Page 81 of Bratty Badboys

“What do you do for work?” Felix asked, his eyes narrowing on my clothes, tattoos, and piercings. He was shorter than me, the same height as Anna, and I could guess that he might know about our relationship. He had found Kyle and me with Anna, but never outright questioned us. I wondered if he might be in a relationship. If Anna was my ex—which would never happen since I never planned to let her go—I’d do everything in my power to get her back.

“I work in IT,” I said, not bothering to explain it further, and waved Anna goodbye even though I wanted to kiss her. Soon I’ll be able to kiss her in front of anyone. “See you soon, pretty,” I mouthed over Felix’s shoulder, making her blush, and walked out of the house, grabbing my helmet from my bike and strapping it on my head.

I watched them talk a few more minutes and sighed, driving away. I wish she would move in with me soon. My real estate was still looking for the house that I wanted for all of us and even though I had set up the Pilates reformer in my house gym, Anna only used it three times a week to run online classes.

My head snapped back to reality when a gray SUV swerved in my lane, making me tighten my hand on the gear as I found control on my bike again. I looked at the tinted windows and slowed down a little. The car slowed down with me.

What the fuck?

Wind zoomed past me, and I increased the speed, eyeing the car in the mirror and staying under the speed-limit when we had a few yards of distance between us. But the car kept speeding along with me, and my heart rate increased. I needed to put more distance between us. I didn’t feel safe and knew the car wanted me to crash.

I took a deep breath and leaned on the tank as I slowly increased the speed. Horns and other cars blurred as I smoothly weaved past the trucks and busses.

I reached my house in a few minutes, not bothering to remove gloves, and rushed to my home office, booting my laptop and checking the feed of my camera. I always had a go pro camera turned on whenever I drive Peach, since not everyone liked bikers.

Scrolling through the footage, I found the blurred car number and checked my home feed of the porch and driveway. The car had stopped following me once I sped up. I frowned, wondering if I should text my dad and get him to check up on the owner’s details. Or should I do it on my own?

Unfortunately, I didn’t get the chance when I saw two cars pull up in my driveway.

They were cops.

And they had an arrest warrant for me.

Cillian

Not all parents know their children, but I know my son. Even though I was an absent dad, I know Caleb.

“Get him out right now before I—” I couldn’t finish the sentence, treating the cop when soft fingers touched my arm and pulled me back.

“Take it easy, Cillian,” Emma whispered, her eyes soft. “We will get him out.”

“You know Caleb would never do—he’s not a fucking pedophile!” I said, my tone harsh, glaring at the cop as he leaned back in the chair, giving me a bored look.

“Calm down, Cillian,” Emma said, dragging me away from the lined cubicles to the seating area with metal chairs. Caleb was getting questioned by a few cops, but I had sent word to Sean, my friend and a lawyer, so he’d come soon and told Caleb not to utter a single word.

“He’s being framed, Doll,” I said to her, pinching the bridge of my nose. “This is a mess.”

Caleb had called me an hour ago, and I knew he’s dating Anna, and she has a daughter, but I knew my son. He’d never?—

“We will figure it out,” Emma said, her hand rubbing my back, and I was glad she was there, calming me down, or I’d have been thrown in jail for punching a cop. “I’ve already sued the reporters and journalists with defamation.”

There were a few news channels who had taken his pictures when he was cuffed and taken out of the house looking angry. They were calling him disgusting names in the articles.

Kyle was with Anna and Alice when they took Alice for questioning and looked to find any evidence. I hated that I couldn’t do anything for my son and?—

“Wait, when was media called up?” I asked, looking at my wife.

“They showed up a few seconds… do you think someone planned this?” she said, lowering her voice.

“Yes,” I confirmed her suspicion and squeezed her hand. “I’ll call Elena.”

Before I could get up, my phone started ringing. It was her. I frowned and picked it up. “Elena.”

“Cillian. It’s bad,” she said, her voice strong. “That stalker was murdered.”

“Timothy?”

“Yes. My sources confirmed he was found dead this morning. Other prisoners ganged up on him, but no legal actions will be taken since the autopsy might be faked.” She was my ex-boss, a retired FBI agent, Sheikha to Azmia and a brilliant detective. “This was all planned. Murder of the stalker, your son getting arrested, and the media.”

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