Chasing Bad Boys: A Bad Boy Romance Series (Chasing Bad Boys Book 2)

by Kylie Parker

  A drop of sweat ran down his forehead. Athletic as he was, he still had to give it his all. Finally, after a thirty-second struggle, the two of them managed to pull the captain up. Dean was so exhausted by the effort that he felt his knees shaking. He dropped Richardson at once. The overweight airman landed hard on his back on the cockpit floor.

  Meanwhile, the plane’s altitude was dropping, fast. Samuels squinted at the altimeter.

  “What’s our altitude?” Dean’s voice was trembling; he was gasping for breath.

  “17,000ft and dropping. Mr. Marshall…?” Samuels faced Dean again, on his left.

  “Have you ever recovered from a stall, sir? This is my first flight. Ever. I don’t know if I can do this.” The inexperienced officer was terrified. Dean nodded with his mouth partially open. Before he sat in the captain’s seat, though, he knew that he had to push the control yoke all the way up in order to push the nose of the plane down and reduce the angle of attack. No airplane responds immediately after such action; they all take four or five seconds to respond and those seconds could eventually prove vital for the survival of everyone on board.

  Dean strapped himself in and faced the first officer.

  “Samuels, we can do this. All I want you to do is handle communications, ok? Don’t worry…” Dean then averted his gaze from Samuels and looked outside the cockpit window. It was a dark, moonless night.

  “It’s all gonna be alright,” he added. Dean checked the airspeed and took the controls in his hands lightly. His heart was pounding in his chest. Both men then sensed the plane leveling off, slowly and steadily. The plane flew at 172mph, and its speed was slowly increasing. Before the stall, and due to Richardson, the plane had slowed down dangerously, gradually losing lift. He watched the airspeed increase—175,180, 190. When the plane finally reached 200 miles per hour, Dean posed a question:

  “What’s the plane’s VY (the best rate of climb)?”

  “Uh… 250 is good…” Samuels wiped the sweat from his brow and went on to notify the control tower in Dulles International Airport but, before he did, he chirped:

  “Mr. Marshall, you did it!” He opened his eyes widely and faced Dean; the first officer was delighted. Dean then went on to trim the airplane to a speed near 250 miles per hour. He rolled the trim wheel back a little; it resulted in a decrease in trim speed. His actions did not result in a steady climb. The plane was now less than 10 miles away from the airport. Neither of the two men could hear screams anymore.

  At only 4,000ft, a sigh of relief escaped Dean. He lay back in the captain’s seat and closed his eyes before he addressed the first officer again:

  “Tell them to clear our path for landing. The last thing we want is a mid-air collision. You got control…”

  Chapter Two

  A few minutes before 8pm that night, passengers and crew burst into wild applause. The United Airlines Boeing 767 had just touched down, and they were relieved that their ordeal was finally over. They would all live to tell the tale of their sudden and nearly fatal descent. Isabelle Miles, the flight attendant who had earlier run into Dean Marshall was the first to get up from her seat at the rear exit of the plane. With a huge smile on her face, she ran towards the cockpit door while her colleagues were checking on the passengers to see if anyone was hurt.

  Her eyes were fixed on the cockpit door. It opened just when she arrived at the first class section. Dean opened it and sauntered towards the rest of the passengers. He was the man of the hour, the hero they all had to relied on in order to get out of that predicament alive. But, the only ones aware of that fact were Isabelle and the rest of the first class passengers. Samuels did what he thought was right: He stayed in the cockpit and addressed the passengers using the microphone:

  “Ladies and gentlemen, this is your first officer speaking. Captain Richardson passed away a few minutes ago. If it weren’t for Mr. Dean Marshall, we’d all be dead by now… We helped each other, but I’m afraid he deserves most of the credit. He was incredible. Let’s hear another round of applause for Mr. Marshall!”

  Of course, none of the passengers needed any motivation. As soon as he emerged, every single one of them applauded and cheered for him. Isabelle had to step aside to allow them to get closer to him and shake his hand. Some of them went on to hug Dean. He had a crooked smile on his face and kept thanking everyone separately. His commanding presence, his earlier feat, and his polite nature had Isabelle smitten. She felt the urge to talk to him, so she took a step forward towards him and laid her right hand on his right forearm, gently squeezing it to draw his attention.

  “Mr. Marshall, on behalf of the crew and everyone on board, thank you so much.” The young flight attendant was overwhelmed with emotion. After finishing her sentence, she wrapped her arms around his back and hugged him. She sensed his strong arm on her back. Dean never passed on beautiful women, especially when they looked like her.

  “I’m just glad we made it…” he muttered under his breath. Then, he pulled a business card out of his left pocket and handed it over to Isabelle. However, she did not want to lose sight of him and kept staring at the tall, handsome man in front of her.

  Monica Miller, Isabelle’s 27-year old friend and colleague, was amidst the cheering passengers. By standard procedure, the plane had to be evacuated. No one seemed to be in a hurry and all five flight attendants had to lead them to the front, middle, and rear exits. Dean waited patiently while gazing at the passenger cabin. His eyes met with Isabelle’s just before he stepped outside. Then he turned around, extended his right hand, and placed it on the wall next to the front exit. He ran his fingertips up and down twice before he looked at Isabelle over his right shoulder. Dean winked at her, and she smiled back at him.

  Monica was 5’11”, 152lbs, with long, layered raven hair which made her face looked sleek and straight. She and Isabelle had been friends since their freshman year in college and were lucky enough to be working together. With oval-shaped, light-green eyes, a thin nose, high cheekbones, and classy lips, Monica Miller was a stunning woman by any standards.

  Watching the whole incident less than fifteen feet away, Isabelle’s friend wanted to tease her, as she often did.

  “I see you’ve made a new friend there. You’ve always had good taste in men…” Monica’s voice was usually fruity, yet, whenever she had something similar in mind, she would lower it and attempt to sound as sexy as possible. For all her effort though, she got no response. Isabelle kept staring at the open plane exit.

  Monica then walked towards her friend. The sound of her 3-inch high heels resounded in the empty cabin. Finally stopping two feet to Isabelle’s right, she tried to draw her attention by waving her right hand in front of her.

  “Earth to Isabelle? Hello?” Monica raised her voice. Isabelle blinked. She snapped out of it and faced her friend.

  “What?” Her voice was almost inaudible. Monica burst into laughter.

  “Oh, my God! Thanks a lot, darling. I needed that…” Monica put her shoulders on two airplane seats behind her and sat on an armrest.

  “What did you need, Mon?” Isabelle could still not understand.

  “Look at you… You’re totally in love with this guy!” Monica’s voice got thick all of a sudden.

  “What, you mean Marshall?” Isabelle used her right index finger to point to the exit.

  “Yeah…” Monica then arose to her impressive stature and got serious.

  “No, I’m not in love with him!” Isabelle said, getting upset.

  “But, did you see what he just did?” she went on.

  “Yes, I did, Izzy. I was here, remember?” Monica’s tone was firm. Putting her hands on her friend’s shoulders, she leaned slightly forward and looked at her right into her eyes.

  “And yes, you are. You are hopelessly in love with him…”

  Born and raised in Washington, DC, Isabelle and Monica would be on a planned leave starting the next day. They would visit their friend and former colleague, 26-year old Kate Sti
nson. She had married Jonathan Stinson, a 44-year old, successful lawyer seven months earlier and was currently living in North Haven, New York. Kate loved her job, but her husband was a little old-fashioned and did not want her to work at all. More than that, the man was afraid of flying. Ironically, the two of them had met aboard a flight to Los Angeles.

  The two friends knew that they would have to talk to the NTSB about the whole incident, but did not want to wait until the next day. So, they volunteered to be interviewed first. At about 11pm that night, they were at last free to go and pack. Monica would pick up Isabelle from her apartment on 16th street the following morning at 9am. It would be their first road trip in more than two years and they were really excited. They would have a chance to discuss their experience throughout the 330-mile long trip to North Haven in Monica’s red Toyota RAV-4.

  As fate would have it, the weather on Sunday, March 13th was quite bad. It was cold and wet; the rain would not let up. At 9:45am, on I-95 S, staring at Dean’s gray, laminated business card in her right palm, Isabelle could not get him out of her mind. She wore a pink sweater and jeans, whereas Monica only had a thick, purple sweatsuit on.

  “Dean Marshall

  ‘Marshall’s’ Artificial Intelligence

  CEO

  “I still can’t wrap my head around that term: ‘Artificial Intelligence’,” Isabelle murmured.

  “I think it’s just a way for computer geeks to describe computers, Izzy. It’s like saying: ‘Yep. We can actually make a computer think. It doesn’t really matter if we have to enter all the necessary information. The stupid machine can have a mind of its own.’ What a load of crap,” Monica said sarcastically, keeping her eyes on the road.

  “Hey, check this out: ‘Hmmm, what the hell am I gonna do with you?’ Aren’t you tired of being ordered around all the time?” Isabelle aimed a slap in the face of an imaginary computer in front of her.

  “Now, come on, grow a freaking brain before I slap some sense into you, you worthless piece of junk.” She then went on to grab and shake the imaginary computer in front of her.

  “Yep. That about sums it up,” Monica chuckled.

  “Wait a minute…” Isabelle had an epiphany.

  “I still remember most of the bands in college using ‘Marshall’ amplifiers. I’ve seen that guy in the paper. Dean is the heir to all that colossal fortune. He doesn’t strike me as a computer geek. What do you think?”

  “Ooh! The plot thickens!” Monica faked a British accent.

  “Well…” She cleared her throat.

  “No. He looks more like a swimmer if you ask me. And he’s tall enough for a woman like me.” At that point, Monica took her eyes off the road and leaned back in her seat.

  “Honestly, I’d love to have him swim in my pool…”

  This was probably one of the few times that Isabelle did not (or could not) get Monica’s sarcasm. She did not appreciate her comments.

  “Hey!” she yelled. A crooked smile formed on Monica’s face. Then, she opened her eyes and looked at the road for a second before she faced her friend.

  “See? I told you, darling: You love him. He’s your knight in shining armor. That’s my Isabelle. Always looking for Mr. Right.” Monica put her right hand on Isabelle’s shoulder and squeezed it gently.

  “Damn… I’m awfully predictable sometimes,” Isabelle complained.

  “But, I don’t love him,” she added.

  “I’m not having the same conversation with you again, Izzy. No airplanes, no annoying passengers, no stupid customs and no more horny pilots for the next couple of weeks. I suggest we have some serious fun…” Monica tried to take Isabelle’s mind off Dean. Under any other circumstances, her words would probably have an effect on her. But, not this time. Blown away by his commanding presence and his great looks, Isabelle now wondered about his job.

  “Ok, so a rich guy like him is working? It’s quite commendable. I don’t care if he’s a computer geek. He saved all those people yesterday. We wouldn’t be here, if it weren’t for him. God, I wanna meet him so much. But, what the hell is he working on? Isn’t his family in the music business?

  “Are you still with me here?” Monica’s voice snapped Isabelle out of her thoughts.

  “Yeah…” she lazily muttered.

  “I’m still thinking about ‘Artificial Intelligence.’ What is it about? Any clues?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine, Izzy.” Monica slowed down and turned right towards a gas station.

  “But, it can be a lot of things. I’ve heard my sister’s kids talking about it. It’s in computer games, like football, basketball, soccer, and all kinds of sports games in general. It’s been around for quite some time. Remember that movie The Terminator? You know, the one that guys couldn’t stop talking about back in junior high? Now, I need to gas my baby up. You’re driving next. And please, focus on the road.” Monica was tired and hoped that her short speech would serve as a call to reality. Neither of them liked action-packed thrillers like The Terminator.

  “Yeah, I get it. I just hope we don’t run into Schwarzenegger,” Isabelle chirped.

  Chapter Three

  A few minutes past 9pm, the two friends finally arrived at their destination. Kate’s house was the first estate to the left on Actors Colony Road. Although much smaller than the surrounding buildings, it looked quite big and luxurious on the outside. The black, iron front gate was open. A marble staircase led to a lush, rose tree garden. In the middle of the garden was a narrow walkway, lined with long, gray stones. The house itself was more than 40ft tall and was painted beige on the outside with 7x5ft, aluminum windows on each side. The front door was different, though. It was black and made of wood. Adding to the beauty of the estate was a large fountain, eight yards to the left of the front door.

  Isabelle did not approve of their marriage; she thought that Kate was marrying Jonathan for his money. On the other hand, Monica supported her friend and only advised her to follow her heart.

  Monica pressed on the doorbell on the left side of the door. It took a while for Kate to open it. When she did, almost three minutes later, they witnessed something they did not expect: Kate used to be a coquette, but that was clearly not the case anymore. She had a golden silk robe on and her long, straight blonde hair was messy. Furthermore, she looked different. Before she got married, Kate was 5’6” and weighed about 120lbs; rather thin for her height. Yet, she seemed to have put on at least 10 lbs and her hair was now dyed dark red. Other than that, the young woman did not look any different; She had almond-shaped hazel eyes, low cheekbones, and ample lips.

  “Heeeeeeeeeey!” Kate welcomed her friends with a broad smile and opened her arms for a quick hug.

  “Hi, baby! I’ve missed you.” Isabelle was the first to hug her.

  “I’ve missed you, too. Mon, come here,” she signaled with her right hand.

  “Hey, honey,” she hummed, before she too gave Kate a big hug.

  Kate’s house was quite luxurious indeed. It featured oaken floors. Twenty feet across the front door and on the 18-ft tall ceiling was a massive chandelier. A large living room, with two, 4-seated black leather couches was to the left, after a small, narrow corridor. Between the couches was a 6ft-long brown wooden table. Across that table was a 55” TV. A kitchen with a 4.5ft-tall, granite counter was to the right. One more, long, narrow corridor led to a bathroom to the right. 25 feet down that corridor was a staircase that led to the first floor.

  Isabelle and Monica left their four suitcases next to the first couch they came across. They had missed Kate a lot and were too tired to take them to their bedrooms upstairs. In fact, they all sat on the couch closest to the wall. Kate sat between them. Monica sat on her left while Isabelle sat on her right.

  “How are things with work? Is anybody giving you a hard time?” Kate looked at Monica and Isabelle, one at a time.

  “Well, you know how it is. Corporate interests, tight schedules, ‘no delays’ rules… Nothing’s changed since y
ou left, Kate,” Isabelle said, answering her question. She sounded frustrated.

  “What about you? How’s married life? Where’s Jonathan?” Monica gave her a gentle jab in the ribs. Kate lowered her eyes and her smile disappeared. It was clear that her friend’s question had upset her.

  “Not so good. He’s on a business trip to Las Vegas. But, I--” She did not have time to finish her sentence. At that point, the three women heard the sound of a toilet flushing.

  “This is awkward…” Monica mumbled.

  “Yeah, you’ve been busy. Is that what you were gonna say?” Isabelle’s voice got high-pitched.

  “Are you cheating on him?” She glared at Kate, unwilling to keep her voice down. Kate shut her eyes and put her hands on her face, covering her eyes.

  “Yes…” she sighed.

  “It’s not been easy, you guys. I went from traveling all over the world to living on my own, you know? He’s never around and when he is, he’s too exhausted to even think about me…”

  “Who’s the guy in the bathroom?” Monica got curious.

  “He’s my…gardener. Hey, Sean!” she yelled. Five seconds later, Sean emerged with a white towel wrapped around his waist. He was 6ft tall, about 190lbs with short, straight black hair, dark-brown eyes, a square, pointy face, high cheekbones, and a dimple on his chin. Probably unable to keep the towel in place, he had squeezed his left thumb between it and his abdomen. Roughly 20 years old, Sean had a well-sculpted body. He had a dark complexion, and he also was a little thin for his height, but with cut muscles on his arms, rock-hard pecks, a broad, almost hairless chest, and toned abs.

  “Hi…” he murmured and caught their attention.

  “I’d shake your hand, if I had some clothes on…” He was so embarrassed that he blushed.

  “Sean… Go put your clothes back on, will ya? We’re in the middle of something here…” Kate appeared to be ordering him. The young man then nodded and complied.