Jay Crownover - Better When He's Bad

“You’ll give me anything? I don’t think you have anything I want, but I was locked up for a very long time. A guy gets lonely.”

I couldn’t tell if he was baiting me or if he was just being mean and outrageous on purpose. I also couldn’t tell if he was serious, which was the worst case.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

He gave a laugh and blew out a stream of smoke. He ran his thumb along the edge of his bottom lip and stepped around me.

“No one calls me Shane. It’s just Bax and that’s why you’ll only be in my way. When you say you’re willing to give anything, you have to mean it. These people, they will take it all, even if it’s something you don’t want to give. Go home.”

His hand was on the door and he was slipping away from me again. I don’t know what spurred me into action, still didn’t know if he was serious or not, but for Race I could do it. I would hate myself, hate this dark and dangerous boy, but I could do it.

“I’m not . . . a virgin, I mean. No one is anymore, so no one can take it, because Billy Clark already did. I gave it up willingly after drinking a stolen bottle of wine when I was sixteen and he told me I was pretty. He was the first boy who ever did that. I’m not scared of you, Bax. I am, however, scared to death for Race. I will do whatever it takes.”

He must have seen the resolve, must have known I wasn’t just going to go away, because he flicked the cigarette he was smoking into a puddle of unidentified liquid and pulled open the door.

“We are both going to regret this sooner than later, Copper-Top. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

I felt his eyes burn into me as he followed me back into the strip club. I wasn’t sure what I had just agreed to, or what was waiting for me around the next bend. What I did know, could feel in every cell of my body, was that I had just made an unbreakable deal with the devil and paying up might mark my soul forever.

SHE SURPRISED ME. THAT was hard to do anymore.

I pushed her, downright threatened her virtue, and she didn’t so much as flinch. She wasn’t my type. I liked girls who played on the same field as me, girls who knew enough not to ask if I was coming back or bothered with being on a first-name basis. Not to mention, all that pale skin and orange hair wasn’t my thing. Although she was prettier today in the neon lights of Spanky’s. Her green eyes were luminous and stubborn as hell, and with all that hair pulled away from her face, I could see high cheekbones dusted with freckles and a pink mouth with full lips that didn’t belong on a chick who looked like a Catholic schoolgirl. She was far less ordinary than I initially thought, but she had an entirely untouched vibe going on that I just didn’t have the time or the patience for. I still couldn’t tell what she was working with under all those ill-fitting clothes, but sweet and soft was not a turn-on, and neither was the obstinate way she was hounding me.

It was clear I wasn’t just going to shake her off. She was bound and determined to have her fingers in everything I was doing to scare up information on Race, and the fact of the matter was, she was safer in front of me than trying to dodge my heels in the shadows. In all honesty, I figured she would see the places I was going, the rough crowd I was dealing with, and back off. If that didn’t work, I would just dangle the threat of raging libido in front of her and hope that did the trick. She didn’t strike me as the type that liked getting down and dirty, but I was a bastard and could push any advantage I had if it got me what I wanted.

All strip clubs were the same. Desperate girls dancing for lonely and depressed men. They smelled like baby oil and cheap booze and I had yet to be inside one where either the customers or the workers seemed like they really wanted to be there. Spanky’s was a little different. The girls who worked there didn’t have to rely on turning tricks or taking the clientele home to make a buck. Ernie, the guy that ran the joint, was on Novak’s payroll and let his guys use the spot to do business and run illegal poker games on the weekends, so the girls were well compensated and often acted like pretty pieces of furniture rather than exotic dancers. Chuck kept a tight eye on the place, and I could see not much had changed since I had left as he escorted me and my tagalong to one of the red velour booths in the VIP section back by the bar.

He was giving Dovie a curious look out of the corner of his eye, and when we got to the booth, I shoved her in the shoulder, totally ignoring her sour look, and took a step to the side when he inclined his head, indicating he wanted a word.

“Since when does Race have a sister?”

“Since I got locked up.”

“They don’t look anything alike. You sure she isn’t one of Novak’s? He’s got everybody looking for your boy. Word is he needs him breathing and is willing to pay major cheddar for him.”

I shrugged a shoulder and rubbed a hand over my shaved head. “She look like she could be rolling with Benny and the boys?” It was asked sarcastically.

He laughed drily. “No, but then again you don’t look like the scourge of the Point either, just like some punk kid.”

I was glad my rep still held water when I needed it to. “It’s the eyes. They both have eyes the color of pine. She seems straight, but if she’s not . . . I’ll handle it.”

He nodded because sentimental I was not. She was already in my way, and if she proved to be anything other than what she claimed, I would make her regret it in ways that would be legendary in a place where bad stuff was the day-to-day norm.

I was going to slide in the booth next to her, where she was watching me with those dark green eyes locked on me in a ferocious glare. Her pretty mouth pursed into an ugly frown when bare arms wrapped around my neck from the back and lips that smelled like cherry candy landed behind my ear. I couldn’t tell because of my hoodie, but I was pretty sure a fine-ass pair of man-made breasts were pressing into my back.

“Long time no see, handsome. I didn’t know you were out.”

Her voice was husky, manufactured that way to make horny men think it was a brilliant idea to give her all their hard-earned money, even if it meant their kids and wives went without.

I turned around and brushed a brief kiss on her heavily made-up lips. It was like kissing a candle, and I tried to give her a hug that was as modest as it could be while I was fully dressed and all she had on was heels and a G-string.

“Just got out. Looking for Race. You see him since he blew back into town?” She looked over my shoulder to where Dovie was practically bouncing up and down in the gaudy booth.

“Who’s the Pollyanna?”

I glanced at her over my shoulder and Dovie went still. Her pale hands flattened on the tabletop and she just stared at me.

“No one. Honor, you and Race had a thing before I went down. I need to find him. I think he’s in trouble.”

The stripper opened her mouth but not before Dovie snorted and interrupted with a matter-of-fact, “My brother was not banging a stripper.”

Well, shit. Honor’s fake lashes fluttered and lowered and I could feel her anger rolling off of all that exposed skin. You didn’t walk into a dancer’s gig and insult her. That was just a house rule in the District.

“Oh, honey, he wasn’t just banging a stripper . . . he was banging a whole fleet of them. Sometimes more than one at a time. When Bax says we had a thing, that just means Race liked me best. Seems to me you would know that if you’re gonna be running around calling him your brother.” She hooked a thumb at Dovie’s scowling face and narrowed her eyes at me. “Really? You get locked up for a minute and you bring this piece around? You forget the way it works out here, Bax?”