. He hung up on me,” Carl puffed. He then went on to scratch his forehead with his right index finger.

  “Got it. I’m gonna do something he doesn’t like. It’s like: ‘Sorry, buddy. You shouldn’t treat me like that…’” Carl’s cunning smile got Monica curious.

  “Really? What’s that?” she chirped.

  “I’m gonna tell you what he thinks of each one of your…trio.”

  “Huh! You wouldn’t…” Monica took her hand off her knee and covered her mouth. She pretended shock.

  “Watch me. First, I’m gonna talk about Kate.”

  “I’m all ears.”

  “He thinks she’s a great-looking woman, but way too young for a guy like her husband. Dean also believes they will soon get a divorce.”

  “Really?” Monica was intrigued.

  “Yeah. Of course, Isabelle is his favorite. He likes her a lot, you know. I had to ask him to stop talking about her yesterday. Usually, Dean’s a man of few words. But, it’s different with Isabelle. He just won’t shut up!” Liking what she had just heard, Monica could not help but burst into laughter. She liked the fact that Dean was genuinely interested in her friend. What she really loved, though, was that Carl was fun to be with. He was nothing like his friend: More of a gentleman with a good sense of humor.

  “Which brings us to…” Monica finally stopped laughing, but the broad smile on her face could not hide her anticipation. She kept tapping her fingers on the table and leaned towards Carl again.

  “Yeah, you…” Carl swallowed hard.

  “He hasn’t said much about you. But, when he came over from Washington, he mentioned a flight attendant with—and I quote--‘insane’ legs. Phew…I can’t believe I just said that…” He blushed.

  “Insane?” Monica giggled.

  “Yeah...Dean’s got…a…way with words,” Carl stuttered, averting his gaze from Monica. He looked down, at his feet.