The Bad Boys of Eden

by Avery Aster

  “Do you really think that’s what will happen?”

  Did she? Carissa considered the question, and then realized she didn’t doubt Jett’s sincerity for a minute. “No,” she begrudgingly admitted, “I don’t.”

  Carissa watched as Lauren took another sip—gulp, actually—of her drink. “Looks like I’m not the only one freaking out.”

  Lauren gave her a rueful grin. “You’re not. Do you believe in soul mates?”

  Carissa didn’t, but she wasn’t sure how to respond as she watched Lauren take another gulp of her drink, then set it down.

  Lauren saved her from having to answer. “I do. Or did. Or do.”

  “Which is it?” Carissa asked.

  “I do.” Lauren shrugged. “I’m here because the guy who I believe is my soul mate wants to reconnect.”

  “And that’s a bad thing?”

  “No. Well…maybe?” Lauren shook her head. “I don’t know. Honestly. I’m so confused at this point. I mean, I’ve been in love with this guy for six years, but what if I’ve only been pining after a memory? Is that even possible? He seems to be too good to be real.”

  “Is it possible that it is real?”

  Lauren quirked her lips and glanced behind her. “That’s what scares me. I came here to say goodbye, but I find myself falling head over heels again, just like before.” She finished the last of her drink and pushed the glass forward. “If my sisters were here, you know what they’d tell me?”

  Carissa shook her head, somewhat relieved to discover she wasn’t the only woman on Eden who was faced with a life-altering decision to make. It suddenly made Carissa feel a lot less lonely.

  “They’d tell me to take a chance. To trust in love.”

  Carissa was a bit jealous of Lauren and her sisters. She was an only child. It would be nice to have a sister to confide in over stuff like this. “Sounds like good advice.”

  Lauren didn’t seem to agree.

  Carissa took another sip of her drink, then leaned closer to the sweet woman. “Tell you what. Pretend I’m one of your sisters. But instead of telling you to trust in love, I’m going to tell you to trust your heart.”

  Lauren smiled at Carissa. “Then I’m going to do the same. Trust your own heart and see what happens.” Lauren pushed herself away from the bar. “Hopefully we’ll run into one another again.”

  Carissa hoped the same thing as she waved goodbye. She was considering Lauren’s advice and just about to order another drink when Jett appeared.

  Jett gestured to her empty glass. “I wondered where you disappeared to.”

  “Sorry. I met a really nice woman. We sat and had a drink.”

  The bartender came over. “Would you like another Miracle Cure?”

  Jett chuckled. “Miracle Cure, huh? I think I’m starting to understand. You’d been so mellow all afternoon, I thought we’d turned a corner. Have we entered the freaking-out stage of the day?”

  Carissa shot Jett a dirty look. “Don’t flatter yourself, hotshot.”

  Jett claimed the barstool next to her. “Set her up with another, please. And I’ll have a Corona.”

  The bartender nodded as he turned to get their drinks.

  Jett wrapped his arm around the back of Carissa’s stool. Her mind went straight to the gutter as he leaned closer. He was shirtless, wearing nothing but a bathing suit and flip-flops. Before they’d traveled to Eden, Carissa had never seen Jett without a shirt on. He was well defined, with a decent six-pack and just a smattering of hair on his chest. His skin was tan and glistening with a light sheen of sweat after spending a couple of hours in the sun. In a word, he was hot—literally and figuratively.

  Carissa was tempted to bend lower to swipe her tongue over one of his brown nipples. She shook the racy thought out of her head and searched for safer territory. “You never told me what you were writing this morning.”

  He shrugged. “A book.”

  She grinned widely. “Seriously?”

  Jett’s face morphed into one of pure delight. “Yep. I’m not sure what shook it loose, but I woke up this morning with an entire plot in my head. I couldn’t fire the laptop up quick enough to start slamming down some notes.”

  “Thank God.”

  “No, thank you. I’d lost faith in myself, Rissa. For the last few weeks, I’d seriously considered giving up writing completely.”

  “You would hate that, Jett.”

  He chuckled. “I know. You didn’t give up on me. Not once in six months. And more than that, you didn’t give me shit for being such a pain in the ass.”

  Carissa feigned confusion. “Wait? You mean you were acting more miserable than usual? I had no idea. So…when can I read what you’ve written?”

  Jett seemed to consider her request, then said, “When it’s done.”

  She frowned. “I don’t want to wait that long. You left me hanging in that last book. Does Riley get out of that burning building? Does he save his sister’s baby?”

  Jett grinned. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

  “You’re a cruel man.”

  He wrapped his fingers around her ponytail and tugged her closer, placing a quick, hard kiss on her lips. Carissa marveled at how quickly Jett could switch gears, taking them out of the friend zone and onto lover’s lane without blinking an eye.

  When she fell silent, Jett tilted his head and studied her face. His sexy grip in her hair kept her from avoiding his gaze. “Why is this so tough for you to accept, Rissa?”

  She closed her eyes, then moved forward, pressing her forehead against his. It wasn’t hard for her to imagine sleeping with Jett at all. But when she tried to play the scene out beyond their time on Eden, when she tried to imagine a life with Jett back home, she struggled to find the happy ending.

  Carissa would never have thought she’d set much stock by society’s class structure, but the fact remained she was a bartender, a girl who’d barely squeaked by in high school. She was only ever described as intelligent in relation to having street smarts. She didn’t have two pennies to rub together and before this week, she’d never ventured out of New Orleans. Hell, she’d never really wanted to travel. Her dreams were small because she’d learned a long time ago that they were a waste of time. Her feet were firmly set in reality and her world wasn’t much bigger than the four walls of the Royal Lunch.

  Jett lived on an entirely different plane. He never stopped reading, his nose forever buried in a book. He’d been away from New Orleans more than he’d been home the past few years. People sought his opinion on the judicial system, the government, military practices. He’d been asked to speak at countless engagements. Sometimes she’d overhear him talking about things she didn’t even know existed. And if she was being honest, she hadn’t bothered to learn more because it sort of bored her. Jett was handsome, successful, and worldly. She was simple.

  And while she’d never suffered much in terms of self-esteem, she knew that the differences between them, such as their lack of common interests, were bound to become an issue somewhere down the line.

  “Jett, you have a wonderful imagination, but the fact is you’re a bit of a dreamer. You’d have to be in order to write such incredible stories. But you’re going to have to understand that I can’t think that way. I’m too practical. Which means I see something you can’t.”

  He frowned. “What’s that?”

  “Not every story has a happily ever after.”

  Jett didn’t respond immediately. Instead he released her hair, picked up his beer and took a long swig. She watched his face clear, his expression unconcerned, as they finished their drinks in silence.

  Jett signed for the drinks, then reached over for her hand. She let him take it, confused by his easy acquiescence to her proclamation that things wouldn’t work out between them.

  “You ready to go?” he asked.

  “Where?”

  “Our room.”

  Carissa’s pussy fluttered at the way he said our and the wicked gleam in h
is eye. She should have known better than to think Jett would give up without a fight.

  “I might hang out here for a little while. Why don’t you go on up without me?”

  Jett chuckled, then tugged on her hand until she was forced to stand. “You can walk on your own or I can carry you. Preference?”

  She scowled. “I’m happy here, Jett. There’s nothing I want to do in the room.”

  He bent closer, taking her earlobe between his teeth and nipping sharply. “Liar.”

  Her nipples went on red alert, budding beneath her too-thin bikini top. Jett—the observant bastard—noticed immediately. “You don’t play fair.”

  She was about to throw caution to the wind and follow Jett to the room—common sense be damned—when a man dressed in a lightweight white shirt emblazoned with the Eden crest approached them.

  “Mr. Lewis. Ms. Pierre.”

  Jett took a step forward, slightly blocking Carissa from the stranger. She was touched by his protectiveness. He’d been shielding her in little ways all day—clearly not forgetting there was a killer on the island. Carissa felt the same tingle she’d experienced last night when Jett had bent her over the spanking bench in the dungeon. After a lifetime of taking care of herself, it was thrilling to have someone else claiming control.

  “Yes?”

  “I’m Mr. Sharpton, the manager of the hotel. The master of the island asked me to share this with you.”

  Jett took the file folder the manager proffered. “He said he hopes you’ll find the information helpful.” With that, Mr. Sharpton gave them a quick nod and left.

  Carissa and Jett stepped away from the bar to a more secluded area where they couldn’t be overheard. Opening the folder, Jett perused the papers inside, explaining it was the doctor’s notes in regards to the way Gregory was murdered.

  “So whoever killed him drugged him first?”

  “It would appear so,” Jett said in response to Carissa’s question.

  “That would have made it easier for a woman to bind Gregory to the chair. If he was incapacitated, he wouldn’t have put up much of a fight.”

  Jett continued flipping through the details. “And after the killer had Gregory bound, he made sure the man suffered.”

  “How so?”

  Jett grimaced as he read Dr. Magdalene’s notes. “The penis was cut off first.”

  “Yikes. I was sort of hoping for Gregory’s sake that had happened after he was dead.”

  “Me too.” Jett turned to the last page. “The doctor said the amount of blood lost indicates the stab to the heart came later…much later.”

  “So this murderer was pissed off and determined to make Gregory suffer.”

  “It sounds like it.” Jett studied a photograph.

  “What’s that?” Carissa asked.

  Jett flipped through the small stack of pictures, showing them to Carissa. “The security team took pictures of the crime scene. Given the splatter pattern around the chair, the killer must have been covered in blood.”

  “How do you think he got back into the hotel without anyone seeing all that blood on his clothes?”

  “I have no idea.” Jett closed the file folder. “But you’re not stepping foot in that dungeon tonight.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Jett released a long sigh. “Rissa, please try to see reason. We’re looking at a brutal killing. We have no idea what set this person off. We can’t assume the killer had any personal relationship with Gregory at all. You said it yourself last night. What if it’s someone who sees BDSM as an abomination and has it out for anyone who shows up at the dungeon?”

  Carissa shook her head. “No. I was just grasping at straws. Besides, that scenario doesn’t feel right to me. Whoever did this had a definite grudge against Gregory. It was personal.”

  “So let me go to the dungeon tonight alone. I’ll ask a few questions, and then come back up to our room where we can discuss what I learn safely. We’ll put the pieces together there.”

  “We can cover more ground if I come too, Jett. You can strike up conversations with the Doms, but let’s face it, the subs aren’t going to talk to you so openly. Unless you’re intending to play with them, of course.” Carissa tried to keep the jealousy out of her tone. But she failed miserably.

  “I’m not playing with anyone but you, Rissa.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You have serious issues when it comes to listening.”

  Jett gripped her hips, pulling her lower body forward until his crotch—and erection—brushed against her. “You’re right. I do. I’m much better at reading between the lines.”

  She tried to push away, but Jett’s grip was tenacious. Finally, she simply gave in. It was easier. And her resistance when it came to Jett was perilously low. “I’m going with you tonight.”

  Jett studied her face. From his chagrined expression, he knew he wouldn’t win. “Fine. But we’re playing it my way. You’ll go in as my collared sub. I don’t want another man even looking at you.”

  “Jealous much?”

  “Hell yeah. And determined to keep you safe. Any man in that place could be the killer, so you’re going to give them all a wide berth. Understood?”

  She nodded, her own unease growing. She’d volunteered them to go undercover for one very selfish reason last night. She had wanted a reason to return to the dungeon with him. One that didn’t involve having to admit she was falling in love with Jett.

  Now she realized there was no avoiding that inevitable outcome. So what she’d actually done was put them both in danger.

  Unfortunately, even if she admitted the mistake, Jett was determined to investigate the crime. He’d talked of little else today as they’d lounged in the sand, watching the waves lick the shore.

  His wheels were turning—analyzing all the clues and searching for motives. Jett’s knack for problem solving was part of what made him such an amazing crime writer. He could see all the angles and twists. Carissa had never once managed to figure out who the killer was in one of his books.

  “Come on, Rissa. Let’s head back to the room. We can discuss our plan of attack for tonight.”

  She took the hand he offered, relieved that with crime on his mind, at least Jett was distracted from his previous intentions. Seduction seemed to be off the table this afternoon.

  She’d dodged that bullet again.

  For the moment.

  Chapter Seven

  Jett sat at a table in the dungeon, watching as Carissa crossed the room to get him a drink from the bar. There were two unattached subs sitting at the counter—one the woman they’d seen with Gregory the previous night. Carissa had insisted on going over to strike up a conversation with the woman and Jett couldn’t come up with a good enough reason for her not to. Simply saying he didn’t want her more than two feet away from him wasn’t going to fly with his headstrong lady.

  He shifted in his seat, trying to covertly adjust his cock in his tight jeans. He’d been rock hard ever since Carissa had stepped out of the bathroom an hour earlier in the outfit he’d purchased for her in the boutique downstairs. Roan had told him during the tour of the dungeon last night about the boutique’s “back room,” that specialized in fetish wear.

  He’d dragged Carissa into the shop on their way back from the bar and picked out the sexy leather corset that zipped up the front, laced loosely down her back and framed her breasts perfectly. He’d thought she would balk when he finished the ensemble with a g-string, garters, black stockings and sexy fuck-me heels. Carissa hadn’t blinked twice. Once they got this messy business of murder out of the way, the two of them were going to explore every single one of his little submissive’s kinks.

  Glancing around the room, he spotted several Doms looking in Carissa’s direction. Fortunately, he’d been smart enough to add a collar to her outfit. Though BDSM was more play than lifestyle to him, he liked the idea of Carissa belonging to him more than he cared to admit.

  His feelings for her had snuck up on him, taking
him down like a ton of bricks falling on his head. In two days, he’d forgotten what it felt like to regard her as nothing more than a friend. He couldn’t figure out how he’d felt such lukewarm affection for her for so long. He’d been a blind fool, but those days were over.

  “She’s quite beautiful.”

  Jett looked up, surprised to see another Dom standing next to his table. He was usually more aware of his surroundings, but with Carissa in the room, everything else seemed out of focus.

  “Yes. She is.”

  The man gestured to a chair and Jett nodded. “Please. Join me. I’m Jett.”

  “Phillip,” the man responded as he claimed the seat Carissa had vacated a few minutes earlier. “Jett, huh? That’s an unusual name.”

  Jett had heard that a lot. “Yeah. I know. My mother wasn’t big on family names. If she heard a name she liked, that was it.”

  Phillip chuckled. “Only other Jett I’ve ever heard of is that author. Writes pretty good crime novels.”

  “Jett Lewis.”

  “Yeah, that’s it,” Phillip said. “You a fan?”

  Jett shrugged. “Sort of. I’m him.”

  Phillip reared back in his seat. “Is that right? How about that? I’ve read all your books. Haven’t seen one lately though. You got anything new out?”

  If he’d met this man two days ago, this conversation would have been a lot more painful. Today, however, he was a writer with a plot and the words were screaming to hit the page. “Not recently. But soon. I’m working on a story right now.”

  “I’ll look forward to it.”

  Jett glanced in Carissa’s direction to check on her.

  Phillip followed his gaze. “I saw you and your lovely lady here last night. She wasn’t collared.”

  Jett had been concerned someone would notice that fact. After all, Carissa had made quite an impression on the Doms last night. It wasn’t surprising the man had recalled her unattached status, especially if he’d been interested.

  “We traveled to Eden together. I wanted to solidify our relationship here.”

  “Very romantic.”

  Jett nodded. “Exactly.” Then Jett decided to test the waters. “At least Gregory isn’t here tonight to bother her again.”