Rescued By a Bad Boy: A Bad Boy Bakers Prequel Page 2

  Chapter 2

  Damn Brax and his surprise. The wondering about it consumed Mia all day, distracting her from the class discussion on Heart of Darkness. She couldn’t even pay attention in physics—her favorite class. She enjoyed understanding how things worked in the physical world, and on a normal day, she could lose herself in the predictability of calculations. But today wasn’t normal. It crawled by with minutes that stretched like hours. Once or twice, she would have sworn the clock actually moved backward just to spite her.

  What did he have planned? Neither of them had much money to speak of, and all of his needed to go to rent and bills and keeping him fed. Not that lack of funds had ever stopped him from making her birthday memorable. He always managed to come up with something that hit her right in the feels and made her feel seen. For a girl whose life had necessarily depended on invisibility, his thoughtful gestures were intoxicating. That he put forth the effort for no one but her made Mia dream of more. Of everything.

  But he’d never given any sign he saw her as something other than a friend. He’d long told her he wasn’t capable of attachment, despite the fact that his actions toward her said otherwise. He believed that lie about himself because he needed to. Letting himself care about someone else opened him to loss, and he’d had so very much of it. Mia understood that, so she wouldn’t ask him for more than he was prepared to give.

  No matter how much time she’d spent fantasizing about that arrogantly sensual mouth of his.

  “Miss Torres!”

  Mia blinked. Her trigonometry teacher, Mrs. Moody, came into focus, wearing a pinched expression that suggested this wasn’t the first time she’d called Mia’s name. “Ma’am?”

  “You’re being summoned to the office. Take your things.”

  That was when Mia noticed the perky blonde office aid waiting to escort her.

  All her lovely birthday fantasies dried up, replaced by a kernel of lead in her stomach. Without fuss, she packed up her bag and left the classroom. The kernel grew with every step, every swing of that golden ponytail, as she took what felt like a gallows walk down to the first-floor office.

  Her mind spun.

  What could this be about? She’d done nothing wrong, so surely this wasn’t a disciplinary meeting. There’d been no sightings of drug dogs doing locker checks—not that there’d have been anything for them to find, unless someone had planted something in her locker. It happened.

  Maybe Curt was here with news of her father.

  The momentary excitement at that thought died a rapid death. What was the likelihood any such news was good? If the Marshal was here, it likely meant one thing—that she needed to move again because someone had gotten too close. He’d prepared her for that eventuality for years, ever since he’d embedded her into the foster system.

  A cold sweat broke out down her spine. She couldn’t leave now. Not without Brax. He didn’t know her history. Couldn’t know, per Curt’s strict edict. And he’d never be allowed to come with her, even if he wanted to.

  Please don’t be Curt. Please don’t be Curt. Please don’t be Curt.

  It wasn’t the man who’d been both savior and jailer waiting for her in the principal’s office. Fresh anxiety spun the bowling ball lodged in her gut as Wayne rose from a chair. A trucker hat with beer logo covered his head, and all she could think was Hats aren’t allowed.

  “Let’s go.” His tone was clipped.

  Her fingers tightened on the strap of her backpack as she shot a glance at the principal. “What’s going on?”

  Dr. Gleason, a bookish Black man with short salt-and-pepper hair and wire-rimmed glasses he was always cleaning on the edge of his sweater vests, offered a sad smile. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  Mia swallowed, her throat threatening to close up. “Who… who died?” Oh God. Was that the news about her father?

  “Darlene’s mama. She’s already headed over to Ellensburg to start making arrangements.”

  The stranglehold loosened. No one she knew.

  But were they really expecting her to go to the funeral? She hadn’t met Darlene’s mother, so it wasn’t as if this woman was some kind of pseudo-grandmother. Yet why else would Wayne be here to check her out of school early?

  Uncomfortable with the situation, but seeing no alternatives, Mia followed her foster father out to his beat-up Chevy pickup.

  Crap. How was she going to get a message to Brax? He’d be expecting to meet her in a little over an hour.

  Wayne slammed the driver’s side door, and Mia caught a whiff of something sharp beneath the overpowering mint of mouthwash. Had he been drinking?

  Keeping a firm hold on her backpack, she curled her hand around the door handle, prepared to leap and make a run for it. But he made it the couple miles to the house with only a little weaving. As soon as he pulled into the driveway, she was out of the truck in a flash, already heading for the house.

  Could she get a message to Brax at work? Maybe while Wayne was packing, she could make the call. Or maybe she could convince Wayne to leave her here. She was more than old enough to be left on her own for a few days.

  He followed her inside, shutting the door behind them. Something about that sound made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. She couldn’t be trapped in a vehicle with him for three hours.

  “When’s the funeral?” She began to formulate her argument based on a handful of his possible answers.

  “Few days. They’re aiming for the weekend so the rest of the family can get there.”

  “I’m sure Darlene wants your support. Neither of you needs to worry about me. I’m fine here on my own, and that way I won’t miss school.”

  Those flat eyes stared at her from across the room, and Mia instinctively curled her hands around the back of a kitchen chair.

  “You ain’t stayin’ here on your own.”

  She calculated the odds of winning an argument about this at next to zero. Darlene was the one who could have been convinced, and she was already gone. But Mia tried again. “I don’t have any clothes that are appropriate for a funeral.”

  “That don’t matter.”

  Pick your battles.

  “How many days should I pack for?” She had a black sweater. Maybe with her best pair of jeans, it would be okay.

  “Don’t need to pack.”

  Mia frowned. “But you said we’d be gone for a few days.”

  Wayne’s lips curved into a chilling smile. “Never said we’d be going anywhere. You and me are gonna spend some quality time together while Darlene’s out of town.”

  He reached out and threw the deadbolt on the kitchen door. The snick of the lock echoed like a bullet in the small room.

  Mia bolted, toppling the chair in hopes it would slow him down. His cocky laughter trailed her down the hall, preceding the thud of his booted feet. She scrambled for the front door, but the key that always stayed in the lock had been removed. She lost precious seconds trying the knob anyway before accepting it was locked and he’d planned this.

  On a sob, she spun, darting toward her bedroom. If she could get inside, throw the lock, shove the chair under the knob, it might buy her just enough time to get to the scissors.

  He charged her like a bull, his bulk slamming her into the wall and driving the breath from her lungs. Blindly, she reached out, closing her hand around the first object she touched and slamming it against his head.

  Something shattered, and Wayne roared. But his grip loosened just enough she slid away, running again.

  “Bitch! You’ll pay for that, you ungrateful cunt.”

  The hallway seemed to elongate like something out of a horror movie. The doorway to her room stood ajar at the end of it. She poured on a burst of panicked speed.

  Five steps. Four. Three. Two.

  A massive hand clamped around her wrist like a vise, yanking her backward. Mia cried out, automatically bringing her other arm up to protect her face.

  Brax’s voice rang out in her head. Fight.
Bring up your knees. Kick. Bite. Never stop moving.

  As momentum propelled her into Wayne, she brought up her knee, aiming for his crotch. But he twisted away, spinning her until her back was pressed to his chest and her shoulder screamed. The pain caused her vision to flash white. His hand tightened on her wrist until the bones rubbed together, and he bent his head, his damp breath against her ear making her shudder.

  “It’s time you pay for everything we’ve given you.”

  Brax was probably going to regret some of the work schedule trades he’d sorted out in order to free up his time today and tomorrow. But it would be worth it to see the look on Mia’s face when he presented her with the contents of that bakery box. He’d made a foray to the high-end bakery downtown and picked up the fanciest raspberry pastry they had. He couldn’t even remember what it was called, but she’d probably know. With luck, she wouldn’t be expected home any time soon, so he’d get to watch her enjoy it. And if he got up the balls to have the conversation he wanted, they’d need tomorrow to get her moved. Maybe.

  He wasn’t sure if he was going there and didn’t know what her answer would be if he did. But if his life had taught him anything, it was the value of being prepared.

  Restlessness drove him to the school early. He didn’t much want to stand in the cold, but Valentina might have a dog he could help with while he waited for the end of the school day. If she insisted on paying him, this time he might accept and put it toward dinner. With a little extra cash, he could pick up a pizza from Treviano’s. Mia loved their wood-fired crust.

  Cheered by the thought, he swung through the door of Mudpuppies.

  Valentina looked up from the labradoodle she was trimming. “What are you doing back here?”

  “I’m off work early. School’s not out yet, so I thought I’d see if I could give you a hand while I wait.”

  She frowned, setting her clippers aside. “Mia already left school.”

  “What?” Mia never left school. Was she sick?

  “Big burly guy picked her up earlier. Only reason I noticed is I was helping load up a buck wild Husky in the parking lot. I saw her get into the truck.”

  Wayne.

  Brax felt his blood run cold. “When?”

  “About a half hour ago.”

  Half an hour. Wayne was off work today. Alone so far as Brax knew. There was no good reason for him to take Mia out of school early. A lot could happen in thirty minutes. With the image of those blinds in his head, Brax tore out of the shop and took off at a dead run for her house.

  The frigid air burned his lungs as his long legs ate up the distance. Drivers stared as he sprinted past. Of course there were no cops around when they were needed, and Brax wouldn’t have stopped to explain anyway, because it would take time he didn’t have. With every step, his mind supplied fresh horrors as old memories of things he’d seen and experienced far too young rose to the surface. Unwanted touches and unwashed bodies. With it came long buried panic and rage. So he didn’t stop to think when he saw Wayne’s truck in the drive. He went straight for the door, slamming his booted foot against it until the door frame splintered and the door swung inward with a crash.

  A woman’s scream echoed from down the hall, followed by the sound of flesh striking flesh. Vision hazing with red, Brax charged toward the sound, bursting into a bedroom.

  In half a heartbeat, he took in Wayne, holding Mia against the wall by her throat. Her shirt was ripped, exposing one shoulder and the swell of her breast in a plain cotton bra. She writhed in his grip, kicking, flailing, clawing at the hand around her throat as he worked at her belt with the other.

  Brax leapt over a fallen chair, landing on Wayne’s back and cranking his arm tight around the other man’s neck. Wayne dropped Mia and stumbled back, crashing into the opposite wall. Brax barely felt the impact. Mia had fallen to her knees, gasping.

  “Run!” he shouted.

  But she didn’t run, and Brax had lost whatever advantage he’d had with surprise. Wayne drove an elbow back, catching Brax in the kidney. The shock of the pain loosened his grip enough for Wayne to throw him off. He crashed into Mia’s desk. Wood splintered beneath him, but he scrambled up, dodging Wayne’s meaty fists and diving for his middle. Wayne toppled like a tree. Brax rode him down to the floor, punching at that outraged face with everything he had. The impact of it sang up his arm. He threw another and another, a steady barrage of blows. Punishment for every minute he’d had his hands on Mia.

  “Stop! Brax, stop! You’ll kill him.” Her panicked voice broke through the haze of blood lust.

  Mia caught his arm long enough for Brax to register that Wayne lay still beneath him, his face so much bruised meat. It wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough for what the asshole had been trying to do to her. But Brax couldn’t protect her if he got sent to prison.

  He rose on unsteady legs and reached for her. “How bad did he hurt you?”

  She didn’t answer, just buried her face against his chest, her body shaking against his. Brax wanted to crush her to him, but he didn’t want to hurt her and didn’t know the full extent of her injuries. He didn’t have the capacity to triage just now, and this wasn’t the place.

  Just take the next step.

  “We have to get out of here. Where’s your go bag?”

  She sucked in a shuddering breath and released him, kneeling by the bed to drag out the duffel bag. In seconds, she’d grabbed more clothes from the dresser drawers and shoved them inside. “That’s it.”

  So little was coming with her. He knew what that was like. Understood having all his possessions fit into a single garbage bag. He hoped she’d leave behind the shit memories with whatever things she hadn’t deemed worth bringing.

  Brax checked Wayne’s pulse. He had one. That was good enough. He wouldn’t be going away for murder, no matter how much the bastard deserved it. “Let’s go.”

  Mia hesitated at the door, then turned back, striding over to plant a brutal kick between Wayne’s legs. He groaned but didn’t regain consciousness.

  Brax shot her a grim smile. “He’ll be feeling that into next week. Come on.”

  She took the hand he offered, squeezing as if she was afraid he’d disappear. He couldn’t stop himself from running gentle fingers across the angry red mark on her cheek that would turn into a bruise in a matter of hours. “I’ve got you, baby. Let’s get out of here.”

  Chapter 3

  Mia felt outside herself. As if the only thing tethering her to her own body was the firm grip of Brax’s hand around hers. Her mind was nothing but static, like in a movie, after a bomb goes off. It wouldn’t stay that way. She understood that, so she held on to Brax and held on to the numb as he led her back to his place, taking back roads and cutting through yards and patches of woods. Once they were inside the little one-room studio apartment, he shut the door and threw the locks. One. Two. Three.

  She flinched at the sound, her mind pitching her back into the kitchen with Wayne. To the moment she’d understood that her time had run out.

  “Mia.”

  She sucked in a breath, and Brax came into focus, gray eyes dark with worry.

  “You can let go now.”

  She realized he was trying to slip her bag off her shoulder. The one she’d stubbornly clung to the whole way because it was everything she cared about, other than him. One by one, her fingers released. He eased the bag off her shoulder and set it to one side, tugging her over to the futon that served as both sofa and bed.

  “Will you sit? I’m going to get the first aid kit.”

  She willed her hand to release his, but her fingers wouldn’t cooperate. Baffled and feeling a little helpless, she stared at their connection. “I… can’t.”

  “Okay.” He let her trail him like a train car, retrieving the kit from a shelf in the tiny kitchen and leading her back to sit. Only then did she catch the angry red split of his knuckles.

  “Oh my God.” She reached for his other hand. “Brax, you’re hurt.”
br />   “I’m fine. Let’s get you checked out.”

  “Those could get infected.” To settle the matter, she opened the plastic box herself and dug out disinfectant.

  “Mia.” He didn’t quite manage to hide the exasperation in his tone.

  She lifted her gaze to his. “Please. I need to do this.”

  He released a slow breath and nodded.

  Soaking a cotton pad with antiseptic, she lifted his hand and gently dabbed at the split skin. His sharp inhale was the only sign it pained him. She blew on the cuts to ease the sting, not quite meeting his eyes. “You saved my life.”

  He’d saved more than that, and they both knew it. But Mia wasn’t ready to let go of the numb. Not yet.

  His eyes traced over her face, his intensity an almost physical caress. “I should have gotten there sooner.”

  “How did you even know where I was?”

  She hadn’t thought to question it at the time. He’d simply burst in like an avenging angel, as if summoned by her need alone.

  “Valentina saw you leave with him. I was way early to pick you up and stopped in to see her. She told me. I had a bad feeling this morning, so I came as fast as I could.” He reached out to cup her uninjured cheek. “I just wish I’d been faster.”

  Mia tipped her face into the warmth of his palm, not overthinking the fact that this was the most he’d ever voluntarily touched her. Right now, he was the only thing keeping the cold and the fear at bay. “You came. That’s what matters.”

  They stayed that way for a long moment, staring at each other, until at last his gaze dropped to her cheek where a bruise was surely forming. Storms boiled up in his eyes. “He hit you.”

  “I hit him back. And bit and kicked. Just like you taught me.”

  “Good girl.”

  It hadn’t been enough. Wouldn’t have been enough, if Brax hadn’t shown up. That was both lowering and terrifying to admit. So she set it aside as something to deal with later, when she could actually handle it.

  His fingers skimmed gently down her cheek, tipping her head back so he could get a look at her throat. “This will probably be another bruise.”