Right Kind of Wrong Read online

  Samson clucks his tongue. “We really need to work on your telephone greetings, man.”

  “What do you want?”

  “It’s not me this time. Mom wanted me to call and remind you to bring an umbrella, in case it rains.”

  I scoff. “Did she want you to call me about an umbrella or did she want you to check up on me and make sure I was really heading out there?”

  “Both, probably.”

  I sigh. “Right. Well, tell her to relax. I’m leaving tomorrow.” A pause. “How’s she doing?”

  Samson hesitates a moment. “Not good.”

  Of course she’s not doing good. Her son is missing. Missing. Where we come from, there are only two reasons a guy goes missing: He’s either on the run or in the ground. Neither of which sound like Drew.

  Drew’s not a fighter or a dealer. If anything, he’s the opposite. A mama’s boy, who follows the rules and stays out of trouble.

  I stop packing. “I don’t like this, Sam. Something feels wrong.”

  “I know,” he says. “I’m trying my best to figure all this shit out, Jack. I swear. But you know how it is out here. No one will talk to me—because I’m not you. I don’t have your connections. Your associations.”

  “Damn straight, you don’t,” I snap harshly, red-hot protectiveness and fear burning beneath my skin.

  “Right,” Samson says slowly. “My point is that I can only do so much without you, but I’m working my ass off to find any leads on Drew. I really am.”

  “I know you are, Sam.” I quiet my tone. It’s not his fault, all this shit. It never was. “Drew’s lucky to have you there.” A wave of guilt crashes into me and I ride it out until it hurts just enough for me to surface for air.

  I shouldn’t have left Little Vail. I shouldn’t have left my family.

  But I needed to leave. I had to.

  It was my only chance to get out.

  I shouldn’t have left—

  “No. Drew’s lucky to have you, bro.” Samson’s words cut open a fresh wound and smooth it over at the same time. Guilt’s a fickle bitch. “We all are.”

  With a thick swallow, I go back to shoving clothes in my duffle bag. “How’s Mom doing on money? Does she need more? I can send more—”

  “She’s fine. We’re all fine,” he says. “We don’t need anything but your overprotective ass out here to help with this Drew situation. How are you coming out? You flying?”

  “Nah. I’m hitching a ride with a friend.”

  “Why don’t you take your motorcycle?”

  I go back to stuffing items into the duffle. “Because it’s a long trip to make by myself. Can’t risk getting delayed by bike troubles and shit. Besides, what if it rains?” I mock.

  “What, are you scared of getting wet?”

  “No. I’m just not a reckless moron like you.”

  He scoffs. “So then fly.”

  I zip up my bag and toss it by my bedroom door. “I thought about it. But I’ve got a friend driving out to NOLA anyway so I figured I’d make the best of it. You’re good until later this week, right?” I say. “Mom doesn’t need me sooner?”

  “No, she’ll be cool until you get here,” he says. “Besides, she’s got me to keep her company now, remember? I’m living with her again. You know, because of the whole thing with Trixie kicking me out.”

  “God, you’re horrible with women.”

  He scoffs. “You’re one to talk. You haven’t had a woman like… ever.”

  I scowl. “Had a woman?”

  “You know what I mean. You never date anyone. Not seriously.”

  “Right,” I say. “And no one’s ever kicked me out. Funny how that works.”

  “Asshole,” he mutters. “On that note… I’m signing off. I’ll be seeing you later this week, I guess. I’d tell you to ride safe but since you’re too much of a baby to ride in the rain…”

  “Fuck off.”

  “That’s the spirit. See you later, bro.” The line goes dead and I shove the phone back into my pocket before getting a pack of cigarettes out of my other pocket. Then I haul my bag out to the living room.

  “Damn.” Ethan eyes my bag as he slips a flashy watch over his wrist. “How are you going to fit that thing on your Harley?”

  “I’m not,” I say, finding a lighter in the key tray we keep in the kitchen. “I’m going with Jenna. Her grandma isn’t doing so well so she’s driving out to Louisiana to visit and I’m thinking about hitching a ride.”

  Slipping out the back door, I step onto the small apartment balcony and light up. Ethan stands in the doorway, watching me inhale.

  “Seriously?”

  I nod.

  “Have you asked Jenna?”

  I shake my head.

  “Why not?”

  I swear, it’s like living with a girl, all the questions.

  “Because.” I let out a long cloud of smoke. “If I ask her, she’ll say no. If I just show up… well, she’ll still say no, but it’ll be a hell of a lot easier to talk her into saying yes when she’s caught off guard and looking at me.”

  He shakes his head. “You need to stop fucking with her, Jack. That’s not cool.”

  I stare at him. “Me? If anything, she’s fucking with me.” I inhale through my nose and look away.

  “I like Jenna, dude,” Ethan says. “And if her grandma’s not doing well then you shouldn’t be adding to her stress. She’s not as tough as she looks—”

  “Don’t you—” I snap, then relax my shoulders and calm my tone. “Don’t talk to me like I don’t know shit about Jenna. I need a ride and she’s thinking about driving across the whole fucking country by herself.” I take another drag and try to push out all my fear over Jenna traveling alone with a long exhale. “It’s a win-win situation.”

  Ethan slowly nods, remains silent for a moment, then retreats back into the apartment, leaving the balcony door open. “Good luck, dude,” he calls out as he leaves through the front door, then adds, “You’re going to need it.”

  I stay on the balcony and stare down at the noisy Tempe traffic around ASU’s campus.

  In a way, I guess he’s right. Jenna’s going to be pissed. And when she’s upset she’s hell on heels and fierceness on fire. But frankly, I don’t give a damn. She can claw at my face if it means I’ll get to accompany her on this reckless little cross-country jaunt of hers.

  Damn Jenna. She’s too brave for her own good. Don’t get me wrong, I like her backbone. I like the fight in her veins and the sharpness of her talons. But that doesn’t mean she’s invincible. None of us are.

  Taking a seat on the lone plastic chair on the balcony, I lean back and puff again on my cigarette. Tomorrow’s going to be a challenge, talking her into letting me tag along on her trip, but as long as I show up with my nice-guy face on—and keep my hands to myself—I know she’ll cave. And if she doesn’t, well… then I’ll have no choice but to use my hands. And Jenna’s never been able to say no to my hands.

  5

  Jenna

  One positive aspect of living with three girly girls is that no one gives you crap when you load half of your possessions into your car for a quick road trip.

  Three suitcases might seem like overkill for a visit back home but I really had no choice. The first suitcase is for my clothes. The second for my hair and makeup supplies, because beauty takes time—and lots of tools. And the third, of course, is for my shoes. Shoes get their own piece of luggage since they are practically works of art. Or at least mine are.

  Cramming everything into my trunk, I slam it closed before heading back upstairs to the apartment to grab the last thing I need: my purse. Stepping inside, I am once again bombarded by the hens.

  “Call every three hours,” Becca says, biting her thumbnail.

  “And don’t pull over unless it’s a total emergency,” Callie adds, pointing a long manicured finger at me.

  “And whatever you do, don’t talk to strangers.” Alyssa’s eyes are even more wide this
morning than they were last night.

  I let out a long exhale as I pick up my purse then turn to my well-meaning but completely obnoxious cousins.

  I look at Becca. “I’m not calling every three hours. That’s ridiculous. I might call once a day. Maybe.” Pointing back at Callie, I say, “I will pull over whenever I damn well please. But I promise I’ll try not to pull over on desolate strips of freeway littered with signs that say Watch Out! Killer Nearby! Sound good?” She glares at me as I turn to Alyssa. “I won’t talk to strangers—unless they’re hot and offer me candy, in which case…” I smile. Her eyes bulge even more. “Girl, you need to stop doing that with your eyes or they’re going to pop right out of that pretty little head of yours and accidentally get stomped on by my boots.” I gesture to the high-heeled boots I’m wearing.

  Are they practical for driving? Certainly not. But they’re red and made of awesome so I shall sport them cross-country.

  “Just please be careful,” Callie warns in the big-sister voice she typically reserves for her younger sisters.

  She and I are pretty much the same age so she rarely takes that tone with me, but I’m well aware of the seriousness built up behind it so I place my hand on her shoulder and get real for a minute.

  “Callie. I promise I will be safe. You don’t need to worry.” I meet her eyes with a silent look of sincerity and she nods. Opening the door, I smile at the three of them. “I will see you guys when I get to Grams, okay? Love ya.” We exchange hugs that are extra squishy, then I make my way back down the apartment stairs to my red car.

  The Tweedles stare down at me from their perch on the midpoint landing and I wave a final good-bye before unlocking the doors and sliding into the front seat. Pulling the door closed behind me, I turn to put the key in the ignition and—

  “Ahh!” I jump back, startled and pissed, then thwack my open palm against the gigantic body of pure muscle seated in the passenger seat. “God damn you, Jack! You scared the shit out of me!”

  Okay, so maybe hitting him wasn’t very mature but I couldn’t help myself. My nerves are a little on edge and, honestly, Jack’s just so… big, anyone in their right mind would be terrified to be caught off guard by his presence.

  “What the hell?” I snap, throwing him some serious stink eye.

  He grins. “Good morning.”

  “What are you doing in my car?” I glance up through the windshield at where my cousins still stand on the landing, captivated by Jack’s sudden appearance.

  Great.

  “I’m going with you,” he says.

  I whip my eyes back to him. “What?”

  “To Louisiana.” He points to a large duffle bag in the backseat.

  I blink. “Uh, no you’re not.”

  “Uh, yes I am.”

  “Like hell.”

  He crinkles his brow. “I’ve never understood that phrase. But okay. I’ll go with you ‘like hell,’ whatever that means.”

  “Get out of my car.” I point to his door.

  “Oh, Jenna.” He clucks his tongue and his eyes flash. “This will be good for both of us.”

  For a moment, I stare at him, not sure how to interpret his words. He watches me carefully, clearly enjoying the fact that my mind went anywhere other than his sentence.

  I cock an eyebrow and cross my arms. “What are you talking about?”

  He casually leans against the passenger window like he belongs in my car, like he’s perfectly comfortable horning in on my space, and pierces me with his gray eyes. “It’s like this. For reasons beyond my control, I need to go back home. And for reasons beyond your control, so do you. So since our ‘homes’ are right next door to one another, I figured we’d carpool to Louisiana and you can just drop me off at Little Vail on your way to New Orleans.”

  He gives me that little-boy smile of his and it’s all I can do not to lean forward and soak it in. I hate me.

  “I don’t see how that’s good for me,” I say. “At all.”

  He shrugs. “You get some company on the road.”

  I nod with a clenched jaw. “And you get a free ride.”

  His eyes meet mine and I instantly realize that was the wrong thing to say.

  His smile grows. “Precisely.”

  I shake my head. “I don’t need any company.”

  I don’t like spending excessive time with Jack. Not just because we fight, but because of what happened last year. It was one crazy night when we were both drunk, and we never spoke of it after the fact, but our “friendship” has been tense ever since.

  Nevertheless, I haven’t been able to shake my attraction to Jack since that night, and sitting two feet away from him for an entire road trip certainly won’t help anything. I need him to get the hell out of my car. Immediately.

  “Sure you do,” he says easily. “Everyone needs company.”

  “Not me. So get out.”

  He grins. “No.”

  God I hate him. But not really. God I hate that I don’t hate him.

  I jut my chin, stare him over, then suck air in through my teeth. “Fine. If you won’t remove yourself…” Exiting the driver’s-side door, I stomp around the hood of the car over to his door, yank it open, and wrap my hands around his bicep. Then I start pulling.

  He doesn’t budge. Like, he literally doesn’t move an inch as I tug at his oversized arm and grunt like I’m trying to move a massive piece of hardwood furniture and not a human being.

  His eyes dance as he watches my struggle. “What’s your plan here, Jenna? Haul me out of the car and leave me in the street?”

  “Yep.” I catch sight of my cousins watching with rapt attention from the stairs, Becca still biting her thumbnail.

  “Well, now. That doesn’t sound friendly at all,” he says, flicking the lever to recline to seat a bit so he looks even more relaxed than before.

  I try pulling him out again, to no avail. He’s giant and solid, and honestly, just touching him is turning me on. I drop my hands and take a steadying breath as I think about the scene my cousins are watching. A grown woman trying to yank a six-foot-four-inch tattooed male from a car? This must look ridiculous.

  Taking a step back, I swipe a lock of my sleek dark hair away from my face and glower at the gray eyes smiling at me. “I’m not trying to be friendly.”

  “Clearly.”

  Callie’s voice chastises me from the top of the stairs. “Just let him go with you, Jenna. It’ll make everyone feel better.”

  He grins up at Callie then at me. “See? I have supporters.”

  I sneer. “Just because my cousins think you’re some kind of motorcycle god doesn’t mean I’m putty in your hands. You can’t just tell me that you’re coming along on my road trip.”

  “Would you feel better if I asked?”

  “Not especially.”

  “Jenna.” He leans forward and sinks his eyes into mine in a way he’s only done a handful of times since I’ve known him. It’s an intimate look, a meaningful gaze, and I can feel his eyes boring right through me and down into the deepest parts of my being. “Will you please let me join you on your trip to Louisiana?”

  For a moment, I’m lost in his eyes. Speechless. Vulnerable. Then I pull back, straighten my shoulders, and slap on a scowl as I stare at him, pissed.

  I don’t trust myself around Jack. And he drives me crazy. Crazy in a way I’ve never been able to control.

  But I did spend half the night tossing in my sleep with nightmares about being eaten by some crazy highway psycho—thank you, cousins—and all morning I’ve had doubts about traveling alone. Having Jack tag along might not be so bad. He’s obnoxious, sure, but he’d never let anything bad happen to me. Surely I can manage to keep my panties on around him for a few days… right?

  I relent, as per usual when it comes to Jack, but refuse to make eye contact with him as I stomp back to my side of the car. “Fine. But no talking.”

  Seeing my concession, my cousins clap their hands in glee and I roll my eyes. The
sooner I’m out of Arizona, the better.

  “No talking?” he says as I get back in the car and start the engine. “That doesn’t sound reasonable. Or polite.”

  I wave good-bye to my onlooking cousins as we pull away. “Shut up.”

  “Now that definitely wasn’t polite.”

  “Are you still talking?”

  “Are you still being rude—”

  “Shh!”

  He chuckles and lifts the lever on his seat so he’s seated upright again. “Oh, this is going to be fun, Jenna. You’ll see.”

  “Shut up.”

  “Ask nicely.”

  “Please shut up.”

  He considers for a moment. “No.”

  And that’s how the first ten minutes of our “fun” road trip go down; with me snapping at him to shut it, and him defying me with a happy smile.

  Ten minutes down, twenty-one hours to go. Louisiana has never felt so far away in my life.

  But once we’re on the freeway and headed out of town, the reality of my situation sets in—as does my jaw—and I want to slap myself for letting Jack talk me into this nonsense. I do not need a chaperone, or any other kind of accompaniment, on this trip. I’m a big girl and I can take care of myself.

  I bite back a curse and grip the steering wheel tighter than necessary. Damn Jack. How does he manage to get his way with me time and time again? And why do I always cave? Damn me.

  From the corner of my eye, I see him glance at me for the fourth time since we left Tempe, and a warm current rushes through my veins. Damn, damn, damn.

  We pass a sign that reads COPPER SPRINGS 100 MILES, and I switch lanes to pass a slowpoke car in front of me.

  My agreement to this couple’s road trip was a momentary lapse in judgment and, frankly, I blame Jack and his all-knowing eyes. He knows what he does to me. He knows I can’t resist the way he looks at me when he’s being real. Yes. This is his fault, and I’m not about to spend the next few days cooped up in a small space with him just because he has manipulative eyes. We’re turning around.

  I glimpse at the endless freeway in front of me and frown.

  Okay, at the next stop, we’re turning around. End of story. And co-ed road trip.