Bad Boy Criminal: The Novel

by Olivia Hawthorne

  We looked up together into the pale blue sky, laced in pearlescent clouds and hazy mid-morning light.

  “Maybe,” Isabelle parroted, smiling at me knowingly. “Maybe.”

  We reached the booth, and a border patrol officer asked us for our identification. Isabelle handed over her real license, and the woman behind the desk entered the information and then stared at Isabelle with a kind of wide-eyed, panicked face.

  “I don’t have any ID on me,” I reluctantly explained. “It was confiscated from me when I was taken into custody by the Colorado state police.”

  The woman didn’t even say anything; she just rushed off and, within minutes, we were surrounded by the bright lights and soothing sirens of border patrol.

  I sighed. “Shit.”

  Izzy took my hand and gave it a strong squeeze. “We knew we would have to do this,” she reminded me. “Don’t worry… I have Jade’s audio video file. It won’t last for long. I’ve got Carson’s number, too. I’ll give her a call. You’ll still be in holding by the time she gets to you; I’m sure she’s still in Las Cruces, or thereabouts. Even if she’s not…this could be a definitive case for her career, you know. It’s kind of a big deal, when your partner drugs you to steal your perp, and then new evidence comes into your hands, showing he was framed from the beginning.”

  “Perp?” I wondered dotingly.

  Isabelle blushed. “I used to watch a lot of crime dramas,” she explained.

  Border patrol officers circled our vehicle, and I grimaced again, hoping that Izz would be okay, that the bike would be okay, and that all the other motorists were enjoying the goddamn show.

  “If I don’t see you again,” I said, twisting to face Isabelle on the seat, “I love you, okay?”

  Isabelle touched my face, and the vague commands of border patrol—something about hands in the air, blah, blah, blah, as Jade would say—they all faded away into oblivion.

  “You will see me again, crazy,” Isabelle promised. “Good luck getting rid of me.”

  She placed her palms on either side of my face and pulled my lips to hers, kissing me fully and passionately on the mouth. I wrapped my arms around her, and I’m sure the people behind us in line enjoyed that part, too. Not only was the biker in front of them being surrounded by border patrol, flourishing their guns, but then he’d given his babe one last scorching kiss.

  This was my life, and I was completely lost in Isabelle Turner. Those sirens could’ve just been background music, as far as I was concerned. I cradled her firmly in my arms and, when we finally separated for breath, her dazed hazel eyes focused slowly on mine. “You’ve got to go,” she whispered. “I love you too.”

  I stood off the bike and extended my hands into the air. Border patrol swarmed between us, a flood of guns and helmets and shouts and uniforms, but it all passed in a wash. The only thing I could see, still, were Isabelle’s warm hazel eyes, trained sadly on mine, as I was handcuffed and pulled away from her.

  Chapter Sixty-Five

  Isabelle

  I was waiting at border patrol for a ride, since my ride had been, well, impounded by the police for evidence. It looked like there would have to be a new trial that Ash was going to have to face now. Jesus, I hoped that Carson, and Jade’s file, would come through for us…because, if they didn’t, I couldn’t imagine the grim world of my future. At least they didn’t know about those bullet-riddled bastards back in Juarez… The only gun which could’ve been traced back to Ash was my own, and I had it on me still, along with a permit to carry.

  The only thing I needed to really worry about was testifying, now…

  I grimaced.

  And Mom and Dad.

  What were they going to think of me? What were they going to say? The last time I’d seen them, they’d been tearful on television, certain that my letter had been forced, that I’d been kidnapped against my will. But Mom would be so disappointed to learn that I’d abandoned the dairy farm of my own free will. And Dad? We’d taken his truck. He’d be pissed.

  But Turner Dairyfarm was my home…my only home. And I had to go back.

  I didn’t have my burner phone anymore—not since that warehouse in Las Cruces, when Alex had taken it—but border patrol was lined in payphones. Probably for people just like me…people who had gone broke, people who had betrayed their sobriety, people who didn’t have a leg to stand on anymore, calling their parents to beg for forgiveness.

  So I picked up one of the phones, inserted a quarter, and punched in the number to Mom and Dad’s landline. Other than Jade Rodriguez’s, it was the only number I knew by heart.

  It only had to ring once before it was answered… Mom. Her voice sounded ragged and panicked at the same time, as if every phone call might have been The One—the one which confirmed my death or my arrest. My heart experienced a deep twinge of grief.

  “Hey, Mom,” I greeted her weakly.

  “ISABELLE?” she howled. “ISABELLE!”

  My shame couldn’t reach a more profound level. “Hey, Mom,” I repeated, still limp. “It’s me.”

  “Are you okay?!”

  “I’m fine, Mom.”

  “Where are you?!”

  “At the border station in El Paso, Texas,” I answered.

  “TEXAS?” she wailed. “Oh my sweet Lord, Isabelle. What are you doing at the border? Was he going to sell you into white slavery?”

  I rolled my eyes and smiled. “No,” I answered softly. “He—Mom—Don’t be mad.”

  “Why in the heavens would I ever be mad at you?” she demanded, sounding angrier at that idea than anything else so far in this conversation. “What did he do to you?”

  I blushed slightly as I contemplated the most literal answers to that question, then cleared my throat and forged on, “Nothing, Mom. He didn’t do anything to me. He—he was a wanted fugitive, yes, but he was falsely accused, and he escaped from his transit vehicle—”

  “Oh, honey,” she interrupted, voice heavy with pity.

  “—because he had a friend in Mexico with evidence to clear his name!” I finished insistently. “What? You don’t believe me?”

  “It’s not you that I don’t believe,” she informed me gently. “It’s him. Darling, attractive ne’er-do-wells have existed ever since there were rules to break, and as long as they’ve existed, they’ve made women into fools.”

  “I’m not a fool,” I countered hotly. “He already went willingly back into custody, and I’ve got the new evidence to give the agent on his case, Linda Carson.” I wondered if I still had that card Harrison had given me last week. It seemed like a lifetime ago, now. “I’m just telling you this because I want to be honest with you…about everything. Mom—I left with him on purpose. The letter? The letter was real.” I sucked in another breath and ploughed on. “And I let him take Dad’s truck. I helped him get across the border to get the evidence his friend had—and now that he’s been turned in, I’m just kind of…stuck here, in El Paso.”

  “We got back your dad’s truck a few days ago,” Mom explained. “Trooper found it along the side of the road a few hours from here. Your dad’s actually out in it right now. Can’t wait ‘til he gets back. He’ll be ecstatic that you called.”

  I grimaced at the fresh spring of guilt the words brought to my heart. “I’d understand if you guys just wanted to leave me in El Paso,” I said, not mentioning that Ash had given me the remainder of his cash—several hundred dollars—before departing. I’d be able to find my way somewhere or other…but I wanted to go home. “I want to come home, though,” I added bleakly.

  “Oh, honey,” Mom said again, voice doting and sugary. “Of course you’re going to come home. We’re going to come and get you.”

  My chest fluttered at the words. “You mean—you’re not mad?” I asked.

  Mom laughed softly. “No, we’re not mad,” she said. “Of course we’re not mad. We’re just glad that you’re all right.”

  I pursed my lips and exhaled as an unexpected wave of tears
budded and dropped from my eyes. “Thanks, Mom,” I told her shakily. “I’m—I don’t have a phone, but you could call the border patrol station in El Paso and ask for me. I’ll just…stay here, until nightfall.”

  I heard some background scuffling over the phone: something slamming, the even thunks of movement, and a few murmured words that I thought sounded like Dad. My heart leaped, and Mom said, the receiver angled away from her mouth, “It’s Isabelle. She’s in Texas. She wants us to come get her. She’s at the border; she said she’d stay at the patrol station until we get there.” Her voice got louder as she angled her mouth back toward the receiver, “Can you find somewhere to spend the night?” she wondered. “It’s going to take us several hours—”

  “Like hell,” Dad belted nearby. “We’re coming on a plane. We’ll be there by five. Come on, honey. Let’s go. Tell Izz I love her.”

  My face burned as more tears came. Tell Izz I love her, he’d said. Even after I’d helped a convict steal his beloved truck. Even after I’d ran away with no forwarding information, just a letter in a shed to remember me by…

  “Your dad says he loves you, Izz,” Mom reiterated warmly. “And I do, too. We’re going to catch a flight. We’ll be there soon, okay?”

  “Thank you,” I sobbed into the phone. “Thank you so much.”

  “No need to thank us,” she replied softly. “This is what family is for.”

  Epilogue

  With Bonus Chapters

  Chapter Sixty-Six

  Isabelle

  Candles burned on the nightstand. The warmth of the Colorado summer had waned and died, leaving a swath of snow in its wake; we were now knee-deep in December. The night came earlier and earlier, and even though it wasn’t even 7 p.m. yet, the sky outside the window was black as coal.

  I was dressed in a thick flannel robe and still warm from the long shower I’d taken. Though it left me feeling drained and lethargic, I knew that I was going to have to lurch up from this bed, and soon.

  In an hour, we had to be at the homecoming party Ash’s brothers were throwing for him.

  Ash swaggered into the bedroom of our new place—I’d signed the rental papers before he’d even been technically released on his probation, I was so excited to begin our new life together—wearing nothing but a towel and grinning down at me.

  “You don’t look like you’re getting ready,” he purred.

  “But we’re so naked,” I teased him, cracking my legs slightly open. “It seems like a waste, doesn’t it?”

  Ash stretched out a hand and pulled me up onto my knees on the rumpled mattress—but he couldn’t exactly press our torsos together anymore like he could have back in May. My belly had become tumescent with the burgeoning life of our baby girl. I guess we should’ve seen it coming, no pun intended, considering how many times we forgot to slap a condom on it. But I was thrilled to be having a child…someone to whom we could provide the same supportive family that Bill and Hope…Mom and Dad…had become to me. And I was thrilled that the child would be a girl, just like me, with a man like Ash as her wise-cracking, protective father.

  “You think we’ve got the time?” Ash wondered, searching for a clock somewhere in the room.

  But I caught his chin in my hands and redirected his gaze down to me. “All the time in the world,” I answered, kissing him softly on the mouth.

  “You have no idea,” he whispered, cradling me in his arms, slowly turning me away from him. I crept forward on my hands and knees, and he entered me from behind, a lazy and appreciative pace we’d come to adopt ever since sex stopped being something so reckless and uncertain between us. Back when we met—on that crazy road trip to Mexico—every time together had been our last. And now…now we came together knowing, every time, that it would not be the end.

  Of course, it would maintain the same zealous speed it always had…particularly as we neared our respective ends. Sex during pregnancy can get pretty intense, and sex with Ash was always intense anyway. My orgasms ran the gamut from warm and shimmering to sharp and wild, from brief and violent to slow and gentle. We moved in a rhythm for several minutes together, and when I climaxed this time, it was with a brilliant splash of colors along the periphery of my vision, and the heady sense of weightlessness. My feet and face tingled with oxygen deprivation and Ash bowed over me gently, whispering that he was following suit. His own orgasm was long and slow, and we collapsed alongside one another, relieved and elated.

  “What time is it now?” Ash panted.

  “I don’t know,” I panted back. “Seven?”

  “Shit. Dammit.” Ash lunged up from the bed and began to dress himself with an uncharacteristic anxiety about punctuality.

  I propped myself up onto my elbow and frowned at him, quizzical and more than a little confused. “Um? Why do you care so much?” I asked. It wasn’t like his brothers didn’t know what type of person he was. They’d understand. “You’re late all the time,” I explained. “They know who you are.”

  “This is different,” Ash said, shrugging on his coat. “This is an important night. Come on.” He opened the closet and began rifling through my maternity clothes. “What do you want to wear?” he called. I just stared after him in amusement. What had gotten into him?

  Chapter Sixty-Seven

  Isabelle

  When we arrived at the hotel where Dom and Xander were hosting Ash’s homecoming party—in a ritzy little room normally reserved for anniversaries and conferences, as I understood it—I wasn’t surprised whatsoever to see a throng of Hell's Ransom members completely demolishing the caterer’s artistry with their bare hands. Tonight was going to be a night of celebration on many fronts. Not only had many of Ash’s charges been dropped, and the remainder commuted to community service, but he’d been granted immunity to testify against Mickey Dannell and Alex Cantrell, who were both behind bars now. Connor Harrison, Ash’s personal nemesis, had also been suspended and was currently under investigation for obstruction of justice…not to mention assault, considering everything he’d done both to Ash and to Carson. We’d invited Carson to the homecoming party, but she’d respectfully declined. “It might look like a conflict of interests,” she’d explained, “but thank you. I appreciate what you’ve both done for me—and for my career.” It was because of us, and because of her ability to clear Ash’s name with Jade’s file, that she had received a promotion.

  “Does it feel hot in here to you?” Ash asked, rubbing his sweating palms onto his slacks. I frowned at him, confused. I was in a sweater dress, leggings, and furry slippers, and I still felt a little chilly.

  “No,” I answered simply. “Definitely not.”

  “Okay, well.” Ash cleared his throat. He seemed to be having a hard time making eye contact. “I’m going to grab a drink. You want anything?”

  “Sparkling cider, please,” I asked.

  As Ash departed to the drink station, I scanned the crowd for his brothers, hoping to thank them for such a surprisingly elegant gathering…and for everything, really. But, before I could locate them in the crowd, the sound of a clinking glass attracted my attention—and the attention of the whole ballroom—to a live mic on the small stage at the front of the room, where Ash was standing.

  I cocked my head, unsure what was going on.

  “Isabelle Turner,” Ash began, sounding strangely formal. My blood pressure skyrocketed. “I fell in love with you the moment I saw you—aiming a Winchester rifle at me on Bill and Hope’s property.” Laughter bubbled up from the crowd, and I recognized the notes of Mom and Dad’s laughter, too. They were here! “And I fell for you more while you stitched me up…and more while you ran with me to Mexico…and more, and more, and more, the longer we were together, until I just couldn’t fight it anymore.” Ash shrugged and gave me a wide-eyed, helpless look as he sauntered back down the stage stairs, a velvet ring box in one hand and a sparkling cider in the other. “And, if you’ll give me the chance, I’d like to fall in love with you for the rest of my life. You
already gave me a reason to grow up, Izzy. And now…will you give me a reason to grow old?”

  Ash descended to one knee, and my hands went to hide my mouth as it trembled. Tears crested and slipped down my cheeks as he opened the ring box, and a small diamond twinkled up at me. There went my makeup.

  “Will you marry me?” he whispered.

  “Yes,” I sobbed, and he rose to his feet to take me into his arms. I buried my face in his shoulder. I didn’t know why, even after getting pregnant, I’d never expected this. “Yes, yes, yes.” We kissed—a hard kiss, wet with the salt of my tears—and Ash offered me the flute of sparkling cider, which I swallowed in one gulp. “Oh, my god, Ash,” I said, ragged, throwing my arms around his neck again.

  “Thank you for inviting yourself to Mexico,” Ash whispered into my ear.

  I laughed and cried at the same time. Damn being pregnant. “Thank you,” I whispered back, “for inviting yourself into my heart.”

  Ash pulled away and chucked beneath my chin. “The verdict’s in.” He grinned and crossed his heart. “I’m doing life.”

  Chapter Sixty-Eight

  Isabelle

  One year later...

  At the cake tasting, I dismissed my nausea as an overload of sugar. How many tiny tartlets of cheesecake and cream cheese icing and black cherry and whipped cream could a woman take before she started to get the spins? Maybe my partying days really were behind me, babysitter or no. Then, when I went to the fitting of my gown (white satin with a sweetheart neckline which was then altered to a strapless, in spite of Mom’s protests—to show off my new tattoo ... an inside joke: a thick old tree emblazoned with our initials—because some fights are just worth winning), I noticed the midsection was a little more snug than I’d remembered, and I would need to have the material let out by an inch.