Rescued By a Bad Boy

Chapter 1-1

CHAPTER 1

Mia Torres snapped from sleep to wakefulness in a heartbeat, ears straining to analyze for threat before she opened her eyes or moved a muscle. A faint scritch scritch sounded at the window as the overgrown black hawthorn bush outside nodded in the wind. The clatter of breakfast dishes sounded from elsewhere in the house, but there was no squeak of floorboards, no sense of movement nearby. She cracked her eyes open and spotted her desk chair still wedged under the doorknob, exactly where she’d left it last night. Her paltry wooden sentry had done its job. Beneath the pillow, her hand relaxed, releasing the scissors she slept with. Flexing stiff fingers, she sat up and stretched. Her spine and shoulders popped.

One more day.

Less than twenty-four hours until she turned eighteen. They couldn’t hold her after today. In truth, she really needed to make it through the end of the semester until graduation, but if worse came to worst and she ever had to use those scissors, she could leave tomorrow. The idea of it terrified her, but she’d figure it out. She was so over the foster system. It was supposed to keep her safe. For nearly six years, she’d bought into that, done everything she was told, kept her head down, stayed invisible. She was very, very good at being invisible. But this last placement had her questioning all the well-meaning adults who’d put her in this position, claiming it was for the best.

It hadn’t been so bad when Lainey and Max had been here. But Lainey had been busted for drugs at Halloween, and Max was doing a stint in juvie for boosting some rich guy’s sports car for a joy ride. For the past two months, it had been only Mia. Her foster mom, Darlene, wasn’t so bad. She wasn’t a warm woman, but she appreciated hard work and manners, something Mia’s real mother had drilled into her from a young age. She’d held onto them after her mom died, feeling like it was a small way to honor her. But Darlene’s husband, Wayne, made Mia nervous. He hadn’t ever laid a hand on her, hadn’t said anything outright threatening. He just watched her. Long, assessing gazes with those flat, watery blue eyes that Mia wasn’t sure how to read. She didn’t know if he’d stay content with only looking, and she wasn’t taking any chances.

The oversized flannel shirt she dragged on over her henley hid the shape of her body. It was probably poor camouflage for the curves that had sprung up against all her hopes two years ago, but it made her feel more at ease. She’d use whatever flimsy armor she could manage. Working her long, thick sable hair into a braid, she peeked out the window at the gray January day. Freezing and gross but not actively snowing. It was as much of a win as she could expect in this part of Washington. She’d take it.

A glance at the clock told her she needed to get a move on, or she’d be late for school. The lace-up boots she’d found at a second-hand store for ten bucks would do good to make it the rest of the winter. Maybe she could shore up the inside seams with duct tape. Later. She added a second pair of socks before slipping them on and shrugging into her coat. Out of long-ingrained habit, she hauled the duffel bag out from under the bed and did a quick inventory of its contents. A few changes of clothes. Basic toiletries. The little Lego knight she’d been gifted in her first foster home by the boy who’d become her best friend. The sketch pad where she captured the dreams she didn’t dare tell anyone about. A picture of her mother. The things she couldn’t live without if she had to run. Satisfied all was as it should be, she shoved the go bag back in place and stuffed the last of her schoolbooks in her backpack. There’d be a quiz in U.S. Government today, and she’d been up too late preparing. Quick and quiet, she removed the chair from beneath the knob, sliding it back in place beneath the boards laid over two battered file cabinets that served as her desk. One last look to make sure everything was in place.

The scissors. Pulling them out from beneath the pillow, she hid them under the mattress.

Time to go.

Wayne was at the kitchen table, lingering over a cup of coffee. A too large figure in a quilted flannel jacket, he seemed to take up half the room just by breathing. Mia’s step hitched a fraction of a second at the sight of him. He’d normally be gone to his job at the steel mill by now. Ducking her head to avoid eye contact, she made a beeline for the cabinet to grab a pack of Pop Tarts for the walk to school.

“No greeting this morning?” His voice held a smoker’s rasp and something slick and oily in the tone that automatically put her back up.

Smoothing her features, Mia turned in his direction and muttered, “Morning.” Then she couldn’t stop herself from asking, “Aren’t you late?” She regretted the words as soon as they were out. They opened the door for conversation, which was the last thing she wanted.

“It’s a service day. Line’s down for repair.”

She grunted an acknowledgment and headed for the door.

“In a hurry?”

Without looking back, she reached for the door. “I have a test this morning.”

“Have a good day at school.”

Uncertain what to do with that, she just kept going, straight out into the cold. The whip of winter wind helped clear her head. Her boots crunched on old snow as she strode down the driveway to the sidewalk. A figure melted out of the trees up near the corner. Stubble darkened the cheeks of the tall, rangy boy who was well on his way to manhood. At the sight of him, Mia felt the tension in her shoulders dissolve and her heart kick into high gear.

Braxton Whitmore was her lifeline. A former foster sibling, he’d made the past six years tolerable. He’d befriended her when she’d had no one. Taught her how to fight, what to watch for. Kept her safe. And even though he’d aged out of the system last year, he was still looking out for her.

Was it any wonder she was in love with him?

Determined not to betray herself, Mia worked to control her features and hurried to meet him.