Rough Hard Fierce: A Bad Boy Romance Boxed Set (Chicago Underground #1-3)

I’d been playing a game without knowing the rules. I hadn’t even seen the board. Meanwhile Philip was arranging shit, and Shelly was turning on him, none of which I had any clue about, and Colin. Colin had been playing the middle, trying to appease both Philip and me, more fool him.

I rested my face against the cool window of the police cruiser. I hoped Colin was okay, at least, wherever he was. I made excuses for why he didn’t come back, ones that didn’t involve him getting injured or him abandoning me. After all, it didn’t make much sense for a criminal to walk into a cop’s nest. He couldn’t have known they’d let Philip go, and besides, if Colin had shown up, they might have done something different. Police were dangerous because they were an unknown quantity. They could be working for the moral superiority or taking kickbacks or just trying to get a paycheck. At least the bad guys had a clear objective.

I understood why he’d gone, but it still hurt. With Shelly sent off in the ambulance and Colin off to parts unknown, I was completely alone. It must have started raining, because a droplet wove down the glass and pooled at the bottom. One, then another. I’d watched them just like this when I rode in my dad’s truck. They never went in a straight path. That would have made the most sense, straight down. Instead they turned and curved and angled, taking a long, circuitous route to the end. It would be scary, I thought, to be that drop. To know she was going down, but not know how or when it would happen.

My gaze flicked up to where Shelly was being loaded into the ambulance, Detective Cameron at her side. No, it wasn’t raining. It was me.

God. Bailey.





Chapter Six


Even though we’d taken different vehicles, Shelly and I ended up at the same place. The county hospital was surprisingly cheery, for all that it was populated with the no-healthcare segment of the population. The blinding yellow lights and ridiculous sea-green walls said we might die here, but we’d die brightly.

Although it looked like we wouldn’t die. Shelly had gotten out of surgery and was stable. The bullet had missed her major organs, only nicking her intestines. She’d been lucky.

They’d patched up my scrapes and treated me for smoke inhalation, but it was my head that was the problem. I had a Grade III concussion, they said, and I’d stay in the hospital in case I kicked the bucket overnight. Ironic that my main injury was sustained when Colin had pushed me down out of the gunfire to protect me.

They knew about Bailey, and a social worker was to check on her and decide what to do. Supposedly, but no one knew anything, and I wasn’t allowed to use the phone. Trust the system, the nurse said. I laughed aloud, an ugly sound. That had been two hours ago. It would be breaking dawn soon, and I still hadn’t heard anything.

Oh, and that guard at the door would make sure I didn’t get any bright ideas. Thanks, system.

My head pounded as if my old upstairs neighbor’s music was blaring into my brain. I was afraid to tell them, though, in case they’d give me something that would knock me out before I heard from the social worker.

The door clicked open, and I tensed.

Philip walked in, looking aggravatingly clean and fresh in a suit despite his black eye.

“You bastard,” I said. The gravity of the night had settled in. I’d almost died because of him. I swung out of bed, ready for what would have surely been the feeblest ass-kicking ever. But it was worse than expected, because I hadn’t counted on the dizziness, despite the nurse’s warnings, and I ended up in a tangled heap on the floor.

He was at my side, lifting me, and I took full advantage, swinging my fists. They glanced off the slick, tailored fabric with no injury to him, though I felt every blow reverberate in my skull. “You stupid, sick bastard. I hate you. You’re such a fucking bastard.”

He dropped me back onto the bed and gave me a raised eyebrow that questioned my skills at insults. “Are you finished?”

I glared at him. Bastard. “What are you doing here?”

“Came to check on you,” he replied smoothly.

“Uh-huh, and the guard just let you walk in here?”

“He’s there to keep you in, not others out. Besides, despite what happened earlier, most of the cops are my friends.”

“Friends or employees?” I asked.

“What’s the difference?”

I snorted, and a small smile cracked on his face.

“Actually,” he said, “I thought you’d be glad to see me, since I bring news of Bailey.”

I sat up so hard my head spun. “How is she?”

“She’s fine. Relax. She’s with Colin back at home. I just came from there, and she’s still sleeping. When she wakes up, she’ll stay with him.”

“Really?” I narrowed my eyes. “Is that what the social worker said?”

“Absolutely.”

“Don’t mess with me,” I warned.