Page 58 of Return of the Bad Girl (Rock Canyon, Idaho 4)

“Your sister.”

He didn’t plan to go there with her, but when he opened his mouth, the words that came out were honest. “She’s in a private-care facility in Sun Valley.”

“Oh my God, why?”

He clenched his jaw, ashamed. Gabe didn’t want to answer and considered blowing her off, but what good would it do? All she had to do was Google his name, and all his dirty little secrets would be laid out for her to see.

What happened to keeping the past under wraps? To a fresh start?

Gabe realized that if he’d learned one thing about Caroline, it was that she knew how it felt to have people judge you based on your past. And if he couldn’t tell her about his, then how could he expect her to be honest with him about her problems? It all came down to trust. And though it had been a long time since he’d given his to anyone, for some reason, he felt like this woman could handle it.

“She was in an accident and suffered a brain injury. She has good days and bad, but she needs constant care.”

Caroline said nothing, but to his surprise, she pressed her warm hand against his shoulder, branding him with her touch. “I’m so sorry.”

Her pity, the last thing he needed from her, had him jerking his shoulder out from under her palm. “Don’t be. It’s my fault she’s in there.”

By the surprised intake of breath, he figured she wasn’t prepared for that. Turning, he showed her his other arm. “I got this scar from the same accident. And along with the scar, I got a five-year sentence in the Nevada State Prison System for driving under the influence and being involved in an accident that caused significant bodily harm.”

He caught the guarded look on her face, and it pissed him off. “I told you. I’m not a good guy. I’m a selfish fuck who drove drunk because I caught my baby sister kissing my best friend. I shoved her on the back of my bike without making sure her helmet was fastened and on the way home, I overcorrected and skidded across the pavement. I don’t remember much—except waking up in the hospital, handcuffed to the bed, and being told my sister would never be the same. I should have gotten longer in prison, but with good behavior, they let me out early. I’ve been trying like hell to make it up to her, but I’ll never be able to. I am a damaged fucking individual, princess.”

Turning away from her, he slapped the portfolio closed and took a deep, shaky breath. “I wasn’t going to tell you any of that. I just figured you would find out somehow anyway, so why not get it out of the way? I feel like you keep looking for something more to me, but what you know about me is it. There’s no deep down, no mistaking my true character. I am bad news.”

He waited, listening for the tap of her retreating feet or the slam of the door, but only silence met his ears and then the soft sound of shoes on the cement floor—only they got closer to him instead of farther away.

Fingers trailed feather-light touches over his lower back. “This scar on your back? Is that from the accident?”

Her caress made his skin tingle as he shook his head. “I was knocked down by one of my mother’s boyfriends and landed on a glass table.”

“What about here?” Her hand had moved to his right shoulder.

“It was a tattoo I had removed. In prison, you’re safer if you belong, so—”

“I understand,” she said, cutting him off.

Had she heard the pain in his voice, or did she really understand? He turned around before she could point out any more scars. “What are you doing?”

She looked him in the eye and touched the side of his neck, where his tattoo began and spread all the way down, past his shoulder and over his chest. “You say you’re damaged. That you’re bad news and won’t ever change.”

“Yeah?”

To his surprise, she dropped her hand to his and brought it up to her collarbone, where his finger felt a rough, puckered line.

“This is a knife wound—just a scratch, really—that I got from a man who used to come see me dance at the strip club. He was constantly asking me out, and I always let him down easy. But one night, after I’d had a shitty day, I told him I would never go out with an old, ugly fuck like him. He was waiting by my car when I got off work.”

His rage blazed at this phantom from her past. “What happened?”

“I pulled a move I’d learned from one of the bouncers. Even though he still cut me, I was able to pick up a handful of gravel and throw it in his face. I made it to the front door of the club, and he took off. They arrested him on assault charges, and it turned out he had an outstanding warrant. I never saw him again.”

Caroline pulled him closer, lifting her arm for him to see a jagged scar along her forearm. “This was from a broken beer bottle I got sliced with when a woman came into my bar in San Antonio, looking for her husband. She didn’t take it well when she found out he had a girlfriend on the side, and when I stepped in to stop her from attacking him, she sliced me.”

He couldn’t stop his hand from sliding up over her soft skin until it rested on the back of her neck, his fingers pressing into her flesh until she tilted her chin up to meet his gaze.

“What’s your point with all the show-and-tell, Caroline?”

She reached out and smoothed his chest with her hand. “I don’t care how damaged you are, because I am just as broken, maybe more so.”

Her words tore at him, twisting him up inside as his other hand cupped the back of her head. “You don’t want to go here with me, princess. I’m only going to break your heart.”

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