The Bad Boy's Secret Read Online Free PDF

and the two men exchanged a smile that things were once again over.
    “What are you cooking?” Chuck asked, sniffing the air. “I’m starving.”
    “The size of your mother, you’d think your fridge at home would always be full,” Richard replied, a common joke, and both of them laughed. “Cassie? You hungry?”
    She shook her head, glancing on the clock at the wall.
    “No. I’m tired though. I kind of want to crash.”
    Richard reached into his pocket, digging out the car keys, and tossed them over her head to Chuck.
    “Well, then, Chauffer can take you home so you can rest. It’s been a long day, kid, you probably just need  a nap.”
    “Yeah,” she nodded, rising on shaky legs. “Thank you. As always.”
    “Not a problem,” Richard said, helping her up. “See you later.”
    Richard may be able to dismiss the issue lightly, but Chuck couldn’t. After he dropped her home, and decided to slink into his own house, a once in a blue moon occurrence, he pulled out his laptop. Once the popular search engine came up, he typed in her name.
    Teenage Skating Pair favorites for Olympic Team .
    Cassiopeia Winters announces retirement after death of partner, Scott Parsons, 16.
    Teenage Skater Scott Parsons dead on ice.
    There were a hundred articles linked to their names. They had, after all, been the best of the best. Their wins were no surprise, scoring high above the other pairs. But what interested Chuck was not the mainstream articles he found first. Rather, it was the stories and posts that came with a lot of digging.
    “Scott did not die of natural causes,” said a skate blogger, who, as usual, was anonymous. “He lifted Cassie when the lights went out, and he dropped her when he was shot in the head. ”
    “Woah,” Chuck mumbled, clicking further. The less main stream and more underground he got, the stranger the stories got.
    Mob Boss Samuel Jones makes appearance at National Figure Skating pre-trials came another headline, along with a photo. Chuck didn’t need to enlarge it to see the features of the famous face. He knew Samuel Jones well, at least by reputation.  He used to run with one of the gangs that served him, bringing his cronies stuff they stole in exchange for a cut of the sales. This was the big boss, the master, and he rarely showed his face. So what the hell was he doing at a Figure Skating Championship?
    Chuck spent until sunrise typing away, pulling up more and more factors that just made him equally confused. The scores from Scott’s last skate were also confusing. He and Cassie was losing, which never happened, especially with the people they were up against. And then, in the last round, they surged ahead, completing triple axels and spins that they had spent all day messing up. It didn’t make any sense, that kind of inconsistency at a performance. He didn’t pretend to be an expert, but he had spent years staring bleary eyed at her on the ice, and listening to her babble. Something didn’t make sense. And the presence of Samuel Jones certainly didn’t help matters. There was something dirty going on, and he didn’t like it.
    When he looked out the window, and realized it was dawn, he picked up the phone, dialing the number he now knew by heart.
    “Hello?” Cassie answered, still half asleep. Her alarm was set to go off in ten minutes, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t sleep until then. She was losing some of the mannerisms of her skate days, and be able to sleep past 6am was one she wasn’t sad to see go. Besides, she was half hoping it was Dave, calling to ask her to breakfast or offer her a ride to school. She had been having a dream about him, a wonderful dream that included a picnic lunch and a movie, where they held hands the entire time.
    “Sas, we need to talk,” Chuck grunted. His heart was still beating fast, and he didn’t want to alarm her.
    “About what?” her voice went up an octave.
    “I’ll pick you up in forty five minutes. We’ll go for coffee.