Bad Boy (The Loyal Boys, #2)

by Charli Meadows

I had just whooped Derek’s ass—laid him flat on the floor, out fucking cold—when the first bullhorn demanded that we exit the premises with our hands up. Yeah fucking right, assholes. This is Detroit; we run.

My gift was being on house arrest with a mom who currently hates my guts.

“Did Dad know?” I wonder aloud, referring to the fact that she obviously comes from money. There’s no fucking way he knew about this, or he would have figured out a way to siphon money from them like the parasite he is. “No. He wasn’t from my hometown. I’ve told you that. We met on spring break at the beach, and you know the rest.” “No, Mom. I’m one hundred percent certain I do not know the rest. In fact, I am so beyond fucking confused right now, I’m starting to get a headache.”

“Perfect. Thank you.” Richard smiles kindly, his brown eyes soft, warm, and glowing with an inner light and happiness. I mean, fuck, if buying me a new car makes him this happy, I’ll take a motorcycle, too. I’ll bring that up later, though, once I’ve secured the car.

I reign in the urge to pummel this fucker’s face in. I’ve gone off for far less in the past. I casually set my tray down in front of Lincoln, spinning to face Brandon again. “First of all, it’s Remi—we aren’t friends. Second, if I hear you call him a freak or anything else again, I will risk expulsion to make sure you physically can’t speak. For at least three months. Ever had your jaw wired shut?”

“He bothers you, too?” I ask, concerned that I now have three friends targeted by the same bully.

Start as friends, then make him more. Make him mine.

“There’s somethin’ you should know. . .” He stares at me expectantly. “We’re sorta neighbors.” “You’re the boy next door?” he asks, his deep voice full of disbelief and. . . excitement? A slow grin pulls at his lips until a full-blown smile is on display. “Oh, this is fucking gold.”

“Turn here,” I inform Remi from my seat in the passenger side of his Range Rover. “I thought you said we were neighbors? I don’t live on this street.” “Neighbors is a relative term out here. My house is the closest home to yours, but it’s still a forest apart.

Richard wanders in, his gaze zeroing in on the four beer bottles, and I get it now. Lurch is a snitch. That’s why Mom doesn’t like him.

Good thing Gramps can take a joke, just like Mom. He ambles over, chuckling in that bowl-full-of-jelly way—warm and kind, like Santa Claus. What the fuck? I must be drunker than I thought.

I clear my throat, wanting to change the subject. I’m not ready to discuss the dead-grandmother-that-my-mom-hates thing.

“Okay. We’ll just get a bit of everything, then.” I grab chips, popcorn, two chocolate bars, and a bag of Blow Pops—because anything with bubblegum inside is fucking amazing. Especially ice cream.

I noticed the big, burly gas station attendant sneering at us the second we walked in. Maybe he saw the quick peck on the cheek I gave Lincoln outside after he stumbled over a crack in the pavement. Or maybe he’s just repressed and mad at how hot we are. Because honestly, no one should care that much what someone else does.

The big guy with him grunts, turning to march up the hill toward the main lodge, unbothered by the exchange. Well over six feet tall, he definitely looks like a linebacker. I eye him speculatively, wondering if I could take him in a fight. I have the weirdest urge to jump on his back just to see how many seconds it takes me to choke him out. I think I could have him snoring on the ground like a three-hundred-pound baby in less than ten seconds.

His meaty arms tighten around me in warning. “Shut up, you little shit. I don’t know what Connor did to piss you off, but we have rules around here. Now, I’m going to let you go. And both of you are gonna control yourselves. We have a game next weekend, and we need Connor. So if you go after him again, you and I will have a problem.” He lets go, shoving me away roughly. “Then put your boy on a fucking leash and muzzle him!” I shout.

That’s not fair. What he said is not fair at all, and I don’t like it.

He says it quietly, but I still hear it. And then he’s strolling off toward the lodge exit. Gus Stevenson—cataloging leaves by day and, apparently, maintaining an elaborate underground fight league by night.

Wager is one thousand dollars for the fighters. All bets are closed, and payouts will be sent via our secure app after calculations are made.” They have an app? For bets? Fucking rich kids. Really fucking smart, though. And safe. No cash to worry about if we gotta run. Good thing I didn’t bring any. Not that I have a thousand dollars lying around anyway.

“Well. That’s very heroic of you, Remi.” I snort. I can’t help it.

“I know you’ve already met my grandson, Remington,” he says with a proud grin that makes me a little uncomfortable. Guess no one told him about the mix-up I had with the Andersons when we first met. If they want to move on and pretend it didn’t happen, fine with me.

“I’m sorry, hun. It had to be done. I figured it’s best to just rip off the Band-Aid.” She soaks up the bloody mess with a white hand towel and presses a large gauze pad to the wound. “Is that what they teach you in pre-med? Just rip off the Band-Aid?” Jesus fucking Christ, that hurt.

“What?” I ask, completely confused. We’re switching from one fucked up parent to the next, and it’s throwing my head for a loop. “Yes. Please explain. Both of you.” Gramps strolls into the library, an unusual fire blazing in his dark eyes. He’s switched from doting old Gramps to his problem-solving CEO alter ego. “Mom,” she whispers. “And her ultimatum.” “Dad. And his violent goons,” I add ruefully, pointing to my fucked up face.

“You ran away to be with Logan. You didn’t want to live by our rules.” “Your rules?” Mom sneers. Okay, this is going downhill fast. And I have the inkling that Gramps feels like he has two teenagers to deal with.

What the fuck is going on with this town? I’m starting to wonder if it really was better in Detroit.

“Who knows what would have happened to me if Logan didn’t step up. Yes, we’ve had our ups and downs over the years, but we survived and were doing okay there for a while.” She’s in denial. That’s all I can say. There’s no other excuse for it. We were never doing okay. And saying Dad “stepped up” gives the prick far too much credit. “Don’t look at me like that, Remi. I am not talking about the present day. Your father has clearly gone off the rails.”

Otto clambers to his knees and rears his fist back. “For Raina. And for the son that should have been mine all along.” Fuck. Did he really just say that?

“And why not, Lincoln James?” Everyone’s eyes turn to Linc, waiting. Sweat forms on his upper lip, and he adjusts his tie, tugging at his collar. His knee starts bouncing like a jackhammer again, vibrating my arm. Diana doesn’t give up. “Don’t be disrespectful—” “I’m gay!” he shouts. Shit. He did it again. Just blurting out his sexuality like that.

“Don’t tell him he’s confused, and definitely do not tell him it’s a phase. He’s my boyfriend.” I pin my disgusted glare on Robert. Kendra gasps, and Lincoln’s parents cease their awkwardly rude laughter. Sean has a blank face, and Grady and Sierra’s matching amber eyes dart around the table nervously. Robert’s shock morphs into a Grinch-like smile. All conniving teeth and greedy eyes. He changes his tune quickly, just like he did when he learned I was Richard’s grandson and not an intruder. “Of course, it’s not a phase. Excuse me for that.” It’s close to an apology but still fake as fuck. “You’re only saying that because you’ve been on Gramps’s dick for years. Trying to get your grubby hands on my family’s profits.” He sputters, his mouth gaping like a fish. “That’s. . . I’m not. . .” Kendra speaks up then, her dark eyes warm and kind. “I can see the spark, and I’m happy for you boys.” Sean clears his throat. I can tell he’s a little uncomfortable by the news, but there’s nothing but respect in his hazel eyes. “Yes. Robert, you need to back off and let the boys breathe. Be themselves. There’s no need to pressure them about the future right now. And Sierra, honey, I need you to know something. Your mother and I only agreed to this courtship because we truly believed you and Lincoln had feelings beyond friendship for each other. We didn’t. . . We didn’t know your orientation, Lincoln. And I apologize. And I’ll apologize for my friend because we all know he won’t.” Look at S...

“Well. I’m not against homosexuals or anything,” Diana says, smoothing down the sleeves of her crisp white blouse, starched to hell. I snort. “Great. Glad we cleared that up. Maybe we can work on more progress at a later date. This therapy session is over.”

I turn to our younger friends. “Twins. Wanna come to my house? Play the new Call of Duty?” “S-sure,” they both stutter, rising from their chairs and joining us on our side of the table. “Listen up. This is the future of your companies. The future of Keller Industries. Right here. Right now. Standing before you. Robert, I can see the wheels turning, and I know what a conniving snake like you is thinking—you now have an alliance with Keller Industries. And maybe you’re right. Maybe Linc and I will get married one day and merge the companies. But the point is—this is our life, not yours. You can’t control your sons or your daughter.” I look at each of them in turn. “This is twenty-twenty-two people. Let’s get with it, for fuck’s sake.” I’ve had enough; my tolerance for assholes is really low lately. The four of us head for the door, leaving the parents gaping after us, and I must have a problem or some shit because I fucking love shocking people.