Baddest Bad Boys(32)

Headlights sliced through the woods. She scrambled back up to her hiding place, yanked up her hood over the beacon of her fair hair, and peered towards the window through the glasses again. She saw only Amendola this time, sitting on the bed, looking thick and brutish.

She felt as sickened as if she herself had been raped. That poor girl. She must be shattered. But pain had a purpose. Always.

Julia had learned that lesson well. It was her guiding principle.

William had made sure of it.

Jon sat on the bed, head dangling. Exhausted. An apology seemed lame after all that drama. She’d spit in his face anyway.

It made him crazy. Like some shining thing was being held out to him, but there was a sheet of soundproof, bulletproof glass between him and it. And now he’d made her hate him. His chest burned.

He headed towards the bathroom. No idea what he was going to do. What could he say to her? Don’t go. Don’t listen to the stupid trash I talk. Don’t believe a word I say. Don’t disappear into the dark.

And under it, the hollow suck of fear, pulling at his insides. He was afraid, as if some evil thing were lurking out there, hungry for her sweet flesh. He was flat-out paranoid. He’d never been this bad before. Just the normal bad attitude of a guy who saw too much violence.

He stood outside the bathroom door for minutes before he mustered the nerve to speak. “Hey. Robin.”

“I’m not speaking to you.” Her voice floated through the door. She’d latched it, but a smack of his shoulder ripped the latch loose.

Robin stood in the tub, her eyes huge. The detachable shower head was in her hands. She’d been sudsing up her muff. Clumps of shower foam slid down her long, perfect, gleaming thighs.

“Jon! For God’s sake!” Her voice was crisp with outrage.

He gulped hard, having entirely forgotten everything he’d had in mind to say. Mesmerized by how beautiful her body was dripping wet.

She rolled her eyes and briskly finished rinsing herself. “Go put that thing of yours away before it gets you in any more trouble than you’re already in,” she said, with a significant glance at his crotch.

He glanced down at his lengthening dick, and walked in, letting the door swing shut behind him. What needed to be said had to be said right now, this moment. Before he froze up again.

He opened his mouth—and stopped, hearing a sound that congealed his blood. The warped front door made a loud, rasping squeal over the scarred linoleum. “Hey? Jon? You in here?”

Holy screaming f*ck. It was Danny. He and Robin exchanged glances of naked panic. He stared wildly around the tiny bathroom.

“There’s no towels,” Robin whispered. “I left the bathrobe outside!”

Great. His balls hanging out, a bullseye painted on them. He took a deep breath. “Yo, Danny,” he called out dully. “I’m in the john.”

“I see dinner for two,” Danny said suspiciously. “You got company in there?”

“We might as well get it over with,” Robin said. She flung the door open. Back straight, chin high, tits up, she marched right on out.

One would think being naked as a jaybird in front of a big brother who had changed one’s diapers when one was an infant wouldn’t be such a big hairy deal. One would be dead wrong. The look on her brother’s face morphed from astonishment to fury when he looked past her and saw Jon in the bathroom. “What the f*ck is this, Robin?”

She flinched at the punch in his voice. “Trust your instincts, Danny. It’s exactly what it looks like.”

Jon followed her out, his face taut and unhappy. Danny looked him over, and zapped him with a vicious uppercut that knocked him off his feet and onto the kitchen table. Beers tipped, food slopped, salad scattered, dishes clattered to the ground.

Jon hadn’t even tried to block that punch. And she knew that he could. She’d watched them spar since she was a kid. They were well matched. A couple of ninja fiends.

Jon pulled himself to his feet and just stood there, waiting.

“Fight back, you bozo!” she yelled. “Don’t just stand there!”

He shook his head without replying.

Danny moved towards him again, winding up for another blow, but Robin grabbed his arm. “Don’t touch him!”

Danny shook her off. “Get your clothes on. I’ll deal with you later.”

“No. You don’t understand.” She grabbed his arm again. “I overheard you talking. I knew he was up here. He had no idea. I wanted this, so I came up here and got it. End of story.”

“Like hell it is,” Danny snarled.

“I begged him, you brainless clod!” she yelled. “I literally tore off my clothes and jumped his bones!”

Danny looked at her, then at Jon’s big, muscular body. “Oh, yeah. I’m sure he fought like a f*cking demon,” he said bitterly.

“He did, goddammit! It was my choice!” she hollered.

“It’s not anymore. Get your clothes on. I’m taking you home.”

She swallowed. “No, Danny,” she said quietly. “You’re not.”

Her brother shot her a steely glance. “That’s an order, Robin.”

A strange calm had settled over her. “I don’t take orders anymore,” she replied. “Not from you, not from Mac, not from anyone. And not from you, either.” She shot the last remark in Jon’s direction, for good measure.