Good Girl Gone Badd Read online

  It caught Juarez on the side of the jaw, spun him around, and he dropped to the ground, out cold.

  I wasted no time sprinting across the ring, caught the upper rope and used it to vault myself over, landing on my feet at a dead run. The crowd parted, probably seeing the rage on my face.

  As Eva stood waiting for one of the bodyguards to open the limo door for her, Thomas pressed up against her, pinning her to the side of the limo with his body; her father watched impassively as Eva squirmed and slapped at Thomas, trying to get away.

  Oh, hell no.

  The bodyguards saw me coming and formed a barrier between us, one of them reaching into his coat to withdraw a silver pistol. I halted a couple feet away from the line of bodyguards.

  "EVA!" I shouted.

  I felt a burst of pride when she finally shoved Thomas away with a violent curse, turning to look at me.

  "Baxter," she breathed, and moved past Thomas, approaching the line of armed guards, stepping between them to stand inches from me. "Hi."

  I was a bloody mess, my nose sluicing blood, my cheek split open, holding my rib cage with one hand. "Eva. You know these tools?"

  She gave a half-hearted smile. "I know that tool, and that tool," she said, pointing at her father and Thomas.

  "Evangeline du Maurier! This is unacceptable. Get in the limo, now," her father snapped. "No more of this nonsense. I've wasted far too much time and money trying to find you, and I'm not wasting any more."

  "You didn't have to waste any time or money, Father," Eva said, without turning to look at him. "I came here by choice."

  "You ran away like a wayward child, is what you did." Her father stalked over, pushing through the guards, eyeing me with distaste and disgust. "You're not...friends...with this--this barbarian, are you?"

  "Yes, I ran away like a wayward child...except I'm an adult, in case you've forgotten," Eva bit out, her voice betraying her anger.

  "We're not discussing this any further, Evangeline. The family vacation is already ruined. You are returning home immediately, and as for your future at Yale? Well...that remains to be seen."

  Eva ignored him. "I'm sorry this is happening like this," she said to me.

  I ignored the blood dripping off my chin. "Eva, babe. You gotta make your own way in the world. This bullshit?" I jerked my chin at her father. "You don't have to stand for it. You said it, sweetheart--you're not a kid. You don't have to go just because he says so."

  She smiled at me sadly. "I always knew I'd be going back, Baxter. I just wanted to get away from it all for a little bit. Experience a little bit of life away from"--she waved a hand at the world behind us, broadly, vaguely--"away from all of their expectations."

  I sighed. "Well, I hope you experienced what you came looking for."

  Her smile was quick, hinting at a hidden leer. "Oh, I certainly found what I...came...looking for, and then some."

  "She's got jokes after all," I said, with a sad smile.

  "It always had an expiration date, Baxter."

  "I know. But it just don't seem like you're the one choosing when or how. It seems like you're letting them choose for you."

  "My life isn't here. I don't belong in this world." Her eyes, man. They were...reluctant and hesitant and confused, like she wasn't sure she was doing the right thing. "I wish I did."

  "Enough, Evangeline." Her father again, stepping between us.

  "Back off, pops," I snarled. "The woman's talking to me."

  "Not anymore she's not," he said, unperturbed. "Evangeline. Get in the limo, now."

  "Goodbye, Baxter."

  "Bye, Eva."

  "Thank you." She turned away, waving at me. "For everything."

  A wave? I got a fuckin' wave? Fuck that.

  I slid my wrist and forearm under my nose, wiping away the blood, and stepped around her father, grabbed her by the waist and hauled her around. Jerked her up against me and palmed her juicy ass with possessive hands.

  "A wave, princess? You think I'm gonna be satisfied with a wave goodbye?" I squeezed with both hands. "I do not motherfuckin' think so."

  "I wish we had time for a...proper goodbye," she murmured, subtly pressing back into my touch.

  "Me, too," I said, as I lifted a hand to brush my thumb across her delicate cheekbone.

  She wiped at my upper lip with her palm, and then leaned in to kiss me, gently, softly, slowly.

  I felt something cold touch my temple.

  "Back away...now," a cold voice snapped, one of the bodyguards.

  I lifted my hands, backing away. I twisted in place, and the barrel of the pistol touched the center of my forehead above my eyes. "You put that gun to my head, boy, you better be prepared to pull the fucking trigger." I met the eyes of the hired man, and saw someone who looked plenty willing to call my bluff.

  Eva stepped up, pushing the bodyguard and his gun away. "Enough. Enough." She touched the side of my face, and I saw she had blood on her hands where she'd wiped it off me. "I'm going, Baxter. I have to go."

  "All right, princess." I lifted my hands palms facing out. "You ever want to get away again, you know where to find me."

  Off to one side, Zane was slinking through the crowd, a black semiautomatic pistol in his fist, inching toward me, one hand lifting to cup the bottom of the pistol in an easy, practiced weaver stance. I held my hand out to him, stopping him from rushing the scene and popping all these gorillas where they stood. Knowing Zane, he'd drop them all in ten seconds or less and not have a drop of blood on him, the smooth, deadly fucker.

  I watched as Eva climbed into the limo.

  The bodyguards remained in place as she slid in, followed by her father, and then Thomas last, who had the audacity to fucking smirk at me in triumph as he swung down into the vehicle. Bastard only had the balls to smirk at me because he had more than a dozen armed men between him and me. Pussy.

  Then the bodyguards were climbing into their SUVs and pulling away one by one, leaving me standing alone, hands at my sides, as they drove away with Eva.

  Zane appeared beside me. "Well that was fun," he said.

  "No, it actually wasn't."

  "You're just pissed because you didn't get a chance to pop that smarmy blond fucker in the nose."

  I didn't feel the humor that normally defined most of my interactions with the world, and my brothers in particular. "No, Zane, I'm pissed because I feel like I just let a one in a million chance slip through my fingers."

  His hand rested on my shoulders. "You said your piece, Bax. She chose her path."

  "Yeah, well, I feel like she chose wrong."

  "Not up to you, brother."

  "I know."

  "You'll get over her."

  I sighed. "I don't know, Zane. This time, I really don't know."

  He had no answer for that. All he could do was shrug, eventually, and shove me toward the truck. "Let's go, bro. I got a bottle of Johnny with our names on it." He laughed. "And I do mean that literally."

  The black duffel bag full of cash Moss handed me didn't do a damn thing to soothe the ache in my chest, or the cold, heavy, squirm in my belly, which felt an awful lot like the burn of regret, and the sting of loss.

  Which was stupid, right?

  Zane drove us home, and I stared out the window, trying to figure this shit out.

  I barely knew her. We had a little chemistry, had some seriously hot sex, but that was it. I'd had plenty of hot sex with plenty of hot chicks. When the time was up, I went my way, and never felt a single pang of anything as I put a door between me and the girl I'd just fucked. But this was different. Even when the girls had left me, ditching me for an early morning walk of shame out of my apartment in Calgary, I'd watched 'em go without a second thought, knowing there were countless more just like them, waiting for me to pick them up and take them home for a quick fuck and a quicker goodbye.

  Somehow, I knew there wasn't anyone else like Evangeline, and that was what made this different.

  She was what made this t
hing we'd shared so different; I didn't have to know her any better or any longer to know that was true.

  Wasn't much I could do about it, though, was there? She had, as Zane had pointed out, chosen her path. She'd chosen her life, as I'd always known she would.

  I just hadn't thought it would actually cause...you know...shit like feelings when she did.

  I was starting to worry that what I meant by feelings was something awfully close to pain.

  We got back to the bar, and I let Zane shove me up to the apartment, let him push a bottle of Johnny into my hand, and I tipped it back and wondered if it was even possible for me to drink enough to forget Evangeline.

  I had a feeling it wasn't. I'd tried that once already, with someone else, and discovered, much to the regret of my liver, that it wasn't really possible. The fucking feelings always came back while I was sober, the sneaky little fuckers.

  I was gonna try, though, and thank god I worked at a bar. I should warn Sebastian that he'd have to bump up his inventory of scotch until I was over Eva.

  It was a week later, I'd won three fights, and had drunk my way through six shifts at the bar. I was currently being shaken into consciousness by Mara on the floor of the foyer of Zane's converted warehouse, seeing triple, and feeling a little pukey.

  Mara was standing over me, a bucket in hand. "Baxter, you're a fucking dumpster fire. Why the hell did you have to pick here to pass out?"

  I rolled onto my back and peered up at the six of her I was seeing. "Mara, heyyyyy." I was feeling strangely articulate considering how wasted I was. "I'm not sure why I'm here. I don't remember walking here."

  She bent awkwardly to set the bucket on the floor beside me, and then straightened slowly, one hand pressed to her swollen, about-to-pop belly. "If you're going to puke, puke in that, okay?"

  I nodded sloppily, and grabbed the bucket. "Okay."

  She stared down at me, one hand rubbing in a circle on her belly. "Zane says you've been a mess lately."

  I nodded again. "I think I'm feeling what some people call regret."

  "Eva?"

  "She went away. Back to Yale. Buh-bye." I clutched the bucket as nausea pressed against my teeth. "I don't think I wanted her to, though."

  "She was really cool."

  "The coolest." I fought it back. "Too cool for me."

  "That's bullshit. You just came from different worlds, and she had to go back to hers, and you have yours here." She hissed, pressing her hand more firmly against the side of her stomach.

  I peered at her in consternation. "It's not time, is it?"

  She shook her head, wincing. "I don't think so. Just Braxton-Hicks."

  "Whassat?"

  "False contractions."

  "How d'you know if they're real, then?" The nausea wasn't going away, no matter how hard I tried to ignore it.

  I probably shouldn't have had that second bottle of Johnny, but fuck, the stupid feelings wouldn't go away.

  She didn't respond for a minute. "Real contractions...they get more intense and closer together with time, and they're evenly spaced. Braxton-Hicks are irregular, and eventually go away."

  "Where's Zane?" I asked.

  "The bar. Working. Covering for you, actually." Her words were clipped, and even through my drunkenness I could see that she was in serious pain.

  "Yeah, I kind of got a little shitty toward the end of the night."

  "It's eleven p.m., Baxter."

  I laughed. "Oh. Um...oops?" I tried to sit up, and didn't quite manage it, and actually only managed to make myself more nauseous. "It's not every day you deal with heartbreak, after all."

  She laughed through a wince. "Heartbreak, Bax? Really?"

  I shrugged, which was a mistake, since it only made me more nauseous. "I think so. I'm pretty sure, at least. I mean, I've only felt this way once before, and it ended almost exactly like this. Only, this time it feels even worse. I dunno, I'm not really too...you know, in touch with my feelings and shit."

  Oh god.

  "And I'm gonna puke." I mumbled the warning, just in time.

  I spent the next several minutes purging, which did actually make me feel a good bit better, more clearheaded. Still hammered, but better.

  "Oh god, Bax, that's nasty." Mara backed away. "I am not dumping that for you."

  "Nah, I got it." I made it to my feet, laboriously and unsteadily. "You sit."

  I had to move slowly and carefully, using the wall for balance occasionally, but I managed to dump my mess into the toilet, wash my hands, rinse my mouth and make it back to the living room where Mara was sprawled on the couch, hands on her belly, a frown of pained concentration on her face.

  She pointed at three bottled waters. "Drink."

  "Yes ma'am." I sat at the opposite end of the couch and downed one of the waters, watching Mara fight through visible pain. Worry began to steal through me. "You okay, sis?"

  She breathed out shakily. "I don't know, Bax. These aren't going away."

  "Ain'tcha supposed to time them or some shit? I saw that on TV once."

  She laughed, holding up her phone. "I am. They're every fifteen minutes."

  "So...this is it, then, maybe?"

  She nodded. "I think so."

  "Shit."

  "Yeah, shit."

  I drank another bottle of water. "You call Zane?"

  "Not yet. I want to be sure it's actual labor before I worry him with it. You know how he is."

  "Yeah, regular ol' worrywart, that guy." I watched her as she hissed, leaning forward, legs splayed apart, hands clawed around her belly as she fought to breathe through it. "I think maybe you should call him, Mara. I ain't equipped for this shit."

  She nodded. "Yeah," she clipped. "In a second."

  After a few seconds, she breathed out in relief, and slumped back against the couch.

  "This sucks," she said, through grated teeth. "Really, really sucks. I'm gonna kill Zane for putting me through this."

  I laughed. "Now you sound like the chick from the TV show I watched."

  She snorted. "Thanks." Mara eyed me speculatively. "You mentioned having gone through heartbreak before? Do tell."

  I waved a hand. "Nothing interesting. Just some stupid chick I was into."

  "Not sure I believe you, but I'll let it slide for the moment." She heaved herself forward, working herself to a position where she could lever herself to her feet, but couldn't quite make it. "I need help. I have to pee. Again."

  I refrained from laughing and stumbled to stand in front of her, helping her to her feet. "We're quite a pair tonight, ain't we?"

  She waddled to the bathroom, giving me the finger. "Yeah, well, I'm growing a human, you're just wallowing in your own sorrow. At least my excuse is legit."

  I sank back down to the couch and let myself drift dizzily. It seemed like Mara was gone for a bit longer than I'd expected, but what do I know about what pregnant women do in the bathroom? Not much, that's for sure.

  But then, when it felt like quite a few minutes had passed, I started to worry. "Yo, Mara! You alive in there?" I bellowed.

  Silence, and then Mara's voice, thin and pained. "I need help."

  I shot to my feet instantly, worry ramping up at the tone of her voice. I made it to the bathroom door in roughly three steps, knocking on it gently. "What's up?"

  I heard the knob twist, and the door swung open inward, revealing Mara on the toilet, a bath towel covering her lap, a puddle of something wet on the floor under her feet.

  "Shit," I breathed. "What's going on? Couldn't make it in time?"

  She gasped a laugh, despite obvious agonizing pain. "Fuck you, Bax." With one hand she was palming her stomach, and the other was grasping the edge of the bathroom counter in a white-knuckle grip. "My water broke."

  "I don't know what that means, but it doesn't sound good."

  "It's not." She nodded at her phone, on the counter near her hand. "Call Zane. Tell him."

  I handed her the phone and she unlocked it, I dialed Zane,
and waited for him to answer. It rang three times and then he answered, the bar ruckus loud in the background.

  "What's up, baby?" he yelled. "Busy here."

  "Zane, it's me, baby," I growled. "I'm at your place and your woman's water just broke."

  "The fuck are you doing there, Bax?" he demanded.

  "Fuck if I know. I showed up and passed out in your foyer, apparently." I tried a joke. "I go to you in my times of need, brother."

  "Her water broke?"

  "That's what she says. Looks to me like she pissed on the floor, but what the fuck do I know?"

  "I DIDN'T PISS ON THE FLOOR!" Mara yelled. "Give me that, you asshole." She snatched the phone from me. "It's me, Zane. Yes, my water broke, and yes I'm sure. Yes, you need to come get me right the hell now and take me to the hospital...I don't know, he just showed up half an hour ago, hammered, knocking on the door, and then he fell into the foyer and passed out for a minute...yes, Zane, it's time, like right the fuck now. I need to go to the hospital right now, so get your ass home." She hung up, then, hitting the End button and tossing the phone onto the counter.

  "What do I do?" I asked.

  She reached for my hand. "Help me up." She grabbed at my hands as I held them out to her. "And if you look at me when my pants are down, I'll kill you, and then I'll have Zane kill you."

  I stared at the ceiling as I hauled her to her feet. "Hold on to my shoulders if you need to. I won't look." I made a show of clapping my hand over my eyes.

  Mara's grip was fierce as she clawed at my shoulder for balance as she struggled to bend enough to get her pants up, and when she was finished she was gasping for breath. "Okay, okay--I'm good." She pushed me out of the bathroom. "Now help me to the truck."

  I walked backward, holding on to both of her hands, helping her make her way slowly toward the front door. A contraction hit her halfway there, and she rocked forward into my grip, keening through gritted teeth, her fingers digging into my hands with a force I wouldn't have thought her capable of.

  "Fuck, fuck, fuck, this isn't good," she breathed, once it passed. "They're a lot closer together. I'm for real about to have this baby."

  Panic rifled through me. "Can you try to at least wait till Zane gets here?"

  She barked a bitter laugh. "Yeah, I'll just hold the baby in. No problem."

  "Thanks, because that's not something I want to see, you know?"

  "Anything for you, dear brother," she said, faking a simpering niceness. "Just help me to the goddamn truck."