Secret Exposure_a bad boy new adult romance novel Page 7

  Totally fucking busted.

  It was some skinny-necked dude.

  So I bolted.

  I yelled to her that I loved her, and I took off into the woods.

  Fast-forward a day, and I was getting a visit by the police and was that told if I went to the camp again, I’d be arrested for trespassing. Oh, and her cell phone was taken away. But she managed to get a call through to me. She said she loved me. She said she’d write me.

  And she did.

  The letters only took a day to go back and forth.

  At first, it was annoying.

  But now, it was actually kind of fun.

  My life was a wild mess, but the letters were the calm in the storm.

  I sat on the floor in the loft above the garage that I called home. I didn’t tell her that I’d gotten booted out of my house and was crashing in a garage. I didn’t want her to worry about me. She always worried. Well, not so much now, but maybe on the inside.

  I was in the middle of writing her a letter when I heard the garage door open.

  It felt like a damn earthquake. It shook the loft, and I felt like I was going to fall through the floor to the concrete below.

  I kept writing…

  … so it’s been great with these warm nights. I listen to the crickets and it makes me think of you. Sometimes I think I can hear music from them. I know the piano thing is dumb but it’s really cool you can play. I want you to play something for me when you get back, okay? I’m going to work and save up some money and get you a keyboard. You can keep it at my place. The other night it started to rain. I didn’t move though. My head on a rock, staring up. Watching the clouds move in and then the rain. It was so calming and refreshing. It made me whisper your name over and over…

  I felt something hit side of my head.

  “The fuck you writing? Don’t tell me you’re into that dumb-shit poetry?”

  I looked up at Night. I thought of something to say—you know, about me actually being able to read and write—but I stopped dead when I saw his hands. His right hand was swollen, his knuckles like marbles, split open and bloody.

  I flipped my notebook face-down and pulled myself to my feet.

  “Shit,” I said. “What happened to you? What went down? How can I help?”

  My mind shifted gears. Into survival mode. Protection mode. To make sure my best bud was safe.

  “Shit,” I said again. “Did someone jump you, man? You should have ran. Called me. Fuck. I need to get a working cell again. Night, whatever happened…”

  Night just started to laugh.

  I froze. “What?”

  He lifted his right hand and flexed his fist. His knuckles throbbed, and I saw ripped flesh and fresh blood ooze out of him.

  “This is nothing, man,” he said. “Nothing at all.”

  “What do you mean nothing? Look at your arms, man. They’re all scratched…”

  The word rolled off my tongue. It echoed around the loft.

  I stopped and really looked at Night. There were scratches from his forearms to his wrists. Like someone was clawing to get away. To get away from Night. I looked at his hand again. Busted up. But his other hand was fine. If Night got into a real fight, both hands would have been roughed up. And his face…was clean. Night was tough. But he wouldn’t have been that bloody on one hand without his face getting tagged at least once or twice.

  “Oh, shit,” I whispered.

  “Communication error,” he whispered. His voice was low, rumbling like thunder. “Do we have a problem here, Daw? Do we have our own communication error?”

  I shook my head. “No, Night. You need a bandage or something, man?”

  “I need a beer.”

  “You know where the fridge is.”

  “Fucking right I do,” he said.

  He walked to the little fridge I had.

  I went back to my notebook.

  I wasn’t sure about Night or the life he lived. But I sure about what I was writing to her. We were going to figure it all out and be together. She always told me she was afraid to jump. I guess that meant jumping into my arms because of what it meant for her life and her parents. But I’d make that all work out.

  I thought of the perfect thing to write to her right then.

  Don’t ever be afraid to jump…

  13

  HAZEL

  PRESENT DAY

  I walked to my car with another hundred pictures or so. I felt good. It wasn’t the worst day of my life, which was a great thing. I met with Tate, and he made it very clear that his original plan was to have me gone by then. But the pictures I had been giving him were so good he wanted me to keep them coming. We agreed on more terms and money, which was something that had never happened to me before. I wanted to know what Tate was planning on doing with so many pictures, considering the cost, but I didn’t dare ask.

  When I got to my car, I opened the passenger door and saw a coffee cup in the console.

  I didn’t get coffee that morning.

  I looked around.

  My heart raced.

  I reached for the coffee and saw something written on it.

  Smile!

  Then a quick drawn smiley face that was better than anything I could have ever done.

  “I took a guess. Two sugars and two cream.”

  I let out a gasp and turned to see Maddox standing with one leg up against a building, a cigarette in his hand. He took a drag and blew it out. The sun was starting to set, and the brilliant burning colors worked to make Maddox look even sexier.

  I quickly got my camera back out and turned to get my own revenge.

  I took a handful of pictures as he stood there, looking ultra-cool and even smoother.

  “Done yet?” he asked.

  “Coffee?”

  He took one last drag and flicked the cigarette away.

  He walked toward me, his intoxicating odor overwhelming me.

  I felt pinned to my car.

  “I figured our first coffee date didn’t go so well,” he said.

  “That was a date?”

  “You were there. I was there. What would you call it?”

  “Having coffee.”

  “Whatever, sugar. Just figured I owed you one. And I’m sure you’re heading home to go through all the pictures you took today. You could use the pick me up.”

  “And where are you heading, Maddox? Going to get put in jail again?”

  “Almost put in jail,” he corrected me. “Almost.”

  “Right. Sure. Almost.”

  “I’ve got nothing tonight. Why? You looking for company?” He winked at me.

  I laughed. A weak laugh. A nervous laugh.

  Shit.

  This guy was getting to me.

  “So, for the record,” he said, “the address on your site, is that current?”

  Maddox grinned and winked again.

  Then he walked away.

  He left me in shock again.

  Maddox knew where I lived.

  The coffee was perfect. It left me smiling the whole ride home. My usual commute consisted of thinking about the day and what was good, bad, what I had to do next, and all that crap. That wasn’t the case now. I enjoyed the coffee. The ride. The sunset turning into night. In fact, by the time I got home, I was actually relaxed.

  I grabbed my camera bag, the empty coffee cup, and hummed as I walked into the apartment building. I was looking forward to a hot shower and a glass of wine. I even promised myself pizza. I’d get one delivered. A perfect night.

  I opened the door to the second floor and froze.

  The coffee cup fell from my hands first.

  Then went the camera bag.

  It hit the ground with a thud.

  I didn’t even care if there was damage done to it.

  I stared into a set of evil eyes. Pure evil.

  He stood there, arms crossed, leaning against my door. He then reached with his left hand and traced the numbers.

  “One…four�
�nine…”

  The impulse to run most the best sense, but I knew better. Experience taught me it was safer not to run. It was safer to stay put. To stand there. To wait it out. To let the situation resolve itself.

  I watched my mother do it for years.

  I did it myself for years.

  It was my curse.

  Standing there. Watching. Waiting.

  Suddenly the caffeine had me jittery. Really jittery. I felt like my heart was going to explode.

  I felt his name rumbling from deep inside me. I hadn’t said it in months.

  He was supposed to be gone.

  But they were never gone, were they? They never really left. Unless I made him leave…for good…like I did before…

  “Mitch,” I whispered. “What are you doing here?”

  He pushed from the door. “Came to see you. Check on you. Are you doing well, Hazel?”

  “Yes,” I said. “Just getting home from work.”

  “Are you going to invite me in?”

  “Mitch…”

  “Sounds good,” he growled, louder than he needed to.

  He turned and kicked the door. Then he punched the door. Then he slammed his hands against the door.

  “Let me the fuck in!” he yelled.

  I saw my neighbor across the hall—Mrs. McGonnough—look out her door.

  Mitch pointed at her and he grabbed his leather jacket. “I got a gun here, bitch. You want to see it?”

  I gasped.

  Mrs. McGonnough shut her door.

  I hurried to the entrance, leaving everything else behind. I fumbled for the keys, my hands shaking badly.

  Mitch grabbed my arm.

  Fuck. How stupid of me to get so close to him.

  His grip was fierce. A reminder of his strength and his power over me.

  He brought his mouth near my face and let out a breath.

  “Did you miss me? Tell me you missed me. Right now, Hazel. I want to hear that you fucking missed me.”

  “I missed you,” I said.

  “Liar. Fucking liar.”

  He pushed me, and I stumbled aside.

  I put my hands up, my keys dangling from my right hand.

  “I’ll open the door,” I said.

  “I know you will. You always let me in. That’s why I like you. What’s for dinner, Hazel?”

  “I don’t have anything. I was going to order pizza. And drink some wine.”

  “Wine? I’m not a pussy.”

  “I have beer.”

  “Good girl,” he said. He touched the numbers on my door again. “When’s the pizza coming?”

  “I only like Marcee’s,” I lied. The place was run by two elderly Italian ladies who lost their husbands and started making pizzas to kill time. They didn’t deliver. “You know me. Picky.”

  Mitch sucked in a breath. He smashed a fist against my door again. “You’re lucky I love you, Hazel.” He stepped to me and grabbed my face. “I’m gonna go get us dinner. I’ll see you soon. It’s so good to see you.”

  My back against the wall, the fear was like nothing I could describe. Experience and instinct came together, and I just nodded and smiled.

  “Yes. Mitch. It’s good to see you.”

  He leaned in and kissed my forehead. Then he backed up. He curled his lip, making it known he was still an asshole. Then he flexed his right hand and made a fist. He started to laugh.

  I was shaking.

  Mitch left, and I stood there in paralyzed fear.

  I finally convinced myself to open the apartment. I rushed inside and looked around. This was my home. It wasn’t a beautiful apartment. It wasn’t fancy. It wasn’t expensive. But it was my home. And Mitch had come back, again. Each time he came back, my apartment felt more like a prison.

  Mitch was gone though, for the moment. To get pizza.

  Which gave me time.

  Not to think, no. That luxury was stolen from me a long time ago. Not long after meeting Mitch, in fact. The time gave me a chance to get out. To hide.

  I knew the punishment would be bad, but staying could end up worse.

  I packed my emergency bag, grabbed my laptop, and I even grabbed the bottle of wine.

  Fleeing my own apartment, my own home, I was probably the image of pathetic, but it was the only way I could survive.

  Simply put—I was afraid that one of these times, Mitch was going to go too far and actually kill me.

  14

  MADDOX

  PRESENT DAY

  I stood and put a ten on the bar. I slid it to Pecker with a nod.

  “You barely drank that,” Pecker said.

  “Not in the mood.”

  “That’s a fucking waste.”

  “You got paid.”

  My hand went over the mug and I looked over my shoulder to see Prick standing there.

  “What’s wrong, big guy?” he asked me. “Cramping from your period?”

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “Seriously. You’ve been off lately. Is it still this photography thing?”

  “Something like that.”

  “You really don’t like your picture taken,” Prick said. “Why?”

  “I don’t like feeling like I’m being spied on. Watched. You know? Some people just like having time and being alone with that time, Prick.”

  “Alone? Time? You need to get laid, brother. Tell you what, I’ll drink this beer. I’ll buy you a shot. Then we find a couple pieces to enjoy for the night tonight.”

  “Tell you what,” I said. I reached into my pocket and took out another ten. “You drink my beer. I buy you a shot. I leave. And you do whatever the fuck you want.”

  Prick shrugged his shoulders. “Whatever you say, Maddox.”

  I walked through the bar. Listening to the chatter of everyone there, the smack of the pool balls, the faint sound of the TVs…Little Mikey’s was a home away from home. But I didn’t want to be there. I didn’t want to be at my real home, either. My mind kept replaying my encounters with Hazel. That’s where I was. Thinking about her. Wondering about her. See, what she didn’t get was that she took pictures with her camera, I took pictures with my eyes. I identified her. It was part of my job. It was something I learned to do a long time ago. It served me well, even gotten me into trouble a few times, but it also led me to St. Skin. Gave me ability to observe, identify, and create.

  What the hell was I trying to create with Hazel?

  I had no idea.

  But I knew I wasn’t going to just let that shit work itself out. She had barged into my world. So, it was my turn to barge into hers.

  I knew right where she lived, and it wasn’t all that far of a drive.

  Just enough of a drive that I had some time alone to really think. There was a depth to my soul that I rarely shared with those around me. Mostly because the soul was the greatest exposure anyone could give to another. The soul could also be damaged. Through everything in my life, my soul was the one thing I kept intact.

  I wanted to know who Hazel was. Why she hid behind her camera. I wanted answers so I could find out why I cared. Yeah, she was beautiful. There was no shame in admitting that. I loved women. But something about Hazel…the green eyes. The dark hair, the way she wore shirts that were modest yet had the ability to hug her perfect curves. Jeans that were nothing fancy but enough to distract me. She was so laid back yet right there in my face. It drove me nuts. So much so that by the time I got to her apartment building, I had a white-knuckle grip on the wheel as though I had been driving in bad weather.

  I got out of my truck and went for it.

  Nothing in the world could really scare me or keep me from going after something I was interested in.

  She lived on the second floor of the building.

  I stood at her door for a few seconds, not hesitating, but contemplating.

  If something were to happen between us…well, I wouldn’t hold back. Prick was right. I was in need. Strange as it was, ever since Hazel showed up to St. Skin I hadn’t re
ally gone out and enjoyed myself. That wasn’t my style. I was always known for having a good time. But Hazel wiggled her way into a private area and fucked some things up for me.

  Now I was going to get my answers. And maybe get her.

  I knocked on the door.

  There was no answer.

  I knocked again.

  Nothing.

  I put my ear to the door. I couldn’t hear a thing on the inside. No TV. No music.

  Nobody was home.

  My lip curled as I felt the faintest hint of jealousy. More like a wondering jealousy. Was Hazel out on a date? Out to have some drinks with friends? Did she not take me serious when I hinted about stopping by her apartment?

  I knocked one more time.

  That’s when I heard a voice behind me.

  “I’m calling the police.”

  I turned and saw an elderly woman’s head poking out of door right across the hall.

  “I’m sorry?” I asked.

  “I’m…wait. Who are you?”

  “My name is Maddox,” I said. “Do you know Hazel?”

  “Yeah. Are you with that guy?”

  “That guy? What guy?”

  “The one who was yelling.”

  “Yelling?”

  The woman shook her head. “He comes around every now and again and yells at her. Just yells and hits the door. Curses, too. Said he was going to shoot me tonight. I’d like to see him try! I have a baseball bat in here. He was here again, hitting the door, cursing. Then he left.”

  “Where’s Hazel?”

  “I don’t know. If she’s not home, then I don’t know. Are you sure you’re not with that guy?”

  “I’m not with that guy,” I said. “I was just visiting. Sorry if I disturbed you.”

  “Well, if you see him, you tell him I have a baseball bat, and I will call the police.”

  “Okay,” I said. “No problem.”

  She shut her door.

  I turned and looked at Hazel’s door again. I put my hand to it.

  Some guy had been pounding on her door? Someone cursing? Someone threatening her? Threatening the neighbor?

  What the hell was going on here?

  My slight jealousy changed over to intense anger.