Bad Boy’s Revenge(35)

Except for a few.

Some of the pages were stamped VOID. I wasn’t sure why they were kept, or why they were stapled to the official paperwork. No one ever said Delta wasn’t organized—even if most of Saint Christie politely referred to her as dedicated instead of OCD, just like her mother.

But something was weird with the pages. Both the voided copy and official were signed by the adjustor. The official paper detailed the police findings—citing ARSON in bolded letters as the cause of the fire. I checked the second. That was the same. And they both detailed the same method—electrical tampering.

Except the voided copy included two additional words.

INSURANCE FRAUD.

“What in the world…” I stared at the page. It didn’t make any sense. I flipped to the official copy. Those words were missing, and the paper was signed and stamped a day later.

Weird.

I reached for my phone to call Delta and ask about the discrepancy, but a violent knocking rattled my door once more.

I leapt from the bed, clutching the reports. I couldn’t catch my breath, and the hope surged through me, mending a heart that shattered like peanut brittle and the guilt that poisoned me in bitter regret.

Maddox.

I had stripped to my tiny tank top and boy cut panties for bed, but I didn’t bother dressing. I raced to the door. The pounding hadn’t stopped.

Maybe Delta called him. God bless her meddling. She wouldn’t let me be alone and pregnant, even if she didn’t trust Maddox.

My fingers trembled over the chain. Maybe he came back on his own? Maybe he knew? Realized I needed him? That…we needed him?

The door burst open, shattering the old lock. I leapt back, but the intruder grabbed me before I had time to react. The handkerchief was stuffed over my mouth. It smelled horrible, and I struggled against the cloth. I ran, but the man caught me, wrapping me in his arms from behind. I reared back, head butting his nose.

He swore.

It wasn’t Maddox’s voice, but I recognized it.

His words crashed around me as I dropped in his arms and fell into a dark and terrible nightmare.





Chapter Eighteen - Maddox



I meant to forget her.

I thought I’d get over her.

I hoped I could live without her.

Fucking bullshit.

How the hell was I supposed to breathe without her sugared, honey scent? I couldn’t sleep without dreaming of her. Couldn’t eat without imagining the desserts she used to stuff in me. Couldn’t dress without remembering the heat of her hands.

Couldn’t speak without feeling an imaginary brush of her lips.

Couldn’t exist without understanding why she would betray me, destroy me, damn me.

Why she thought that was the only way to protect me?

Fourteen nights on the road hit me harder than the year in prison. At least then iron bars and guards and the law kept me from Josie’s bed.

Now?

For two weeks, I’d lived out of a cheap motel with a pre-paid cell phone and the last hundred dollars in my wallet. I gave the chief two grand before I left. It wasn’t enough to buy Chelsea’s freedom, but it convinced him to leave her in peace until I could find some money.

Wherever that would come from.

When I got to the city, Ironfield welcomed me home with a piercing rain shower and an attempted mugging. I blackened the eye of the asshole who tried to knife me, and then I chased him to steal the blade. Some instincts died hard, but the streets had once been my old job. I did whatever I could to survive, and I wasn’t proud of any of it. Josie only ever knew what she had to know. I vowed I wouldn’t corrupt that cupcake any more than necessary.

Though the lies had corrupted her all the same.

The world wasn’t made of chocolate; it reeked of shit. Except that I hated teaching her that lesson. If anyone needed rose-tinted glasses, it was my little sugar plum fairy with the piping bag of pink icing.

I’d asked around for the usual jobs. Shady, immoral bullshit that would never come with a 401k or healthcare. Once, I protected as many whores as I shook down pimps, and I dealt in as many drugs as I muled. As long as it paid, I’d do it.

But something stopped me. Running guns and kicking the shit out of debtors worked for earning the money I needed to pay off the chief, but it wouldn’t rebuild the walls of Sweet Nibbles.

If I ever went back.

Why the fuck did I leave?

So I stole a paper from a diner and hunted through the pages for a decent job. I circled the electrical work, but I never thought I’d get a call.

Doubted more that they’d take me on.

First time for everything.

Some prick named Sam hired me. He didn’t give a shit about my record, just wanted a certified electrical subcontractor who’d keep his mouth shut and get paid under the table. It sounded great, except the job was in some little pet shop in the middle of Ironfield. One of the districts that hadn’t been updated in thirty years.

I took one look at the shop and considered taking up dealing again. Sam hoisted his pants over a beer belly and rubbed a mustache that was missing a leather cut and motorcycle.

“You gotta be kidding.” I pointed to the mess of a breaker box. “I can’t rewire this.”

“Don’t want you to,” Sam said. “Just change the covers on the outlets.”

Gut instinct was a bitch. This job was more crooked than drugs. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. In and out, and you get your money.”

“This whole system is a fire hazard. The connectors are probably worn to shit. I’ve seen it before. Give it time and the whole box will short out and burn. Bust up a couple connectors, and she could collect her insurance money.”

“Just replace the goddamned plates,” Sam said. “Now.”

And risk my fucking certification? Hell no. “Screw you. You set your own death trap.”

“No one’s asking you to play fire marshal.”

“You’re lucky I don’t call him in here.”

I flipped him off as I stormed out. My record was ruined already. If I got pinned to a job with another electrical fire?

Fuck it. Once was enough.

Hell, I still couldn’t believe Josie’s shop burned the way it did. She never had an issue with the building or health codes. All her equipment was top of the line, too new for fraying cords. How the hell did the arsonist even set it on fire? Not like Matthias left him a detailed instruction manual on the store’s outdated circuits.

My chest seized.

I nearly walked into traffic and got my ass kicked by a bus.

In that moment, I knew exactly what had happened that night.

I knew how the arsonist did it and why I was framed.

Revelation felt a hell of a lot like a screwdriver touching a live wire. What the hell was I supposed to do? I had to get back to Josie. She deserved closure. I needed…

Anything.

Just an excuse to see her again. She held my heart, and the aching pit in my chest festered and ached without it. I couldn’t think straight when I was separated from her.

How the hell was I going to tell her the truth?

She hurt me, betrayed me, but I couldn’t protect her anymore. She had a right to know what had happened—even if it killed her.

It was late when I made it to her apartment, later by the time I worked up the courage to approach her steps. Like a ball-less asshole, I twisted with cowardice and shame.

How had we fucked this up so badly? She forgave me when I offered my services to Nolan, even when she knew I was in danger every second I let that bastard near.

She had been scared. Helpless. And she understood me better than I knew myself. No matter what I said, no matter how much I swore, nothing would have stopped me from murdering Nolan a year ago.

She didn’t put me in jail to stop Nolan. She did it to protect him, to save me from myself because I was too consumed with rage and now too consumed with revenge to see clearly.

I lost her because of it.

No. It ended now. I let time and prison and people separate us for too long. I wasn’t letting her get away. I promised to marry her before. I’d make good on it now.

I took the steps to her porch two at a time, but my fist stilled before I pounded on the door. Saint Christie was a quiet town, and not everyone locked their doors.

But even Josie knew better than to leave it wide open.

I stepped inside. Her lights were on. Chinese food containers cluttered her kitchen—usually pristine and orderly. Papers and plans littered every available surface—anything and everything pertaining to her shop.

Josie wasn’t in her bed. She wasn’t home, but her purse hung by the door. I searched her bedroom and found her phone tossed under the nightstand. I scanned through it, reading texts I never answered. Plenty from Delta. Some from Willowbend.

One text from Nolan.

Something was wrong. Her reply was hostile and accompanied with a sound clip. I listened to it, my stomach churning as I realized she threatened a man who would murder to protect his reputation.

This wasn’t about revenge anymore. Anger and rage no longer consumed me.

A new terror threaded my veins. Nolan Rhys had taken Josie.

And if I didn’t kill him first, Josie would die.





Chapter Nineteen – Josie



“We need to talk.”

The voice blurred in my ears. Could a voice blur? He didn’t slur it. The words just sludged together in my head. Wavering. Bouncing.

Leeching into my thoughts.

I knew that voice. It was one that required the restraints on my hands and legs.

Mayor Nolan Rhys bound me to a chair with ropes, and hid me in a dusty, flickering cabin.