Stolen (A Bad Boy Romance #2)

ing night.

It was the kind of nightmare that I knew was half real. The kind I promised myself would never happen again.

And I had a chance to make sure that the man went back behind bars forever. I just had to figure out a way to make that happen. To make it all happen without implicating anyone.

I knew Janson was right, no Feds. At least not that he could be involved with. He was going to inherit the family business along with my brother, and it had to be legit. He would not last if he was implicated as an FBI snitch.

People got killed for a whole lot less than that.

It’s why I had to be the one to do it. I made that determination as soon as I saw the look on his face. I had to figure out a way to get rid of our fathers once and for all.

Why his father? Because he was the first f*ck
ing person that showed up to help with my uncle’s body. He was the one who coordinated everything. He was the one who took care of it all. They were both guilty.

They were both menaces to the family and to society.

I didn’t want that man walking free.

“You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t live to see my father put in jail or killed?” He pulled off his jacket and started unbuttoning his shirt.

What the f*ck
?

“I think you’ve gotten very rich off of our parents,” I said. “And that you probably don’t want to see the income dry up.”

“I’ve gotten what I could, yes, that’s true, but I’ve also received so much more.”

His shirt was off and I could see his body for the first time in the broad light of day. I hadn’t noticed all the scars on his body the first time I’d seen him naked. We were too busy.

At first glance, the front of his body looked totally clean, well-muscled and attractive, but as he turned, I saw a tapestry of shit on his back.

“What the hell?” I gasped aloud as I saw the complete canvas.

It was littered in long streaks of scars, burns healed over. Some of them obvious cigarette markings.

“You think you are the only one with a monster for a father? This shit started when my mother died. When I was six years old, Kathryn. Said he wanted to ‘toughen’ me up. Said it would make me into a great man. It made me into a monster.”

“You aren’t a monster,” I said as I walked towards him. I put my hand on his back and felt him stiffen, but I didn’t care. I guided my fingers along that flesh, the tips of them sliding along each divot and dimple in his marred back. “You’re beautiful.”

I meant it, too. It was so sad that I could feel the tears threaten my eyes, but he was absolutely gorgeous, scars or no.

This just added a little bit more to the story, and gave me a greater understanding.

It also solidified my decision.

I was going to see our fathers rot in jail if it was the last thing I did.

I would do it with or without Janson.





Janson



Beautiful. She called the scars beautiful. She called me beautiful. She saw so much more in me than I saw, and it scared me. This girl was completely crazy.

But it was exactly what I needed to hear to calm me down. Or rather, to relocate all that emotion into one very distinct area.

The want I had for her reemerged as I turned and looked into her eyes.

She was so fiery. So full of life. And she didn't see the monster I knew I was. The one who was just waiting for a chance to get out of his cage. The beast inside of me.

I grabbed her hand and pulled her to me. "Do you even know how dangerous it was talking to Michael about that shit? How do you know the number he gave you wasn't someone worse? Like the men who are trying to bring down our organization? The ones who would do so at any cost. Even your life."

Just thinking about it made me want to rip his throat out and throw his body from a bridge. I shouldn't have let Michael go. It was an obvious mistake. I shouldn't have given him a choice. But I'd trusted him with my life so many times and he never let me down. I needed to do that, for me. Not for him.

It was the most I could do to pay him back.

At least this way he would get a running chance.

But I didn't care about him, not right now, not at this moment. I had to address the defiant woman standing in front of me.

The one that was making my cock so hard I could barely breathe.

"I know it was dangerous, but he approached me. He asked me, and after all that he has been through, I believe him." She said it was such conviction.

"You barely know him," I protested. He'd been in her life for all of two days.

"But I saw the look in his eyes. He wants revenge. But not on you. Not on Greyson. What did Dad do to him?" she asked.

It was a good question. We probably would never know.

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