Secret Exposure_a bad boy new adult romance novel
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Secret Exposure
London Casey
Jaxson Kidman
Karolyn James
Contents
Welcome to Hundred Falls Valley and the world of St. Skin.
Stay social with both authors here:
Secret Exposure
Prologue
Prologue
1. MADDOX
2. HAZEL
3. MADDOX
4. HAZEL
5. HAZEL
6. MADDOX
7. HAZEL
8. MADDOX
9. HAZEL
10. MADDOX
11. HAZEL
12. MADDOX
13. HAZEL
14. MADDOX
15. HAZEL
16. MADDOX
17. HAZEL
18. MADDOX
19. HAZEL
20. HAZEL
21. MADDOX
22. HAZEL
23. MADDOX
24. HAZEL
25. HAZEL
26. MADDOX
27. MADDOX
28. MADDOX
29. HAZEL
30. MADDOX
31. HAZEL
32. MADDOX
33. MADDOX
34. HAZEL
35. HAZEL
36. HAZEL
37. MADDOX
38. MADDOX
39. HAZEL
40. MADDOX
41. MADDOX
42. HAZEL
43. HAZEL
44. MADDOX
45. HAZEL
46. MADDOX
47. HAZEL
48. MADDOX
49. HAZEL
50. MADDOX
51. MADDOX
52. HAZEL
53. MADDOX
FROM THE AUTHORS:
About the Author
Also by London and Jaxson:
Welcome to Hundred Falls Valley and the world of St. Skin.
From the minds of two bestselling authors comes a book and series about love, redemption, and finding fate in the place where you’d least expect to find it. Welcome to Hundred Falls Valley and the world of St. Skin
Worldwide bestselling series!
No reader order require!
Written by London Casey (Karolyn James) and Jaxson Kidman
Stay social with both authors here:
Newsletter (part of the Outlaw Romance Obsession team): http://eepurl.com/b9BDKb
St. Skin Facebook fan page: www.facebook.com/stskinseries
Secret Exposure
A St. Skin Novel
His secret could break her heart. Her secret could put his life in danger.
Maddox: With a camera in my face, a single picture is taken, and my life is forever changed. Worst part is that I didn’t even see who took my picture. At least not until I walk into St. Skin and see her standing there with a camera. The woman hired to take pictures at St. Skin while the business continues to grow. So my sanctuary from my secrets and my past are now under threat, leaving me on edge. And everywhere I go, she’s there, waiting to take my picture. When things between us finally reach a breaking point, the last thing I expect is for our lips to lock, the camera to fall, and other kinds of memories begin to form. That’s when Hazel exposures her heart to me, including a secret that pulls me right back into the past I escaped from.
Hazel: It was supposed to be a simple job. A bunch of tattooed hunks begging for my attention. Except one. Tall, wide shoulders, eyebrow raised, and he hates his picture taken. I’m drawn to him. At first, he’s a fantasy. The man who could save me from a world nobody knows about. But then it becomes a reality when he sees firsthand the secret I’ve been keeping. That opens the floodgate and our lives are suddenly intertwined between passion and heartache. And soon we both realize our lives are connected way more than we could have ever possibly guessed…
Prologue
A LONG TIME AGO (MADDOX)
“See, the best thing is to just keep it a secret. That’s my advice to you. You get what you want. Keep shit a secret. And who really cares what happens after that? It’s not like you’ll never get a chance again. I mean, seriously, do you plan on dying in this shithole of a town?”
I leaned against a tree that was already leaning. A bottle of cheap booze was in my right hand, barely touched. The whole notion of sipping whiskey in the woods had lost its fun. A while ago, actually.
My best bud - nicknamed Night - stood with a cigarette between his lips. He turned to the side and unzipped his jeans, whipping himself out to take a leak.
“You hear me, Daw?” he asked with a sly grin, ashes breaking off from the tip of his cigarette.
We all had nicknames. Stupid nicknames, at that. All based off our real names. I wasn’t sure if we were supposed to be part of a crew or gang or something like that. I got the name Daw from Maddox. It started with Maddox turning into Madd, Madd turning into Maddog, Maddog becoming just Dog. And then one of our friends, Diver, who was from down south, called my name one night in that long drawl of his and it echoed as “Dawwwww.”
So, there’s a piece of history that meant nothing.
“I hear you,” I said. “I guess we think different, Night.”
“Fuck that,” he said. He wiggled back and forth, hosing down a couple trees and some stuff on the ground. Then he zipped up and wiped his hands on his jeans. He took his smoke and flicked it into the creek where it died a quick death. “Look at me, Daw. Look at what I’m doing in life. Shit is good for now. You think too much into the future. You ain’t going to marry this chick. You know that. Come on. She’s a good fuck, for now. Think of her like a car: something newer and shinier will come along.”
“I don’t know how you get laid,” I said with a smile. “You’re a total asshole, man.”
Night clamped a hand on my shoulder. I cringed, remembering how that hand was just holding his dick as he pissed.
“Take it easy,” he said, his breath smelly and tangy like smoke.
“Where are you going?”
“I have a date,” he said.
I shook my head. “You’re going to get busted one of these days.”
Night stepped back and lifted his fist. His knuckles were scarred pretty badly. He was once a boxer but then he started street fighting for fun. He touched his huge middle knuckle with his other hand.
“This right here… it silences any doubt,” Night said. “Any fucking doubt, Daw. And if you can’t see that or understand that, then I don’t know what to tell you. The world ain’t what they show on TV or in the newspaper. You make it your own and if it gets out of line, you get back in line.”
Night grabbed the bottle of whiskey from my hand and threw it back.
Drinking and driving was just one of his things. There was a laundry list of things wrong with Night, and drinking and driving didn’t even make the top five. Hell, standing there in the woods, alone, I realized I was one of the last ones who put up with his shit. Everyone begged me to get away from him. I just wanted to save him from himself or hurting someone else.
Funny thing about that night in the woods?
I’d never see Night alive again.
My phone buzzed and I looked at the screen, smiling.
She wanted to meet at the top of the ridge. The spot where we all went to hang out, drink, smoke, get noisy, sneak away to places where nobody would see us, but most of all, the ridge was the flat surface that used to be some kind of bridge over the river. It had to be at least two hundred feet in the air, if not more. And directly across the river was another ridge. That one was impossible to get to, though, unless you crosse
d the river.
There was nothing wilder than standing on the edge of the ridge and looking down at the river. Knowing damn well that one slip, fall, whatever, and you were fucked. You’d have enough time as you fell to really think about life and by the time you hit the water and rocks, you were dead.
It was the place where I could stand and look down and feel my knees literally begin to shake, my body tighten with intense fear, and my stomach feel like it was going to let loose.
What a fucking feeling.
I jumped on my dirt bike and let her cry and squeal through the woods as I followed the trails that we all cut. Years of riding, we made our own trails and paths. The woods were forever ours. And if the cops were dumb enough to chase us, we knew where to go, how to hide, and we’d leave those fuckers in the dust. They were now smart enough to not chase us into the woods, especially on foot. All they wanted was for us to stay off the main roads and hide.
So that’s what we did.
I rode my bike to the base of the ridge. Nobody had been able to get a dirt bike up to the top. Slimy tried once and got about a quarter of the way up before his back tire kicked out on some rocks and he jumped off. His bike flew forward and went over the edge and rolled down into the river. After that, nobody else tried.
I parked my bike and hiked my way up.
Something had been wrong with her for the last few months. She was distant. She was quiet. It was like she hated me or just hated herself. I couldn’t get through to her on anything. Almost like she was a fucking ghost. I hated it.
That’s why I had met up with Night: to get his thoughts. Which was a mistake. All he cared about was scoring pussy and controlling it. To him, if she was distant to me then so be it. That gave me the chance to fuck other chicks. I didn’t want that, though. No matter how rough and tough anyone thought I was, I didn’t fly that way.
I believed in truth.
And the truth was waiting for me.
I fucked up, though.
I rode my dirt bike, which came with a warning.
By the time I got to the top of the ridge, she was standing there alone. There was blood on her face. A cut at her left eye. She looked at me, already crying.
“What’s going on?” I asked her.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so fucking sorry, Maddox.”
“Sorry for…”
I heard the cry of a dirt bike starting and quickly speeding off.
I ran to the other side of the ridge and looked down. It was a long slope, nothing like the drop off behind me into the river. I caught the faint glimpse of another dirt bike as it took off.
That’s when my heart sank.
I spun around. She had taken a few steps back, nearing the edge. The dangerous edge.
“Who…”
I saw a pair of panties on the ground. They were ripped. They were hers. I looked at her again. The blood at the corner of her eye.
“Who hurt you?”
She pointed to the ground again.
I looked and saw an empty bottle of whiskey. The cheap ass whiskey that I had been drinking.
The bottle that…
“No,” I whispered. “Did he force himself…”
She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Maddox.”
“Wait,” I said. “You two? Together? Willingly? You wanted him to?”
I felt like I was going to throw up.
I imagined myself beating the shit out of Night. Strangling him. Breaking his fucking wrist because I knew the blood on her face was his doing.
Distraction became my enemy as she took another two steps back.
I snapped back to reality, trying to process what the fuck was actually happening.
“I’m sorry,” she said again.
Then she threw a piece of a paper to the ground.
And she jumped.
Prologue
A LONG TIME AGO (HAZEL)
I called it foot thunder. The first time I thought of it, I giggled. I had the covers over my head, giggling, looking at my favorite stuffed animal: a one-eyed bunny I named Wink. A kid named Johnny called farts “butt thunder.” That was gross. Johnny was completely gross. He got in trouble so much. I heard my teacher - Miss Jaynon - tell another teacher that Johnny had no father.
He was that lucky.
When I heard the foot thunder, I knew what I had to do. It was like that week in school when the firemen would come and talk about fire safety. They said it was important to know how to get out of the house in case it was on fire.
That didn’t bother me. I could handle fire.
It was the foot thunder that was dangerous.
Really dangerous.
The first slam of the door. The first yell of his voice. His feet were, like, five times their size, like whatever he drank turned him into something else. Like some kind of monster movie that my cousins would watch.
Ugh. Boys.
I grabbed for Wink and two other stuffed animals. I took my blanket and got out of bed. I took a deep breath. I promised myself it would be okay. I would be okay. That if the worst happened, I could just pretend to be dead. I wasn’t quite sure what dead meant other than you never came back home, but you could fake that. Johnny said that if a bear ever attacked you, all you needed to do was fake dead. Which meant to just lie there and do nothing. Hold your breath. And don’t give off any butt thunder.
Stupid Johnny.
I hurried to my closet.
It always had a weird smell. Like dust. Wet dust. I had my favorite corner. I had a flashlight, too.
It was dimming. The batteries were dying. I needed new ones, but for now, it would do.
I sat there, blanket over me, my stuffed animals near me. I grabbed a pencil from the floor and made another mark. I kept track of how many times I heard the foot thunder. It seemed to be getting worse. Ever since he lost his job, the foot thunder became really bad.
“Where is she?”
The voice echoed and made the floor vibrate.
I heard the steps groaning as he stomped up them.
Sometimes he came for me. Sometimes he got me.
When he did, I could never fake dead. I could only cry. That made him madder.
Shoot.
I hugged Wink tight as I heard my doorknob jiggle.
“Please! Go downstairs!”
That was Mom’s voice. She was scared. I hated myself for not telling her to play dead. Shoot.
“That’s what you want? Fine… let’s go downstairs!”
There was a scuffling sound and then a thud. Followed by another and another and another. I heard Mom yell and cry.
No. No. No. No. No.
I was too young to get it but I knew Mom would tell everyone she missed a step and fell down them all. And nobody would believe her. But nobody did anything. Not even me.
The foot thunder started again.
Mom cried and yelled.
I hugged Wink even tighter. I was worried I’d hurt his good eye. But he was just a stuffed animal, right? I leaned against the wall and stuck my fingers into my ears.
It muffled the sounds.
I told myself it would be impossible to fall asleep like that. But it wasn’t.
I slept like that many nights.
1
MADDOX
PRESENT DAY
As I turned to flick my cigarette across the back parking lot, a camera went off, one that was pointed right at me. I blew smoke and curled my lip, the camera still clicking away.
I took a step, ready to unleash hell on her. Probably some fucking chick looking to break my balls for throwing a cigarette butt to the ground. Of all the problems in the damn world…
She looked at me.
I froze.
I realized then how fucking beautiful she was. This really dark hair and these bright green eyes. A face almost like porcelain except for a scar on her right eye that was visible, running down her cheek, almost like a dimple out of place.
She stared at me, swallowed
hard, and then turned to leave.
“Hey!” I yelled.
She lowered her head and was on the move. She disappeared around the building.
What the fuck was that?
I took a few more steps and then heard the back door to St. Skin open.
“Maddox,” a voice boomed.
I turned. It was Tate. He owned the tattoo shop.
“What?”
“Gotta chat with you,” he said. “Important.”
I pointed to where the woman had run but didn’t say a word. The last thing I needed was the guys to ride my ass just for seeing a beautiful woman.
I growled in my throat and gave a nod. “Be right there, Tate.”
He shut the door.
I looked up and stretched my neck. The night before was still rolling around in my head. There was probably glitter still on me, along with the sweet smell of cheap body spray and perfume that cost just a little bit more. Everyone in town, and well across the world, thought we were nothing but rock stars, so I figured why not live up to that notion? I had nothing to lose in life and it was sometimes easier to bury the truth in a bottle or between the sheets because it just fucking felt good.
What didn’t feel good? Someone taking my picture without my permission.
The whole idea of having fans and becoming famous was not my intention in life when I started tattooing. It was for the art, the story, and the money. Mostly the money. The other guys took their shit super seriously and that was good for them. For me, I knew what I wanted and I knew how to get it. And I appreciated those who came to see me with the same mindset. I give you ink. You give me cash. And if you’re a pretty enough woman, you give me your number, too.
The problem now was that everyone wanted a piece of me. A piece of the others. A piece of St. Skin. Tate had somehow turned the little shop into a viral thing to the point that we were constantly featured online, in newspapers, in magazines. It helped the business to explode, though, which in turn helped our bank accounts to do the same.