The Bad Boy Criminal

Chapter I

Copyright © 2015 by lorettaiswriting

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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"Earlier today, a home invasion occurred inside a two-story house in the quiet community of Winona, Ontario resulting in the deaths of an elderly couple. Police state that although they are not allowed to release any information at this time, they have identified the victims as Barnaby Milton, a 71 year-old male, and Adeline Milton, a 68 year-old female."

"Jesus," I muttered as I got up to get myself some milk to drink. I opened the carton and something in the kitchen window caught my eye, my own reflection.

"Though no witnesses nor the person who made the 911 call were found on scene when the police arrived, there was a surveillance camera opposite of the crime scene that captured a young man running from the direction of the house and into a car."

Suddenly, rain started to pellet at the window harshly. I gasped and accidentally let the carton fall out of my hands and into the sink, splashing white liquid all over the kitchen. "Shit- Fuck."

"Police asks that anyone who has any information regarding this murder come forward, and that if anyone sees this man, call-"

"What an unflattering angle of the poor boy," an unfamiliar voice quipped behind me.

"Who are you?" I promptly turned around with the milk carton in my hand as my defence. The years of karate practice suddenly vanished from my life. "Wait- What are you doing in my house?"

"Your house?" He raised his eyebrow.

"Yes." More importantly, why isn't he leaving?

"As far as I'm concerned-"

My father came in, cutting him off, and turned off the TV with a click. "Upstairs, now," he gestured to the mystery man.

"Okay." He turned his head and smirked at me before waving and heading up the stairs.

"Dad-"

"Witness protection program."

"Is he-"

"Don't ask questions, sweetheart."

"Dad-"

"Go to bed. It's already past 2:00 a.m., you have school tomorrow."

"But-"

"I'll clean it up, go sleep." He took the carton out of my hands and kissed my forehead before ushering me upstairs.

I gingerly walked into the washroom and began to brush my teeth. Who was that guy? Dad has brought in witnesses before, so why was he keeping it so hush-hush this time? I gargled my mouth clean and exited the washroom. Interestingly, my door was shut. Locked. What the hell? I certainly didn't lock my door. I put my hand on the knob again and tried twisting it open. It wouldn't budge. After a few shoves and pushes on my door, I busted it open. "What the fuck?"

Suddenly I was put in a headlock. "I should be asking you the same thing," the same mystery man asked me.

"You? Ask me? You're one to talk. You're in my room!" I struggled a bit in his arms before swatting his legs. "Let go of me!" He did, and I was wheezing for air. He crossed his arms and stared at me. "What?" I glared at him.

"Nothing." I narrowed my eyes at him. "Just wondering how much sleep I'll be getting tonight," he continued. "That's all."

"Well you're not sleeping here, so get out." I plopped onto my bed.

"We'll see about that," he smirked.

"What do you mean-" I stood up and felt my hands coiling into fists.

"Sweetheart," my dad suddenly peeled his head in my doorway. "Stop bothering the man and let him sleep. He's had a long day."

"What?" I felted exasperated. "Where am I going to sleep then?" I demanded. I have the rights to this room, my room.

"You'll sleep on the floor." Was he being serious? Why can't he put the witness in our witness bedroom? The bedroom that has surveillance cameras watching from all angles, at all times.

"Dad-"

"Don't ask questions, sweetheart. Go to bed," he came in and gave me a kiss on my forehead before heading back out.

"You mean the floor?" I muttered. "Where the spiders crawl?" I groaned to myself.

"You could always sleep up here," the unnaturally raven-haired man plopped on my bed and patted the space beside him. "There's lots of room."

Was he being serious? Like I'd sleep with a potentially dangerous mob boss slash wanted witness. No way in hell! "Thanks, but no thanks." I pulled my pillow from under his head without warning, letting his hand bang onto the cold wall.

I threw the pillow on the floor, appreciating that I had carpet for once, before trudging to the linen cabinet across my room to get myself a blanket. The entire time I was assembling my makeshift bed, his eyes were on me. I didn't have to look to know, I just knew.

"Hey."

"What?"

"You could sleep here, we'll trade spots."

I laid down on my side, facing away from him. "No."

"Listen, darling-"

"No."

"Fine," he scoffed. For a while he breathed steadily. His rhythm was soothing and it made my eyes go droopy. I decided it was my turn to drift off. "Hey?" I groaned in reply. "You awake?" I moaned negative. Before I knew it I was being lifted up from my good buddy- the floor and settled on my bed.

"What are you doing?" I managed to utter despite my grogginess.

He tucked my pillow under my head and instructed me to sleep. The bed dipped and he was climbing in with me. "Sleep," I felt him breathe in my ear, and I did.

It didn't take long before I dosed off and was awoken by my contraption of an alarm clock. I reached over and turned it off before realizing that I was on my bed and not the floor. I looked all around my room, even in my closet. The mystery man was no where to be found. Was last night a dream?

"Dad?" Silence greeted me back. "Okay, then." I lifted my feet off the hardwood and gently put it down with each step I took so that the floor wouldn't creak. Slowly making my way further down the hall, I reached my bathroom which was closed with light escaping from under the door. I knocked but got no answer, so I turned the knob and opened the door. Clouds of fog took its time diffusing itself into the hall. "Hello?"

I felt like those stupid characters in horror movies who always walked knowingly into a trap. I just woke up, so could you really blame me? Fanning the fog away to make a clearer vision of where I was going, I was greeted with a chiseled back and back dimples.

"Hi," his velvety voice answered as he turned around. I got a clear view of all of the tattoos that heavily decorated his skin. I also saw that he found one of my fluffiest towels and decided to wrap it right under his v-lines.

"Y-You-"

"I, what?"

"I didn't know you had tattoos," I mumbled.

"There's a lot about me that you don't know about," he said. I opened my mouth to say something, but what can I say? He was right. I don't know anything about him. I don't even know his name.

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Inspired by EnglishToffee17's Addicted to Meth which in my opinion is a must read. Enjoy.