Bad Company Read Online Free

it all. Working three jobs at a time so I could put myself through school, I found myself a place to live after Mom died. I was doing okay before Billy weighed into my life again.” But then it was as if all of that was knocked out of her. That was when the bad choices started; when all she could do was find ways to scrape by and keep a low profile.
    She glanced across at Denny. He’d made her feel good. He’d flattered her, made her feel as if she actually had some value about her again. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt that way. Couldn’t remember if she’d ever felt that way.
    But when had she ever been with a guy who wasn’t some kind of trouble? Was she just repeating history with Denny McGowan? This enigmatic stranger with his beautiful eyes and easy charm and his frustrating habit of being hunted down by gunmen?
    Just then, he swung off the highway, and into a Walmart parking lot.
    “Now this may not be the finest outfitters you’ve ever tried,” he said, “but I bet they have an impressive line in t-shirts and bad-fitting sweat-pants.”
    §
    She stood a little distance from the checkout, watching while Denny took care of their purchases. It probably wasn’t an everyday sight here: guy in a tuxedo, bow-tie hanging loose around his neck, bagging up and paying for a mountain of jeans, sweaters, two puffer jackets, sneakers and hiking boots. When he pulled that roll of hundreds out of his tux pocket Cassie thought the cashier’s eyes were going to pop right out of her head.
    Outside, loading up the Lexus, Cassie still felt detached, as if she’d taken a step back from it all and was watching someone else.
    “So where from here?” asked Denny, oblivious to her mood.
    “Indeed.”
    He paused at that and gave her a quizzical look.
    She’d been pushed around for too long now, always forced into responding to the events in her life. She’d dodged, she’d run, she’d evaded confrontation. In every relationship she’d had, she’d looked for protection above all else, and far too often she’d misinterpreted stupid male bravado as strength.
    Denny McGowan.
    Just another mistake, or was he somehow different? Was she really so desperate or shallow that she had to keep latching on to whatever was on offer like this? What did she even know about him? Pretty eyes and a perfectly proportioned dick were hardly the best basis for a relationship.
    “I don’t know you,” she said. “You excite me and turn me on, and make me feel more alive than I have in years, but I don’t know you.”
    “Isn’t that enough for now?”
    “It’s a start.”
    “What more do you need?”
    “I want to have a good reason for why I’m risking my life by sticking with you.”
    “Seems reasonable, for sure.” That spark in his eye again. That God-damned spark! She tried to blank it out.
    “I need to know who you are,” she said. “I need to know why a guy walks into a bar in the middle of Nowhere, Maine, in a tux, in a storm, with a roll of hundreds in his back pocket. I need to know why he’s got two gunmen on his tail. I need to know all about you, Denny McGowan. I need to know if you’re worthy of me.”
    ...which sounded arrogant and demanding of her, but it was true: she deserved better. Better than she’d had; better than the life all those bad choices had led her to; just... better .
    “You need to convince me, Denny. You need to win me.”
    “You mean, like, you want me to take you on a date ? Is that what you’re saying? I’ll do that. I’ll take you wherever you want to go.”
    As ever, his answer was quick and facile, but there was something else in his eyes now. Perhaps it was some kind of realization that she’d taken a big step, that she meant this.
    “There’s a place I know,” she said. “Place I used to work before I came out to Maine. Over in the White Mountains, near Bretton Woods. Maybe three hours west of here. Probably less, the way you drive. I know somewhere we can hole