Craving BAD: An Anthology of Bad Boys and Wicked Girls

by A. J. Norris

  Chapter Three

  Cressida’s Special

  Cressida sat at her desk, her head in her hands. It was her first official day at her new job. Her chair squeaked and didn’t quite fit her right. She would break it in soon enough. Her computer screen glared in front of her as she logged into her bank account. Her heart sank at the sight of the balance after she paid her first month’s rent in her new place.

  $237.48

  “Shit.” She logged out and logged back in as if it might somehow magically change the horrible decision she’d made. Sure, the apartment was amazing. A little masculine, but she could change that…if she had any money. She desperately had to find a roommate and she had to find one fast. She quickly made some flyers then printed out a stack of applications. She would have to remember to take out an ad in the paper tomorrow.

  Someone knocked on her door as she stuffed her supplies in her bag. “Come in.”

  Her new intern, Melody, peeked into the room. “Ms. Wales, may I speak to you a moment?”

  “Sure. Come in.”

  Cressida sent Melody on her first assignment only an hour ago. The Rangers acquired a new goalie in the off-season, and the team made an introduction today. She sent Melody to do an exclusive with the guy afterwards.

  Melody clutched her clipboard tight to her chest. “We had a problem with the exclusive you requested.”

  Cressida leaned back in her chair. “What happened?”

  “That’s the thing. It didn’t happen. The guy didn’t show up.”

  “What do you mean he didn’t show? They have to show up.”

  Melody nervously glanced around. “He wasn’t there. They didn’t give any kind of excuse.”

  Cressida picked up a pen and tapped it on the table. There was always an excuse and she would find it. “Don’t worry about it, Melody. I’ll take care of it. You go work on the write-up and I’ll get our exclusive.”

  Cressida had friends on the team. She would simply call in a favor. It was her first day, and she wasn’t about to scrap her first big assignment. Her mother might be a crazy cat lady, but she was a bad-ass businesswoman who would want to know what the hell happened to the plan Cressida presented to her that morning.

  She gathered up her stuff and got in her car to go to the practice facility. She called Magnolia’s husband, Austin, on the way. He picked up on the first ring. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite sleuth. How are you today?”

  Cressida smiled against the cell phone in her hand. She’d helped Austin get out of a very scandalous ordeal with a corrupt gossip magazine. “I’m good. You haven’t been taking any risqué pictures lately, have you? I need a good exclusive.”

  Austin laughed. “Sorry. I’m fresh out.”

  “Hmm. Well, what can you tell me about your new boy on the team? I hear he was a no-show at the press conference.”

  “Yeah, I heard that too.”

  “Details?”

  “Look, Cress. All I know is Coach asked Henrik to tag along to talk to him today, and Henrik said the guy is a certified asshole. Just let it go.”

  Cressida bit her lip and pressed the gas. “See, that’s the thing though. I planned an exclusive and now I don’t have one. I bet he’s at the practice facility.”

  Austin sighed. “He’ll be a complete jerk.”

  “I’m crying already.”

  Austin laughed. “All right. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  “Of course. And, Austin?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Go find your wife, rub her feet, cook her dinner and I don’t know…throw her a parade. I mean…shit…have you seen her lately?”

  Cressida could practically feel Austin’s smile through the phone. “Her due date is next week.”

  “A parade, Austin Blakely. That is what she deserves for birthing your children. A castle, a solid gold crown, and a fucking parade.”

  “I know, Cress. Trust me. I know.”

  “Good. And don’t forget to call me when those babies arrive.”

  “Will do. Good luck.”

  “Won’t need it.”

  Cressida hung up the phone and made her way to the practice facility. It was quiet inside. Pre-season camp didn’t start for another week. Cressida found the rink and sure enough, a goalie stood in net.

  Tall. Looming. Dressed head to toe in black and gray.

  Cressida eased closer to the glass to get a better look. His movements were quick and precise. He slid across the ice from one post to the other, adding in different moves as if following the path of an invisible puck.

  A finger poked into her ribs. “Impressed?”

  Cressida whipped around to find her friend Sam O’Dell behind her. He was a player too, though he only stood barely an inch taller than her. She gave him a quick hug. “Hey! What are you doing here on an off day?”

  Sam shrugged and leaned against the glass. “Same as you. Getting a peek at our new goalie…from a distance.”

  Cressida pursed her lips. “So, it’s true what they are saying about Mr. Grim Reaper down there?”

  “Depends. What have you heard?”

  “Austin says he’s a jerk, and he didn’t show up at the press conference.”

  Sam nodded, confirming it all. “This is his third team in three years.”

  “Geez.” Cressida turned back to the rink. She probably should have done a little background check on him before rushing down here. “Did they give a reason?”

  “Besides his attitude?” Sam leaned in closer to her and lowered his voice. “I heard a rumor he decked a reporter in Montreal last year and then got in a bar brawl in L.A. with five guys. And he won.”

  “Impressive. Why all the violence though?”

  Sam shrugged. “No one ever said.”

  “Hmm.” Cressida’s fingers drummed along the glass, her mind turning. She wasn’t the type of reporter who dug into social lives. In fact, she fought very hard against it. But she also had to do her job. All she wanted was a plain “How do you like New York” interview and she was determined to get it. She scooted over so she could eye her target. Sam leaned forward to see her face. “What are you thinking?”

  Cressida smirked, watching as the Goalie of Christmas Future finished up his drill. He gathered up his gear and skated off to the locker room. “I’m thinking a security guard is about to get paid off to go on dinner break a little early.”

  Sam sighed. “I know you have this conquer-the-world attitude, and in any other circumstance I would tell you to go for it, but you shouldn’t mess with this guy.”

  Cressida patted Sam on the cheek. “Have a nice day, Samuel. Tell your fiancée hello for me.”

  She grabbed her bag and headed to the locker room. Sam yelled after her, “Don’t do it, Cress.”

  She ignored him. Luckily for her, there was no guard on duty. It must not be a regular practice time. Still, she glanced around to make sure before barging in. She eased the door shut behind her, and sat her bag down next to it. The contents spilled over, but she would worry about that later. She hurried around the corner and stopped short when she caught sight of him.

  Those pads didn’t do that boy justice. No wonder they couldn’t get pucks past him in net—he was a stone wall. Beautiful. Defined. But definitely made of stone. Cressida straightened her shoulders. It would have been easier if he wasn’t so visually distracting, but nevertheless, she had a point to prove with the jerk. She stepped further into the room before he could pull anything else off and cleared her throat to get his attention. His gaze turned slowly on her, but he didn’t seem that surprised to find a woman in the locker room.

  He rolled his eyes and turned back around. “I don’t go for puck bunnies.”

  Cressida gritted her teeth. “Nice to meet you too, sunshine. You’re Nikolaev, the Rangers’ new goalie. Forgive me as I didn’t bother to remember your first name.”

  She strutted toward him, watching as he placed his hand on his locker, obviously annoyed by her presence. “My name is Hawk
e and I meant what I said.”

  “Hawke? No, you see, that can’t be right. That’s your nickname. Every player has one and let’s face it. No parent would be stupid enough to name their kid Hawke. What’s your real name?”

  That got a glare. He was falling for her charms already. She held up her hands apologetically. “You don’t like your name. I get it. Sorry I asked. I’ll simply research it later.”

  “Look—I’m not in the mood.”

  “That’s the thing…Hawke. Neither am I. Because, despite your ridiculously offensive assumption that I’m a woman so desperate for love and attention that I would sneak into a locker room for the grand prize of sex with you, I’m not actually a puck bunny. I’m a reporter and MSG is scheduled to run an exclusive on you today.”

  “You can go tell your boss that sending some pretty thing in a skirt down here isn’t going to change my mind on my no-press rule.”

  Cressida feigned flattery as she fanned herself and batted her eyelashes. “Oh my god. You think I’m pretty?” Then she turned her own glare back on him. “Watch your assumptions, Mr. Nikolaev, or you’re not going to have much foot left to put in your mouth.”

  He locked eyes with her and despite the pitchfork her vagina wanted to shove into his cruel heart, her resolve wavered, but only slightly. She wasn’t done with him. “I’m going to make this easy for you. I’ll ask a question, you keep your mouth shut for yes and you can continue rolling your eyes for no.”

  “I don’t do press.”

  “For the rest of them maybe, but for the VP of production…you do.”

  His brown eyes were as dark as his hair. He raked a hand through it, combing the long front back out of his eyes. He didn’t object, so Cressida took that as her opportunity. “Do you like New York?”

  No answer. She tucked her hair behind her ear and grinned at him. “Happy to hear you love it so much. Have you settled in yet?”

  He glared harder at her, so she continued. “Probably not. You’ve only been here a couple days. I bet you’re still in a hotel room and hating life.”

  He sucked his lip between his teeth, probably holding back all the horrible things he wanted to say to her. She kind of wished he would say them. Dirty, filthy things.

  Shit. Why did he have to be so hot?

  She took a quick breath to keep her thoughts on track. “And your teammates…getting along with them?”

  He rolled his eyes and she laughed. “Okay, fine. I won’t print that part.”

  “You’re not going to print any of it. This isn’t an interview.”

  Cressida tilted her head to the side, as if admiring a sleepy puppy. “That’s cute. You think you’re intimidating.”

  His lips parted slightly. In shock, maybe? Either way, Cressida knew it was time to bail out while she was ahead. “Thanks for the exclusive, Mr. Nikolaev. Until next time.”

  Cressida went to her bag and jerked it off the floor by the strap. A couple papers flew out, but she didn’t bother to get them. She did turn around before she left though, one last look at the gorgeous, stunned man behind her. “And just so we’re clear. Next time, I will be sending a pretty, young girl for the exclusive. She isn’t a puck bunny. If I hear that you accuse her of such, I will be back, and I won’t be so nice.”

  She let the door slam behind her and finally let out a gush of air. Her hands shook. She hadn’t even realized she’d been nervous. Or maybe she was just wound up? Either way, she hadn’t expected that kind of response to a guy she’d never met.

  Sam was right. No one should mess with Nikolaev.

  Chapter Four

  Hawke’s Visitors

  Hawke didn’t know what to say. He still couldn’t get his mouth to move or his brain to function. At least outside the sight of her legs in that skirt.

  What just happened?

  He rubbed his hands down his face. He did an interview despite his best efforts to avoid it. She would run it—he could tell by that daredevil look in her eye. She would probably use his real name too, on purpose. He couldn’t let her do that.

  The Circle knew he was in New York. He wasn’t naïve enough to believe he could disappear off their radar. But the more people he allowed in his life, the easier it would be for them to disrupt it. Like the time in Montreal when a so-called reporter turned out to be one of The Circle’s goons, sent there to give him a message. He’d sent his own message in the form of breaking the guy’s face.

  He was out of The Circle. He would never go back.

  Ceptor, The Circle’s leader, wasn’t so discreet the next time. He sent a gang of his best fighters to L.A. to drag Hawke back, but that was the thing. There wasn’t a fighter better than him. That’s why The Circle wanted him back so badly. Hawke had been their meal ticket since he was sixteen.

  His hand cupped the scar on his abdomen. It was the deepest of the three, and three years later, it still hurt the worst. He would die before he’d go back. First, he needed to stop the reporter from running that story on him. He jerked off the rest of his pads and threw on a pair of pants and a t-shirt. When he got to the door, he noticed some papers on the floor. They must have fallen out of the bag she carried. He picked them up and glanced down at them.

  It was an ad for a roommate for her apartment.

  Cressida Wales.

  It had her name, her address, and even her number. The other paper was an application. Hawke decided the information might come in handy, so he folded it up and stuck the papers in his pocket. He rushed out the door, down the hallway, and finally caught sight of her heading out the front entrance. She saw him. A quick glance over her shoulder. The cocky smirk was gone.

  Something else captured her features. Hawke recognized it.

  He didn’t want her to be afraid of him. Most people were and had good reason for it. Not her. She was simply trying to do her job, and despite his annoyance, he wouldn’t take his anger out on her. At least, if she agreed to keep his name out of the news.

  He rushed out the door behind her. “Hey. Wait up!”

  Her blonde hair blew in the wind. It was a stark contrast to her blazing red lipstick. She looked like something outside of reality, standing there. A vision that only existed in a daydream. She paused before turning around. It was long enough for her to hide that hint of fear. “What?”

  He moved close to her, emphasizing his height over her, though he doubted it would do any good. Cressida Wales didn’t just have spunk. She was a fighter too. He recognized that fire in her eyes. “We need to get a few things straight.”

  She shoved her shoulders back. “I’m running the interview, Hawke.”

  She meant it. Hell, he barely knew this woman, but he knew she would run the interview no matter what he said. He admired her conviction and hated it. Normally, he didn’t make concessions. But there was something there. Something about the storm brewing in those big blue eyes that reined in his own thunder. “I simply have a request.”

  That softened her. “Yes?”

  “You were right before. I don’t like my real name. I never use it.”

  She pursed her lips. “You want me to use Hawke.”

  He nodded. “And if you keep the use of my last name to a minimum, well, that would simply be a bonus.”

  “Is there a reason?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you going to tell me?”

  He smiled. “No.”

  Something caught his attention. Movement off to their right. The parking lot was only half-full, people walking in and out of the building, but there was something about the car across the lot that caught his eye. A man in a dark gray suit stood behind the open door, watching them.

  Cressida sighed. “Look—if we are going to have a successful relationship…”

  Hawke glanced back to the beautiful girl in front of him. “Relationship?”

  “Yes. A professional relationship then—what are you looking at?”

  The guy behind the door turned and every muscle in Hawke’s body stiffened. T
here was no denying who it was. “Ceptor.”

  Cressida moved into him to get a better look, her small body soft and warm against him. “Who?”

  This is bad.

  Hawke grabbed Cressida and opened the door to her car. “You need to go, sweetheart.”

  He practically picked her up and placed her into the driver’s seat. She didn’t fight it, but she didn’t go willingly either. She shoved his hands off her. “What are you doing?”

  He cupped her face, pulling it around to look at him. She was scared again and he hated it. “Trust me, okay? You have to leave. Right now.”

  “Who is that?”

  He jerked his hands away from her and grabbed the door. “Leave, Cressida Wales. Leave now and I will do any interview you ask of me. Just go.”

  She hesitated, her gaze darting toward the black car. She saw the same thing everyone did when they looked into the coal dark eyes of The Circle’s leader. Danger. “Okay.”

  Hawke slammed the door shut before she could change her mind. He’d lied to himself before. There was still one fighter in the world better than him. The leader of The Circle. Ceptor Nikolaev…his father.

  Cressida’s car flashed through the parking lot and Hawke turned around, flexing his sore knuckles into a fist, preparing for the fight of his life. He might not win it, but he would die trying.

  Except, Ceptor didn’t move from his position. His steel-gray hair brushed over his dark stare, but it wasn’t directed at Hawke. Instead, Ceptor watched Cressida’s car as it pulled into traffic and disappeared out of sight. He smiled.

  Everything inside of Hawke sank.

  No. He wouldn’t.

  Ceptor got back in the car and motioned for the driver to leave. Hawke stood there in the parking lot, both hands clenched into fists.

  Cressida Wales was in danger.

  Ceptor’s tactics were simple—find a weakness and exploit it.

  As he watched his father leave, he made a solemn vow to himself: Find a way to keep her safe.

  Chapter Five