Secret Exposure_a bad boy new adult romance novel

by London Casey

  “Nothing,” I said. “You’ve got two women hanging on you, and you’re worrying about me? I’d walk away, but I’m a little nervous about turning around. Might get you hard.”

  “Oh, you’re fucking dead,” Dirt yelled.

  He charged after me.

  I moved out of the way and pushed him across the floor, watching him barely keep his balance. Max and Tate hurried to get close to Dirt’s two boys to keep the fight fair.

  I stood and watched as Dirt turned. He got close enough for us to exchange a few punches, which is exactly what the doctor ordered for me.

  I let him get the first hit in, then I paid him back with a right to the jaw. He fell into the pool table and lost his backward trucker hat. He threw his own right, and I grabbed his arm. He quickly threw his head at me, smashing his forehead off my right eye. I felt like my eye socket exploded for a second. I let him go, and he swung with his left hand, getting me good in the cheek.

  “That’s right, bitch,” he said. “You take it.”

  The way he said that made him sound like someone else. An image flashed in my mind. An image of an old friend taking a swing at someone. The way we always used to fight. We never backed down from anyone or anything. We didn’t even need a reason to fight. But the way he always fought…the way his voice growled and the way he always called someone a bitch…the way her eye was bleeding before she jumped…

  I let out a noise that was like a groan, growl, like the sound a bull snorting through the nose before charging.

  My hand shot out at Dirt, and I got him by the throat.

  “Maddox,” Tate called.

  I let him go.

  “Yeah, listen to your master. Puppy dog bitch.”

  I turned and grabbed a pool stick. My plan was to wrap that thing right across the side of Dirt’s head. And if I had done that, he would have either died or been out long enough that he’d wake up in a week or two.

  I swung the pool stick without really thinking.

  What I didn’t expect was someone to catch the thing, saving Dirt’s ass.

  It wasn’t just someone either.

  It was a cop.

  “Fuck,” I said.

  “How about we go have a talk outside, Maddox?”

  Smack was a real asshole. He got that nickname because he’s known for smacking people around. He loved to take his abilities to the limit, always pushing the bar. So when he caught the pool stick in the air I figured he would hit me with the pool stick. Instead, we just dropped it. He grabbed my hands and walked me to the back of the bar.

  I couldn’t remember ever seeing Smack in normal clothes. It seemed he lived to do the job.

  Not tonight.

  He was in jeans and a black t-shirt.

  Another surprise was that he had ink.

  Tribal tattoos all the way down to his wrists.

  I had to hand it to him, he looked like a total badass.

  Outside, he walked me forward and then with a grunt, he pulled and spun, swinging me around, smashing me against the back of the bar.

  I kissed the building, a hot pain in my shoulder and my face scraping against the worn-out brick.

  “Swinging a pool stick?”

  “It was Dirt,” I said. “Nobody gives a shit about him.”

  “The paperwork, Maddox. You have any idea how much paperwork I’d have to deal with?”

  “You love paperwork though, don’t you?”

  Smack let me go and stepped back. “Yeah, I love my job.”

  I turned around and grabbed my shoulder. “Mind if I finish my beer?”

  “Maybe.”

  “What’s with the dressed-down look? And since when do you have ink? Did you get that done at St. Skin?”

  “No, I didn’t get it done at St. Skin. I’ve had these for years. And I was working an undercover thing. Got any other fucking questions?”

  “You seem interested in me.”

  “Look, I’ll cut right to it. There was some activity in your old stomping grounds.”

  “Oh?”

  “You know the area. The woods. The creek. The paths. The ridge.”

  The ridge.

  My heart sank a little.

  “What about?”

  “I was wondering if maybe you could give me some pointers. Where things could be hidden. If there’s a way to get to the other side of that ridge, across the river. I want to tie things up neatly. Before anyone else dies.”

  “Anyone else?”

  “You were there. You know the story.”

  “The story?”

  “About that girl who got high and thought she could fly.”

  I felt my throat tighten. “What did you just say?”

  “High and fly,” Smack said. “You know about that. There was a rumor she committed suicide. I say fuck that. Fucking teenagers. I don’t want that to happen again. And if I clear out…”

  I lunged at Smack.

  I grabbed his shirt and swept my fist across his and took him down.

  He didn’t expect the move.

  I was hovering over him, in complete control. I wasn’t sure if he had a gun on him or not. I didn’t give a shit.

  “High and fly?” I growled. “High and fly?”

  “Jesus, Maddox…”

  “I don’t care if you have a badge or not. You know nothing about that. Nothing.”

  I pushed Smack and forced myself away before I did something stupid.

  I walked away.

  That was the fucking problem. I never opened my mouth because I wanted to respect her final wish. I still had the note. I read it more times than I should have. To the outside world…fuck the outside world. Fuck Smack.

  I got into my truck and drove home.

  I wandered around my house for what felt like hours.

  Then an idea came to me.

  A quick online search brought up Hazel’s photography business.

  Her cell number right there on the screen.

  I sent her a text message.

  You want to know about that picture you took? Because if you step into that world with me, sugar, there’s no stepping out

  It sounded like more of a threat, but it was the naked truth.

  I threw my phone on the table and ran my hands through my hair.

  There I was, in a dark hour, alone. And instead of grabbing a bottle of whiskey, I grabbed my phone to text Hazel.

  Hazel with the green eyes.

  What the fuck was this woman doing to me? Why did she matter?

  My phone buzzed a few seconds later.

  Her response?

  There’s nothing you could make me step into that isn’t already as dark as where I am now…

  11

  HAZEL

  PRESENT DAY

  I pulled the covers up to my chin. I reached for my phone. I read the response and cringed. I did a quick online search to see if there was a way I could delete a text message. Maddox hadn’t responded, so maybe he hadn’t read what I wrote to him.

  Why? Why did you write that? Why did you do that? Were you trying to flirt with him? Trying to outdo his feelings? For what? So you could compare who was secretly worse off and then…what? Sleep together?

  There was no deleting the text message. There was nothing I could do about it.

  It struck me that he was still obsessed about that picture, though.

  Why did it mean so much to him?

  I shivered under the covers.

  I knew I’d have to face Maddox tomorrow about what I texted him. And I wanted to know what he meant by stepping into his world.

  My eyes drifted off to sleep.

  I woke the next morning to my alarm blaring through the small speakers on my phone. I quickly checked the text messages and realized I hadn’t been dreaming. Then it occurred me that I never gave Maddox my phone number. So that meant he’d gone looking for it.

  The thoughts raced through my mind the entire morning as I had breakfast and got ready to head into St. Skin. I made sure I ha
d my batteries charged, my lenses, everything else I needed.

  Then I went to the shop.

  I parked out front. Across the street.

  I stood there and admired the actual front of the tattoo shop. I had seen it many times, obviously, and I had photographed it, but from the vantage point I was at, it was different. I had a vision right then of creating a picture for Tate. I’d take a picture of the shop and add in a building attached to each side that was beat up and run down. So you’d have these dilapidated connecting buildings with the tattoo shop in the middle. Filled with its neon lights and the awesome vibe of the ink, the music, the stories, and everyone inside.

  I stood at my car, on the sidewalk, and balanced the camera on the roof of my car. Anyone looking at me probably figured I was a private investigator or something, snapping pictures from across the street.

  But the shot was too good to pass up.

  Nobody was parked out front of St. Skin.

  I had to get it.

  I got the entire shop in focus. Through the front window there were people at the counter, people sitting on the leather couch, looking at tattoos. And right as I was about to take the picture, I saw Maddox and Tate.

  I took a handful of pictures.

  The vision in my head was burning strong, and I wanted it to be the best picture for Tate. My way of saying thank you to him for giving me the job. Maybe even thanking him for giving me the distraction of Maddox. Even though Maddox was maybe too much of a distraction with no payoff.

  I left my camera around my neck and entered St. Skin.

  Maddox looked right at me.

  Tate slapped him on the shoulder. “Glad you stayed out of jail last night.”

  Well, that got even more of my attention. I lifted the camera.

  “Don’t,” he said.

  He turned and walked away.

  I went after him. “Jail? You almost got put into jail? Why?”

  Maddox stopped, but he didn’t look back. “It has nothing to do with your pictures.”

  “What about that text?”

  I saw Maddox ball up his fists.

  Panic started to bubble from deep in my gut.

  I fought it off.

  No. Please. Not right now. No.

  Maddox looked over his shoulder. “Forget about that. I don’t give a shit what you do with that picture.”

  Maddox took two steps. “Liar. You’re a liar, Maddox. You care.”

  “What do we have here?” Prick asked as he emerged from his room with a woman. He winked at Maddox. He winked at me. “Is he causing trouble again?”

  Prick laughed and walked the woman to the front of the shop.

  That’s when Maddox turned. “Forget I sent it.”

  “How did you get my number?”

  “Mind your own business, sugar. It’s not private information.”

  “You looked me up? Why?”

  I was feeling that warm, bubbly feeling again.

  “I said, forget it.”

  Maddox turned and went into his room.

  I ran after him. I managed to get to the door right before it clicked shut. I was then in his room, shutting the door behind me. My heart was racing. He stood like he was a giant, his shoulders puffed up and wide. I was pushing buttons that maybe I shouldn’t have been pushing.

  “I won’t forget it. I can’t just forget it, Maddox.”

  I heard him growl.

  Then he turned.

  He came at me like he did before.

  Except this time I didn’t freeze up. I didn’t panic. I swallowed all that down. What Maddox realized was that by not freaking out right then, it was the ultimate sign of trust. And that scared me. Because I had no idea why I trusted him.

  His hands hit the wall on either side of my head.

  I jumped, but I didn’t run.

  “You’re here for St. Skin, sugar. Not for me. I didn’t hire you. I’m not paying you. You don’t get to dig into my past.”

  “You texted me,” I whispered.

  “You took a piece of my private life,” he said. “What if I did that to you?”

  “You already did,” I said. “You just don’t know it yet, Maddox.”

  “What does that mean?”

  I shook my head.

  Then to my shock, Maddox repeated my reply to his text. Word for word. Without so much as blinking his eyes.

  “There’s nothing you could make me step into that isn’t already as dark as where I am now…” Then he paused. “So, tell me what that means, sugar.”

  “Nothing,” I said. “Forget it.”

  Maddox grinned. “You really are something else, Hazel.”

  “You said my name. I don’t think you’ve ever said my name.”

  He curled his lip. “Don’t get used to it. You’ll be done here soon enough.”

  Maddox pushed off the wall and I caught myself grabbing at his shirt again. A handful, pulling, keeping him close.

  Why did it feel so good when he was close?

  That lingering smell of man. Whatever soap he used on his tough skin. Whatever he washed his clothes in. The smell of his body, sweat, musk, lingering smoke, everything somehow mixing together to make something so unique that it made my nose twitch…along with everything else from head to toe.

  “Look,” I whispered.

  I turned the camera on and turned it to face him.

  I showed him the pictures. The one of his hand on the lens. Then the next picture…which should have been the picture floating in the air. That one was gone. Like Maddox had asked me to get done.

  “You deleted it,” he whispered.

  “Yeah.”

  “You listened to me. Why?”

  “Because I don’t want to lose your trust,” I admitted. “And I don’t know why.”

  “Trust. The camera gives you trust, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  “You look at the world through that camera because you don’t want to look at it through your own eyes.”

  I shuddered. He was reading me. He was spot on. It was scary.

  “Maddox…”

  He got closer to me. Bending his knees, bringing his eyes level with mine. Inching closer, closer than any man had been in such a long time. I felt my lips quiver, almost teetering on the verge of desperation. Wanting him to kiss me.

  “Why? What’s your darkness, sugar? Put the camera down. Just be here.”

  I shook my head. “I can’t do that. I have to go. I have to work.”

  Maddox inched even closer. I felt the tip of his nose touch mine.

  Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…

  The word faded. It then became something else.

  Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me, kiss me…

  Maddox lifted his nose, sliding it against mine, and then backed away. He once again touched my wrist, much gentler than he had in the coffee shop, and took my hand off his shirt.

  He then touched the camera, lifting it. He shook his head.

  “For the record, sugar, I think your eyes are prettier than this fucking lens.”

  Maddox then left the room.

  I put my head back, letting out a breath I had been holding for what felt like days. I put my hands flat to the wall. I hated to admit it to myself, but Maddox had gotten me so hot that I was…sort of almost there…

  Then I smiled.

  I wanted his trust.

  I wanted him.

  Even just once.

  I figured it was going to be an amazing day.

  And it was.

  The problem?

  Hell was waiting for me that night.

  12

  MADDOX

  YEARS AGO

  We promised to write letters every day that summer. Her dumbass stepfather didn’t think I was worth a damn, so he shipped her off to some camp. Piano camp. Seriously? Like that was even a thing? As if that would stop me from seeing her? He sent her away, so I drove up there to see her. I parked about two miles away from the camp and walked through the woods t
he rest of the way. It reminded me of some old-school horror movie where I was the killer. Not that I would ever hurt her. Not a chance. She had tamed the wild beast inside me the second I met her.

  She was shocked to see me there.

  Her face turned red, and she wouldn’t look at me for a little bit. I finally convinced her to sneak away to a picnic table and talk to me. Something was seriously wrong. I couldn’t figure out what it was.

  Then she hit me with it.

  There was a boy there. From another school. Another town. And he liked her.

  Shit. She had been there for less than a week.

  Not that I could blame anyone. She was beautiful. Far beyond her years. That was the crazy thing about her. Just shy of turning eighteen, stuck under the control of her mother and stepfather, but she could pass for her mid-twenties.

  That so-called boy turned out to be one of the piano teachers. Some blonde-haired, blue-eyed fucking guy who’d had everything handed to him in life. She told me he told her he wanted to kiss her. Then she said that he tried to kiss her during their last lesson together.

  I stood up…she grabbed my hands and said she loved me. Only me. That she slapped the guy and said if he ever did that again she would tell on him.

  I liked that.

  I trusted her.

  Nobody could get to her like me.

  She told me the story, and I believed her, but there was something else in her eyes. Something really hidden in her eyes. When I asked her what was wrong, she confessed that she hated the camp. She hated her stepfather. She hated that her mother never stuck up for her. She hated that all her friends were already eighteen, and they were going to the beach, taking road trips, doing adults things, and there she was, stuck in a piano camp for six weeks.

  The camp was supposed to make her fall out of love with me.

  But it only brought us closer.

  I kissed her that day. Right at the picnic table. My mind raced with all the places in the woods I had seen where I wanted to gently lay her down and show her how much I loved her.

  I kissed her hard. I slid my hand behind her head.

  Then I felt someone grab my shoulder.

  We were busted.