Always Will: A Bad Boy Romance (2 page)

She holds up her left hand, where her wedding ring sparkles. “Afraid so. You had your chance.”

“Shit,” I say. “Figures.”

Braxton comes down the stairs, looking bleary-eyed, his dark hair a mess.

“Baby,” Kylie says as he comes around the couch. “What are you doing up?”

He lies down and puts his head in her lap. “You were gone.”

She laughs and runs her fingers through his hair. “You’re sick. You should be in bed.”

“I like being where you are.” He drapes an arm over her legs and closes his eyes.

I bite my lip and look away to hide the tears that spring to my eyes. They’re so cute it’s ridiculous, and there’s nothing better than seeing my brother so happy. It makes me love Kylie even more.

“Well, it’s not even ten, and it looks like this is our Friday night,” Ky says, glancing down at Brax, already asleep in her lap. “Want to watch a movie?”

“With wine?”

“Obviously.”

“You guys sleeping here tonight?” I ask. Kylie and Braxton have their own place, and I still live in the house where Braxton and I grew up. Our parents died in a car accident when we were ten, and we stayed here with our aunt. After she died, we inherited the house, but Braxton insisted I be the one to keep it. He bought a condo that’s walking distance from here, and I live in this big old place by myself. The three of us all lived here when we were in college, so Brax and Ky still have their own rooms, and crash here pretty regularly. Of course, Kylie sleeps with Braxton now, instead of her old room downstairs. But it still works. I like it when they’re here. I get lonely living here all alone.

“Most likely,” she says. “You mind?”

“Never.”

“Thanks, babe.”

I get up from the couch. “I’ll change into comfies and get us wine so you don’t have to move him.”

“Thanks,” she says with a laugh, and leans down to kiss Braxton’s forehead.

I head upstairs to my room. I don’t use the master bedroom. To be honest, I haven’t been in that room in years. It must be horribly dusty. But the house is big, with six bedrooms and four bathrooms, so there’s more than enough space. I’ve updated and remodeled a lot of it, but my parents’ old room is the one area I won’t touch.

I change from my work clothes into yoga pants and a tank top, and grab a fluffy blanket from the foot of my bed. My pants don’t quite make it to my ankles, so I guess I’ll say they’re capris and pretend it’s not because I’m so fucking tall. Kylie always says she’s jealous of my legs, but she has no idea how hard it is to find clothes.

I head downstairs and pour two glasses of wine. I snuggle up next to Ky and we find something to watch. Drinking a bottle of wine and watching a movie with my best friend is certainly not the worst way to spend a Friday night. But I can’t help but wonder if I’m wasting my time with Aidan. If maybe there’s someone else out there.

Someone with a little heat.

2: Ronan

The plane takes off, and my adrenaline starts pumping. I went through my preflight safety check on the ground. My gear is perfect. I glance over at the jump coordinator and he gives me a nod.

The noise of the engine roars in my ears and I watch the ground fall away as we ascend. The sky over Lake Elsinore is completely clear. It’s the perfect day for a jump. Two other guys are suited up next to me. I don’t know them, but the calm looks on their faces tells me everything I need to know: They’re pros. We’ll have a solid jump today.

My blood pumps harder, and the weight that always sits on my shoulders lightens as we gain altitude. My head clears. I know the rush is coming, and my whole body lights up with anticipation. I start to feel alive again.

My brother Damon calls me an adrenaline junkie, and makes sure to relay our parents’ distaste for my hobbies whenever we talk. I suppose I can’t blame them for their concern. My folks are decent people, but they’ve never understood me—especially not the man I’ve become.

I’m a risk taker. I always have been. I was the kid who thought that if I tried hard enough, I could fly like Superman. And I definitely tried. I had fear in those days, but I fed off it. Fear drove me to go bigger, higher, faster. The crashes were learning experiences. I still felt afraid, but I pushed through it and did crazy shit anyway.

I lost the fear later.

Now the only times I really feel alive are moments like this.

Wind rushes past the plane; the engine roars. The pilot takes us to eighteen-thousand feet, high above the world. My heart races. Everything stands out—my vision is sharp, my thoughts completely focused. My lungs expand, taking in oxygen, clear and clean. Every muscle is coiled and ready.

It’s like the moment before orgasm. The tension mounts, pressure and heat building. You know it’s coming—the explosion that’s going to rock through your whole body and take you down.

I live for that shit.

The jump coordinator opens the door, and the change in pressure sucks the air from my lungs. The pilot holds, cruising in a steady line along the flight path. The first guy gets in position. He’s given the all-clear and he lets go, disappearing from my sight. The second guy has his turn. He moves out to the jump position, waits for the signal, and he’s gone.

I move to the open door and ease myself outside the plane. The air rushing by tries to rip me out and hurl me to the ground. That’s when the euphoria starts to creep in, seeping its way into my head. My mouth turns up in a smile. I’m on the verge, in that place before the climax. Soaring above the world, death chasing me, nipping at my heels.

I get the nod and let go.

I fall away from the plane so fast the noise of the engine is instantly gone, replaced by the deafening blast of the wind. I spread my arms and legs wide, loosening the flaps of my wingsuit, and catch the air. It lifts me up, jerking me higher, and I tip to the side before I correct and get my balance.

I’m fucking flying.

I holler into the air, my voice fleeing behind me. The wingsuit keeps me gliding, more than falling, as I cut through the air. The world is so far away it’s meaningless. I’m in the sky, riding the motherfucking wind. Elation barrels into me, crashing through my mind, leaving nothing in its wake. I’m as clear as the sparkling water of the lake below me, higher than any drug has ever gotten me.

The ground gets closer and I lean to the left, staying on target with the landing zone. I’ve done this jump dozens of times—enough that I’m starting to crave more. I want to go higher. Faster.

I started out skydiving, and after hundreds of jumps I wanted something else. I went on a bungee-jumping kick one summer, but those jumps are over too fast. I started BASE jumping off buildings and bridges. Even the near-miss I took off a cliff in Nevada didn’t faze me.

When I met a guy who did wingsuit diving, I knew I had to try it. I was addicted from the first jump. It’s like skydiving on steroids. The suit catches the wind, and you ride it like a fucking bird.

I don’t have much time before I have to pull my chute. I spread my arms wider to catch more of the wind, and it lifts me a little higher. I’m saturated with adrenaline, falling so fast I’d never survive the crash if I hit the ground. The landing site comes into view and I hesitate, my hand on the cord. I need to pull it, but I’m not quite ready. It’s too fucking good; I don’t want it to stop. I’m flying and falling all at once, the rush through my mind and body so much I almost can’t breathe.

I’m completely alive.

Three seconds. That’s all I have left.

Two.

One.

I pull the cord and my chute billows out behind me, jerking me upward as it catches the air. The harness tightens around my chest.

I float toward the ground, steering as I go. The ground crew is waiting. The other two jumpers are already on their feet, repacking their chutes. I pull on the steering lines, keeping my approach steady. The ground surges toward me and I’m hit with another kick of adrenaline. Landing is another rush, a moment of danger, the time when things often go bad.

But death won’t take me yet.

I nail the landing, running as my feet touch the ground, my chute falling behind me. My breath comes fast and the euphoria holds.

I’ll be high for hours after that jump. It was perfect.

We pack up our gear, and a truck takes us back to the hangar. This will be my last jump at Lake Elsinore for a while, but they have such a good crew I’m going to have to get down here again soon. I’m moving back to Seattle in the morning—whether permanently or just for a few months I haven’t decided yet. I’ll have to see how things go with the company I’m buying.

I get another little hit at that thought. I’m taking a big risk, both professionally and financially. But that’s why I can’t resist. If this gamble pays off, I’m not only going to make a shit ton of money, I’m going to make a huge impact in the markets I’m targeting. No one ever got anywhere without putting themselves out there and taking chances. Those chances are what I live for. I go from one to the next, always craving another. Always craving more.

I’ve had a great run in San Francisco these last five years. I’ve achieved everything I set out to do, and more. Now I wonder, what sort of rush does Seattle have in store for me?

3: Selene

A meeting request pops up on my screen and I feel a sense of dread. It’s for this afternoon, which is so last-minute, and as I look down the list of attendees, I see the entire senior staff and management team. I have a feeling this might be where Brad breaks it to us that something big is going down.

I hope I don’t lose my job. It isn’t that I couldn’t find another one—but I love working at Vital Information. It’s literally the one part of my life I can truly say is going perfectly. I was hired about four years ago, and I feel like I finally found my niche. I’m the Brand Manager, and I’ve worked side by side with Brad for the last few years. We have an excellent team, with people who actually pull their weight, and we’ve done a lot of great things with this company. We have patents pending on several devices that track health and nutrition information, and we’ve gone so far beyond what we thought possible just a few years ago.

But the signs that something is changing have been there for a while. I suspect we’re about to hear the word “downsizing.”

After lunch, I join my colleagues in the large conference room. I’m one of the first to arrive, so I take a seat on the far side of the table and answer some emails while I wait. It gets stuffy as the room fills, and I pick my hair up off my neck, wishing I wore it up today.

I check the time on my phone. Brad’s late. I stop myself from rolling my eyes. It figures he’d get everyone in here and make us sit around.

Finally, Brad walks in, dressed in a button-down shirt and tie, his graying hair cut short.

“Sorry to make everyone wait,” he says as he walks to stand in front of the whiteboard. “It’s been a busy day. Busy few weeks, really.”

He pauses, and the tension in the room thickens.

“I apologize for the radio silence these last few weeks,” Brad says. “I realize it hasn’t escaped anyone’s notice that something is going on, but for a variety of reasons I haven’t been able to talk publicly about it. Until today.”

Another pause. I shift a little and cross my legs.

“As of about twenty minutes ago, the company has been sold.”

The room erupts with questions and sharp inhalations of breath. I don’t say anything, just stare at Brad in disbelief. Sold? How could he keep this from me? I’ve been busting my ass trying to keep us afloat, pulling Brad’s weight every time he went on one of his many vacations. The least he could have done is told me privately.

I lean back in my chair, already mentally updating my resume. I know what happens when a company is sold. The buyers always have their own people. I might have a few months, but I should start getting my name out there immediately, because there’s no question in my mind that my time here is short.

Damn. It’s so disappointing.

“Listen.” Brad puts his hands up, trying to get control of the meeting. “I realize this is a surprise—but believe me, this means big things for VI. There was no way I was going to turn over my company to just anyone, and I can assure you, the new owner doesn’t plan to gut our staff. He bought this company because of all of you.”

Right
. I’ve been through a buyout before, at my last company. They always say that, but as soon as the new owner is in the building the layoff notices start flying.

“I’m sure you all have a lot of questions, and I’d like to take some time to answer them now,” Brad says. “I already have a companywide memo set to go out after our meeting, so you’re welcome to tell your teams the news. This is all out in the open now. But I want to emphasize that no one needs to be worried about their job.”

Brad’s eyes sweep the group, coming to rest for half a second on each of our faces. Despite my frustrations, he’s been a decent guy to work for. He trusts me to do my job and gives me a lot of autonomy. But he spent the last two years growing the company at such a rapid pace, it was obvious it was going to crash and burn. I’m not surprised in the least he had to bail out.

People start asking questions and his answers seem genuine, if vague. Despite his claim that we don’t need to be concerned about losing our jobs, he can’t give any specifics as to the new owner’s plans. In fact, he hasn’t mentioned who the new owner
is
. There are several contenders, as far as I know—competitors who I suspect would love to get their hands on our tech.

Finally, I raise my hand.

“Selene,” he says.

“Who exactly bought us out?”

“That’s a good question.” He opens his mouth but the conference room door opens and he stops.

A man walks in. He’s wearing sunglasses, as if he just came in from outside, and a crisp white shirt with the top button undone. His dark hair is slightly unruly, in a way that makes him look confident rather than messy. He flashes Brad a smile as he slips the sunglasses from his face.

My breath freezes in my lungs. Oh shit, it can’t be.