CHAPTER ONE – FALLING FOR THE BAD BOY （NO, LITERALLY）
Wright
Very occasionally I wonder what a sane person would think of my life choices.
Lying here, on my belly, in an airduct, is one of those times.
I’m a stubborn bitch though and I refuse to admit this was a bad idea.
Sure, crawling through here with my butt pressed up against the metal tunnel wasn’t the most glamorous thing, but a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do to hunt down her next target.
Sacrifices must be made and my airduct hidey hole gives me the perfect view of the latest motherfucker who thought he could get away with ignoring the word ‘no’.
I watch through the ceiling grate as Jeffrey chucks a few black chips into the middle of the table below me.
“Raise you three grand,” he says, the smirk clear in his voice.
I roll my eyes. I can see his cards from up here, he’s got a crappy hand and apparently a small enough dick that he thinks bluffing is a good idea.
Unfortunately for poor Jeffrey, the other guys around the table don’t fall for it.
They call one by one and Jeffrey shifts, kneading the back of his neck as sweat glistens on his skin.
I rest my head on my forearm, counting the screws in the air vent panels to kill time.
No one ever tells you just how much waiting around being a vigilante requires and if the idiots below don’t start talking about anything interesting soon, I might lose my fricken’ mind.
Either that or my phone is going to run out of battery and stop recording.
I’m up to twelve screws and longing for a cocktail when the conversation finally turns useful. I lift my head off my arm and peer through the grate.
“So did you do it?” A guy in a preppy shirt with one too many buttons undone asks Jeffrey.
“Not supposed to talk about the case,” Jeffrey grumbles.
“Yeah, but you fucked her right?” Another guy says with a smirk.
Every single one of these men looks like they stepped right out of boarding school, gambling away daddy’s money because he’s got too much to notice.
One of them whistles low. “Legs like that, I’d fuck her.”
“What else are secretaries for?” They all laugh. I want to burn things.
Jeffrey leans back in his chair. “She needed putting in her place. Thought she was too good to get down on her knees and now she’s crying rape.” He shakes his head. “It’s a load of shit. They always say ‘no’ but she was fucking dripping by the time I slid into her.”
They laugh again and a familiar sharp rage cuts my skin. I force myself to keep control and press the button on my phone to stop recording. I have enough, now I just need to get out of this damn airduct and wait for Jeffrey to leave.
I tuck my phone into my jacket pocket. Only, the second I twist, cramp seizes my leg with a vengeance.
I grimace, cussing between my teeth. It seriously defies logic for cramp to be as painful as it is and I’m one hundred percent blaming Jeffrey fucking Croft for this.
I shift, digging the heel of my hand into my thigh, freezing when my elbow hits the airduct.
The thud echoes through the room and the guys look up.
I hold myself still, not even breathing.
The guys shrug it off, going back to their game and I let out a breath— just as a metallic creak rents the air and the panel below me falls away.
Crap.
My limbs flail as I fall, my body slamming face down on the poker table in a fine impression of a chalk outline. Pain radiates through my ribs, the impact rattling my jaw. I groan. Then I roll onto my back to find five sets of eyes staring at me, mouths gaped.
“Evening boys,” I say, forcing a sharp grin. “Sorry to drop in.” The initial shock of pain fades and I test my fingers, my hand going to the knife strapped to my thigh. Before any of the guys can react, I kick up onto my feet and hop down from the table.
They all stand up, one of them heading for the door, no doubt to grab the security guard positioned outside. Before they can get far though, I grip Jeffrey by the back of the neck and dig the tip of my knife into his side. “You don’t mind if I have a little chat with Jeffrey here, do you?”
Jeffrey’s skin pales. “What the fuck?” he squeaks.
“Why don’t we take this outside?” I don’t wait for an answer, already dragging Jeffrey towards the fire exit. I kick open the door and turn back to the others. “Oh, and preppy boy over there was cheating, he’s got cards up his sleeve.”
The men turn on their friend. “You fucker!”
I leave them to their drama and push Jeffrey out into the dark alley.
I’m not short by any means but he’s got a fair bit of height on me, so I shove him up against the wall and press my knife to his trachea.
He holds up his hands, his skin even paler in the moonlight. “Listen, I think there’s been a mistake here. I don’t even know who you are.”
I give him a vicious grin. “I’m the woman who has a recording of you admitting to raping Stephanie Birks.”
Panic flares in his eyes and satisfaction sinks into my bones. I live for this moment, that fraction of a second when men realize they’ve been outsmarted by a woman.
I trail my knife downwards, pressing the blade against his crotch until he turns a sickly shade of green.
“Let me tell you how this is going to go, Jeffrey. I don’t know how the criminal charges against you were dropped but you’re going to call your lawyers in the morning and settle the civil suit.
You’re going to give Stephanie every penny she’s asking for and then you’re going to call your boss and resign so she never has to see your whiney little face again. ”
Anger burns in his eyes. He’s building up to fight back but this isn’t my first rodeo. I press my arm against his neck and dig my knife through his slacks and into his dick.
Jeffrey whimpers and jerks but I just press harder.
“Nuh huh, the more you move the deeper the knife goes.”
He’s panting now, snot bubbling at the tip of his nose. “Fucking, crazy bitch,” he splutters.
“Aww, you know my nickname.”
Tears run down his face, but he stops fighting me.
“Do we have an understanding, Jeffrey?”
“Yes, fine, I’ll do it! Just let me go,” he whimpers.
I cock my head, trying to read him. I find most guys agree to anything when you have a knife in their dick, but I need him to actually mean it.
“You have one chance,” I say. “If you haven’t done what I told you to do by 10am then I don’t just go to the police with the recording, I go to every single news outlet in Seattle. ”
Jeffrey’s eyes flare before focusing on me, a clarity in his gaze that wasn’t there before. “I’ll do it. I swear.”
I reach up and ruffle his hair. “Good boy.”
A soft squelch fills the alley as I pull my knife free and step back. I tuck the blade back in its sheath as I walk away. It will be a pain to clean later, but I don’t want to wipe Jeffrey’s dick blood on my pants. I’m halfway out of the alley when the fucker calls out.
“Hey, bitch!”
I turn around, freezing dead still as I come face to face with a fucking gun.
Well, shit.
Rage storms on Jeffrey’s face, his grip on the pistol white-knuckle tight.
I grit my teeth running through my options.
I could go for my knife but this time Jeffrey isn’t bluffing, he’ll shoot the second I move.
Which leaves talking him down. I’m a 911 operator, I should be great at talking people down, the trouble is I’ve never really had the patience.
Hazel would be good at it but she’s off living her dreams with the love of her life in Canada while I’m here, about to get shot by an idiot because somehow, I missed that he had a fucking gun.
I poke my tongue in my cheek and slowly raise my hands. “Listen,” I start but he cuts me off.
“Beg me.”
My brows shoot sky high. “What?”
He smirks, even as blood darkens the front of his pants. “Beg me for your life.”
“Oh Jeffrey, you’re not nearly pretty enough to make me beg.” The words are out of my mouth before I can even consider whether or not they’re a good idea. But what can I say, antagonizing men is one of my favorite hobbies. Besides, I’d rather die than beg a man like Jeffrey for anything.
Anger wipes the smirk off his face and he shakes the gun, stepping in towards me. “Beg me!”
“No,” I say calmly.
His nostrils flare, so much hatred spitting from his mouth. “Get on your knees and fucking beg right now, or I will put a bullet through your pretty little head.”
I just stand there. One more step closer and I can make a play for the gun except then Jeffrey starts laughing and before I can do anything his finger presses the trigger.
I brace myself for the shot only opening my eyes when a good two seconds have passed and I’m still standing. Unless I’m secretly a superhero I don’t have a bullet in my head. Jeffrey, on the other hand, does.
A line of blood runs down from a small red dot in the center of his forehead. He sways for a moment before hitting the ground. Dead.
What the fuck?
Just as I’m questioning my sanity, an engine revs and I spin around to find a man in full leathers straddling a motorcycle. He tucks his gun inside his jacket before looking back my way. His face is hidden behind a black helmet and visor, but I know who it is and I somehow know he’s glaring at me.
My Vigilante Man.
I tilt my chin up, refusing to acknowledge that he probably just saved my life.
Vigilante Man gives a slow shake of his head, then he twists the throttle and thunders off into the night.
Leaving me alone in the alley. With a dead body.
Oh how I love being a woman.