Exposing the Bad Boy Read online

  Corbin was reclining in his chair, slate grey eyes fixed on me expressionlessly. “Ellie,” he said crisply. “I notice your hands are empty. Where's that lunch you promised?”

  “Have some confidence in me.” From my jacket, I pulled out two protein bars. The packaging crinkled when I tossed him one. “See? As always, I came through!”

  His dark eyebrows crawled up. “Seriously?” Corbin wagged the bar side to side. “This is your idea of lunch?”

  “No,” I admitted. Sitting across from him, I linked my fingers over one crossed knee. “Honestly, I forgot my promise until I was parking. Those were in my glove compartment.”

  My boss's composure cracked. He couldn't hold back his laugh, the protein bar thrown at my chest. I let it bounce to the floor. “You're such an ass, Ellie.” He tapped his intercom. “Becky, can you order some sandwiches up for me and Miss Cutter, please?”

  Twisting in the chair, I leaned closer. “Soup.”

  Corbin blinked.

  “I'm not feeling well,” I explained. “Last night was hard. So. Yeah.” My shrug went to my ears. “Soup, if that's alright. And maybe some Advil.”

  Becky answered for us, voice cheerful in the speaker. “Sandwiches and soup. Yeah, I'll get right on that, guys.”

  Removing his finger, Corbin shook his chin side to side. “Why do I put up with you?”

  “Because I clean up so damn well.” My wink made him roll his eyes. “And because I'm the best recruiter in this place.”

  “Right. The last one.” Reaching over, he spun his laptop until we could both see the screen. “Ellie, I wanted you here fast because there's someone I need you to get for us.”

  Leaning closer, I squinted. “It really couldn't wait until tomorrow? I expected to have the day off after getting Ferris.”

  “By tomorrow, everyone is going to be after our mystery man.”

  Now I was curious. “Who is he?”

  Corbin tapped the keyboard, opening a video. I glanced at the site, recognizing Youtube. The view count on the bottom corner proclaimed this particular video had over two-hundred thousand views.

  The upload date was this morning.

  What the hell?

  My boss tapped the enter key to make it play. The camera was grainy, night vision. I recognized the building; it was one of the taller, under-construction projects in the city.

  Unsure what was about to happen, I saw the figure step into view. The camera zoomed, catching dark hair and darker tattoos on his exposed, well muscled arms. He had on a hooded sweater with chopped off sleeves.

  Baffled, I held my breath. He'd stepped to the edge of the crane, perching like a gargoyle. But gargoyles weren't real, and they certainly didn't move—or fly.

  I had the awful sensation that Corbin was about to show me a suicide video. My confidence that something more was going to happen kept me from shutting my eyes.

  Suddenly, the stranger jumped out into the air, plummeting fearlessly down to the city below. This was a swan dive without hesitation.

  No fear.

  I heard my own surprised gasp. Seconds later the chute opened, his form floating safely between buildings and electric wires until he vanished from view. “Holy shit.” The words escaped me, too fast and too honest. Looking at Corbin, I recognized the gleam in his eyes. “Was that a base jumper?” I was familiar with the extreme sport, my job revolved around such things.

  From my memory, the name was an acronym for what they chose to jump from: Buildings, antennas, span and earth. People who did it would drop from dangerous heights, skirting death at the last second with their chutes.

  I'd never heard of it happening in LA. It was extremely illegal to climb on city property, weren't the cops everywhere? And here was this guy, leaping at night without any worry; with pure, visible confidence even through the grainy video.

  My heart was thrumming, imagining how it had to feel to do what he'd done so smoothly. Heights and I weren't exactly friends.

  Grabbing the keyboard, Corbin clicked through the video as he spoke. “Yeah, he's a base jumper. That was right here, downtown. Did you see how he avoided hitting anything?”

  “How did he even get up there?”

  “I'm betting he evaded the security guards and climbed the rest of the way, over all the scaffolding and such.” Freezing the image of him jumping, sweater dangling like a life line behind him, he tapped the screen. “No helmet, and jumping somewhere like this? He's a risk taker.”

  “You want to sign him.”

  Corbin met my level gaze. “I want him. Yeah.”

  “It's such a specific sport, though... how will you even utilize him? There's not, like, base jumping competitions.” Are there? I suddenly wondered. If there were, it was clearly not popularized. The marketing for this would be a whole other world beyond BMX biking or surfing.

  “I have a plan on how we'll make money off of him, Ellie. Believe me on this.”

  Scratching the back of my neck, I eyed the image. “Fine. But how do we find out who he is?”

  My boss grinned so wide it made me wonder if he had extra teeth. “I already figured that out, too.” From beneath his desk, he grabbed a folder. Flipping it open, he revealed a number of black and white photographs. I recognized them for what they were.

  “Police booking photos.” Gripping the pages, I turned them towards me. It was a small number of men, each holding up numbers as they endured the camera. “What does this mean, he was arrested before?”

  “I figured someone like him couldn't be so good, so capable, if he hadn't been doing it awhile.” Corbin was speaking, but I was staring down at the images in my hands. “Base jumpers get caught, and when they do, they get hit with trespassing charges. I just looked for men in the area who had those charges, but localized to abandoned buildings. I narrowed it further to those between the ages of eighteen and twenty-five.”

  “How did you figure that age range?” And how did you get access to such detailed police data? I froze, sliding a grey-scale photo from the folder. It was the man from the video, those rich tattoos cascading over his hard-edged forearms. They identified him easily.

  Corbin's chuckle pulled my eyes to him. He looked extremely proud. “I just guessed based on his looks. If he wasn't at least eighteen, we couldn't sign him, so I went with that as the low end.”

  “Optimistic,” I mumbled. Waving the stiff paper, I glanced at the information scrawled beneath the guy's cocky smile. “Pike Moss. Twenty-one, it says.”

  “That arrest was two years back. He'd be twenty-three, now.”

  I set the paper down. “Should I assume, if you have this much on Pike, that you know where I could find him?” Is it that easy to get background files on people? I appreciated that Corbin had done the leg work, but his ability, his speed, in something so personal, left me with a bad taste in my mouth.

  Rolling his chair back, my boss strolled to the window. “That was harder. He isn't registered at any of the colleges, which was my first guess.” He waited for me to nod. “And normally, I'd just have you show up at a candidate's sporting event.”

  “But he does this in secret. There's no actual event for him to attend and show off at.”

  Facing away from me, his head movement was close to invisible. “I reached out to the guy who caught that footage. No leads there, either, though the kid tried to get me to cut him a check to use the video.” Corbin dropped his tone, sighing. “Again, a dead end.”

  I fidgeted in my chair. “This suspense is murder. Tell me you do know where he is.”

  There was a look of hurt in his concrete colored eye as he showed me his profile. “You're impatient to meet him, or just bored by me?”

  “Probably both,” I teased. “A mix, for sure.” As I thought about how confidently Pike had fallen through the sky, I had to admit, I was eager to meet him. Idly, I stroked the glossy photo, finding myself studying Pike's ink. Who was he, really?

  Pushing air through his teeth, Corbin waved me to the window.
Kicking forward, I moved to join him. “Ellie, here's the thing. I really want this guy. Enough that I pulled a few strings that might make even you frown.”

  My reflection in the glass showed my doubt. “You act like I don't normally have an issue with seedy shit.”

  The smirk he gave me was too familiar. “Let's not debate morals. I made some calls, got his credit report and found some trails that led to bounced checks and collections from landlords.” I was sure he saw my eyes narrow. “Point is, I called one of them. They were kind enough to tell me his old place of employment.”

  “You bribed them.”

  “Turns out,” he pressed on, acting like I wasn't scowling, “Pike still works at the same place.”

  A hard thing was digging in my guts. Guilt? Suspicion? I'd never call my company 'innocent' or anything, but Corbin was revealing the strings behind the puppets and leaving me disenchanted.

  I mumbled, “Scummy, I want to make my stand on that clear. Let's not act like the situation isn't creepy, agreed?”

  “Agreed.” He crossed his arms, watching me expectantly.

  Breathing deep, I scanned the cars below. As usual, most of the streets were packed and sluggish. “Tell me where I can meet him.”

  He had the grace to control his grin. Somewhat. “Better Beans. It's a coffee chain.”

  Coffee shop employee. I'd never have guessed that. “Sort of bland for someone who jumps off buildings.”

  Corbin plucked at one of his shirt buttons. “Let's hope he thinks that, too.”

  “Is that how you want me to play it? Approach him and say we want to sponsor him, let the excitement lure him in?”

  “Do it however you want. You've always figured it out before.” His shoes glinted as he crossed a sun beam, falling back into his seat. “You're clever. Smooth.”

  Grinning, I tossed my hair. “Well, thanks for noticing.”

  “Ellie,” he said, tone soft with his abrupt seriousness. “You've never failed to sign anyone I sent you after. Not once. Get him for me. Having a risk taking, danger chasing, honest to god base jumper in our pocket could put us even further on the map. Plus, it doesn't hurt that he's young and handsome, hmn?”

  I felt a flutter in my stomach. Young and handsome. Corbin had never been so bold as to tell me to flirt with a client, though we both knew that it was often a given when you needed to butter someone up. This time, though, I'd gotten the hint he was telling me to do anything to sign Pike.

  There was something... off about his determination. What if I did fail, this time?

  What would he do in response?

  “No pressure,” I chuckled, but my humor was frail. “I'll get him. Trust me.”

  A knock on the door turned our heads. Becky pushed inside, holding a paper bag in her arms. “Lunch,” she said brightly. “Soup and all.”

  “Actually,” I said, reaching out to take the package. From the depths, I pulled a wrapped sandwich. Both of their eyes were on me in mutual confusion. “I've got my appetite back. Think I'll take this and run.”

  “I—but...” Becky pursed her lips.

  My boss offered a sly smile. “Good girl. Happy hunting.”

  With a final wink at the gawking secretary, I slipped out the door.

  - Chapter Two -

  Pike

  “Pike!”

  I froze, hand pressing the muffin into my mouth. Half bent in the backroom of the shop like some crooked beast, hoarding away at sugary goods, I knew I wasn't a pretty picture.

  “Pike,” the voice hissed again. Turning, I stared at my co-worker. Sarah was fixed in the doorway, arms knotted as tight as her eyebrows. “What the hell are you doing back here?”

  Glancing at my fingers over my lips, then to her knowing frown, I forced the snack down my throat and swallowed. “I was—well.” I lifted my palms. “What do you want to hear?”

  Her face got darker, then eased up. “Come on, Pike.”

  Brushing crumbs from my cheeks, I sighed. “Just tell me what I need to say to make sure you don't tell everyone about this.”

  The blonde came my way, reaching out to dust food I'd missed from my face. “Sweetie, I'm not going to tell. I just wanted to know why you were shoveling that muffin down faster than green grass through a goose.”

  I didn't bite back my snort. “It wasn't that bad.” Sarah peered up at me. “Right, fine. Okay. I didn't eat much last night before bed, I thought I'd snatch something here during my shift.”

  “Mmhm.” She took me in, toes to head. “And the other day, same thing?”

  I couldn't stop my jaw from falling. “Didn't know you were so keen to spy on me. Look, it's been tight lately, and without much in the way of tips, I've had to stretch my food bill.” Need to save for my new helmet, I thought privately.

  Shaking her curls, she nodded at the door. “Come back out and make some tips, then. Maybe try to smile at the register and look a bit more awake.”

  Rubbing my eyes, I slapped my face till it tingled. “Sleep has been bad, too.”

  “Late nights?” She leaned away so I could slide past her. “You out partying with all the ladies till dawn?”

  It was a struggle to keep myself from smiling slyly. “Something like that.” My mind filled with the memory of the night air, how it had embraced me and welcomed me to its folds. It wasn't a woman, no, but it fulfilled me in a different way.

  Pushing into the main part of the coffee house, I peeked around from behind the register. It was the quiet hour in the store, that odd chunk of time after people had rushed us for their morning caffeine, but wouldn't need another bump until midday.

  The emptiness wasn't uplifting.

  Dropping my stare to the tip jar, I mentally willed it to flood over with dollar bills. In spite of my migraine, the jar remained hollow, the bits of change clinging to the bottom.

  “Relax,” Sarah said, like she'd read my mind. She handed me a cloth, so I wordlessly wiped down the counter. “It'll get busy soon enough. Knowing you, you'll wish it was dead when it gets close to the end of your shift.”

  Under my brisk scrubbing, the wood gleamed. I get antsy when it gets dark. The setting sun reminded me of my parachute, sitting in my trunk and begging me to steal it—and myself—up some neck-breaking height. My patience wasn't the best when it came to my craving.

  I just wanted to fly.

  The door jingled. Glancing up, I heard Sarah's soft whistle a second before I spotted the woman. She reminded me of a racer, black jacket with aqua stripes down the sleeves. I expected to see a helmet under her arm, or a motorcycle outside, and was almost disappointed when I didn't.

  The collar of her coat reminded me of a razor's edge. Dark jeans clung to her long legs, ankle-boots clicking across our scuffed tile floor. Her body was curved all over, minus the sharp angle of her perfect jaw.

  That stare fell on me—how did real people get eyes as green as that? I'd seen gorgeous women before, I lived in fucking LA, but there was something... different about this girl. Something in her walk, her eyes.

  It was like she'd come here to seek me out. That was intriguing, if strange.

  I wasn't about to complain.

  Clearing her throat, Sarah swayed up to the register. “Hey there!” she chirped. “How can I help you?”

  The woman folded her elbows on the counter. “You can tell me what your most popular drink is. And then,” she grinned, shooting her attention back to me, “I'd love a word with that gentleman.”

  Gentleman? This woman had no idea who I was, not if she thought that. Standing in place, I folded my arms across my chest. Sarah was squinting at me, as dubious as my own expression was. Guess she really did come here to talk to me. But why? My curiosity was growing fast.

  Sarah pointed at the board above. “On the first part, most popular is the caramel latte. I'll get that started for you. On the second...” She waved her hand at me, trying to be subtle and failing. “That's Pike. You want to have a word, that's up to him. I don't control the guy.”<
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  The stranger laughed, honest and warm. It was enough of a lure; I closed the distance, leaning on the counter in front of her. “Well, like she said, I'm Pike. What about you? You have a name, sugar?” My smile soaked into my tone.

  She stretched long fingers over the counter towards me. “Ellie Cutter. Nice to meet you.”

  On reflex, I extended my hand. Shit, the rag. I threw it aside, ignoring how it landed on the floor and no where near where it should go. My grip was firm, enjoying her smooth palm. “What did you want to talk to me about?” I lifted an eyebrow, chuckling. “Is it bad news?”

  “Why would you think it was bad news?” she asked.

  Peeking at Sarah, who kept looking our way every other second, I shrugged. “It's one or the other. A bad reason or a good reason is the only option.”

  Ellie's eyebrows lowered wickedly. “No other options in there?”

  Hah, well this is surprising. If this girl was trying to flirt with me, fine, but it was really random.

  Lifting my head high, I strolled around the counter. I was tall enough that Ellie's head came below my chin, in spite of her boots. I loved how she flicked her eyes over me, taking me in with obvious appreciation. “I think that option would still fall under 'good,' Miss Cutter.”

  Her lips parted, a motion that made my jeans tighten uncomfortably. “Maybe it'd be a bit of both,” she whispered.

  Wishing I could adjust my suddenly firming cock, I said, “Can we talk here, or is this some mega serious private thing?”

  “Let's sit, if it's alright.” Reaching over, she took the drink Sarah had set down. Sliding out a twenty, she motioned me to the far corner table. “Keep the change.”

  Sarah and I shared a look. I didn't know if she was impressed or annoyed. Not waiting, I strolled after my new 'friend.' Tugging a chair out, I sat across from Ellie with growing interest. I'd been pursued by some pretty bold women, but this didn't feel exactly the same. So what was going on?

  Sipping the latte, she set it down, toyed with the lid. “You've worked here long?”