Bad Boy Read online

  “Thanks for the I-told-you-so. It’s always really helpful when I get them.” Flynn rubbed a hand over his face. “You’re right, though. I shouldn’t have signed with the first agent who sucked up after Gerry retired.”

  “Barney saw a cash cow and went for it.” Michael’s nod was knowing. “The guy can be convincing.”

  “Aye, but I made it easy for him. I wasn’t exactly paying attention.” His memories of the months before his old agent retired were a little hazy. He remembered a buxom brunette, a vintage Corvette, too much Italian wine and a speeding ticket outside Milan. But he didn’t remember much about screening new agents.

  “He probably set this show up because he’s pissed you cut off his cash supply.”

  “My heart bleeds for him, how he must have suffered when I got injured out of the game.” He glared at Brian. The look of glee on the guy’s face made Flynn’s fingers twitch. “I want to hit him.”

  Michael’s eyes were hard as he stared at the producer. This wasn’t the first time the team had dealt with the man. “We all do. Call your people. Just don’t hit the guy on air. No matter how tempting it is.”

  Flynn took a deep breath. His old teammate was right. Flynn losing his cool would just make better TV. He needed to end this. Not help it along. With a grunt of frustration, he grabbed his phone and made the call.

  2

  “I spent a lot of my money on booze, birds [women],

  and fast cars—the rest I just squandered.”

  George Best, former Manchester United player

  Somehow Abby managed to swallow her fury long enough to get through Katy’s nighttime routine of dinner, bath and bed. She smiled and nodded as her daughter ranted on about how rude Flynn was and how ladies shouldn’t be topless in a field. It took all of Abby’s stretched thin self-control to keep her comments to herself. After what seemed like an eternity, Katy was tucked under her Minnie Mouse comforter, cuddling her tatty stuffed giraffe and sleeping. It was time for Abby’s breakdown.

  She grabbed a bottle of cheap white wine from the fridge and unscrewed the top. She didn’t bother with a glass. Taking the bottle into the sitting room, she picked up the phone. With a groan at the ceiling, she lay in the dark on her back on the rug in the middle of the floor. She wanted to wail, but the thought of waking Katy stopped her. Propping herself up on her elbow, she gulped down some wine then speed-dialled her best friend. She lay back down while the phone rang in her ear.

  “What’s up?” Jena said by way of hello.

  Abby was silent for a minute as she stared into the darkness. How did she answer? Maybe calling wasn’t such a hot idea after all.

  “Katy?” Jena’s voice softened. “Is that you, baby? You need to remember to talk when you’re on the phone.”

  Abby swallowed hard. “It’s me, Jena.”

  “Are you okay?” Jena’s voice was instantly alert.

  “No.” Abby heard the quaver in her voice. “I stabbed Flynn’s pool to death and threw his stereo out the window.”

  There was a pause. “I’ll be right there.” The phone went dead.

  Abby clicked it off, lifted her head and gulped down more wine. A field separated Abby’s house from Jena’s newly built home. She wouldn’t take long. Sure enough, a few minutes later the front door crashed open. Jena barrelled into the living room. She was followed by her husband, Matt Donaldson. Abby tried to smile at the man. It was difficult. The last person Abby wanted to see was the town’s only cop—especially as he was also Flynn Boyle’s cousin.

  “Oh, honey.” Jena plopped on the floor beside Abby. She held Abby’s hand tight in hers.

  Abby cast a nervous glance at Matt, which Jena caught. She nodded towards her huge husband, who was leaning against the doorjamb, perfectly at ease.

  “Don’t worry about him,” Jena said. “He’s here in case we need a babysitter. Or in case he needs to arrest Flynn.”

  Abby jerked with surprise. “Flynn? Not me?”

  Matt barked out a laugh. “Hell no, not you. I’ve known Flynn a lot longer than you have. If there’s trouble, it’s his fault.”

  Jena giggled, which made Abby relax, slightly. A tear escaped unexpectedly and ran down the side of her face to settle in her hair.

  “I’ll be in the kitchen,” Matt mumbled, before heading off.

  Jena brushed the tear from Abby’s cheek. “Now, tell me everything. What do you mean you stabbed a pool?”

  Abby took a deep, shuddering breath and told her sordid tale. Jena gasped, laughed and whooped with encouragement. Slowly, Abby began to relax. She sat up and leaned back against the sofa with her legs stretched out on the rug.

  “I snapped,” she said. “I couldn’t take any more.” She gave Jena a beseeching look. “I don’t scream. I don’t brandish a knife. I don’t destroy other people’s property. I talk calmly. I show anger with cold words and a chilly attitude. The teachers at my finishing school would turn in their graves.”

  “Are they dead?”

  Jena’s question took a minute to register. Abby found herself smiling. “They should be.”

  Jena grinned as she lifted the wine bottle. It was empty. “Matt. We need more wine.”

  There was a grunt from the direction of the kitchen.

  Jena settled beside Abby and patted her hand. “It’s a miracle you didn’t lose it before now.”

  Abby groaned and let her head fall back onto the cushion behind her. “I made a fool of myself.”

  “Nuh-uh, honey. The woman flashing her wares made a fool of herself. You, on the other hand, stood up for yourself.”

  “I should have called Matt. I should have politely complained.”

  “You’ve been polite for well over a month and it didn’t get you anywhere. Maybe going psycho on his ass will. I would have done a whole lot worse in your place.”

  “Let’s face it, princess,” Matt said as he came into the room carrying a tray. “You would have tripped, fallen on the knife and bled on the grass while you waited to be rescued.”

  To her surprise, laughter burst out of Abby. Matt had a point. Jena was the most accident-prone person Abby had ever known. Matt placed the tray on the floor in front of the women. He flicked on a table lamp and left without another word. There was no wine on the tray. Instead there was a pot of coffee and a plate of peanut cookies Abby had made earlier.

  “Guess we’re getting cut off.” Jena reached for a cookie.

  “Probably for the best. I don’t need any more alcohol.” Abby glanced at the clock. It was past ten already. Soon she’d fall into bed only to start all over again in the morning. Another relentless day of reacting to other people’s needs, of trying to get ahead and of dealing with Flynn. “I can’t believe I was attracted to the man.”

  “Flynn?” Jena sat up straight. “When were you attracted to Flynn? You didn’t tell me.”

  Abby groaned. “I saw him at Matt’s dad’s funeral. It was before his injury. He was wearing a suit and he was devastating. Of course, I didn’t know then he was also Satan.”

  “Oh, I remember.” Jena grinned. “That was around the same time you announced to the pub your hoo-ha was working again and you were desperate for a man.”

  “I did not!” Abby smacked her friend’s arm. “I said my libido was awake after years lying dormant. I didn’t mention anything about being desperate. And I certainly didn’t say the word hoo-ha.” Although, to be honest, Abby’s memories of the night in the pub were filtered through too much wine. She wasn’t sure what she’d confessed to her friends.

  “So.” Jena’s eyes narrowed, scheming. “Your hoo-ha wants Flynn.”

  “No! And stop talking about my hoo-ha.”

  “He’s the first man you’ve mentioned being attracted to since I met you. He must be pretty special.”

  Abby scowled. “Stop it. Stop whatever’s in your tiny mind. I don’t want Flynn.”

  “I think the lady doth protest too much.”

  “I think I should never have bought y
ou a book on Shakespeare.” Abby pushed the cup away from her. “It’s too late for coffee. I have problems sleeping as it is.”

  “Want me to get you some tea?” Jena’s face transformed from mischievous to concerned, and Abby wondered again how she would have managed if her American friend hadn’t come to the Scottish Highlands.

  “No. Thanks, though.”

  “Don’t worry about Flynn, honey. This whole thing will blow over.”

  No. It wouldn’t. “Maybe, but I still need to apologise to Flynn. I’ll go over first thing in the morning.”

  Jena stopped dead, the cookie halfway to her mouth. “If you apologise, I’ll find a new best friend. One with a backbone.”

  “I made a fool of myself. I set a bad example for Katy and I embarrassed my neighbour in front of his friends. I have to apologise.” Being polite was practically wired into her DNA. She wasn’t sure she could not apologise.

  “He’s the one who should be sorry. Not you.”

  “I know you don’t understand, but I won’t be able to live with the guilt of letting this lie.” She held a hand up to stop Jena from saying anything else.

  Jena’s expressive eyes couldn’t hide her emotions even if she tried. “I don’t like it.”

  Neither did Abby, but it was the right thing to do, and no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t break the brainwashing of her childhood—a Montgomery-Clark always did the right thing, even if the thought of it made her want to gag.

  The doorbell rang, and before Abby could struggle to her feet, Matt passed the living room. “I’ll get it.”

  “Did you call anyone else?” Jena asked.

  “Who else would I confess my bad behaviour to?”

  “Good point.”

  A moment later, Matt appeared in the living room doorway. He was grim. “The idiot is here to talk to you.”

  “I know a lot of idiots,” Abby said. “You’ll need to be more specific.”

  A man stepped into view behind Matt and the wind went out of Abby. Great. That idiot. Flynn wore a faded blue tartan shirt that hung open, revealing his toned chest. A pair of blue sports shorts showed off one muscled leg and one with a chunk missing from the calf and the rest of it covered in angry red scars. He leaned on crutches, his easy charm absent.

  Flynn hobbled into the room without being asked—another mark against him. He was a couple of inches shorter than his cousin, which made him about six feet tall. He didn’t have the same bulk as Matt, who stood behind Flynn with his arms folded over his wide chest. Nope, Flynn was all lean, corded muscle and toned power. Abby resisted the urge to count his abs. She’d been staring at his chest for weeks now. She didn’t need to count to know there was a perfect six-pack waiting to be ogled.

  Abby scrambled to her feet and sucked in a quivering breath. No way was she going to sit on the floor to deal with the man.

  “I’m sorry.” Her words came out as a sharp bark that sounded nothing like a genuine apology. She cleared her throat and tried again. “I’m sorry about earlier. There was no excuse for it. I will, of course, replace your stereo and pool.”

  She straightened her back and raised her chin, as she was taught to do. He gave her a rueful smile.

  “Yeah, about that.” He licked his lips and glanced at Matt.

  Everything within Abby went on alert. She knew, with every fibre of her being, that she wasn’t going to like what came out of his mouth next.

  His mesmerising silver eyes captured hers. “I have something I need to tell you. It isn’t good. Are you going to make a run for a knife? Do you need to be restrained?”

  She narrowed her eyes at him before catching herself and replacing the expression with one of cool derision. “I think I can manage to control myself.”

  “Yeah. Right.” He didn’t look convinced.

  “Well?” she prompted, folding her arms. Jena came up beside her and put a hand on her shoulder in silent support. It was welcome.

  Flynn rubbed a hand over his unshaven jaw. “It’s like this. There’s a sports network doing a documentary on me right now. They’re following me around for the next few weeks.” His eyes flicked to Matt before returning to her. He let out a sigh, heavy with resignation. “Your visit was taped. They put some of it on the internet. You’ve gone viral.”

  Jena gasped. Matt cursed. Flynn’s attention remained firmly on Abby. He studied her like a science experiment gone wrong, waiting for her to blow. His muscles were tense, poised ready for flight. Abby blinked. She felt as though her focus was zooming in and out. As though the room was moving.

  “I’m sorry?” Her voice was eerily soft and calm. “Did you just tell me my behaviour was filmed and made public?”

  He nodded.

  The afternoon’s events flashed through Abby’s brain in vivid colour and detail.

  “And”—Flynn’s voice sounded as though it was coming from far away—“there’s more, but maybe you should sit down first.”

  She felt Jena’s hand clench on her shoulder. Abby couldn’t sit. She couldn’t move. As in at all. Not an inch.

  “Spit it out, Flynn,” Matt said with a growl.

  “Okay.” Flynn actually took a step back from Abby. “The promotional clips were picked up by the news media. We made the ten o’clock news.” He paused. “All channels.”

  That was when the world stopped. Abby blinked twice. Her breath faltered. Everything faded as stunned silence filled her brain. She felt herself falling.

  And then she felt nothing at all.

  ♦♦♦

  “You broke Abby!” Jena wailed as she caught her friend before she hit the floor.

  Flynn rushed forward to help, but his damaged leg gave way and he almost fell on his face in front of her. Bloody useless leg. Holding on to the back of an armchair, Flynn watched as Matt lifted Abby onto the couch.

  Jena glared up at him. “When her husband died, she didn’t faint. When her business collapsed, she didn’t faint. When her family disowned her, she didn’t faint. When Katy was sick and rushed to hospital, she didn’t faint. You spend two months living next door to her, she’s acting like a crazy woman and passing out in her living room. You broke my best friend, Flynn Boyle.” She snapped her head towards Matt. “Hurt him, baby.” She pointed at Flynn. “Break something. I’ll be compassionate. You can break something he doesn’t use.” She glared back at Flynn. “Like his head.”

  Matt looked like he might follow his wife’s orders. “If you weren’t already injured, I’d kick your arse.”

  “Okay,” Flynn said. “I probably deserve that.”

  “No probably about it, dirt-for-brains. You definitely deserve to be beaten to a pulp.” Matt wore his cop face, the one that made it clear he didn’t tolerate idiots.

  “Look.” Flynn gestured to the unconscious Abby. “It’s not my fault she came storming over to my place and went all Xena on my pool. If she’d given me a chance, I would have told her there was a camera crew.”

  “Not your fault?” Jena jumped to her feet. Her curves were poured into cut-off jeans and a bright pink baby tee. Long honey waves flew around her face. She strode to Flynn. “Not your fault?” She poked him in the chest. It hurt. Were her nails filed into talons? “This is all your fault.” She swung back round to Matt. “He’s the dummy in the family, right?”

  That stung. It hit the same nerve people had been tweaking his whole life. The assumption being his brother Harry was a genius but all Flynn could do was kick a ball.

  “Right now he is.”

  “Thanks, cuz,” Flynn said.

  Jena pointed at the sofa. “Abby has been through hell for years. While you were playing ball, she was taking care of her dying husband and baby girl. While you were screwing half the models in England, she was raising a daughter and running a struggling business. She got through all of that then you waltz in, party under her nose and drive her insane. You broke her. And now you need to fix her.” She folded her arms.

  “How the hell am I supposed to do th
at?” He knew coming back to Invertary was a dumb idea. The town attracted nutjobs.

  “I don’t know.” Jena poked him in the chest again as Abby groaned. “All I know is you’d better do it. Or I’ll kick your ass.”

  He almost laughed at the thought of the tiny ex-dancer trying to kick his ass. Then he caught Matt’s steely gaze. Yeah. Jena might try to kick his arse. But Matt would make sure she was successful. Abby moaned as she struggled to sit up, drawing everyone’s attention.

  “Hey, honey.” Jena went to help her. “Water, Matt.”

  He nodded and headed out of the room, growling low in his throat as he passed Flynn. Not a good sign.

  Flynn watched as Jena helped Abby to sit on the sofa. She put her elbows on her knees and rested her face in her hands. Huh, maybe he had broken her after all. She’d only just started to show some spark, the thought it was over made him feel strangely responsible. A feeling he was not used to at all.

  Matt handed Abby a glass of water, which she sipped. Her head hung in defeat.

  “Are you okay, honey?” Jena brushed Abby’s shoulder-length chestnut hair away from her face. Thick, shiny waves hung past her shoulders. It was the kind of hair a man wanted to wrap his fists in.

  “I’m fine,” Abby said. “This is what happens when you drink cheap wine on an empty stomach. Plus, I haven’t had any decent sleep for months. I guess my system just overloaded.”

  “I can see why.” Jena glared at Flynn. “Do you remember what happened?” she asked Abby.

  There was a snort of derisive laughter. “Oh yes, I remember every detail.”

  She looked up at Flynn. Her eyes were filled with anger, resentment and pain. He shifted in place.

  “Show me,” she said.

  He stared at her blankly.

  “Show me the internet clips.”

  Oh. He hesitated. “I’ll go get my iPad.”

  “Use mine.” She pointed to the side table at the end of the sofa.

  Matt helpfully handed the iPad to him. With an unusual feeling of trepidation, he brought up the BBC news. They were running the clip on their sports and entertainment sections. Without a word—because seriously, what could he say?—he handed the tablet to Abby. She watched silently, without moving a muscle. Jena wasn’t so still. She gasped and glared at him. Aye, the editing made it look worse.