Wanted: A Bad Boy Romance Read Online Free PDF

guy who runs
background checks. “Someone hurt two people I cared about, so I hurt him.”
    Kyle purses his lips and nods. “I
can respect that, man.”
    And then he sizes me up, taking
me in from head to toe the way a person might stare at a lion if they were
separated by a thick plate of shatterproof glass.
    “Hey, let me show you around,”
Kyle says, suddenly taking me under his wing. “When you starting?”
    “Tomorrow,” his dad yells after
us, as we leave the room.
    Kyle shows me around the shop,
giving me a tour of tools and showing me where the garage door levers are and
pointing out the hoists and drills, and then he takes me back to the supply
room where they keep all the filters.
    “You change oil before?” He
scratches the spot just above his right ear.
    “They taught us basic auto mechanics
in the pen,” I say. “Took a few classes.”
    “Good, good,” he says, his eyes
darting back and forth between mine. He glances around, like he wants to ask me
a question but doesn’t have the balls to do it quite yet. He’s trying to find
the words.
    Fucking pussy.
    Whatever it is, just say it.
    I don’t have time for fucking
games.
    “The fuck you want, KJ?” Kyle
glances over my shoulder as a scrawny guy a little younger than us shuffles in.
He treats him like he’s just imposed, when clearly all the guy wanted was a
goddamned filter.
    KJ grabs a filter off the shelf
and holds it up in the air, saying nothing before he turns and leaves.
    “Fuckin’ KJ.” Kyle shakes his
head.
    “That your brother?” They almost
look like twins except Kyle is broader in the shoulders with lighter hair, and
he’s clearly the stronger of the two in both brute and personality.
    “Not by choice,” he huffs.
    “Always wanted a brother,” I say.
“Someone to beat the living shit out of when I’m pissed at the world.”
    I’m being flippant and slightly
sarcastic, but Kyle doesn’t pick up on it.
    “Anyway,” Kyle says, eyeing my
shoulders. “You do any fighting in the yard?”
    “In the yard?”
    “Yeah, when you were locked up.
You fight at all?”
    “A little. In
the beginning. Why?”
    He eyes the perimeter once more
and then leans in. “You want to make a little bit of extra money? I know Dad
don’t pay worth shit here.”
    “Not looking to get sent back.” I
shake my head, resting my hands on my hips. This guy’s fucking crazy if he
thinks I’m that stupid.
    “A thousand bucks a fight,” he
whispers.
    I do the math in my head and
figure out that it’s almost the equivalent of working three weeks in this dump.
    “All underground. No rules. No
cops. Nothing to worry about.” Kyle licks his lips, like he’s hungry for a
sale.
    “And what if something goes
wrong? What if someone gets hurt?”
    “Ain’t been caught yet. Been
doing this seven years now. And shit, someone always
gets hurt,” he chuckles. “But nothing ever goes wrong. We’ve got everything
covered. All you gotta do is show up and beat the fucking shit out of the sorry
asshole we pit you up against.”
    Kyle slaps his hand across my
bicep, gripping the girth and squeezing his bony fingers into my flesh.
    “These are fucking lethal.” He’s
grinning like a man who placed a bet on a winning horse at the Kentucky Derby.
“You could make a lot of money with these.”
    “I’m not doing it for a thousand
bucks.” Not worth the risk.
    “Fifteen hundred.” He crosses his
arms across his skinny chest and cocks his head back like we’re negotiating a
used car.
    I back up, placing my hands in
the air. “I’m not doing this. Sorry. You got the wrong guy. I’ll see you
tomorrow, man.”
    I turn around to leave, but he
grips my arm and pulls me back.
    Or rather…
    He tries to.
    I jerk my arm out of his pathetic
grip and press him up against the wall, breathing down with a clenched jaw.
“Don’t ever fucking touch me again. Do you understand?”
    His eyes grow round and his jaw
slacks. Kyle’s hands fly up in the air in