Ex-Con: Bad Boy Romance (2 page)

I’m a healthy, warm-blooded male, so yeah, I looked. And I wanted to grab them a damn coat. It was freezing. I was shivering in the threadbare coat I’d found in a secondhand store back when the winter had moved in on us, and I was still freezing my ass off. Under that pathetic excuse for a coat, I had on a flannel and T-shirt and I was
still
freezing. How could they stand to be out here in what little they were wearing?

I guessed the alcohol helped.

One of the young women looked up at that moment and caught my eye. A slow smile curled her lips, and a hint of appreciation twisted through me, but I just kept on walking.

That place had a dress code and dollar limit even for their outside venue that I couldn’t afford. If I had to drink, it was going to be some of the cheapest shit beer available. My money had to stretch, and my taste buds could survive.

Up ahead, a couple of cop cars sat, lights flashing.

It was instinct that had me turning left on Fifth. There were more of them the next block up, and I hooked another left, swearing as it led me back to Fourth. I made a right and strode past the ritzy Seelbach. I didn’t bother to look at the hotel. That was where the high-rollers stayed. Around Derby time, this place got crazy, but it was only the first week of April, so it shouldn’t have been lunatic crazy.

Except it was.

I dodged a couple of reporters and ducked my head, scowling as I waded through the mass of people. Dammit, I’d gone that way to avoid people.

I was so busy trying to
avoid
that I missed seeing
her
right up until she crashed into me.

I caught her arms, trying to steady her.

She was a cute little mess of blonde curls and the kind of curves our society likes to mock. The kind of curves I actually preferred.

For one brief second, we stared at each other and I thought…
wow
. Then I thought
whoa
, because she tore away, quicker than that dynamite body should've been able to go. Even as she was moving away, my brain started picking at the puzzle.

She was familiar.

Why was she familiar?

She moved so fast, I was left standing there with my hands in mid-air while I pondered the question. Lowering my hands, I looked up to see if I could find her, and then swore, lunging for her just as she took a step onto the road.

We ended up sprawled on the street with me half on top of her. “The fuck’s the matter with you?” I growled at her as the car laid on its horn, speeding by without even slowing down. Big shock there. Asshole driver. “You want to end up dead or what?”

She glared at me. “Get off of me, you idiot.”

I narrowed my eyes. I'd just saved her life. I wasn’t expecting a reward or anything, but being called an idiot didn't really seem like an appropriate way of thanking me.

“Carly!”

She didn’t even turn her head, although I had no doubt who they were talking to since her entire body went tense beneath me.

“You got a death wish?” I asked. I started to shove off her, my weight going to my hands. Then my body kicked on, sending a loud and clear message to my brain that maybe I didn't want to move. Fuck.

“Get. Off. Me,” she said, enunciating each word like she thought I was slow.

“With. Pleasure,” I said, echoing her speech pattern and drawing my words out more than normal. The Eastern Kentucky twang came through more thickly as I took care to enunciate those two words.

Her eyes narrowed as I pushed off her and settled on my heels, offering her a hand to help her up. Her dark pink dress was now streaked with grit from the road. The pink was pretty, not garish. It made me think of roses. I’d bet my last nickel that the dress was trashed now. Expensive stuff wasn't made to last.

She didn’t accept my hand, sitting up slowly on her own. She was just a few inches from me and when I breathed in, I caught a headful of her scent.
Wow
and
whoa
echoed inside me again.

She licked her lips.

I glanced down at her mouth and had the fleeting desire to kiss her, trace my tongue across those gorgeous lips.

Then she could slap me, and maybe even press charges.

That would cap off my night just right.

But I was still considering it, might have even put some real thought into doing it, except somebody shouted her name again.

She still didn’t look away.

I cocked my head. “Carly,” I murmured.

She lifted an eyebrow. In contrast to her goldilocks blonde, her eyebrows were strong, dark arches over eyes of vivid blue. A sexy combination, especially when combined with that little mole by the right corner of her mouth. “It’s
Carly
—not
Carralee
.”

“Carly,” I said, taking care to draw it out again. I smirked. “That’s what I said.”

She gritted her teeth. “Are you always this obnoxious?”

Before I had a chance to answer, two men grabbed me from behind. That was their first big mistake. I’d been grabbed from behind before. A man couldn't do time and not get grabbed from behind.

I reacted more out of instinct than anything else, and it ended only a few short seconds later. One of them was doubled over, coughing, struggling to catch his breath. The other was faster, and he’d figured out quickly I wasn’t some dumb-ass who couldn’t fight. But in less than a minute, I had him bent over with his arm twisted up behind his back.

“You move,” I warned. “I break it.”

I was dead serious. When it came to fighting, I was always dead serious.

The sound of someone behind me caught my attention, and I looked up, never easing the pressure I had on the man’s arm.

The second man squinted up at me as he struggled to catch his breath. “You’re going to jail over this, you know. Might as well make it easy on yourself.”

I laughed at him. It wasn’t a pleasant sound. I could tell by the way his mouth tightened. “I’m going to jail because I reacted when you two tried to jump me? You know the laws in this state? Just back the hell off.”

Chances were, I would go back to jail because of this, but these assholes didn’t need to go throwing their weight around just because they were rich. Except I didn't get the chance to find out exactly what would've happened because I suddenly found myself being accosted.

A huge bag hit me in the head and I almost lost hold of my captor. I turned my head, gaping down at Carly. I had to blink twice to bring her into focus and I knew I was going to have a nasty headache later. “What the hell is the
matter
with you?” I demanded.

“Let him go!” She brandished her purse at me.

I snarled. “I swear, if you–”

The man I held tensed.

I reacted.

There was a particularly sickening noise a bone made when it broke. I’d heard that sound more often than I cared to admit, and it turned my stomach every damn time. But as I’d rather the sound came from somebody else instead than me, and I didn't give empty warnings, I had no choice.

As he howled in pain, I let him go. He'd be down for at least a minute, most likely more since I hadn't gotten a super-soldier kind of vibe off of them.

Then Carly swung her purse at me again.

I swore and caught the damn thing, throwing it down. “What is your problem?!” I shouted.

That’s when everything went crazy.

The man still standing rushed to put himself between the two of us.

Some guy with a camera practically tackled Carly, and I grabbed him, throwing him back.

The dude with the broken arm surged to his feet, cradling his arm but struggling to get between Carly and the crowd. Dimly, I realized what was going on. Reporters. Something else clicked too.

Carly was somebody important. Or at least somebody the reporters wanted a piece of.

So I did the only thing I could do.

I’d caused this mess. Only seemed right to help fix it if I could.

Another reporter nosed in and I grabbed him, shoved him back. Did the same thing over and over as I cleared a path between me and the men who fought to keep between Carly and the horde. She was pale and furious, and when her eyes met mine, I could tell she wished she had the room to hit me with her purse again.

If she had the chance, I planned on giving her a free shot.

One bearded burly guy with a camera shoved in close. So close that the lens of his camera came within inches of her heart-shaped face, and I was near enough to hear her startled intake of air.

That was it.

I shoved between them, blocking his view of her. “Back off,” I growled.

“Freedom of the press,” he said, grinning madly.

Then he shoved me.

“Yeah?” I glowered down at him, using every inch of my size to show him that I didn't give a rat's ass about what he thought he knew. “You just put your hands on me. I’m pretty sure freedom of the press doesn’t cover that. So what are you going to do when I lay you out – in self-defense, of course – and you spend the night in the hospital?”

“Are you threatening me?” He shoved his face into mine once more and this time, he used a thick, stubby finger to drill a hole into my chest.

I didn’t touch him. Just sneered. “No, limpdick. I’m telling you that if you touch me again, I’m going to defend myself, and it will involve a whole world of pain for you.”

“Touch me and your ass will go to jail.”

“Won’t be the first time. And I can guarantee you, the pain I bring
you
will be worth every minute of it.”

I smiled as I said it, pushing aside the knot in my stomach at the thought of going back. On the plus side, I'd get three square meals and I wouldn't be freezing my ass off.

He must have seen the truth on my face, because his eyes flickered away and I saw him swallow, watched as he fell back a pace.

In the next moment, a group of black-suited men surrounded us. I found out a few minutes later that they were security from the hotel.

I blew out a breath and waited for them to call the cops on me.

I wasn’t going to take off running. That didn’t ever go well, and there were cameras around here. My face would've been captured already, and I’d be identified in no time.

But as I huddled, freezing, against the wall, the two men in their very expensive suits spoke with the blonde firecracker and the other suits...and no flashing lights came. Well, not exactly. An ambulance came. The man whose arm I’d broken stubbornly shook his head and my respect for him grew again. No super-soldier, but he was dedicated, and that meant a lot.

“I’ll go in a bit. In a cab. Not now,” he said.

“Jake!”

That came from Carly.

“No, I’m staying,” he said, and shot me a glare.

I smiled serenely back at him. He flipped me off and I couldn't say I blamed him.

A few minutes later, I was ushered into the glittering golden beauty that was the Seelbach.

We weren’t in the lobby long before we were whisked into an elevator. It got quiet as the doors slid close, and that's when I realized that they were all working very hard at not looking at me. I hated awkward silences. As it stretched out, I finally cleared my throat and looked over at Carly. “Look, if ya'll aren’t calling the cops on me, can I just go?”

Carly cocked her head.

I stared at her. Hard. “If you are calling the cops, just do it.” I shrugged. “They really are the only option because if you’re looking to sue me, the only things I got are the clothes on my back, two or three more pairs of jeans and a few more shirts. Oh, and a couple of blankets, some dishes I got at a yard sale, and a few second-hand books.” I pulled my check out of my pocket. “This is pretty much all I've got that's worth anything.”

Now
all
of them were looking at me.

Carly’s mouth fell open.

I wasn’t embarrassed. What was the point? The truth of it was, I had more now than I’d had for a good long while. I had some clothes, I had a few books, and I had a roof over my head. More importantly, I had no bars around me.

“Are you serious?” she asked, her voice hardly more than a whisper.

I thought about the list I’d given her, then shrugged. “There’s a couch and a backpack. The table isn’t mine. Came with the apartment.” I rubbed my hand on my chin and felt my stubble scratch at my palm. “Not exactly the sort of thing you’d lie about. So if you’re looking to sue me about what I did to your arm, man...” I slanted a look at the man cradling his broken arm. “I can’t give you shit.”

He ran his tongue across his teeth and then looked away. “I have insurance. Don’t sweat it.”

Now it was my
turn to look surprised. “Don’t sweat it?” I echoed.

Sweat beaded on his pale brow and he managed a pained smile. “You heard me. Just tell me one thing…what style of fighting did you study?”

Style? I arched my brows and studied him. Then I grinned. “The school of hard knocks taught me, man. The school of hard knocks.”