Bad Things (Tristan & Danika, #1) - R. K. Lilley
This book is dedicated to all of those who have gone through the utter heartbreak of watching a loved one suffer the disease of addiction. It is the most helpless feeling in the world. My heart goes out to you.
BOOKS BY R.K. LILLEY
IN FLIGHT (UP IN THE AIR #1)
MILE HIGH (UP IN THE AIR #2)
GROUNDED (UP IN THE AIR #3)
LANA (AN UP IN THE AIR NOVELLA)
BREATHING FIRE (HERETIC DAUGHTERS #1)
BAD THINGS (TRISTAN AND DANIKA #1)
Danika hasn’t had an easy life. Being insanely attracted to bad boys has never helped make it easier.
One look at Tristan, and every brain cell she possessed went up in smoke. This man was trouble with a capital T. It was a given.
She knew better. Bad boys were bad. Especially for her. Considering her history, it was crazy to think otherwise. So why did crazy have to feel so damn fine?
For as long as she could remember, Danika had been focused on the future with single-minded purpose. Tristan came along and taught her everything there was to know about letting go, and living in the present. She fell, hard, and deep. Of course, that only made her impact with the ground that much more devastating.
Bad Things is about Tristan and Danika, and their train wreck of a love story. This series can be read as a standalone, or with the Up in the Air trilogy
Bad Things is a full-length novel, at roughly 105,000 words.
This book is intended for ages 18 and up.
CHAPTER ONE
THE BEGINNING
DANIKA
I had the strangest shiver of premonition rock my body the first time I heard Tristan’s voice. I heard it from a room away, as he said something offhanded to my boss, Jerry, and still I knew somehow that he would change my life.
I had an unruly armful of clean laundry and five dogs crowding my legs in my boss’s cramped laundry room, when I heard the front door open, and two men chatting as they entered the house. I wasn’t alarmed. It was a chaotic sort of house, with all sorts of people coming and going at all hours of the day, and I recognized the sound of Jerry’s voice instantly.
The other man that spoke was a stranger, but his voice was deep and it sort of rumbled through the house until it reached me. I had an instant and positive reaction to it. I had mixed feelings about men in general, having a rather sordid past with them as a whole, and having recently gone through a nasty breakup with a real piece of work. My ex had been an out of work, pothead loser, and he hadn’t been the first loser that I’d wasted my time on. Still, I knew right away that I adored the sound of that deep, masculine voice.
I dropped the pile of clothes into the clean laundry pile in the clean corner of the room. My laundry skills were negligible, to put it nicely. I worked for Jerry and his ex-wife Beverly, as a live in nanny/housekeeper/dogwalker/poolgirl/gardener/whatever they needed me to do. It was well understood that I pretty much sucked at the housekeeper part of that arrangement, but it seemed to work for us all. I’d been working for them for two years, and we were going strong. Beverly and Jerry, dysfunctional exes, and awesome co-parents that they were, had become my closest friends and two of my favorite people on the planet.
I was dressed like a slob in too short black cheer shorts and a washed out gray UNLV sweatshirt, my straight black hair pulled into a rough ponytail, and not wearing a scrap of makeup, but I went to meet the newcomer anyway. My five favorite animals on the planet dogged my steps as I padded down the hallway.
Jerry’s back was to me as I turned the corner from the hallway and into the black, stone-lined entryway, the stranger facing me. I saw at a glance that the stranger was young, sexy as hell, and straight-up Trouble with a capital T.
I knew trouble when I saw it, it being a very old friend of mine. Trouble for me was this nasty little self-destructive streak that I’d never quite been able to shake. A theme song even played in my head when I felt the big T getting close. Four Kicks was that song, and it cranked up to full volume with my first glance at him.
He was tall, and built like a linebacker, both muscular and massive. He wore a tight black T-shirt that showcased every starkly muscled inch of his chest. His tattooed arms were folded across his chest in a casually attentive stance, but his presence commanded the room.
His face was handsome, with clean, even features that were dominated by pale golden eyes. He had a straight slash of a nose, with a rounded tip that would have brought him from handsome to pretty boy if he wasn’t so damned big, and full lips on a wide mouth that popped killer dimples at me as it hitched up playfully. Those dimples were pure big T. His pitch-black hair was cropped short, with dark stubble lining his jaw. His easy smile was playful, but still managed to be sinister. It was a heady combination for someone who was on a first name basis with the big T.
Jerry turned to see what the other man was smiling about. He was a middle-aged man, short and balding, with a slight build. His face was far from handsome, with close-set eyes and a big nose, but I thought he had one of the best smiles in the world.
“Danika,” Jerry said with that world-class smile. “This is my buddy, Tristan. He’s going to be crashing on the couch for a few days. He’s…uh…between residences.”
I mentally groaned. Bev was going to kill him. One glance at Tristan and I knew he wasn’t just a buddy. Jerry had a spotty history with helping out what he always thought was the latest rising star. He had big dreams of managing the next big rock band, and he took those dreams to extremes. He and Bev were both technically attorneys, but she was the only lawyer in the house that you could call employed. Jerry was too busy collecting unsigned bands to practice law.