A Real Bad Boy(49)

"You heard me. You come in here, acting like you're better than me. What's your deal, boy? Do you need another lesson?"

I could probably beat the shit out of him if I wanted, but that was the  last thing I needed to think about. My best bet was to get the fuck away  from him and do what I needed to do. We had a plan; it was going to  work. I just needed to let it happen.

But I couldn't shut my fucking mouth.

"My problem is that you only beckon to me when you absolutely need  something from me. I'm your goddamn son. Maybe you could show an  interest. Give a shit?"

He stared at me for a long moment and then he laughed. He fucking laughed. Right in my god damned face.

"You think I don't give a shit about you? I'm setting up a goddamn  empire for you, you ungrateful little shit. You never appreciated it.  You never appreciated me. And now you come walking in here like you  fucking own the place. Well, let me tell you, you ignorant little ass  wipe. I brought you into this world and I can sure as hell take you  out."

"I'd like to see you try."

"You want to make this a thing?" he said, his snarl very real. "I don't  think you want to get on my bad side, Janson Michael Mactavish."

It was meant to throw weight around, but it didn't mean a damn thing. He didn't mean a damn thing to me.

We were just two people who shared a name.

"You got anything else for me?" I asked again. I didn't want to continue  this conversation. I would take it to a place where I couldn't get back  from. We both knew it.

"Yeah, that's what I thought. Actually, I need you to pick up my dry  cleaning. Bring it to my place. Lacy will be there waiting."

Lacy was my twenty-three-year-old "stepmother". He seemed to trade up as  soon as they hit thirty, but this one was a real piece of fucking work.

He knew I hated her; this was my punishment. I would take it if it meant defusing the situation.

"Fine," I said as I stood. Fuck him. Fuck everything he stood for.                       
       
           



       

"Oh, and Janson?" he called to me.

"Yeah?" I asked. I was so done with him.

"Your job is to be loyal to Greyson, but your life depends on being  loyal to me. Don't fucking forget it." He grabbed up his cigar and took a  long puff.

I fought the urge to spit the sour feeling out of my mouth right onto his face. I needed to get the hell out of there.

So I turned and stormed off.

That man had the ability to make me feel like a petulant teenager even twenty years later.

But he would get what was coming to him.





Kathryn



All I had to do was confront my father. Go back home and live with him.  Convince him that I was a part of the family. Then steal right from  underneath him.

I sighed and thought sarcastically: That won't be hard at all.

Leaving Janson. That was going to be the hardest part. No one knew what  we were up to, and though I'd only spend a few nights with him, I didn't  want it to end. I didn't have the nightmares when he held me. I didn't  dream about my uncle when he was close. It was like he was a drug I'd  been looking for my entire life and I'd finally found.

He was the only one who could save me. I bit my lip and looked out the  windows down onto the street. I liked staying here. I didn't want to  leave. I didn't want to be in the house again.

But I did miss my mom. And my sisters.

I just wanted nothing to do with him.

It was a part of the plan. It would work out. At least, that was exactly what I needed to tell myself.

I wanted him gone.

I heard a slam on the door and looked up to see Janson coming through  the living room. He didn't even look at me. And then I noticed it. He  was fucking covered in blood.

"What the hell?" I asked as I walked through the kitchen towards him.

"It's fine. None of it is mine." He was heading towards the bathroom as he said it and that worried me more than anything else.

"Then whose is it?" I asked.

"Do you really want to know?" he said. When he looked back at me, his  eyes were so angry that I thought about saying no. I thought about  turning around and never looking back, but I couldn't do that. I  couldn't just walk away from this. So I swallowed hard, and I nodded.  "Yes. I want to know."

"I had a list of three men I had to fuck up. I made appointments. I went, I saw them. I fucked them up."

"Are any of them-"

"Dead?" he finished the question for me. "No. I didn't kill anyone. But  at least one of them is going to need a few weeks to recuperate."

"Orders?" I asked. I could've guessed as much, but he nodded at me. That told me all I needed to know.

"I'm a fucking demon." Janson was shell-shocked. For the first time in  my life, I saw the way a man felt after he'd caused an incredible amount  of pain to someone else. "It's not just that, baby girl. I craved it. I  craved each blow they took to their bodies. I caused it all. And I  liked it."

He wasn't shaking, but he was so calm. So quiet. It scared me.

"You need a shower," I said as I pushed him into the bathroom. I made  quick work of the blood-stained clothing and turned on the shower. It  was easier not to think about it. Not to think about the ways he made  them spill their blood.

He was a killer. The kind that did exactly what he was told and did it without mercy. I knew that.

Janson wasn't lying when he told me he was a monster. He really believed  that he was. Hell, a part of me believed that he was. Not because he  was one, but because he was made to become one. Because his father and  my father put him in that position.

The same position they put so many men in just for fun. Because it was  all about business and money. It was fucking ridiculous. My blood boiled  just thinking about all the things they made him do. And other men. Men  like Michael.

I started the shower and waited until it was warm enough.

"You shouldn't want to be here with me," Janson said as he stared at me.  He still looked so dangerous. Like he was fighting the urge to commit  more acts of violence. But he would never hurt me. He made that promise,  and I believed him.

"I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere," I said as I grabbed him and  pulled myself into him. He was covered in blood and dirt, and I didn't  care. The clothing could be replaced, and all of the stuff on his body  was temporary. It could all wash away. It would all wash away. He was  more important.

He was important to me.

He pulled me into the shower, the water of the multiple jets washing  over both our bodies. It was wonderful and sinful even in the moment. I  loved the way it felt against my skin. I loved the way he felt against  my skin.                       
       
           



       

We were in so deep, and I knew there was nothing we could do.

"You have no idea the shit I've been through, Kathryn." The words came  out slowly. One at a time. But I just wrapped my arms around his torso  and found a few of his scars. I fingered them softly. He was everything  I'd ever wanted. I'd always loved him.

And now I had him. All of him. Scars and all.

And I loved that about him.

"I do have some idea. Not the way you do. But I understand what and who  you are. And I don't care about all that. I know who you are. You are a  good man. You are a caring man. You want what is best for the people  around you. You know better than I what that can cost. What it has cost.  But I'm not walking away. Not now." I looked up into his eyes.

He winced, but he didn't look away.

"Are you sure about that?" he asked as he bent his head down. It was  clean now, and I wasn't afraid of his skin anymore. "Are you sure you  can handle me?"

"I'm as sure as I am ever going to be," I answered honestly. I reached up and ran a thumb over his jawline.

I loved this man. This crazy, strong, violent, scary man. I loved him. Nothing was going to change that.

I would do anything for him.

I would do everything for him.

He bent down and kissed me, his lips touching mine softly at first, but  then they morphed into something stronger. Filled with need and lust and  sadness and anger. All of the emotion he was feeling poured into me,  and made me realize just exactly what was going on in his head.

He was scared. He was angry.

Janson was feeling all the emotions I was, but they were so intense that  I could barely stand his touch. Yet I couldn't let it go. I couldn't  let him go.

I clung to him, the fall of water from the shower enveloping us both as  the warm rain coated our bodies. I didn't know how long we stood there  like that, clinging to each other, kissing deeply, but I knew that I  never wanted to be any other way. I belonged to him in that moment, and  he belonged to me.

And I was glad that we were together.

"I need you, Kat." He was so earnest in the way that he said it that it  almost brought tears to my eyes. "I don't know what life was before you.  I can't remember it. I just know that you have filled me with so much  need that I can't walk away. I want to make a life with you. For you. I  want to be a better man."