A Good Boy Is Hard to Find (The Naughty List #3)

A Good Boy Is Hard to Find (The Naughty List #3)
Suzanne Young



Chapter 1

“I can’t breathe,” Izzie wheezed as we were pressed together in the oversized locker. Since she had gotten dropped from the soccer team last month, her endurance had taken a real kicking.

“We should have rethought this.” I tried to get my hand up high enough to unlatch the door. Cayenne pepper! I needed some air. “Move your arm,” I whispered, trying to get past Izzie.

Although our SOS assignments often put us in compromised positions, this space reeked of sweaty socks mixed with Izzie’s liberal application of Victoria’s Secret body cream. I was suffocating!

Finally, just before I lost consciousness, my fingers clutched the cold metal, and we tumbled out. Izzie landed on her cheer-skirted rear and luckily broke my fall as I piled on top of her.

“Ow,” she said, climbing to her feet and rubbing her backside. “I feel concussed.”

“You have to hit your head to have a concussion—” Wait. I immediately popped up and darted a look around the locker room. Our mission!

The place was empty. We’d made zero progress on the Blaze Harmon investigation even though we’d gotten the anonymous tip nearly a week ago. I’d been staking out this field house as if it were my job—well, I guess it sort of was, but I still had other things to do! Like meet up with Joel.

Joel—my ex-bestfriend’s ex-boyfriend—had been extremely patient with my let’s-take-it-slow attitude. After all, he’d just broken up with Kira and I’d just broken up (officially this time) with Aiden. It was a real heartache complication for both of us. But Joel was sweet as honey and patient as molasses. Not to mention adorable.

I glanced at my watch and saw that the players would be back from practice any second. Our source had said that the meet ups usually occurred before or during warm-ups, but we’d been waiting in here for close to an hour and nothing. We’d have to adjust our tactics and regroup.

“I think we’re better off planting a listening device and coming back to spy another night.” I brushed off my pants and wondered if Joel would be around later. Sigh. It seemed like we were always just missing each other.

Izzie nodded and slid open the zipper of her leather fanny pack—horribly unattractive but a must for staking out in tight spaces—and fished out a small metal device. She removed the adhesive backing and looked around.

“Where should I stick it?”

Hm. “Oh.” I pointed behind her. “Put it under the bench; that way the voices won’t be filtered out behind a locker.”

“So smart, Tess.” She beamed and pressed it in place under the wooden seat.

“Now let’s skedaddle,” I said and headed for the exit. Only just before I pushed on the metal bar, I heard voices on the other side. Dang it! I should have suffered through locker asphyxiation for a little bit longer!

“Emergency exit,” I whispered loudly, waving for Izzie to get back. It was too late to get into proper hideout positions now. Thank goodness Leona had planned out a second escape route in case we were compromised.

Izzie and I nearly trampled each other getting to the showers just as the raucous sounds of testosterone echoed through the main room.

There was a small window above the third stall that was just big enough for a cheerleader to get through. Kira had keyed us into it from her early dating days—which were plentiful. Long story.

“We’re so busted,” Izzie said, fretting as I held out my intertwined fingers for her to step into.

“Positive attitude.” I grunted as I boosted her up. There was a loud squeak as she pushed open the rectangular window.

“Go wash your pits, bro,” someone that I recognized as Peter Harrison—tight end—called out.

“Oh my!” Izzie rolled through the window, and I winced when I heard the crash on the other side. Oops. We probably should have moved the outside trash cans as a precaution.

“You hear that?” Peter called out from the main room. I gulped.

I put my sneaker on the shower wall and tried to climb, but it kept slipping down the white tiles. Cracker Jack prize! I was going to get caught for sure.

“Psst.”

I looked up to see Izzie’s pink-polished nails poke through the window and reach out for me. Rubbing my palm across the rubber sole of my shoe, I tried to get it prepped to climb. I stuck it on the wall again and ricocheted my way toward the open pane. I caught the edge of the window, and Izzie wrapped her hand around my wrist.

She pulled as I climbed until I was finally able to hook my elbow over the side. There was a noise behind me that sounded like the door opening, but I wasn’t going to stick around to see for sure. Instead, I used all of the strength I’d built up from lifting my pom-poms these last few years and chin-upped my way through the window.

Once again, Izzie was there to break my fall—this time without having to hit the ground (and luckily the trash cans had been set aside). The minute I touched sneaker to soil, we darted across the lawn from the field house toward the back parking lot, where I’d parked.

When we got to my car, I paused, bending down to rest my hands on my knees. Good thing I’d been working out a lot. That fast dash might have killed me otherwise.

“That was so close,” Izzie panted from the passenger side. She was lying across the car, sweat pouring down her face. Poor thing really should have tried to keep up with her soccer regimen.