by Jessica Gray
Bad Boy Love
Fernando
Book 1
Jessica Gray
This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, and places in this book exist only within the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons or locations is purely coincidental.
Bad Boy Love – Book 1: Fernando
All Rights Reserved
Copyright © 2016 Jessica Gray
This book is copyrighted and protected by copyright laws.
No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without prior written permission from the author.
All characters, names, and places in this book exist only within the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons or locations is purely coincidental.
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Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Epilogue
Preview Falling for Him, Karen and Robert
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Chapter 1
Fernando Garcia leaned against the streetlight, keeping watch over the front doors of the social services office, wondering what his probation officer would be like. Just like everything, there were good ones and some who completely sucked. Fortunately, at least in his experience, most of them had a quest to help their clients turn their lives around and become honest, hard-working, upright citizens.
As if I even had a chance to become an honest person.
This wasn’t his first brush with the law. On the contrary, at the age of twenty-five, he’d amassed a long history of petty crimes and misdemeanors. Nothing really bad. But this time had been different. He’d crossed the line and was lucky to have gotten away with probation.
He sucked in a breath and kicked some pebbles out of his way. He’d been here before, so why was he nervous now? His assigned probation officer would be nice, even friendly, trying to gain his trust. And Fernando would put on his act, pretending he could turn his life around, even though everyone knew it wouldn’t happen. Not by a long shot.
There was nothing to be nervous about. He’d long ago accepted the fact that he would lead the life of a criminal, whether he wanted to or not. His wishes didn’t matter. Taking care of his younger sister mattered.
But Amada’s grown up now.
Depressed by that thought, Fernando opened the front door and trudged up the stairs to the third floor where he presented himself at reception.
“Gwen Cohen, Room 326, have a seat outside, please. She’ll call you momentarily,” the receptionist said with a friendly smile.
“Thank you,” Fernando answered and walked down the long hallway to the indicated room. He’d just sat down when the door opened, and a burly man stepped out and walked toward the exit, ignoring him completely. A young woman around his own age was left standing in the doorway.
Fernando’s chest constricted the moment he saw her, and he had to remind himself to breathe. Oh shit, she’s awesome. Around five-eight, she was tall and slender with blonde, shoulder length hair, and a tan that came from spending plenty of time in the sun. She looked like an advertisement for a typical California girl, and he could easily imagine her in a bikini, holding onto a surfboard. But what undid him was the shimmer in her baby-blue eyes. They were combined with the most heartwarming smile he’d ever seen.
Lost in his momentary daydream, it took a few moments before he realized she was calling his name. “Fernando Garcia?”
He blinked and then straightened. “Yes.”
She gestured him forward and gave him another breathtaking smile. A smile he wanted to hold on to, trace with his fingers and kiss until she begged him to do more. “Hi. Come on in.”
Fernando cleared his throat and cursed the hot blood rushing through his veins. He stepped through the door into a room that contained a file cabinet, a table, and two chairs. While following her, he had a prime view of her gorgeous backside. Her worn blue jeans hugged a firm and perky ass, and with every step her t-shirt rode just above the waistband, exposing a hint of tanned skin.
He didn’t even bother to hide his interest and let his eyes travel all the way down to her brown leather sandals that sported a modest heel. When she turned around to stand behind the table in the middle of the room, he sharply inhaled at the sight of her bright-red painted toenails peeking between the leather straps.
Turning his gaze upward again, he became painfully aware of her perfect, flat stomach, her firm breasts, and the riot of varying shades of blonde curls that tumbled around her face, framing her blue eyes. Eyes full of life – and disapproval.
As soon as their eyes met, he realized she’d caught him checking her out, and he inwardly grimaced. Great way to make an impression.
She didn’t miss a beat. “I’m Gwen Cohen, and I’ve been assigned to act as your probation officer. But you probably already surmised that?” she asked with a more neutral smile and reached across the desk to shake his hand. “Please sit down.”
He sat down and rubbed his palm on his thigh to dispel the burning sensation her touch had left behind. Fire was moving through his veins, and he mentally cursed his wayward libido. This office most definitely wasn’t a place for a quick fuck.
Get it together, idiot. You’re not here to get that woman into your bed. Even if she’s the hottest thing you’ve seen in…ever.
Gwen pulled a manila folder open and then looked at him with a questioning smile. Second after second elapsed in slow motion while she flipped through the file, furrowing her brows.
Fernando’s ears burned with shame, a feeling he wasn’t very familiar with. On those pages, his whole miserable life was spread out in front of her. A life he was everything but proud of. The report would show the many times he’d done the wrong things, broken the law, stolen, and hurt other people.
What the report wouldn’t show was the reason behind his actions. His younger sister, Amada. No, her notes wouldn’t say anything about his struggle to provide for both of them after their parents died more than a decade ago. How he was forced to drop out of school and earn money to escape the abusive guardian they’d been assigned. Neither would the notes show how proud he was of his sister. Raising her was probably the only thing he’d done well in his life – his crowning achievement.
He pushed his hands beneath his thighs and looked down onto the table. Gwen Cohen wasn’t his first probation officer, and so far, he’d disappointed every last one of them. It wasn’t because they weren’t nice people, they were. But they couldn’t understand that his only chance to make a decent living was to occasionally step across the line of the law.
This time would be no different. Gwen might be friendly, optimistic and even helpful, but in the end, he’d disappoint her too. There was no hope for someone like him. It was too late. Without a high school diploma or any other type of experience, the jobs available to him were few and far between. Minimum wage didn’t pay even the barest of necessities, let alone the bills. Good jobs that came along always involved criminal activity. It was just the way it was.
At first, it had been fun. He’d felt strong and powerful being part of a gang. Virile. Invincible. But the thrill soon had become old and made room for the constant fear of being caught, being sent to prison – being unable to protect his sister.
“Fernando? Can I call you by your first name?” her sweet voice cut through his thoughts, slamming him back to the present. When he nodded, she continued speaking, “So, I’d like you to tell me about the armed robbery and why you were there?”
“Why I was there?” he asked, looking up into her piercing blue eyes.
“Yes. Why were you there? Did you know a robbery was going to take place?”
“Yes, I knew. As for why…the gang took on the job, and…” he blew out a deep breath, “they needed me in order to pull it off.”
She sat back in her chair. “Why did they need you?”
“Well, I’m one of the best pick locks around here,” he said with pride before he toned down his enthusiasm and continued, “I didn’t have much of a choice anyway. When you’re part of a gang, you don’t pick and choose. You do what the group does. Period. That’s how it works.”
“So, tell me what happened?”
“I picked the lock, and we entered the building, but then a guard showed up and surprised us. We didn’t even know he existed, or we would have done things differently.”
“Is that when you all ran?”
Fernando winced at the memory and swallowed. “Not quite. Sandro shot the guard in the leg. The rest of the gang wanted to kill him, eliminate a witness. But I convinced them he’d probably already called it in, and we needed to get the f…” He stopped the curse and tried again. “We needed to get out of there.”
“What happened next?”
He stared at the wall just behind her left ear. “Sandro pointed his gun at the guard’s head and warned him he’d be back if he talked to the police. Then we ran, but the cops caught us before we could reach the alley.”
Her piercing glance made him shrink in his chair, but her voice was surprisingly soft. “Everyone but you got a long prison sentence. Why were you only given probation?”
Fernando gestured towards the file. “Don’t your notes tell you all of that?”
She shrugged. “I want to hear it from you.”
He searched her face for a clue, trying to gauge her angle. Does she think I belong in prison with the others? But he couldn’t find an accusatory look in her eyes, just curiosity. “I guess the judge believed the guard’s testimony.”
“The guard?” she asked.
“Yes.” He paused, reliving the moment when the guard had taken the stand and spoken up on his behalf at court, something no one had ever done for him before. It had been surreal. He still didn’t quite understand what had happened. “The guard testified that if it weren't for me, he’d be dead. The video from the surveillance cameras didn’t show my face, but he declared that I was the one who kept the others from shooting him.”
“Why did you risk yourself to save him?”
Yes, why? Fernando had asked himself the same question many times since that fateful armed robbery. He had never been afraid of using violence to get what he wanted. “Because we had to run—”
“I don’t believe you.” Her words felt like a slap in his face and anger pooled in his stomach. She – a woman – was calling him a liar. No one called him a liar. He jumped up from his chair, fists ready for battle when he remembered where they were. Probation office. Good behavior. Damn.
“Sorry.” He sat down again and met her eyes. Holy shit, that woman is not only excruciatingly beautiful but also strong-willed. She hadn’t so much as flinched away from his temper.
“So, why did you really do it?” Her eyes sparkled with a combination of curiosity and optimism.
“I guess…this man, he hadn’t done anything wrong. He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. I couldn’t let them kill him.”
She scrutinized him for a moment, then her cheeks took on a rosy color, and she quickly stared down at his folder. With her nose in the file, she asked, “Do you understand the requirements of your probation?”
“Yes.”
“Please explain them to me.”
Fernando took a deep breath and did as she requested. “I have to find a job, and I can’t do anything illegal. I can have no contact with any of my gang members.” He was being as cooperative as possible, trying to earn some brownie points early in the game.
He evidently was doing a good job because she finally looked up and smiled at him. In reaction, his entire body tightened to the point of pain.
“So, Fernando, is there anything you want to discuss? About your probation or anything else?”
Fernando shrugged. “Nah, I’m good.”
She smiled at him again and cocked her head. “Well, if you change your mind, we can discuss it at next week’s meeting. Please remember our weekly meetings are not optional. You have to be here at the scheduled time. If something comes up and you know you can’t make it, you have to call me.”
She handed him a business card, and he tucked it into his pocket without looking at it. He knew the drill, and he also knew that short of death or lying in a coma in the hospital, his ass was expected to be in this chair each week.
No excuses.
Chapter 2
Gwen Cohen sat at the meeting table, trying desperately to concentrate on her job. Which, she reminded herself, was the only reason this hot man was in her office to begin with. He was under a court order to meet with his assigned probation officer every week.
And that would be me.
He was an offender, not dating material. Not even fantasy material. And she had no business being attracted to him. Unfortunately, her libido wasn’t listening. Her body didn’t care how inappropriate lusting after Fernando was, or the fact that it was illegal for her to have any kind of a relationship with someone under her supervision.
Even if it weren’t illegal, it would only lead to heartbreak. Fernando was anything but boyfriend material. He belongs to a street gang, for crying out loud. Get a grip on yourself, girl.
But then he smiled at her, and all her resolves disappeared into thin air. Heat pooled in her stomach, and she licked her lips. His boyish smile touched her deep down in her soul. How could such a breathtaking smile belong to a common criminal? Right now, sitting in front of her, with his expressive brown eyes and black hair falling haphazardly over his forehead, he looked like an honest, upstanding young man. If she’d met him on the street, or at a coffee shop, she’d have never guessed he was on probation for armed robbery.
When calling him into the meeting room, she’d gotten a good view on how well his faded blue jeans molded to his ass and thick thighs. He wore his black leather jacket open and the black t-shirt underneath stretched over his broad chest. The v-neck exposed just a hint of unbelievably sexy olive skin.
She looked down, closely inspecting the file in front of her, but the letters were dancing around. So much for trying to calm her raging hormones. When she raised her head again, she skipped over his chest and looked straight into his eyes, but that was a mistake as well. More heat shot through her, and she prayed he wouldn’t notice the rush of blood to her cheeks.
His black hair was slightly too long, brushing the neck of his t-shirt, and tousling across his forehead, beneath which were chocolate brown eyes. Eyes full of intrigue and so deep, she wanted to get lost in them. These weren’t the eyes of a cocky young man, but were full of…history. Pain. Love. Determination. The eyes of a man. A man she wanted to get to know.
What did I just say? Oh yes. The reminder about showing up for our meetings.
Gwen pulled a checklist from the manila folder and grabbed a pen. Doing her best to neither look at his muscled chest nor at his eyes or mouth, she started going down the list.
“Have you ever taken drugs?”
“No.”
Gwen hesitated for a split second, and her jaw almost fell to the floor when he shrugged out of his leather jacket and held both arms out for her inspection. His strong hands hovered inches away from her and would touch her if she gave in to the urge of leaning toward him. She swallowed a sudden rush of saliva and concentrated on the sight of his bare arms, the toned biceps bulging above the indent of his elbows.
As far as she was concerned, his skin was perfect. A shade of tanned olive, with every vein clearly visible and so smooth she wanted to experience it with her own fingers. No signs of drug usage by injection.
She leaned forward slightly, careful not to touch his outstretched fingertips, peering at his arms and caught a whiff of his masculine scent. He was all male, both in looks and smell, and she had to resist the urge to grab his strong hands and wrap them around her waist. She could already feel how his long and capable fingers would skim over her skin, just a barely there touch, with a hint of strength that was impossible to ignore.
Her breath sped up, and she turned her gaze away, shaking her head briefly as she tried to remember where she was, who he was, and what her relationship with him was supposed to be.
He’s an offender. You are his court appointed probation officer. End of story.
“You satisfied that I’m not a junkie?” he asked, his question bringing her back to the present.
“That’s not proof,” she answered, her voice a bit husky and she inwardly grimaced. “You could be hiding needle holes in some other places that aren’t as obvious. A lot of junkies do that.”
He flashed her a panty-melting smile and lowered his voice to a seductive whisper, “You want me to strip so you can check out some of those other ‘not so obvious’ places?”
