Bad Influence (Bad Love 3)

Jesse stands, dragging his forearm across his bloody mouth. He looks absolutely fucking feral.

“Get her out of here,” he demands, pointing a finger at me. Sullivan’s suddenly at my back, his arm hooking around my waist, holding me in place. I grind my jaw, my irritation with his command warring with my concern for him. Sully walks us backwards, the crowd swallowing us whole. Halston grabs onto my hand once we get within arm’s reach, following us out.

I can’t see Jess anymore from back here. I stand on my tiptoes, trying to spot him through gaps in the crowd, but all I can see are random flashes of flesh and the blue of his opponent’s shorts.

Suddenly, the noise rises to a deafening level. The mob of people parts down the middle as Jesse prowls toward us, and I see Blue Shorts laid out on the ground behind him, unmoving. He doesn’t stop until he’s standing in front of me, his hand wrapping around my wrist as he pulls me away. I try snatching my wrist from his grasp, but he tightens his grip, tugging me toward a back door, Halston and Sullivan hot on our heels.

He releases his hold on me, shoving the door to the back parking lot open. We’re only a couple of hours from home, but the air feels thick and warm here. Jesse turns to face me, running a bloodied hand through his hair.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Getting answers.”

He huffs out a laugh, throwing his arms open wide. “Well, you got ’em.”

“Hardly.” I still don’t know why. It doesn’t make any sense that he’d keep this from me. So he fights for money. Big deal. It’s better than where my mind went.

I hear the heavy door behind me opening again, and I whip my head around to see a group of smiling people spill out into the parking lot. A guy in a wife beater and black jeans ambles toward us, slapping a stack of cash into Jesse’s open palm.

“You had me worried there for a second,” he says, before turning to me. “Who’s this pretty little thing?” His eyes rake over my body. I cross my arms over my chest, sending him the dirtiest look I can muster.

Jesse’s eyes meet mine, void of any emotion. “No one important.”

Okay, ouch.

I try to keep the hurt from showing on my face. Halston hooks an arm around my shoulders, and I feel Sullivan move in closer behind me, probably anticipating a fight.

“Mhm,” the guy says, sounding unconvinced. Jess clenches his jaw, averting his eyes. I get the impression that this guy has some kind of power over him. He doesn’t bite his tongue for anyone.

“Let’s go,” Jess says, moving past him, and we follow suit.

“Hey, Jess!” he calls out after us. Jesse turns to look over his shoulder, frowning, and I follow his gaze to find the man in the wife beater smirking at him. “I’ll be in touch.”

* * *

I GLANCE OVER AT ALLIE in the passenger seat. She hasn’t said a word since I all but dragged her to my truck and told her to get in. The last thing I expected was for her to show up here. My two worlds collided tonight, and she doesn’t belong anywhere near this side of me.

When I saw her standing there, looking like a goddamn lamb in a lion’s den, I lost it. I’m not a particularly skilled fighter. I don’t win every time. I don’t train like most of the guys I go up against. Lacrosse kept me in top shape, but what makes me good is that I can take a fucking beating, and still manage to get back up. I’ve spent my whole life fighting.

It started as a way to make money for school. My scholarship didn’t pay for much, and I wasn’t going to hit up Lo and Dare for help. I figured it was better than the alternative—also known as selling drugs. I planned on making a good enough chunk of cash to live on for the year, then walking away. But then, Crystal showed up, blowing my plans to shit in true Shepherd fashion.

I pull into the parking lot of the sketchy apartment complex, cutting the engine. Allie frowns, confusion painting her pretty features as she takes in our surroundings.

Wordlessly, I hop out of the truck, and she follows me. I make my way toward the steps where a guy with a 40 wrapped in a paper sack sits, nodding at us as we pass. Once we’re upstairs, I dig my key out of my pocket and unlock the door. I don’t like coming here. I’ve only been here a handful of times, and only when I absolutely have to, but I need Allie to see the real me.

Allie hesitates by the door, arms folded across her chest. I don’t blame her. This place is a fucking sty. The kitchen and living room are combined, with nothing more than a bathroom and a small bedroom connected to a short hallway. The couch has cigarette burns and dark stains in its dingy fabric, along with the blue carpet. The roach-infested kitchen consists of old linoleum and grimy as fuck appliances that are older than I am.

“Say something,” I urge, and she closes the door behind her.

“Where are we?”

I give her a bitter smile. “Home.”

She shakes her head in disbelief. “I don’t understand.”

As if on cue, Crystal appears in the hall, her blonde hair a tangled, matted mess, wearing only a raggedy ass tank top and underwear.

“I thought I heard someone,” she says, a dazed smile on her face. She walks over to where I sit on the couch, leaning down to hug me. I don’t move to hug her back. I don’t do anything but stare at Allie, unmoving.