Bad Boy Next Door

by Leigh, Mara

  “Well, let’s keep thinking then.”

  “Are you shitheads drinking without me?”

  I looked over my shoulder to see Shane sauntering toward us, a huge grin on his face. A smile landed on my face too, and I was instantly drawn back to when we were boys. When we were close.

  “Pull up a chair,” Mac said. “But get your own beer. These are ours.”

  I didn’t want to point out that they were actually Keagan’s.

  Shane set a chair next to mine and stretched out his skinny legs, super tanned, as if baking them was his full-time job.

  “So, Nick.” Shane grabbed my beer off the concrete and took a swig. “It’s a great idea, right?”

  “What?” Had he come up with a plan to help me apologize? I shook my head, realizing how far up my own ass I was.

  “The job down at the docks.” Shane handed me back my beer. “Mac told you the details, right? I need all five of us, but especially you, Nicky. As long as we’ve got some muscle, the assholes will roll right over.”

  “What assholes?” Mac frowned.

  “My guy.” Shane’s leg started bouncing. “He’s not the only one interested in this container. We’ve got competition.”

  Mac dragged his chair around and put his feet up on the rusted pool ladder handles. “You’re not making sense, Shane. I’m not getting more involved until you tell us everything.”

  “Okay. Okay.” Shane leaned forward in his chair. “Here’s the deal. My guy is part of a crew who’ve got plans to grab the container. His guys are gonna do all the hard work. Get the goods onto a truck, pay off the guards, and that’s where we step in. Once the container’s loaded and ready to go, we take it. Candy from a baby.”

  Mac set down his beer. “We steal the container from the guys who are stealing it?”

  “Yup.”

  “If your guy’s double-crossing his crew, why involve you?”

  “That’s the great part.” Shane’s leg started bouncing. “He only asked if I knew a muscle guy to join their crew. He has no fucking idea we’re going to steal the container from under them.”

  “That’s why you need Nick…” Mac whistled through his teeth. “Nick plays the muscle guy for the other crew. Then we swoop in.”

  Shane’s entire upper body nodded. “Exactly! You got it! I knew you’d get it, Mac. The container’s full of pricey shit—high-end electronics and other stuff that’s easy to unload. Totally untraceable. We’ll make fortune. Mac, you need to convince Keagan. You know how he hates any plan that wasn’t his idea.”

  I recognized the expression on Mac’s face. I could practically see his wheels turning. Fuck. He was actually considering this.

  Keagan was the one who planned our jobs for a reason. He was good at it. Smart. Thought of all the angles. Shane was the polar opposite. If my brothers took on a Shane-planned job, they’d end up in jail—or dead.

  But if Mac got swayed, he could sway Keagan. And once Keagan was on board, it would get harder and harder for me to say no.

  The Downey brothers stuck together. And I owed Shane.

  “So, you in?” Shane asked. “Nick?”

  I shook my head and grabbed another beer.

  * * *

  Jade

  I peeked over the edge of the third-floor railing.

  Nick was in the courtyard, sitting by the pool and talking to two men, maybe two of his brothers? All three men were tall, dark, and handsome, but Nick was by far the biggest, and to me the most handsome.

  The one with his feet on the pool ladder was well built, too, and seemed to have a permanent grin on his face under what looked, from a distance, to be designer sunglasses. Knock-offs, no doubt. Or stolen. The other brother was thinner and looked nervous and jumpy.

  Between them, Nick’s broad body filled every inch of his chair, his long legs spread wide, and I felt a sharp pang of longing. An urge to jump off the balcony and into his lap.

  Even though I’d seen Nick almost every day since I’d found out the truth—I missed him. I missed him so much. This man. This big bear of a man. This gentle giant.

  But I couldn’t trust him.

  Still, his attempts to apologize had been wearing me down, and I wondered if he’d spotted the flowers in the pool. From up here, their pink and red blooms practically glowed against the green muck, but I wasn’t sure about the angle from his chair.

  His apology card had been sweet, if corny. A big-eyed cartoon kitten offering a slice of chocolate cake on the front, with the words “Can You Ever Forgive Me” inside, and a simple “Please,” in heavy printing below that.

  I’d nearly caved when I got that latest offering—especially since I felt bad about what I’d done with his chocolates.

  I sighed. I’d been dumb to imagine I could trust him.

  I was born without the happily-ever-after gene—or even the happy-for-a-little-while gene—but maybe it was time to cave and go back to the way things were between Nick and me before I freaked out. Back to sharing breakfasts and dinners, joking around—and most of all fucking.

  Nick might be a liar, but that didn’t mean we couldn’t have sex. Did it? Every man I’d ever known had been a liar, and yet I’d survived. All would be fine as long as I didn’t let myself get too attached.

  And now that I thought it through, it might be easier for me now Nick had shown his true colors, taking any possibility of a future off the table. He’d crushed my expectations minutes after I’d set them.

  Or was I rationalizing? Going with what my body wanted? Talking myself into a world of emotional pain for some physical satisfaction?

  I rubbed my legs together, trying to quiet the throbbing ache that was missing Nick. My phone rang.

  The well-built brother looked up, and I quickly stepped back from the railing, hoping I hadn’t been spotted.

  I glanced at the phone as I pushed open my apartment door.

  “Hey, Crystal,” I said. “Everything okay?”

  “I miss you,” she answered. “I wish you were living with me in Sunnyvale.”

  “I miss you too, kid.”

  “You wouldn’t believe how shitty the food is,” she said. “My roommates are terrible cooks. It’s like I have a choice of either getting fat or starving to death.”

  “Why eat their food? Why not do your own thing?”

  “You know I can’t cook.” She said this like I was being ridiculous. And maybe I was. If I’d been born without the relationship gene, Crystal had been born without the cooking gene. Not that I’d ever given her a chance to try.

  “I should have taught you.” I switched the phone to the other ear so I could open the fridge and grab some leftover pasta. If we’d had a mom, or if Frank were a legit grown-up, they would have taught us both to cook.

  Crystal told me about her classes and the boys she found cute as I took the lid off the glass storage dish, grabbed a fork, and started eating out of the bowl. Even cold, the pasta was good, the tomatoes bitingly fresh and the olives and capers adding just the right amount of acidity and salt. Although…

  I put Crystal on speaker, grabbed a small block of parm and a micro plane I’d found at a thrift store and grated cheese onto the dish. After thirty seconds in the microwave, it was perfect.

  “Be careful,” I told her as she described one of the boys she was crushing on. “You trust men too easily.”

  “No, I don’t,” Crystal said defensively. “And even if I do, it’s better than your way—never trusting anyone.”

  Touché, I thought, as I took another bite of pasta. Although I’d take my way over hers any day. Her way left her wallet exposed and open, her body unshielded from punches, and her heart laid out and ready to be crushed—all of which had happened to my little sister, more than once.

  “How’s the strip club business?” she asked.

  “Not as bad as I expected.” I popped an olive into my mouth.

  “At least you’re not a stripper,” Crystal said, and I could hear her turned-up nose through he
r voice. “That would be majorly depressing, not to mention disgusting.”

  I stayed silent. My sister didn’t need to know I planned to go on stage. If it turned out well, I’d tell her then. Or never.

  Melodie had coached me over the past week, and she’d coaxed Stan into letting me audition. Stan had approved, and soon I’d dance. I was nervous about it, but nothing could be as bad as dancing privately for our manager.

  Maybe that was Stan’s evil plan. Be so gross when the dancers auditioned that being on stage for the customers would be less disgusting in comparison.

  Stan was a creep, the way he looked at and touched the women in the club, the way he used his power as our boss to do whatever he wanted. If it hadn’t been for Nick, I’m not sure I’d have lasted one night in that club, never mind the two weeks I’d worked there.

  I’d only stayed the first night because of Nick’s lie.

  But if I was honest, Nick’s being there had given me a bigger reason to say. He made me feel safe. Knowing he was in the room helped me pretend to be confident and strong around the groping customers.

  Deep down, I also knew Nick was the reason I’d be able to go on stage to dance. He’d be in the audience, keeping me, and all the other girls, protected. And Nick would be there when I danced, his eyes on me as I seductively flaunted my body…

  I flashed back to my impromptu private dance for Nick, the dance that had led to—

  “What do you think?” Crystal asked.

  “About what?” I set my fork on the counter beside the half-eaten dish of pasta. “Sorry, I got distracted.”

  “I was saying… this friend of mine, Oliver? He has a car. If I borrow it, maybe we can go up to see Dad on Monday?”

  “Sure. Depending on my work schedule.” I had Monday’s off, but for some reason didn’t want to commit to Crystal, yet.

  “Great.”

  Someone knocked on my door. I was tempted to ignore it, but it might be Melodie, or the female cop I’d met in the laundry room. Apparently this place wasn’t entirely populated by criminals.

  What if it was Nick? My insides pulsed at that thought.

  “Gotta go,” I told Crystal.

  “‘Kay! Love you. Bye!” She ended the call before I could even respond.

  I stared at the door, hoping it wasn’t Nick.

  Not because I didn’t want to see him, but because of how badly I did.

  Seventeen

  Nick

  I stood in front of her door like an idiot. I was an idiot. An idiot about to totally humiliate himself.

  Except she’d already done that, hadn’t she? She’d thrown my flowers into the pool, and I couldn’t believe what she’d done to my chocolates. She’d likely done something horrible to the card, too, but I had yet to discover what. Maybe pieces of it were also at the bottom of the pool.

  I knocked on the door one final time, and it pulled away from under my knuckles. Phone in her hand, Jade had her wild dark hair tied back, showing off her fresh face and those cherry-red lips I wanted to devour.

  “Oh.” She frowned. “It’s you.”

  She started to close the door, but I blocked it with my body. She had a peephole and had probably known it was me. I had a sneaking suspicion that slamming the door in my face was some kind of performance.

  I kept one hip on the door, holding it open as she pushed from the other side. It took zero effort on my part, so she wasn’t pushing back hard.

  “Let’s have it,” she said. “What’s your pathetic offering this time? Balloons? Fruit basket? Mini muffins? Cupcakes?”

  “Maybe I should get you more chocolates,” I said. “Something happened to the first box.”

  She winced.

  “Whoever got ahold of your chocolates has serious anger issues.” I fought a grin. “I’m still trying to scrape chocolate out of the grout.”

  Jade had melted the chocolates, smeared some of them on my door, then somehow squished the rest, in the flattened box, under the threshold. I was going to have ant issues for months.

  Her expression hardened. “It’s too bad you don’t have a slave to scrub your grout.”

  “Speaking of slaves.” I leaned forward. “I have a proposition.”

  She eased up on the door a little, curiosity taking over her adorable face.

  “Come on, Jade. You’re not even going to let me in?”

  She backed up, and I followed her inside. As always, her place smelled fantastic—this time of garlic and cheese.

  “What are you cooking?” My stomach growled, even though Mac and I had shared two huge pizzas not an hour ago.

  Hands on her hips, she turned back. “I’m not your servant, Nick. Not anymore. I don’t need to cook for you, remember?”

  “Believe me. I remember. And I get why you’re angry, but I think I’ve figured out a way to make it up to you.”

  “I don’t know…” She leaned on the arm of the sofa, squeezing together her braless tits. “I’m not a very forgiving person.”

  “How about we turn the tables?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Turn them how?”

  “Turn them so I have to do anything you ask.”

  She sucked in a sharp breath and her eyes widened. “Anything I ask?”

  “Yes. Anything.” I emphasized the word to make my meaning clear.

  “For how long?” She bit her lower lip.

  My balls tightened. I hadn’t thought through the details. “Let’s say, twenty-four hours?”

  She folded her arms over her tits. “A month.”

  “A month! Come on. I owned up to you in three days.”

  “But you were lying. I was your servant under false pretenses. That makes it way worse.”

  “You drive a hard bargain, Jade Cuoco. How about a week?”

  “Sold.” She extended her hand to shake.

  Laughing, I took it. “A pleasure doing business with you.”

  “A pleasure?” After dropping my hand, she rubbed her palms together like an evil cartoon villain. “Are you sure about that? You have no idea what I plan to make you do.”

  “What do you have in mind?”

  A devious look came over her face. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  I backed toward the door. “Well, when you’re ready, you know where to find me.”

  “Wait a minute there, mister. Did you hear me dismiss you?”

  Trying not to laugh, I shook my head. I’d never treated her like a servant, not really. Still, I had a feeling she wasn’t going to worry about details like that. This wasn’t going to be a straight quid pro quo. Jade planned to make me suffer.

  “We’re going shopping,” she said. “Furniture shopping.”

  * * *

  Jade

  Nick waved over a handsome man who’d entered the store. Having a personal servant sounded fun, but I wasn’t sure what to demand of Nick, and felt guilty that he’d dragged one of his brothers into the mix to help carry the huge sofa I’d picked out at the thrift store.

  Nick had already carried two chairs and a dresser up and down the steep hills between here and Shady Oaks with relative ease, and I’d even made him take one of the chairs back and chose another—not because I cared, but because I wanted to make him do it. But I should have realized there was no way he could take home this extra-large sofa without help.

  Although… If Nick lifted it above his head and balanced it right… I sucked in a breath. His strength and power would never stop turning me on.

  “Hey, I’m Dillon.” The tall man barely looked at me as he shook my hand, his eyes partially hidden by a long flop of dark hair.

  “Thanks for helping.” I patted the leather sofa. “I really appreciate it.”

  “No sweat.” Dillon grinned.

  I finally recognized the family resemblance. With the same boyish smile, Dillon was a leaner, more brooding version of Nick.

  “Anything for my little brother’s sex slave,” Dillon said.

  “Sex slave?” I turned toward Nic
k.

  His cheeks turned red, and he glared at his brother.

  I turned back to Dillon. “Is that what he told you?”

  “No! I never…” Nick punched Dillon’s arm, then turned to me. “Honest, Jade. I never said that—ever.”

  “Yup.” Dillon was laughing. “Sex slave. Pretty sure that’s what he told us.”

  I shot my best glare at Nick, even though it was pretty clear Dillon was teasing.

  “I never once said that, Jade. Honest. Dillon, don’t be an asshole.” Nick was bright red and looked like he might pound his brother.

  “Don’t worry, Dillon.” I shrugged. “You guys got the sex slave part right. Just backward.” I turned to Nick. “On your knees and call me Mistress.”

  Nick’s brow furrowed, and his eyes opened with questioning alarm.

  “Don’t worry, sweet cheeks.” I slapped his ass. “I’ll let you off the hook. For now. Sofa moving is a higher priority. But as soon as we get home, put on your dog collar and assume the position.”

  The bell above the store’s entrance tinkled, and Nick nearly jumped out of his skin.

  Dillon grinned. “I cannot wait to tell the other guys about this.”

  “She’s kidding,” Nick told his brother. A young couple passed us, and Nick leaned in to whisper to me, “You are kidding, right?”

  “Am I?” I gave him a seductive look. “Guess you’ll have to wait to find out.”

  I suspected Nick would enjoy whatever I thought up in the sex-slave arena, so the longer I tortured him with worry, the better. I wasn’t interested in humiliating Nick, but he didn’t need to know that—yet.

  Back when I’d thought I owed him, he’d never once asked me to do anything I hadn’t done with pleasure. And looking back, it had been me who’d initiated the sex between us, also the cooking and cleaning. He’d never used his falsely obtained power for sex, but I wasn’t going to let that limit me.