Fugitive: A Bad Boy Romance (Northbridge Nights Book 2)

* * *

I
'm getting married
in seven days, so my bridesmaids throw me a party.

Little do I know, they've planned a surprise for me.

That surprise is trouble with a capital T.

His name? Kieran Mahoney.

He's a rough, tattooed hunk charged with one mission: to give me the wildest night of my life.

But I don't like bad boys and I don't have a wild side.

I just want to get married, buy a house, have some kids and save for retirement.

What's wrong with that?

But Kieran has other ideas. Ideas that involve skinny-dipping, risky poker games, lying to my fiancé and playing hooky from work.

He’s cocky, irresponsible and dangerous. Everything I’m not.

There’s amazing chemistry between us, I’ll give him that…But I’m a good girl, who’s about to marry a good man.

I don’t have time for a damaged bad boy and his dirty tricks.

*Northbridge Nights is a series of standalone romances featuring a close-knit group of friends. Each novel can be read in any order.*

Mature Audience Only.

A
ss
,
good
.

Sass,
great.

Class,
a must.

Three things I look for in the perfect woman.

I know, I know, beggars can't be choosers...

But one can dream.

Unfortunately, even if I did meet the right woman, I'd have absolutely nothing to offer her.

No money, no status, not even a proper roof over my head.

All I've got is notoriety.

A shit ton of it.

But chicks don't exactly drool over damaged bad boys. Not the sane ones anyway.

And I'm fucking done with crazies. I've met enough crazies to last me a lifetime.

But, God...what I wouldn't give to feel a woman underneath me again.

Or on top of me.

Her hot thighs wrapped around mine...

Feverish kisses, lusty moans, yanking my hair, arching her back...screaming my name.

Oh Kieran, spank me harder!

Ride me, Kieran, take me!

I need to get laid. Bad.

But I'm broke and I'm broken.

I have pennies to my name and no prospects. Not exactly attractive, I know.

So how the hell am I supposed to turn my life around?

Then I meet her.

Rachelle Wu.

Within seconds, I'm hooked.

Within minutes, I'm hypnotized.

Within days, I'm hungover and hung up about her.

You see, she's getting married in less than a week.

And I can't do anything about it.

Or can I?

“
Y
ou didn’t hire
a stripper did you?” I groaned, sinking into the leather sofa next to Terri.

“Rachelle, it's your bachelorette party, and I'm your maid of honor. I can hire whomever I damn well please,” Terri replied, trying to suppress her characteristic smirk.

I glared at her, then at my two other bridesmaids. Callista and Rose were both wearing skintight minidresses and five-inch stilettos. All three of them were goddesses who pulled off smoky eyes and bold lipstick better than I ever could. All three of them were trying not to laugh. “What are you guys up to?” I asked.

They shrugged. Rose's cheeks bloomed with color, which spoke volumes. She sat up a little straighter, auburn curls bouncing. “Rach, chill.”

They were hiding something.

“Just relax, babe, let loose and enjoy your night,” Callista said. “Have a little fun.”

“Yeah,” a third voice added. “It'll be a blast.” I turned to see Sierra walking toward us. As usual, my boss’s wife (turned BFF) looked radiant in an understated way.
Tonight, she was wearing an empire waist maternity dress that showcased her adorable baby bump. Compared to her elegant appearance, I looked like a hooker in my neon pink minidress. “Rach, you need more fun in your life,” Sierra said, taking a seat beside me. “All work and no play, makes Rach a dull lay.”

“Sierra!” I cried.

“Too far?”

“I do have fun,” I said. “Just in my own way.”

“Babe, tonight, we'll show you how
we
have fun.” Terri said.

Heat snaked up my back and burned my earlobes. “I’m normal,” I protested. “I—” I bit my bottom lip. Hard. Enough for it to sting a little. Okay, so I liked staying home more than going out. I enjoyed reading in bed more than clubbing or bar-hopping. My idea of a fun Friday night was re-arranging the bedroom décor. There was nothing wrong with being an introverted, twenty-five-year-old bookworm.
Nothing.

“Have a little faith in us,” Sierra encouraged. “You'll never get an opportunity like this again.”

“Fine,” I said, chewing my lip. “You're right. It
is
my night.”

Terri couldn't stop grinning and her excitement caused dread to coil tighter in my stomach. She'd promised, to my face, there would be no strippers!
Liar.
“What's next?” I asked.

“Shots on me!” Callista said. “Time to get this party started!”

“None for me,” Sierra reminded Callista, rubbing her watermelon-sized belly.

“I know that, Sisi.” Callista waltzed to the bar and I could see her chatting with the hot bartender. She was twirling her hair around her fingers and giggling. Ever since she dumped her last boyfriend two months ago, she'd been on an aggressive dating binge: a new man on her arm every other week. Last year, I met Callista through Sierra; the two had been best friends since sophomore year at college. Callista's father owned Bar None, the hottest nightclub in Northbridge, which was why she suggested the venue for my bachelorette party. “Open bar,” she'd said, “and free food.” Who could turn down that kind of offer? Of course, Terri, my maid of honor, also jumped at the idea. I’d met her four years ago when she first started dating my co-worker and friend, Mike Hannigan. Turns out, we had a mutual friend: Rose Hathaway, a TV show producer who we quickly brought into the fold. Now, the five of us formed an inseparable clique. I was the token Asian chick in our group, and easily the most reserved out of all of them. They were always trying to pull me out of my comfort zone, but my strict Chinese upbringing fought their efforts at every turn. Now that I was getting married in a week, this was their last-ditch attempt to bring out my wild side.

It was a Friday night, and Bar None’s three-thousand square foot space was packed to the limit. A trio of tipsy redheads sang the national anthem nearby, while six jersey-clad frat boys played Quarters to our left. Just coming to a place like this was atypical for me. I felt, as the saying went, like a fish out of water. Drowning in air that was oversaturated with B.O., cologne, and cheap perfume. I wiped a sweaty palm against my thigh and said a little prayer. I'd already gone way out of my comfort zone by wearing this ridiculous dress that Terri picked out. I wasn't sure if I could do what they wanted me to do next.

Callista returned with a huge tray of shots for everyone except Sierra. “To Rachelle, our blushing bride-to-be!” she said, raising her glass and sloshing a few droplets of tequila on the back of her hand. “May she have the night of her life.”

A round of giggles made its way through the group. We licked salt and knocked back our drinks.

“Let’s play ‘Never Have I Ever’,” Callista suggested, looping her arms around my shoulders.

I set down my shot glass and said, “Hold on. First, tell me what you guys are up to.” I scanned the club, a nervous flutter tickling my ribcage. I needed to prepare myself for whatever bat-shit crazy scheme they threw my way.

“Stop worrying for two seconds and just go with the flow,” Terri said, squeezing my shoulder. “I’ll start. Never have I ever…had a threesome.”

I looked at my friends to see if anyone would do a shot. Rose, whose face matched her hair at this point, knocked back her drink.

“Seriously, Rose?” I said.

She swallowed hard. “
One
time in college. It was awful. My turn. Never have I ever…dated someone twice my age.”

Four rounds and several shots later, the room started to blur. The thundering house music and my friends' chatter reverberated through my skull. Amplified one moment, muted the next. The ground shook underneath me and an incessant
thump-thump-thump
in my eardrums made me nauseous. I'd always been a lightweight, and tonight was no exception. I felt a cool hand drag my arm down to the dance floor. “You're getting married in a week, Rachelle,” Terri said, “and I bet you've never done a wild thing in your life before.”

“I don't want to be wild. I like the way I am,” I said over the din of the music. The bass was so heavy it nearly knocked me off my feet. My body felt like jelly jiggling around on a saucer.

“Come on...there must be some part of you...even a little part, that wants to do more? See more?” Terri said.

“I have a steady job, great friends and a loving fiancé,” I said. “I'm set.”

“I bet you've never even danced with a stranger before,” Terri said, a devilish gleam in her eye.

“What are you—”

“You see that hunk over there? Huge biceps, rippling body? I think he wants to dance with you,” Terri said, nudging me in the shoulder.

I turned to see who she was talking about. My gaze fell on massive shoulders and clothes so tight they left
nothing
to the imagination. That ‘hunk’ was built like a goddamn semi. And he was staring right at me.

“You promised you wouldn't hire a stripper,” I hissed.

Rob would be so pissed!

“He's not a stripper,” Terri said. “Just go dance with him. He's been checking you out for the past ten minutes. And he’s good enough to eat.”

“Did you—” Before I could protest more, Terri gave me a little shove and I stumbled forward. When I finally regained my balance, I found myself staring at a lean, t-shirt-clad torso. A large, warm hand caught my waist and I gasped. “Are you okay?” came a smooth, velvety voice.

I nodded and righted myself. “Yeah. I'm sorry I—”

The hand did not leave my waist. Its warmth radiated through my body. I felt five fingers curl into my skin and draw me closer to an impossibly hard body. Based on what I could see, his physique was the stuff of daydreams. A figure you'd find gracing the covers of romance novels and men's fitness magazines. Cliché, but 100% true.

Damnn.

“Dance with me,” he said, in an accent I couldn't quite place.

Tiny sparks ignited in my belly and my breath hitched.
Was he talking to me?

The man had a mop of dark, messy hair and a sultry smile played on his lips. Midnight lashes framed gray pupils flecked with turquoise.
Swoon.

“I—I shouldn't,” I started to say. The sexy stranger silenced me by flipping me around and pressing himself against my backside. Evidently, he didn’t take no for an answer. I suddenly realized his words weren’t a request; they were a command. His large hands drifted to my hips, lightly stroking them up and down. Every nerve ending in my body oscillated with unexpected fervor.

When the next R&B song came on, I could feel something hard dig into my backside.

I swallowed hard. No effing way.

I tried to turn around but he kept me facing forward, his curious fingers skimming my waist now. Dangerously close to the undersides of my breasts. My dress felt like a straitjacket, squeezing me so hard I couldn't breathe. My brain also must've short-circuited, because I was actually grinding with this stranger instead of running for the hills. Clearly, all logic had abandoned me and I was too overwhelmed to even form a single, coherent thought.

A groan escaped my lips. Or was it more of a purr? Did it come from me or him?

Stiff as a board, I managed to shuffle from side to side, helpless as the stranger tortured me with his hot length and washboard abs.

Was...Was this really happening?

No, no—this felt like one of Terri's pranks. They were probably all laughing their asses off on the sidelines. Deriving pleasure from my pain.
Masochists.

I felt violated and aroused at the same time, a delicious swathe of goosebumps prickling along my arms. “This is so not good,” I murmured. “Shit, shit, shit…”

My nipples peaked and I whimpered as my traitorous body continued to move to the music.

Did this count as cheating? Oh my God, what would Rob think?

Even though this was wrong in so many ways, it also felt so right in many other ways. For one, I had a walking fantasy rubbing up against me. My body was so hot right now I’d need an ice bath afterward to cool down. And he chose me. Out of all the hot women in the club, he picked me to shamelessly grind up against! It was a huge ego boost but…

My mind drifted to Rob again.

Stupid, stupid conscience.

I couldn't do this to him, even if it was my bachelorette party...

God, everything was so loud and chaotic. The flashing lights made me dizzy and nauseous. That, coupled with the alcohol sloshing in my belly made me want to hurl. Claustrophobia flooded through me, putting my body back on high alert.

Breathe in, breathe out, Rach.

This is a huge mistake. I shouldn’t lead him on.

I wanted, no needed, to get out of here. Some crisp winter air would sober me up. Besides, I could feel a migraine ratcheting against my skull. The night was quickly spiraling out of control and I needed some alone time to gather my thoughts.

Count, Rachelle. Thirty-two, twenty-nine, twenty-six, twenty-three, twenty, seventeen, fourteen, eleven…

I tried to pull away, but the man circled my waist with his palms splayed, holding me back. His hot breath tickled the back of my neck, while his pelvis rubbed circles against my ass. His arousal was growing by the second.

God almighty.

If Terri was behind this, I was going to murder her, I swear to God. No, Terri was
definitely
behind this. In all the twenty-five years I'd been alive (and the ten years I'd been dating), a hot stranger like him would
never
look twice at a skinny Asian girl like me. I cleared my throat. “Listen, I know my friend probably paid you a lot of money to do this, but I'm really not interested. Thanks, but no thanks,” I said.

“No one paid me anything, baby, I just think you're cute,” came his voice behind me. Buttery and damn smooth. He was so close to my ear I shivered. “You came here to have fun, didn't you?” he asked.

“I'm engaged,” I snapped, a bit more vehemently than I intended. “About to get married next week. So please, just leave me alone.”

I was about to run off when the stranger grabbed my wrist. “I need your help, Rachelle.”

I stopped. “How do you know my name?”

“Terri hired me,” the man explained. “My name is Kieran Mahoney.”

I knew it.
Terri Hanover, you're so dead!
To think...I actually fell for it…Shame mixed with the tequila swirling in my veins. I was so naive! I felt light-headed. “Terri hired you? So I was right, you are a stripper,” I said, trying to spot my friends in the crowd. They were going to pay big time for this fiasco.

“No, I'm not.” Kieran said. “I'm Cameron's brother. I needed some money. Terri hired me to give you the night of your life.”

“Ew!” I shook him off and scowled. “What kind of woman do you take me for?”

“Not like
that,
Rachelle. Terri wanted me to take you around town and bring out your wild side. Entertain you with some fun memories before you got shacked up.”

I folded my arms across my chest. “I don't have a wild side. And I'm certainly not going to run off with some stranger at—” I glanced at the clock, “—eleven p.m. on a Thursday night, to rediscover myself.”

I was about to leave when Kieran stopped me again. “I need the money, Rachelle. Terri won't pay me until the job's done. And you know Cam, so I’m not really a stranger.”

He had a point. I did know Cameron. We weren’t close, but Cameron was my boss, Asher’s best friend. And Cam was good friends with Callista, Terri and Sierra. Clearly, all my friends trusted Kieran by association, right?

“Exactly how much did Terri promise to pay you?” I asked.

“A thousand bucks.”

A thousand dollars?
I was supposed to be furious, but all I could think about was Kieran’s goddamn accent. I’d never heard anything quite like it. It wasn’t Irish, like Cameron’s. It almost sounded British, but not quite. “Are you fricking kidding me? Why would she do that?”

“Well, a part of that is the entertainment fee: the cost of food, drinks, tickets or whatever we need to buy,” Kieran explained. “The rest, I get to keep.”

“This is ridiculous,” I said, backing away. “I can't, I'm sorry.”

“I need this money, Rachelle.” His eyes were soft. Pleading. “I'm not a bad guy, I swear. Think of me as a friend of a friend, alright?”