Page 80 of Bad Medicine
Rocco was proving me wrong.
About so many things.
The first time I met him, smoking outside the apartment building the night I tended to Frankie, I had immediately pegged him as a bad boy, the consummate player who only lived for the chase.
I would never in a million years have thought that Rock—the man whose first words to me were in reference to the fact that he was the best ride in town—could also be sweet and charming. That he could whisper filthy things in my ear that made me feel both worshiped and depraved. That he could fit himself almost seamlessly into my life—intoourlives—like he was always meant to be there.
There had been times in the past when I thought that my romantic life might have been over; that I could never hope to have the kind of relationship I had dreamed I would and that my path might forever be a lonely one.
Rocco Campanelli looked like he was about to show me that dreams may change, but that doesn’t mean they’re dead and buried.
I was still thinking those thoughts—those swoony, fanciful thoughts more suited to a high school girl than a jaded woman like me—as I parked outside my house and made my way up the sidewalk. It was late, way past dinnertime, really, but as soon as I changed, I was going to pop over to Linny’s and have a bite with her and Jasper before I headed back to my place and tucked my sweet boy into bed with a few stories and even more cuddles.
I hoped Rocco would come over when he was done doing whatever it was he did all day. I wanted him to show up late and crawl into bed with me, molding his body against mine and finding the same kind of comfort in my arms that I found in his. I wanted us to lie together, to make love slowly, whispering things we’d only say in the dark, and then wake up the way we had this morning, with coffee and peanut butter, and lustful looks from across the kitchen.
Opening my front door, I grinned, thinking that a future like that sounded pretty darn good to me.
It wasn’t until I’d closed the door behind me that I realized I’d found it unlocked to begin with.
“It’s about time,” came a voice from the darkness, sending a chill down my spine when I realized who it was. “I thought you’d never get home.”
The lamp in my living room flicked on, and I choked out a cry when I saw Greg sitting on the end of my faded couch, lounging as though he owned the place.
It was so incongruent, seeing him there, his sharp suit looking completely out of place on my second-hand furniture. Everything about him was shiny and new, polished in a way that me and my house were not.
But itwasmy house, and I was not going to allow him to intimidate me here, not a fucking chance.
“What are you doing here, Greg?” I asked, trying to keep the fear out of my voice and not being entirely successful.
“I’m here because your boyfriend took something from me today,” he answered, his finger tracing little patterns on the arm of the couch as he stared at me in clear agitation. “I’m here because I figured if there was someone I could use to my benefit in this situation, it would be you.” Greg stood, his eyes going a little wild as he got to his feet and let out a deranged chuckle. “So imagine my surprise when I came here to wait for you,” he said, picking up a picture frame from the bookshelf as he passed, one that I knew contained a photo of Jasper on his last birthday, and walking toward me slowly. “Only to find there’s so much more to your story than I realized.”
He was standing so close I could smell his cologne, sharp and bitter, the scent stinging the back of my nose and making my eyes water. Keeping my chin up, I stared into his blue eyes—the same eyes I stared into every time I looked at Jasper—and held my breath.
Greg lifted the frame and I hated myself for the flinch I couldn’t stop. Seeing my fear, he smiled, an empty, deadly smile better suited to a corpse.
“He’s a lovely boy,” Greg said, tracing his finger over the framed photo, staring at my boy with a calculating look on his face. “Handsome, like his father, isn’t he?”
“Greg,” I started, not sure what I was going to say, but it turned out it didn’t matter anyway.
“Shut the fuck up,” he snarled, backhanding me so hard I saw stars. “You don’t get to speak to me. Not after what you did.”
Raising my hand to my burning cheek, my eyes watered from the pain as I straightened, shock and terror warring within me.
“What kind of woman keeps a son from his father?”
There was no way I wasevergoing to let this monster anywhere near Jasper.
Panic raced through me, knowing there was only one thin wall separating my son from this absolute psychopath.
I had to get him out of here without Linny coming over. If Greg learned that Jasper was right next door, enjoying his dinner and watching cartoons...well, I didn’t even want to consider it.
“Where is my son, Mia?” His voice was low, dangerous, and I hated the way he was looking at me. Once, I had appreciated having Greg look at me, having his complete and undivided attention.
But now?
Feeling his icy gaze slide over me now gave me chills of revulsion. “Tell me where my son is!”
Fear choked my words, stealing my voice and leaving me quaking.
