Wicked Bad Boys (91 page)

I
stepped
into the powder room at the front door, closing the door behind me. I threw myself back against it. The panic threatened to overtake me. I had barely shut the door when a new flood of the tears escaped. I let loose, my sobs racking my body as I sank down to the cold tile floor. I hated myself for crying. Coming to think about it, before meeting Johnny, I had not dropped a tear since two days after I lost the big fight—the next worse day of my life. That thought only made me cry harder.

Once my emotional reservoir had finally dried up, I lay in a ball on the hard icy floor, my mind unable to slow down even though my body was spent. It felt as though I had been working this gig forever. In reality, it had barely been three weeks. It was the all-encompassing drama that made the time seem so drawn out.

I missed home. I wanted to sleep in my bed, feed my fish and be normal again. I had never felt homesick like this. Growing up, I had barely had a home until I moved in with my father in my teens. My mother ping-ponged us from one shitty apartment to the next, never staying in one place for more than a year, so I learned to not get overly attached to places or things. I knew all too well that it could be ripped away in an instant. My apartment in Miami had been home for the past few years, and until now, collapsed in this bathroom floor, I had not realized how much it meant to me.

One more week. Just one more week.

When I finally felt strong enough to stand, I heaved myself up. I stood facing the vanity, taking in my swollen, gullible face. I rolled my eyes to myself, thinking some of this was on me for not questioning how a million-dollar security gig could have fallen into my lap so easily. Turning the faucet on, I leaned forward and rinsed my face. After drying it off, I leaned closer to the mirror and checked out my face again. Blotches everywhere. I looked like crap. What did it matter? I didn’t care what any of these people thought of me. Not anymore.

I was no longer under the misguided notion that they believed I knew what I was doing. I did not need to project any image, because in all likelihood, I was the last to know Johnny had staged my getting hired. They had to know what I was.

A hack. A wannabe.

I began to wish I had never met Johnny…or Lorne…or whoever the hell he was.

I was not ready to face him yet.

For some reason—I decided later that it was sick curiosity—I pulled out my phone and turned it on. The battery power was still low, but it came on this time.

How convenient.

I cursed at it. If only my phone had turned on a couple of hours ago when I needed it, I never would have thought of using his tablet. I would still be in that sweet fantasy where I was Johnny’s girl, and he wasn’t a no-good, cyber-stalking, meddling, fly-my-ass-out-to-LA under false pretenses degenerate.

I continued scanning through old posts on my phone, stopping each time I saw stonefaceviper79. It was almost like tracing the stalker’s posts on Johnny’s page. Well, except he never said anything about blowing me up or wanting to taste my blood…

His last message was a comment to the post where I wallowed about wanting to start my own business.

Keep your chin tucked, Roxy. You got this fight.

I remembered the first time I had read that message. It was so encouraging, and filled me with hope. Now, it just confused me. It didn’t even sound like something Johnny would say. He never called me Roxy, and since we met, we had not talked much about my fighting career, except for my tipsy confessional at the bar.

I scanned back and wrote down the other messages. Early on, they were all replies about my fights, pumping me up before, cheering me after the win. There were some from when I had been injured. All supportive, encouraging, and occasionally he posted silly videos that had made me laugh.

Reading through it all, knowing that it had been Johnny the entire time…well, it sent another chill through me.

I was ready to confront him again.

The second I stepped out of the bathroom, I heard the front door slam shut. I got a sinking feeling and ran back to the den. Johnny was not there. I raced to his master suite. He was not there either. Shit. I ran back to the front door and popped my head through. Checking the hallway, I quickly weighed whether I should knock on Kevin’s room door or head to the elevator. I made a quick decision and ran to the elevator bays. If he were with Kevin, I wouldn’t need to worry, but if he had left, it was not going to be good news. I made it down the long hallway and as I got closer to the two rows of elevators, the last one closed…with Johnny inside.

Crap.

My heart raced as I bolted back to the room, noticing for the first time there were none of the private security guards at either doors—not at Kevin’s or ours. I had no purse, and no key card to get back inside.

Son of a bitch.

My body kicked into action faster than the rest of me, and before my mind caught up, I was back at the elevator bay pressing on the down button. I grabbed at my back pocket, automatically searching for my phone. I tried Johnny’s number. The phone went right to voicemail—probably because he was still on his way downstairs.

I pressed the down button frantically again, and an elevator arrived. It could not get to the lobby fast enough. As I rode down, I thought about calling Kevin or Fred to alert them, and to find out where the hell the door security guys had been. I realized I would have to admit that Johnny had been able to fly the coop right under my nose, and decided against that plan.

I’d find him myself.

With nothing but my almost dead phone?

I really was in over my head at this bodyguard gig.

My elevator brainstorming quickly turned into a list of worst-case scenarios. Before I could stop myself, images surfaced of Johnny being drawn out by the stalker to some remote location where she would be waiting for him…with a knife, or gun, or explosive device.

I put the thought out of my mind. The lobby bell rang and I ran off the elevator. I rushed to the entrance where we were let off last night.

And there he was.

Johnny was in his leather jacket and baseball cap, exiting the lobby. I sprinted the rest of the way and got outside just as he tipped a valet and stepped inside a car I had never seen.

“Johnny!”

I rushed around the back of the car to the driver side. Lucky for me, he had rolled down the window and had his left arm hanging out. I pinned his wrist to stop him.

“Amanda, what the hell?” he asked, Looking up at me, straining against my hold on his arm.

The valet rushed back outside. “Is everything all right, sir?” He asked Johnny, probably assuming I was some groupie or criminal.

Johnny nodded to the valet and he returned to his post. I stared down at him. My blood pressure was at an all-time high as he wriggled his arm underneath me.

“Amanda, let me go,” he demanded.

“No! I’m not going to let you go anywhere. What the hell do you think you’re doing? You can’t leave…not alone like this. You know it’s not safe.”

“I need to get out of here. I’ll be back in a while.”

“You have to take someone with you when you go. What were you thinking?”

“Get in.”

“What?”

“Get in the car, Amanda. Now.”

I let go of his arm and walked around the front to get in the passenger side.

“I needed to get away from that hotel room,” he finally said, his voice much softer than before.

I ran my hand over my face. “You can’t just leave, Johnny. You could have been hurt.”

“I don’t care anymore. I won’t be caged up.”

“We need to get back upstairs, it’s not—”

He took my hand from his face and put it back into my lap. “I’m not going back up there right now. So either stay with me, or get out.”

Wow. I didn’t expect that.

“With those two options, do I really have a choice? I guess I’m going on a ride with you, then.”

“Fine.”

I buckled up and relaxed into the seat. Neither of us had anything else to say.

He drove down the Strip, all the way past the Luxor. He then turned onto a side street. About two blocks in, he parked outside an all-you-can-eat buffet. I had no purse, no weapon and my phone battery was low again. We went inside and waited to be seated. I silently wondered how long it would take for Fred and the guards to notice we were gone. They may have assumed we were in Johnny’s room.

Who knows. No one called.

At this time of night, the buffet was busy, but not overly so. It was a large, modest restaurant, and the food was simple, but well-presented—American binge eating at its finest. We were both starved, and wasted no time walking the food lines to fill our plates. We barely exchanged any words. It was the usual pleasantries that could be heard at any dinner table—‘pass the salt’, ‘would you like more water?’, and who could forget, ‘are you gonna finish that?’ He probably asked the last question to make nice.

I was on the final few bites of my second plate when he excused himself to use the restrooms. No one had recognized him to that point, so he insisted on going without me. I finished my plate, and he had not yet returned, so I put down my napkin and went to look for him. I got to the men’s restroom and peeked in as the odd man entered or exited. At one point I called out Johnny’s name. He did not answer.

God. Two frantic searches for this man in one night?

Maybe Johnny wanted to ensure I was earning my keep. Christ, this was getting old. I looked back and forth down the corridor. I stood there a moment, wondering where he could have gone, when two strong arms laced around my waist from behind.

“Listen, woman,” Johnny said in my ear, full of self-assuredness. “You are going to forgive me right now, and you’re going to let me kiss you and make it up to you.”

I tried really hard to ignore the scorching heat that radiated off his chest and into my back. I could not. I tipped my head back and soaked it all in. There was no resisting him now. He kissed the top of my head and moved back to kiss me softly against my neck. I held my breath when he turned me to face him. My body urged me forward, to step into his arms and remove all the space between us, emotionally and physically. Something held me back. There was a small voice in the back of my mind, telling me not to forget about the profile and the lies. I couldn’t do it. I had more trust issues than I knew what to do with in the best circumstances. It wouldn’t work.

“I can’t,” I whispered.

“Why not?”

“I just can’t, Johnny.”

“You mean you won’t.”

“Okay fine. I won’t. We need to get back now. Have you settled the bill?”

“Yes.”

He walked past me and back down the corridor toward the front door. I followed him out. He was visibly upset, but still held the restaurant door open for me to exit, and the passenger side car door. He did not say a word to me when we were both inside, or for the trip back to the hotel.

We got back upstairs. The guards were out at the door. One looked over at us in amazement. They did not even know we had left. I told them everything was fine, and we went inside. I was looking forward to getting to bed—without Johnny—but it appeared there was more in store for me tonight.

T
his was torture
. I felt like shit. Being within feet of Amanda with no communication or physical contact messed me up. There was no way I could sleep now. My next performance was less than twenty-four hours away. My mind should have been focused only on getting ready to entertain. Yet every time I moved, caught a glimpse of her or thought of anything other than music, she would be right there, at the center of it all. There was no avoiding that. She still had a job to do, and it involved staying close to me.

Fuck.

I should have told her, but now that she knew, I wished she would get past it. Amanda was done with me. She made that clear tonight. Maybe finding my online profile was the last straw for her. She had been through a lot these last few weeks. It could not have been the main reason she was stepping back, but it sure as hell gave her decision to back off a lot more sticking power.

The drive home had been awkward and silent. If I had held on to any hope that the next week would give us a chance to work things out, the past two hours had smashed it to pieces.

She wanted nothing to do with me.

Once we were back in the hotel suite, Amanda went into the den. I got a water bottle from the kitchen and started walking to my room. She came out of her room, and I caught her out of the corner of my eye. I turned to look, only to find her staring right at me.

“I’m going for a run in the gym downstairs. Fred’s in the next room, and the guards are at the door, so they can…”

Her voice trailed off.

“So they can babysit me.” I finished for her. “Yes. Fine. I’ll be here.”

“It’s for your own safety, Johnny. If something were to happen to you…” She paused. I waited eagerly for what she would say next. “It’s not just about the job.”

I went into the bedroom suite with my water, and heard the door close when she left.

N
early an hour later
, the front door opened again. I had left the bedroom door open, and heard her light footsteps in the hall. I turned to look. Amanda stood in the dim hallway, doing stretches against the wall. She was in her running gear—a dark sports bra and a pair of tiny black shorts. Her body glistened with sweat. My cock sprang to life at the sight of her sweet ass and sexy legs. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her body.

She went to the den. I followed, telling myself I would let her know again—she was not sleeping in that little love seat tonight. I stood at her slightly open doorway, about to knock. Through the narrow space, I noticed she had started to strip out of her gear, not realizing I was right there. I felt some guilt as I watched, but hell, it was not enough guilt for me to look away. My need for her was too strong. She took off the sports bra. God, I could reach in and bury my head between her breasts. I held back a groan. She slipped out of her shorts and disappeared into the bathroom. Moments later, I heard the sound of the shower spray hitting the wall. I turned and returned to wait in the living room.

“You’re a dog,” I whispered to myself. My cock was rock hard. I used up every ounce of self-control to stay in my room and not go to her.

A few more minutes passed and she emerged, dressed in a long sweatshirt.

“Oh hi. You’re still up?” She asked, walking toward the kitchen.

“Yeah,” I answered. “Look. I’m sorry about everything.”

“Okay. We should get some rest.” Her voice was back to business.

Trying to talk to her was a painful and forced affair.

“I’m going to bed,” she announced, heading to the den again.

I stopped her. “I was serious about earlier, Amanda. You’re not sleeping in the den. I’ll use one of Kevin’s spare rooms tonight.”

“That’s not necessary,” she said sharply.

“Yes it is.” I crossed her path and headed to the den. “I’ll get your bags.”

She huffed out a breath and followed me. “Why do you have to be this stubborn? I told you I’m fine in there.”

I got to the den and picked up her bags. “Oh, I’m being stubborn?”

“Let’s not go there.”

I stopped and turned to her. “Maybe that’s exactly where we should go. Just face the facts, Amanda. You’re only acting this way to make it easier to leave when your gig’s up in a week.”

She reared back, clearly caught off guard that I would call her out. “You…you think I’m looking for an excuse?”

I put the bags down. “If it’s not that, then what?”

“Wow, Johnny. You can’t even take responsibility for what you did, can you?”

“I took responsibility. I apologized. I promised to make it up to you. So what did you do? You basically told me to go fuck myself.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“No, but it’s damn close!”

The tone and volume of our voices spiraled higher now.

“And why do you feel all you have to do is apologize, and it would make everything all better? You never gave me a choice.”

“Shit, Amanda. I can’t do this anymore. I made a mistake. I didn’t tell you. I should have. Well, now you know. I can’t go back and change any of it. You want to stay mad? You don’t think I’m worth one chance? Fine.”

Her jaw clenched. I didn’t want to be an asshole, but I couldn’t deal with it anymore. Not like this. I picked up her bags again and left for the master bedroom.

“Really?” she called after me. “You’re gonna spit that out at me, then just drop the mic and leave?”

I spun on my heel to face her when I made it to my room. She was pissed. Her arms were crossed, eyes narrowed and nostrils flaring.

“What else is there to say, Amanda? I fucked up, and you can’t move past it. I can’t force you to get over it. That’s on you.”

“I’m not the bad guy here!” she shouted. “I’m not the one who stalked you. I didn’t even know who you were before Kevin called me to offer me the interview. I had to Google you.”

“What do you want me to say? I didn’t realize that following you on social media and being a fan of your career was going to be such a big deal.”

“It’s not just that!” She railed, throwing her hands in the air.

“Then what? Tell me. What did I do that was so wrong?”

“It’s not that you followed me. I mean, you have been messaging me for nearly three years now. I get here, and you don’t mention it at all. Don’t you think that was a little underhanded?”

“Amanda, it’s not like you sent me naked pics or we had an online relationship. You make me sound like I’m some kind of predator.”

She chewed at her lip and stared at me. I wondered if finally my point had been made. “You should have told me. You could have said, hey, I’m stonefaceviper79, long-time Roxy Punisher fan over here, nice to meet you.

“Okay I should have. I didn’t.”

“Johnny, back at the beginning of my time here, you told me to trust you. If you can’t come clean about something as quote, unquote
small
as this, then how can you believe I would trust you with anything else?”

I didn’t have an answer for her. I messed up. I apologized. She refused to let it go. “This conversation isn’t going anywhere.” I ran my fingers through my hair and growled under my breath. “I’ll be over in one of Kevin’s spare rooms tonight.”

“I told you already, you don’t have to do that.”

“It’s fine.”

I walked over to my open suitcases and pulled out some sweat pants. “This is all I need until morning. Have a good night.”

I turned and left, heading to the front door again.