Buy Me, Bad Boy (Book Two): Buy Me, Bad Boy, #2

By Layla Valentine

She has her price, and I'm paying…

 

Colt:

They killed my best friend, and they're coming for me next.

I got out of Detroit that night, and I've been on the road ever since.

But twelve hundred miles from the Mexican border,

This pretty, pouty little redhead stops me in my tracks,

She looks like trouble, alright.

I need to buy a wife if I want to make it out of this country alive,

I'm gonna take her and make her mine.

 

Luna:

It's not often a bad boy with a suitcase full of stolen cash comes through my diner,

Even less often a guy walks in and I immediately picture us getting dirty in the back room.

We make a deal: help him cross the border and the cash is mine.

He wants me to pose as his wife. That'll cost him 20 grand,

Everything else comes free…

This is the second book in the Buy Me Bad Boy series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Layla Valentine
• Release date: Feb 15, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201187798

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

COLT

The car out front—one of Wes’s goons, surely—really squelched my plans. Certain, then, that I needed to tell Luna everything—that her father had now given Wes Kraemer’s stolen money right back to him—I resolved to do just that.

But, now, we were zipping across the back end of the motel yard, crunching over gravel and fallen leaves, wide-eyed and panicked. Me, for reasons I understood. Her? Probably just because I’d suddenly asked her to jump out of a second-story window.

I was pretty surprised that she’d done it, to be frank. The girl had guts.

My car’s at the diner, Luna said between huffs as she kept up with me. I have my keys with me.

God, you’re a lifesaver, I breathed. After sneaking a glance behind us, I darted across the road, toward the 24-hour sign glinting in the distance. Luna followed close behind, gasping for air.

The parking lot showed it was the lunch rush hour, with several station wagons, mom vans, and dilapidated vehicles all in rows as their drivers sat inside the diner eating greasy burgers. I slowed down briefly, allowing Luna to run in front of me and press her key into a little red Chevrolet. She gestured for me to get into the passenger seat, her eyes shooting back toward the diner.

I’m supposed to be there right now, she whispered. Hurry.

She didn’t understand that we were in a whole lot more trouble than her missing a shift at a crummy diner.

Speeding out from the parking lot, Luna drove us out onto the highway and headed south, her hands gripping the steering wheel like her life depended on it.

She was anxious. And her anxiety only made mine worse.

Holy shit, I said, bringing my hands over my eyes. My heart wouldn’t calm. I found it thudding in my throat, ramming against my tongue. Jesus Christ.

Stop praying over there and turn on the radio or something, Luna said. I’m driving as fast as this little car can go.

I watched as the little dial grew over first 70 mph, then 80, with Luna whipping her head back and emitting a wild, beautiful Yahoo!

She looked alive to me, then. It seemed that she’d found her element in the minutes since our escape. Her skin became clear and bright in the sun, her breasts rising with each of her strenuous breaths. In that moment, I could see our entire lives stretched out before us: Mexico, then South America, then—hell—Europe, just to explore the world together.

It felt like it belonged to us.

We drove for maybe half an hour, listening to the ’80s radio station and nodding our heads in time. As we raced along the highway, I could almost see Luna’s brain in motion, cranking gears beneath that bright red hair. She was putting everything together. Her teeth crested from her lips, biting the bottom one in an adorable way—one that made her irresistible.

I had half a mind to tell her to yank the car off the highway and find a spot somewhere in the back woods of Iowa so we could make love into the afternoon.

As if she’d read my mind, Luna did pull off the highway, driving along a country road and bumping against the gravel and the potholes, mumbling something about them never fixing the road out here. She glanced past me at a dilapidated building out behind a barn, and then she turned down a small, almost unnoticeable dirt road.

Where are you going? I asked her. Even though my cock was trying to think for me, I still felt Kraemer’s men, hot on our heels. If we didn’t push ourselves to get past the state line, we’d be caught. Maybe we can stop in a few hours…

But she yanked the gear to park, halting us in front of the building. She pointed at it, her eyes direct, and then burst toward it, leaving the car door wide open. Several napkins fluttered out, flitting across the field.

I followed her at a run, already falling into a pattern with this woman: out of breath, my strides long. Things had been relatively calm before, when I’d assumed that I’d either make it to Mexico or I’d die along the way. Now, I sensed an explosion at every turn.

The abandoned building looked like it had once been a radio station. We burst into the empty hallways, eyeing the signs on the wall, which read back top hit singles from the late ’90s. I traced the once-familiar songs with my fingers, still trying to bring my breath back to being steady. Luna’s eyes were on me, direct and fiery, waiting for me to turn toward her—to take it.

I know what you did, she said, inhaling and exhaling in quick bursts. Flipping her hair behind her shoulder, she continued. The money you gave me was Wes Kraemer’s money, wasn’t it. You stole it. And now I’ve given it back to him by way of my father.

As I heard the truth of it from her gorgeous lips, I turned and brought my hands to my hips, sighing. Seems you’ve figured it out, I said. I gave her a slight smirk, hoping to make her fall into giggles once more.

But she gave me only a grim expression, a flat line across her face. I can’t believe you’ve helped me put my father in danger.

How was I supposed to know your dad was involved with Kraemer? I protested, raising my hands into the air. "It’s not like you had pure intentions when you asked for