Exposing the Bad Boy (3 page)

A hard thing was digging in my guts. Guilt? Suspicion? I'd never call my company 'innocent' or anything, but Corbin was revealing the strings behind the puppets and leaving me disenchanted.

I mumbled, “Scummy, I want to make my stand on that clear. Let's not act like the situation isn't creepy, agreed?”

“Agreed.” He crossed his arms, watching me expectantly.

Breathing deep, I scanned the cars below. As usual, most of the streets were packed and sluggish. “Tell me where I can meet him.”

He had the grace to control his grin. Somewhat. “Better Beans. It's a coffee chain.”

Coffee shop employee. I'd never have guessed that.
“Sort of bland for someone who jumps off buildings.”

Corbin plucked at one of his shirt buttons. “Let's hope he thinks that, too.”

“Is that how you want me to play it? Approach him and say we want to sponsor him, let the excitement lure him in?”

“Do it however you want. You've always figured it out before.” His shoes glinted as he crossed a sun beam, falling back into his seat. “You're clever. Smooth.”

Grinning, I tossed my hair. “Well, thanks for noticing.”

“Ellie,” he said, tone soft with his abrupt seriousness. “You've never failed to sign anyone I sent you after. Not once. Get him for me. Having a risk taking, danger chasing, honest to god base jumper in our pocket could put us even further on the map. Plus, it doesn't hurt that he's young and handsome, hmn?”

I felt a flutter in my stomach.
Young and handsome.
Corbin had never been so bold as to tell me to flirt with a client, though we both knew that it was often a given when you needed to butter someone up. This time, though, I'd gotten the hint he was telling me to do
anything
to sign Pike.

There was something... off about his determination. What if I
did
fail, this time?

What would he do in response?

“No pressure,” I chuckled, but my humor was frail. “I'll get him. Trust me.”

A knock on the door turned our heads. Becky pushed inside, holding a paper bag in her arms. “Lunch,” she said brightly. “Soup and all.”

“Actually,” I said, reaching out to take the package. From the depths, I pulled a wrapped sandwich. Both of their eyes were on me in mutual confusion. “I've got my appetite back. Think I'll take this and run.”

“I—but...” Becky pursed her lips.

My boss offered a sly smile. “Good girl. Happy hunting.”

With a final wink at the gawking secretary, I slipped out the door.

Pike

––––––––

“P
ike!”

I froze, hand pressing the muffin into my mouth. Half bent in the backroom of the shop like some crooked beast, hoarding away at sugary goods, I knew I wasn't a pretty picture.

“Pike,” the voice hissed again. Turning, I stared at my co-worker. Sarah was fixed in the doorway, arms knotted as tight as her eyebrows. “What the hell are you doing back here?”

Glancing at my fingers over my lips, then to her knowing frown, I forced the snack down my throat and swallowed. “I was—well.” I lifted my palms. “What do you want to hear?”

Her face got darker, then eased up. “Come on, Pike.”

Brushing crumbs from my cheeks, I sighed. “Just tell me what I need to say to make sure you don't tell everyone about this.”

The blonde came my way, reaching out to dust food I'd missed from my face. “Sweetie, I'm not going to tell. I just wanted to know why you were shoveling that muffin down faster than green grass through a goose.”

I didn't bite back my snort. “It wasn't that bad.” Sarah peered up at me. “Right, fine. Okay. I didn't eat much last night before bed, I thought I'd snatch something here during my shift.”

“Mmhm.” She took me in, toes to head. “And the other day, same thing?”

I couldn't stop my jaw from falling. “Didn't know you were so keen to spy on me. Look, it's been tight lately, and without much in the way of tips, I've had to stretch my food bill.”
Need to save for my new helmet,
I thought privately.

Shaking her curls, she nodded at the door. “Come back out and make some tips, then. Maybe try to smile at the register and look a bit more awake.”

Rubbing my eyes, I slapped my face till it tingled. “Sleep has been bad, too.”

“Late nights?” She leaned away so I could slide past her. “You out partying with all the ladies till dawn?”

It was a struggle to keep myself from smiling slyly. “Something like that.” My mind filled with the memory of the night air, how it had embraced me and welcomed me to its folds. It wasn't a woman, no, but it fulfilled me in a different way.

Pushing into the main part of the coffee house, I peeked around from behind the register. It was the quiet hour in the store, that odd chunk of time after people had rushed us for their morning caffeine, but wouldn't need another bump until midday.

The emptiness wasn't uplifting.

Dropping my stare to the tip jar, I mentally willed it to flood over with dollar bills. In spite of my migraine, the jar remained hollow, the bits of change clinging to the bottom.

“Relax,” Sarah said, like she'd read my mind. She handed me a cloth, so I wordlessly wiped down the counter. “It'll get busy soon enough. Knowing you, you'll wish it was dead when it gets close to the end of your shift.”

Under my brisk scrubbing, the wood gleamed.
I get antsy when it gets dark.
The setting sun reminded me of my parachute, sitting in my trunk and begging me to steal it—and myself—up some neck-breaking height. My patience wasn't the best when it came to my craving.

I just wanted to fly.

The door jingled. Glancing up, I heard Sarah's soft whistle a second before I spotted the woman. She reminded me of a racer, black jacket with aqua stripes down the sleeves. I expected to see a helmet under her arm, or a motorcycle outside, and was almost disappointed when I didn't.

The collar of her coat reminded me of a razor's edge. Dark jeans clung to her long legs, ankle-boots clicking across our scuffed tile floor. Her body was curved all over, minus the sharp angle of her perfect jaw.

That stare fell on me—how did real people get eyes as green as that? I'd seen gorgeous women before, I lived in fucking LA, but there was something... different about this girl. Something in her walk, her eyes.

It was like she'd come here to seek
me
out. That was intriguing, if strange.

I wasn't about to complain.

Clearing her throat, Sarah swayed up to the register. “Hey there!” she chirped. “How can I help you?”

The woman folded her elbows on the counter. “You can tell me what your most popular drink is. And then,” she grinned, shooting her attention back to me, “I'd love a word with that gentleman.”

Gentleman?
This woman had no idea who I was, not if she thought that. Standing in place, I folded my arms across my chest. Sarah was squinting at me, as dubious as my own expression was.
Guess she really did come here to talk to me. But why?
My curiosity was growing fast.

Sarah pointed at the board above. “On the first part, most popular is the caramel latte. I'll get that started for you. On the second...” She waved her hand at me, trying to be subtle and failing. “That's Pike. You want to have a word, that's up to him. I don't control the guy.”

The stranger laughed, honest and warm. It was enough of a lure; I closed the distance, leaning on the counter in front of her. “Well, like she said, I'm Pike. What about you? You have a name, sugar?” My smile soaked into my tone.

She stretched long fingers over the counter towards me. “Ellie Cutter. Nice to meet you.”

On reflex, I extended my hand.
Shit, the rag.
I threw it aside, ignoring how it landed on the floor and no where near where it should go. My grip was firm, enjoying her smooth palm. “What did you want to talk to me about?” I lifted an eyebrow, chuckling. “Is it bad news?”

“Why would you think it was bad news?” she asked.

Peeking at Sarah, who kept looking our way every other second, I shrugged. “It's one or the other. A bad reason or a good reason is the only option.”

Ellie's eyebrows lowered wickedly. “No other options in there?”

Hah, well this is surprising.
If this girl was trying to flirt with me, fine, but it was really random.

Lifting my head high, I strolled around the counter. I was tall enough that Ellie's head came below my chin, in spite of her boots. I loved how she flicked her eyes over me, taking me in with obvious appreciation. “I think
that
option would still fall under 'good,' Miss Cutter.”

Her lips parted, a motion that made my jeans tighten uncomfortably. “Maybe it'd be a bit of both,” she whispered.

Wishing I could adjust my suddenly firming cock, I said, “Can we talk here, or is this some mega serious private thing?”

“Let's sit, if it's alright.” Reaching over, she took the drink Sarah had set down. Sliding out a twenty, she motioned me to the far corner table. “Keep the change.”

Sarah and I shared a look. I didn't know if she was impressed or annoyed. Not waiting, I strolled after my new 'friend.' Tugging a chair out, I sat across from Ellie with growing interest. I'd been pursued by some pretty bold women, but this didn't feel exactly the same. So what was going on?

Sipping the latte, she set it down, toyed with the lid. “You've worked here long?”

I crinkled my mouth. “I guess around two years. Why?”

“Do you like it?”

“It's a coffee shop, not much to say about it.”

Her thumb ran over the cardboard cozie. “True. Probably a boring job. Not exactly your dream, I imagine.”

Scratching at my arm, I smiled sideways. “Okay, two questions in and I'm positive this isn't flirting by any definition.”

“Oh, you thought I was flirting?”

“Most of the time, when a strange woman strikes up a chat with me, it's because she wants...
something
in particular.” I shifted in my chair with a slow burn of a smirk. Leaning back with one arm draped behind me made my work shirt strain over my wide chest. I knew exactly what I was doing.

Ellie must have, too; her cheeks went a mild pink. I almost missed it, but I'd been watching.

Good, let the tables turn,
I thought with satisfaction.
I don't like not knowing where I stand.
“What do you want from me, Ellie? Why did you want to talk to me?”

Setting her chin on a fist, she smiled softly. “I'm always interested in interesting people.”

That made me chuckle. “You just called my job boring.”

“Your job,” she agreed. Emerald eyes focused on me, making me sit up straight. “But not you, Pike. I think you're very,
very
interesting.”

Heat slid into my lower belly. The way she spoke, that syrup-infused lull, was exciting. My intuition was blaring with a muted warning. I ignored it. “If anyone is interesting here, it's you. I don't normally get approached like this at work.”
Especially not in these unflattering work clothes,
I mused silently, tugging at the green shirt and adjusting my baseball cap.

Ellie folded her fingers next to her latte. “I imagine that will change, now that you're famous.”

In my chest, my ribs expanded painfully. “Excuse me?”

Clarity—or sympathy?—washed over her features. “You really didn't know?”

Sarah was watching us; she had that surly, protective mother aura going on even at a distance. “Know
what?”
I snapped. “What are you talking about?”
How could I be famous? Is this girl fucking with me?

She lifted out a phone, set it between us. As I watched, she tapped on the screen and brought up a web page. “Pike, you've been seen by over five hundred thousand people—it was two hundred thousand an hour or so ago.” Horror became real as I saw myself on the screen, greenish and white and grainy, but me.

My jump from last night.

Famous.

Shit shit shit.

Standing so fast I knocked my chair over, I gaped at Ellie. Her mouth was open, eyes wide; she hadn't expected me to react like I was. That much was clear. “This—no.” I shook my head so violently that my baseball cap fell off. “How did someone see me? How did...” Holding my neck, I stepped backwards. “How did
you
find me?”

I'm going to get arrested again. I'm going to be stopped from base jumping.

It was my worst nightmare.

“Pike,” Sarah said, coming beside me. She had her cellphone in her hand, wielding it like she was prepared to hit Ellie with it instead of calling for help. “What's wrong, what did she do?”

They're going to stop me again. Maybe for good.
I didn't know what to say—my heart was clawing at my lungs.

Gingerly, Ellie lifted her hands into view. “Everyone chill out. I didn't do anything.” Her eyes darted to me. I debated running. “Pike, I'm not here to harm you. Nothing like that.” Reaching into her pocket—making Sarah wind her arm back—she lifted out a card. “I'm here to offer you a job.”

My mouth tasted like pennies. “A job?” It was hard to read the square of paper, but it wasn't a police badge.
What the—what is this?
Not asking further, I waited for her to explain.

Ellie gave Sarah a meaningful look. Sheepishly, my coworker lowered her arm and coughed. Once more, she offered the card to me. That time I took it, feeling the sharp edges. “I work for a company you've probably heard of, Maximal Energy?”

Side-eyeing the vending machine in the corner of the shop, I noted the cans of black and gold. Energy drinks that proclaimed they gave you 'Maximal Adrenaline!' Ellie was watching me, like she really expected me to bolt.

“I know who they are,” I said. “You're going to need to tell me what the hell they—you—want from me.”

She was smiling too easily, all confidence and charm. Too bad for her I wasn't ready to be courted. “I'm a recruiter. We look for exceptional athletes—like yourself—to sponsor.”

Sarah giggled nervously. “Athlete? What sport do you play, Pike?” She was ribbing me, but I said nothing. I couldn't stop looking at Ellie; couldn't blink.