Wanted: A Bad Boy Romance (16 page)

“You have another intern training
video to watch.” Kent shoves a glazed donut between his thin lips the next
morning. His tongue makes a smacking noise between bites. “Conference room.
They’re waiting for you.”

“Oh, okay.” My heart races, I’m
thinking fast, but not fast enough. I wish I could get out of this. I need a
reason not to be left alone with Thad.

I amble slowly down the hall,
each step drawing me nearer to an uncertain fate.

When I round the corner, I spot
the back of Thad’s head as he’s seated in the chair closest to the door. It’s
almost as though he’s waiting for me.

I step in, breathing a sigh of
relief when I see Caroline. Maybe she’ll stick around? Maybe I’ll be safer with
her in here?

There’s a seat by the window, as
far away from Thad as possible, and I take it. His eyes scan my body before
sinking into me like meat hooks. The way he watches me is violating.

“Okay, you two ready?” Caroline
says, the DVD remote in her hand. She presses buttons and the screen turns
black then white before a menu appears. As she fiddles around with the video, I
squirm. Seconds from now, she’s going to walk out, and I’m going to be stuck
here with Thad.

Alone.

Bolting isn’t an option. I could
pretend to be ill, but I’ve been in the office all of five minutes today and no
one will believe me.

The opening credits roll across
the screen as the picture scans the exterior of a maximum-security prison. A
man’s voice talks about the role of parole officers in the reduction of
recidivism before explaining the importance of understanding exactly what it’s
like being locked up. I’m pretty sure I’ve seen this video before, maybe in an
early criminology class.

Caroline leaves, and my stomach
sinks fast.

The second the door shuts, Thad
rises up and takes the seat next to me. I refuse to look at him.

“What’s up with you today?” he
asks.

I hoard my words, refusing to
play his little game.

“Is this about the other night?”
he pries.

I try to focus on the video, but
the words don’t make any sense.

“Or is this about your little
fuck toy? Titan.” I hate how Titan’s name sounds coming from Thad. “You afraid
to talk to me now because I know your dirty little secret?”

He laughs, like a fucking
lunatic. I should’ve known the clean
cut,
good boy act
was all a ruse. He’s just as cunning and manipulative as anyone else.

My arms fold, and I lean away,
eyes glued to the screen in the front of the room.

“Do you know what the district
would do if they knew one of their interns was fucking a parolee? Fresh out of
the pen?” His smile widens and he scrapes his hand along his jaw. “You’re one
step away from a PREA investigation.”

I refuse to let him rattle me.
It’s not PREA. It’s only considered a prison rape or abuse of power if he’s
locked up.

But it’s sure as hell frowned
upon, and I know that. I’ll lose my internship, no question, if Thad sings like
a canary.

“And don’t get me started on the
fact that a parolee is spending time in the basement of a bar. Fuck, Jordana.
Does this loser want to get sent back to prison?” His brows lift as he laughs.

“I’m not sure what any of this,
what you think you know
, has to do with
you.” I break my silence, but I won’t give him the privilege of seeing me
shake. I’m steady, determined not to let him get to me a minute longer.

“It has everything to do with
me,” he says, leaning into me. His preppy scent invades my space, and the
overpowering musk makes me want to gag. “I want you, Jordana. I knew it from
the second I first saw you. I was nice to you. I did everything right. And you
rebuffed me over and over again. And then I find out you’re fucking a goddamn
convict? Some loser? Some nobody?”

I open my mouth to protest, to
defend Titan, but that would be confirming everything, and I can’t do that.

“You’re not my type,” I say. “And
to be honest, I don’t think I have a type.”

“What, I’m not good enough? Do I
have to go beating people up to make you want me?”

I sigh. “Thad, there are so many
other girls out there. Find someone else. You just don’t do it for me.”

My words are harsh, but they need
to be. He clearly won’t take a hint, and being polite about it isn’t a viable
strategy anymore.

“Fuck me,” he says in a way that
sends a quick chill to my bones.

“Excuse me?” My hand flies to my
chest.

“Fuck me,” he repeats. “Fuck me
once, and I won’t tell the district your dirty little secret.”

“Absolutely not.”

I stand up, unwilling to put up
with this a moment longer. I wanted to deal with this privately, on my own, and
not get HR involved, but obviously that’s not going to work.

Thad clasps his hand around my
wrist and pulls me into his lap. His free hand scoops around to my lower back
before sliding down to my ass. I push against his chest, trying to rise off of
him, but he pulls me down again. This time, his fingers dig into my hips,
pinning me.

“Let go of me!” I yell despite the
fact that we’re in an older part of the building far from offices and other
co-workers who might hear me.

His right hand covers my mouth. “Shah…”

I’m straddling him, but not by
choice, and the unapologetic hardness pressing through the fabric of his pants
tells
me everything I need to know about the direction of
this encounter.

I shake my head violently. “No,
no, no…”

“Come on, Jordana…” His sinewy
tone snakes into my ears and fills my head with the kinds of
worst-case-scenario
worries I never anticipated when I walked in here. I knew he was going to try
something, but this goes far beyond. “You want a bad boy? I can be bad too.”

Bile rises from my stomach as my
thoughts scatter. I took a personal safety class last semester. I should know
what to do in this situation. But his power over me is much more psychological
than physical.

“So what’s it going to be?” Thad
asks, his fingers teasing the hem of my shirt and grazing against the bare
flesh of my stomach.

I try to speak but the words
don’t come out. I’m frozen.

“Fine,” he says. “I’ll settle for
a blow job. Suck my cock and your secret’s safe with me.”

I shake my head side to side,
tears welling in my eyes.

“What? Is that a no, Jordana?”

I summon the strength to meet his
penetrating stare. Do I allow him to sexually assault me to save my internship?
My future job prospects?
Or do I run out of here and
risk it all?

His right hand leaves my hip and
he works the buttons of his ironed khakis.

I have to make a decision. Right
now.

The metallic zip of his pants
fills the tight space.

And I know exactly what I have to
do.

“Someone’s here to see you.” KJ
points toward the waiting area.

I glance at my watch. It’s mid-morning.
Not exactly sure who’d be stopping by the garage looking for me, but it can’t
mean anything good. I’ve been staying out of trouble, for the most part, and
I’m not due to meet with my parole office for another couple weeks.

“Who is it?” I ask.

“Some girl,” he says.

I drop my drill and rush through
the doors to find Jordana standing in the middle of the waiting area, her arms
hugging her sides as she quivers and shakes.

“What is it?” I take her by the
arm and pull her into a secluded corner of the shop front, away from the prying
eyes of KJ who’s currently manning the front desk. Boy’s nosier than shit, and
he’s trying to pretend like he’s not listening. “What are you doing here?”

Her dark eyes gloss over and she
pulls in a deep breath.

“Someone hurt you?” My heart is
racing a million miles a minute. This whole thing reeks of Kyle.

I cup her chin in my hand, but
she jerks her head away.

“Damn it, Jordana, talk to me.”

“Thad.” Her breath is ragged.
“He…
.he
tried….he….”

My jaw tenses, and my patience
wears
thin. “Spit it out, come on. What the hell’d he do to
you?”

“He tried to make me have sex
with him,” she blurts, her eyes falling like she should have some reason to be
ashamed.

I’m looking at her, but all I see
is red. The pulsing of my heart beats hard into my ears.

“He said if I didn’t…” She stops
to take a long breath. “He said if I didn’t do what he wanted, he’d tell the
district about us. And about…what you do…”

“Did you fuck him?”

She shakes her head no, and I’m
flooded with
relief which
is quickly replaced with
anger all over again. I hate that this dipshit threatened her.

“But I…” she says.

“What? You what?” My hands grip
the sides of her arms.

“He said I could pleasure him a
different way,” she said. “He promised if I did it, he wouldn’t tell anyone…”

My hand drags down my face as I
try to keep my cool.

“He…he unzipped his pants,” she
says. “And I got on my knees…”

Her eyes close slowly, her lips
pursing together.

“I…I took him in my mouth,” she
says softly. “And then I bit him. Really, really hard.”

Tension melts from my chest, and
fuck, as angry as I am, I can’t help but laugh.

“You bit his dick?” I ask.

Her face winces, and she fights
off a smile with a crooked eyebrow. “Yeah. I bit him.”

My cock wants to shrivel up at
the thought.

“How hard did you bite him?” I
ask.

She shrugs. “I don’t know.
Pretty hard.
I tasted blood. He screamed. Then I got the
hell out of there.”

“So fucking proud of you right
now.” I take her face in my hands, leaning down to deposit a kiss on her forehead.
“I’ve got to go back to work, but are you going to be okay? That ass wipe going
to stop bothering you now?”

“I think so.” She offers a
reluctant smile.

“Just promise me something.”

“Sure.”

“No matter how mad I might make
you in the future, never, ever, ever. Ever. Fucking
bite
my dick.”

Her full lips spread wide.
“Promise.”

“Did you hear about Thad?”
Caroline stops me the next morning at work, her face ashen. Her hand flies to
her mouth. “I…I just can’t believe it.”

My heart stops dead in my chest,
any kind of a response I might have lodged deep in the back of my throat.

I clear my throat and lift my
brows. “Hear what?”

“He…he was killed last night,”
she says. “Just outside Sudsy’s Bar on Avondale Road. Someone attacked him and
left him for dead. Police think he died early this morning.”

“Oh, my God.” I cover my mouth
with my hand, which I now realize is trembling.

I hated that guy. I really did.
But no part of me wanted him dead.

“Who would do this?” I ask Caroline
as if she’d have a clue. A piercing slice through my gut nearly doubles me
over. There’s no way it could be Titan. No way. He wouldn’t do this. He was
smiling yesterday, proud of me for defending him. The situation was handled.

I refuse to believe Titan had
anything to do with it.

“God rest his soul. He was a nice
young man.
Very nice.
He was going places.” Caroline
gazes off to the side, frozen in thought. “Sweet boy.
His
poor family.
What they must be going through right now.”

“Yeah,” I say, glancing down and
paralyzed with conflicting emotions.

“But there’s more,” she says, her
eyes widening. “Police think this might be connected to the string of attacks
here in town the last few years.
And that Hispanic man?
The one who was in the coma for a while? I guess he’s awake now. And talking.”

“Are you serious? How do you know
this?” I check the local news websites every morning. Information like this
would be all over the front pages of every website in the tri-state area.

“My brother works for the police
department,” she says, her voice hushed. “Don’t go repeating this, but they
have a name.”

“They have a name? Just like
that? Did the victim know the perp?”

“Word has it, he was wearing a
work shirt,” she whispers. Her finger traces the spot above her left breast.
“Name tag still on it and everything.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” I
laugh. “What kind of killer would leave his name tag on?”

“One who thinks the victim won’t
be alive to say anything the next day?” Her brows lift and her shoulders rise.
“Your guess is as good as mine. Some of those serial killers get off on the
thrill, you know.
The thrill of getting caught.
Or not
getting caught, I suppose.”

“So what’s the name?” I ask,
fully expecting a generic
name which
would require a
timely and costly comb-through of the entire city.

Caroline leans in, her eyes
darting behind me. “Don’t repeat this.”

“I won’t.” I draw
an ‘x’
across my chest.

“Supposedly it was a gray work
shirt with pin stripes. You know, like the kind mechanics wear.”

My palms sweat as I lose my
breath.

“And the name on the shirt,” she
says, “was Titan.”

She leans back, rolling her eyes
back into her head.

“What the heck kind of name is
that? I think it’s made up, if you ask me. Something to throw the police off
his scent.”

“T-Titan, you said?” I silently
plead with the universe for this to be some kind of sick joke, a
misunderstanding.

Maybe Thad’s alive and well, and
maybe this is some kind of practical joke.
A set up.
A
little prank he put her up to with a crisp
hundred dollar
bill from his fat bank account.

“Titan. Mm, hm.” She spins in her
chair, flipping through a stack of paperwork as she gazes out the window behind
me.
“Anyway, enough gossiping. Director’s
on her way
in. Just saw her park her car in the east lot.”

I’m speechless, refusing to
believe for one moment that it could’ve been him. It makes no sense.

Then again, it might make perfect
sense.

In my criminal investigations
class, we were taught to look for motives. Most crimes aren’t random. They’re
motivated.

I pull in a cool, cleansing
breath and try to find a clear head in all of this.

If
I’m
looking at motives, Titan would make the most sense.

But if
I’m
looking at logistics, Titan wouldn’t make sense. He’s been locked up. All those
attacks and murders since Jerome died couldn’t have been Titan.

Unless these last few attacks are
unrelated to those…

Maybe we don’t have a serial
killer among us? Maybe they’re all truly random attacks?

“Honey, you okay?” Caroline asks.
“I know you and Thad were friends. Maybe you should take the day off? Try to
wrap your head around all this? I’m sure Kent would understand.”

“Y-yeah,” I say, seizing the
opportunity. I need to find Titan. I need to talk to him. Get some answers.
“I’m going to leave. Please tell Kent for me, will you?”

She nods, and with that, I’m
gone.