Discovering Zhara: Bad Girl Training (Bad Boy Rebels 4)

He grins then plops down on the bed next to me, sitting close enough that our shoulders touch. “It’s the healthiest meal I’ve ever made. It even has all the four food groups. Well, that is if you can count the chips and juice as the fruits and vegetables food group.”

“It looks good,” I say, fully meaning it. Sure, it’s just a ham sandwich, some chips, and a glass of juice, but I’m so starving right now I could eat almost anything and be happy about it. Besides, it’s not every day a guy makes me something to eat.

A guy I kissed!

I discreetly glance at him from the corner of my eye as images of the kiss replay in my mind. He’s doing something weird with his tongue, dragging the piercing along his teeth, as he dazes off into empty space. Well, at first anyway. But then he turns his head and totally catches me gawking at him. He flicks his tongue piercing against his teeth again and then brushes his blue tinted hair out of his eyes.

“Good?” he questions with amusement dancing in his eyes.

“Um…” What?

“The sandwich. Is it good?” he asks. The impish glint in his eyes makes me wonder if he means something else, though.

“Um… I haven’t tried it yet,” I say then take a bite. I must be starving or something because it’s seriously the best dang sandwich I’ve ever had. “It’s really, really good.”

“Good. I’m glad.” Then he winks at me, something he does a lot.

This time, though, I don’t even try to figure out why. I just smile

He smiles back, then clapping his hands together, fixes his attention on Ridge. “Okay, so what’s next?”

Ridge adjusts his glasses. “Well, right now I’m keeping an eye on Benton, Xavier, and Jackson. But we’re all supposed to be on call in case they need backup.”

“Why? Are they doing something dangerous?” I pop a chip into my mouth.

Ridge and Wilder trade a silent look and then both shake their heads.

“Nah, it’s just a protocol mission,” Wilder says, but I get the impression he’s lying.

“What’s a protocol mission?” I ask, picking off the crust on the sandwich.

“It means it’s a simple, standard mission.” Wilder twists to face me, bringing his knee onto the bed. “Like, for instance, if we just have to go talk to someone or check up on something. It basically means nothing major will probably happen. In fact, we usually don’t bring all of our weapons on those kinds of missions.”

“So the thing with Axel wasn’t a protocol mission?” I take a bite of the sandwich.

Wilder shakes his head. “Definitely not. In fact, that’s not even considered a mission since was completely unplanned.”

“What’s something like that called?” I ask, curious about the details of their world.

“Getting fucked in the ass,” he says.

“Oh.” Heat rushes to my cheeks.

Seriously. Again? He didn’t even say anything besides two swear words. Get a grip over yourself.

“You’re cute when you blush,” Wilder remarks, skimming his finger across my cheek bone. Then a musing smile tugs at his lips. “You know what? I think I’m going to call you Pink Cheeks from now on.”

“Please don’t,” I beg, my cheeks heating up even more.

“Why not?” He juts out his lip. “You let Jackson call you Cute Girl.”

“He decided to call me that all on his own,” I remind him.

“So? What’s the difference?” he asks, completely amused with himself. “They’re both just nicknames.”

“Because Pink Cheeks is a ridiculous nickname.” Jett’s voice floats from the doorway, startling the three of us and making us jump.

He’s wearing a plaid shirt with the sleeves pushed up, a worn pair of jeans, and socks cover his feet. His shaggy brown hair is a mess and his eyes are a little bloodshot, so I wonder if he’s stoned.

“It’d be like me calling you Blue Balls,” he tells Wilder with a dopey grin.

Wilder narrows his eyes at Jett. “That’s not even remotely close to the same thing.”

“Sure it is.” He sneaks me a mischievous look I don’t fully understand and then grins at Wilder. “And if you nickname Zhara Pink Cheeks, then I’ll make sure that everyone starts calling you Blue Balls.”

“Why? You suffer from it more than I do,” Wilder quips. “So, it’s probably more fitting for you.”

While Jett and Wilder continue to argue about who should be called Blue Balls, Ridge offers me an apologetic look.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “The organization tried to teach us manners, but not all of us passed.”

“They’re fine,” I tell him. “I grew up with two brothers so I know how guys can be sometimes.” Although, I never heard my brothers try to nickname each other Blue Balls.

“Hey, we have manners.” Jett walks over and jumps onto the bed, landing on his stomach behind me and making the mattress bounce. Then he rolls onto his side, props onto his elbow, and rests his chin on his hand. “We just choose not to use them all the time.”

Ridge rolls his eyes. “Trust me, I know.”

Wilder and Jett exchange a look and then Wilder turns to Ridge.

“Of course you do,” Wilder says. “Because you know everything.”

Instead of getting upset, Ridge grins. “That might be the most accurate thing you’ve ever said.”

“So, you’re admitting you’re a little know-it-all?” Jett mockingly gasps. “In front of Zhara?”

Ridge gives Jett a tolerant look. “I never said I was a know-it-all.”

“But you’re not denying it either,” Jett quips, then I feel his fingers tangle through my hair.

I stiffen as he repeats the movement again and again.

“Your hair’s so soft,” he states, combing his fingers through my hair again. “Have you ever wondered why?”

“Why my hair is soft?” I ask, sounding a little dazed. But I can’t help it. What he’s doing feels so good, like a lovely little head massage.

“Yeah.” Jett slowly combs his fingers from the top of my scalp all the way to the end of my hair. “I wonder if it’s your shampoo? Or if your hair is just naturally soft?”

Wilder twists around to look at Jett. “Seriously man, how much have you smoked today?”

Jett considers it for a lengthy amount of time. “Not too much.”

“Well, FYI, you’re scaring Zhara with your stoner talk,” Wilder says. “And the hair combing.”

“He’s fine,” I tell Wilder. “My brother used to smoke pot when he was in high school so I’ve heard stoner talk.”

“But have you ever had a guy comb his fingers through your hair without your permission?” Wilder asks me, then blasts Jett with a dirty look.

“It’s fine.” If I were braver, I’d admit it felt good.

Wilder eyes me over suspiciously while Jett kneels up behind me.

“I think she likes my hair combing.” Jett sweeps my hair to the side and then lines his fingers to my shoulders. “I give great massages too.” His fingers begin lightly working into my muscles.

It feels like I should tell him to stop, but it feels too good.

Wilder looks irritated whil

e Ridge seems a bit uncomfortable.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

“Crap,” Ridge mutters and Jett’s fingers stop moving.

“What is it?” Wilder asks, lowering his feet to the floor.

Ridge shrugs. “It’s nothing. The system’s just being weird today.” But when he briefly glances up at Wilder, a hint of worry flickers in his eyes.

Without saying a word, Wilder gets up and walks out of the room while Ridge begins typing like a madman on his computer.

Jett moves out from behind me, stands to his feet, and offers me his hand. “Hey, do you want to take a shower? I’m sure you probably want to wash the night off or whatever the hell that saying is?”

Taking a shower is the last thing on my mind, but I have an unsettling feeling they’re trying to get me out of the room. So, not wanting to be a pain in the butt, I nod and take his hand.

He pulls me to my feet and guides me out of the room. But not before I hear Ridges computer start rapidly beeping.

She’s Your Sister?

No one explains what the beeping is. And while Ridge said it was just a system malfunction, with how tense everyone got, I wonder if there’s more to it than that. But I’m not brave enough to press for the truth. Besides, it might not even be any of my business. I mean, sure, they said I’m part of their team, but I haven’t even done any training yet.

After Jett leads me out of the room, he steers me to a shut door at the end of the hallway.

“Here’s the bathroom,” he says, opening the door.

“Yeah, I know,” I tell him, remembering the last time I was in Benton’s bathroom.

“You’ve been in Benton’s place before?”

“Yeah, at the party he threw Friday night. The one where he had me pretend to be his girlfriend.”

“Oh yeah. I forgot about that.”

I nod my head at the bathroom doorway. “We also got locked in there for a while.”

He eyes me over curiously. “In the bathroom. Together?”

“It was an accident,” I quickly explain. “There was an incident with my shirt and it flew out the window and I…” And now I’m stupidly babbling.