The Bad Ones (26 page)

Songs that I listened to while writing, songs that made me think of the story, and a couple that inspired actual scenes.

●
      
Secret – The Pierces

●
      
Teenage Dream – Katy Perry

●
      
Little Red Riding Hood – Sam the Sham and the Pharoahs

●
      
Can't Get You Outta My Head – Kylie Minogue

●
      
People Are Strange – The Doors

●
      
Psycho Killer – Talking Heads

●
      
Suicide Blonde – INXS

●
      
I Touch Myself – Divinyls

●
      
Bad Things – by Jace Everett

●
      
Song 2 – Blur

●
      
SAIL – Awolnation

●
      
Animal – Chase Holfelder (Neon Trees cover)

●
      
My Songs Know What You Did in the Dark – Fall Out Boy

●
      
Bleeding Love – Leona Lewis

●
      
Kokomo – The Beach Boys

This wasn't one of those books I had in the back of my mind, or on the back burner ready to go, or anything like that – it was really as simple as I saw a house.

Okay, maybe not that simple.

Many months ago (a year, maybe?) Jennifer L. encouraged me to sign up for the Rebels & Readers Author Event in West Virginia. So I did it. I love going to places I've never been before, so I thought of it as like an adventure.

I absolutely fell IN LOVE with West Virginia. It was November, but for this Alaskan chick, the weather was still warm, just perfect for me. The town was quaint and lovely, and the countryside absolutely stunning. I brought a friend with me and we decided to drive around for an entire day, going out to see our first ever Piggly Wiggly's, some covered bridges, and the super spooky Trans-Allegheny Lunatic Asylum.

While on the highway, I spotted this large house in a town somewhat below us. It stood out simply because it was the largest dwelling, but also because it was all white, with dark shutters and roofing. Very nice, with columns in the front. Then maybe a mile or two down the way, on the opposite side of the highway, there was a small trailer park. My friend and I started joking about how the mayor lived in the “fancy house”, and how his son was probably the star quarterback, and how he had a crush on one of the “weird chicks” from the trailer park. It was really that simple. Standard N.A.

So I don't know where Dulcie and Con came from, but I'm very glad for them, and even more glad that Jennifer thought of me for that signing event.

This book was truly like one long, 80,000 word, primal scream therapy. Frustrations with the writing world, with the industry, with my personal life, all of it kind of came out in this book. I told my critique partner I didn't think I had enough for a “full novel”, but I didn't care. I said “I'm just going to write whatever comes out of me, then if it's 50,000 words, so be it, I have a novella. If it's 130,000, whatever, I wrote War and Peace, I don't care. I'm just going to write the shit out of this.”

And so Constantine Masters was born.

So many people to thank. Of course, Ratula, for my eight million messages about Tiny Dog and random thoughts and how best to deal with crazy husbands and the random projectile vomit. Sunny, for always making me laugh and loving Con quite possibly more than I do. Jo and Beatriz and Rebeka, for our group chats and silliness.

My beta readers and all they do – Angie, I would be lost with you. Rebecca, Rebeka, and Rebecca! This is getting out of control. Letty and Jo and Sunny and Ratula, I simply couldn't do it without all your feedback and help.

Christine at Shh Mom's Reading, for handling ALL my tours, over a year and a half later! I adore you and the way you handle your business. Thanks for always making it easy for me, because I know it's not easy for you, and it really means a lot.

Najla Qamber, who has made every single book cover, every single Facebook banner, and every single professional teaser. Two years running – I'm not going away any time soon! Thanks for your amazing attention to detail and the stunning covers you turn out.

To all the blogs that share and promote and read and do all that you do – to the events, to Teaser Tuesdays, to reviews, to … everything. You are everything. Thank you for helping me do what I love.

To the readers – your kind words and thoughts mean everything. It's been an interesting journey! Thanks for keeping life adventurous. I hope I keep bringing you stories that you enjoy.

To my friends – it's been an interesting year. Thanks for sticking with me and letting me do my thing. I'm not the easiest person at the best of times. At challenging times? Well …. just …. thank you. So much.

And to Mr. F. Seventeen years we've known each other. Here's to seventeen more. Thanks for being you, and for letting me be me. Two of the most important things in my world. Words aren't enough to express how important you've been in my journey.

DEGRADATION

Available Now

If you haven't met Jameson Kane yet, read below for a sneak peek …

~excerpt~

Tatum plucked at her shirt in a nervous manner. She had tucked it into a tight pencil skirt and even put on a pair of sling back stilettos. If someone had personally requested her, she wanted to make an effort to look nice. She had blown out her hair and put curls in the ends, and toned down her make up. Even she had to admit it, she looked presentable.

For once.

Men in expensive business suits began to file into the conference room and she stood still, giving a polite smile to everyone who entered. A team of lawyers was meeting with their client. Six chairs were lined up on one side of a long table, with just a single chair on the other side.

Tate had been positioned at the back of the room, next to a sideboard filled with goodies and coffee and water. She fussed about, straightening napkins and setting up the glasses. When all six chairs were filled on the one side, she stared at their backs, wondering who the big shot was that got to stare them all down. The person who would be facing her. A door at the back of the room swung open and her breath caught in her threat.

Holy. Shit.

Jameson Kane strode into the room, only offering a curt smile to his lawyers. His eyes flashed to her for just a second, then he looked back. His smile became genuine and he tipped his head towards her, almost like a bow.

She gaped back at him, positive that her mouth was hanging open. What was he doing there!? Had he known she would be there? Had he been the one to request her? Impossible, he didn't know what temp agency she worked for – but what would be the chances? She hadn't seen him in seven years, and now twice in two days.

Tate felt like swallowing her tongue.

“Gentlemen,” Jameson began, seating himself across from the lawyers. “Thanks for meeting with me today. Would anyone care for any coffee? Water? The lovely Ms. O'Shea will be helping us today.” He gestured towards Tate, but no one turned around. Several people asked for coffee. Jameson asked for water, his smile still in place. It was almost a smirk. Like he knew something she didn't.

She began to grind her teeth.

She delivered everyone's drinks, then carried around a tray of snacks. No one took anything. She moved to the back of the room, refilled the water pitcher. Tidied up. Felt Jameson staring at her.

This is ridiculous. You're Tatum O'Shea. You eat boys for breakfast.

But thinking that made her remember when he had said something very similar to her, and she felt a blush creep up her cheeks.

She was pretty much ignored the whole time. They all argued back and forth about what business decisions Jameson should, or shouldn't, make. He was very keen on dismantling struggling companies and selling them off. They tried to curb his desires. His tax lawyer explained how his tax shelter in Hong Kong was doing. Another lawyer gave him a run down on property law in Switzerland. Tate tried to hide her yawns.

They took a five minute break after an hour had passed. Tate had her back to the room, rearranging some muffins on a tray, when she felt the hair on the back of her neck start to stand up. She turned around in slow motion, taking in Jameson as he walked up to her.

“Surprised?” he asked, smiling down at her.

“Very. Did you ask for me?” she questioned. He nodded.

“Yes. You ran away so quickly the other night. I wanted to get reacquainted,” he explained. She laughed.

“Maybe I didn't,” she responded. He shrugged.

“That doesn't really matter to me. What are you doing tonight?” he asked. She was a little caught off guard.

“Are you asking me out, Kane?” she blurted out. He threw back his head and laughed.

“Oh god, still a little girl.
No.
I don't ask people out. I was asking what you were doing tonight,” Jameson replied.

She willed away the blush she felt coming on. He still had the ability to make her feel so stupid. She had been through so much since him, come so far with her esteem and her life. It wasn't fair that he could still make her feel so small. She wanted to return the favor. She cleared her throat.

“I'm working.”

“Where?”

“At a bar.”

“What bar?”

“A bar you don't know.”

“And tomorrow night?”

“Busy.”

“And the night after that?”

“
Every
night after that,” Tate informed him, crossing her arms. He narrowed his eyes, but continued smiling.

“Surely you can find some time to meet up with an old friend,” he said. She shook her head.

“We were never friends, Kane,” she pointed out. He laughed.

“Then what is it? Are you scared of me? Scared I'll eat you alive?” he asked. She stepped closer to him, refusing to be intimidated.

“I think
you're
the one who should be scared. You don't know me, Kane. You never did.
And you never will,
” she whispered. Jameson leaned down so his lips were almost against her ear.

“I know what you feel like from the inside. That's good enough for me,” he whispered back. Tate stepped away. She felt like she couldn't breathe. He did something to her insides.

“You, and a lot of other people. You're not as big a deal as you think,” she taunted. It was a complete lie, but she had to get the upper hand back. He smirked at her.

“That sounds like a challenge to me. I have to defend my honor,” he warned her. She snorted.

“Whatever. Point to the challenger then,
me.
Defend away,” she responded, rolling her eyes.

He didn't respond, just continued smirking down at her. The lawyers began filing back into the room and Jameson took his position on the other side of the table. She wasn't really sure what their little spar had been about, or what had come out of it. She was just going to try to get through the rest of the conference, and then she would scurry away before he could talk to her again. She didn't want anything to do with Jameson Kane, or his -,

“Ms. O'Shea,” his sharp voice interrupted her thoughts. Tate lifted her head.

“Yes, sir?” she asked, making sure to keep her voice soft and polite.

“Could you bring me some water, and something to eat,” he asked, not even bothering to look at her as he flipped through a contract.

She loaded up a tray with his requests and made her way around the table. No one even looked at her, they just threw legal jargon around at each other – a language she didn't know. She stood next to Jameson and leaned forward, setting his water down and then going about arranging cheese and crackers on a plate for him. She was about halfway done when she felt it.

Are those ... his fingers!?

Tate froze for a second. His touch was light as he ran his fingers up and down between her legs. She glanced down at her knees and then glanced over at him. He was still looking down, but she could see him smirking. She tried to ignore him, tried to go back to setting up his food, but his hand went higher. Daring to brush up past her knees, well underneath her skirt. He couldn't get any farther, not unless he pushed up her skirt, or sunk down in his chair. She dumped the rest of the cheese on his plate and started to scoot away. She had just gotten back to her station when she heard a thunking noise, followed by groans.

“No worries. Ms. O'Shea! So sorry, could you get this?” Jameson's voice was bored sounding.

She turned around and saw that he had knocked over his water glass. He was blotting at the liquid as it spread across the table. The lawyers were all holding their papers aloft, grumbling back and forth.

Tate groaned and grabbed a towel before striding back to the table. She glared at him the whole way, but he still refused to look at her. She started as far away from him as she could get, mopping everything up, but eventually she had to almost lean across him to reach the mess. She stood on her toes, stretching across the table top.

As she had assumed it would, his hand found its way back to her legs. Only this time he wasn't shy, and her position allowed for a lot of access. His hand shot straight up the back of her skirt, his fingertips brushing against the lace of her panties.

She swallowed a squeak and glanced around. If any of the other gentlemen lifted their heads, they would have been able to see their client with half of his arm up his assistant's skirt, plain as day. He managed to run his finger under the hem of her underwear, down the left side of her butt cheek, before she pulled away. She stomped back to the food station, throwing the towel down with such violence, she knocked over a stack of sugar cubes.

When she turned around, Jameson was finally looking at her. She plunked her fists on her hips, staring straight back. His smirk was in place – as she had expected it would be – and he held up a finger, pointing it straight up.
One
. Then he pointed at himself. One point.
Tied
. He thought they were playing a game. She hadn't wanted to play games with him, but she hated to lose at
anything
, and she never wanted to lose to a man like Jameson Kane.

An idea flitted across her mind. Tate wanted to make him as uncomfortable as he had just made her feel. She coolly raised an eyebrow and then took her time looking around the room. The lawyers all still had their backs to her – not one of them had turned around the entire time she'd been there. Blinds had been drawn over every window, no one could see in the office, but she knew the door wasn't locked. Anyone could walk into the room. She took a deep breath. It didn't matter anyway, what was the worst that could happen? She would get fired? It was a temp job, that Jameson had requested her for – he didn't even work there. Did she really care what happened?

She dragged her stare back to meet his and then ran her hands down the sides of her skirt. He raised an eyebrow as well, his eyes following her hands. When she got to the hem of the skirt, she pressed her palms flat and began to slowly,
achingly
, slide the material up her legs. Now both his eyebrows were raised. He flicked his gaze to her face, then went right back to her skirt. Higher, up past her knees. To the middle of her thighs. Higher still. If anyone turned around, they would be very surprised at what they saw. One more inch, and her skirt would be moot. Jameson's stare was practically burning holes through her.

Taking short, quick, breaths through her nose, Tate slid her hands around to her butt. She wiggled the material up higher back there, careful to keep the front low enough to hide her whole business, and was able to hook her fingers into her underwear. She didn't even think about what she was doing, couldn't take her eyes off of Jameson, as she slid her underwear over her butt and down her hips. As the lace slid to her ankles, she pushed her skirt back into place. Then she stepped out of the panties and bent over, picking them up. When she stood upright, she let the lace dangle from her hand while she held up one finger. Point.

Winning.

Jameson nodded his head at her, obviously conceding to her victory, then returned his attention to the papers in front of him. Tate let out a breath that she hadn't even realized she was holding, and turned around, bracing her hands against the table. She leaned forward and took deep breaths. She had just started to gain some ground on slowing her heart rate, when a throat cleared.

“What is that, Ms. O'Shea?” Jameson called out from behind her. She spun around, balling up her underwear in her fist.

“Excuse me, sir?” she asked.

“That,” he continued, gesturing with his pen at her. “In your hands. You have something for me. Bring it here.”

Now everyone turned towards her. Tate held herself as still as possible, her hands clasped together in front of her legs, hiding the underwear between her fingers. All eyes were on her. Jameson smirked at her and leaned back in his chair. She took a shaky breath.

“I don't know what -,”

“Bring it here, Ms. O'Shea,
now,
” he ordered, tapping the table top with his pen. She glared at him.

Fuck this.

She turned around and pulled one of the silver trays in front of her. She laid her panties out neatly on top, making sure the material was smooth and flat. She was very thankful that she had gone all out and worn her good, expensive, “
I'm-successful-and-career-oriented!
”, underwear. She balanced the tray on top of her fingertips and spun around, striding towards their table, a big smile on her face.

“For you, Mr. Kane,” she said in a breathy voice, then dropped the tray in front of him. It clattered loudly and spun around a little before coming to a rest, the panties sliding off to one side.

As she walked away, she could hear some gasps. A couple laughs. A very familiar chuckle. When she got to the door, she pulled it open before turning back to the room. A couple of the lawyers were gawking at her, and the rest were laughing, gesturing to the display she had just put on; Jameson was looking straight at her, his smirk in place. She blew him a kiss and then stomped out the door.