In Too Deep (Doing Bad Things Book 2) Read online

  In Too Deep

  Doing Bad Things Series Book 2

  Jordan Marie

  Contents

  Copyright

  Title

  BLURB

  Prologue

  Prologue

  1. Hope

  2. Aden

  3. Hope

  4. Aden

  5. Hope

  6. Aden

  7. Hope

  8. Aden

  9. Hope

  10. Aden

  11. Hope

  12. Aden

  13. Hope

  14. Aden

  15. Hope

  16. Aden

  17. Aden

  18. Hope

  19. Hope

  20. Hope

  21. Aden

  22. Hope

  23. Aden

  24. Hope

  25. Aden

  26. Hope

  27. Aden

  28. Aden

  29. Hope

  30. Aden

  31. Hope

  32. Aden

  33. Hope

  34. Aden

  35. Hope

  36. Aden

  37. Hope

  38. Aden

  39. Hope

  40. Aden

  41. Hope

  42. Aden

  43. Aden

  44. Hope

  45. Hope

  46. Aden

  47. Hope

  48. Aden

  49. Ida Sue

  50. Hope

  51. Hope

  52. Aden

  53. Hope

  54. Hope

  55. Aden

  56. Hope

  Epilogue

  Taking It Slow

  Read More Jordan

  Links:

  Copyright

  Copyright © 2017 by Jordan Marie

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever, including but not limited to being stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the written permission of the author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, groups, businesses, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Cover Art by Robin with Wicked By Design

  Model: Stuart Reardon

  Photographer: Furious Fotog (Golden Czermak)

  Proof Reading: Read by Rose— Rose Holub

  WARNING: This book contains sexual situations, violence and other adult themes. Recommended for 18 and above.

  By:

  Jordan Marie

  I did a bad thing.

  I did a really bad thing.

  I’m not a bad person, I swear. I just made a few mistakes.

  Mistake number one was agreeing to rent my motel out to an insufferable asshole named Aden Smith.

  Mistake number two was ignoring his threats to sue me when he handed over a list of items he deemed “unacceptable”.

  Mistake number three was diving into the pool to save his life when he fell. It would have been less complicated to hide his body.

  When the hospital refuses to let me know how he is, I panic.

  Claiming to be his wife might be my biggest mistake yet—especially when he believes me!

  He might have been the one drowning, but I’m sinking in a bed of lies, going down fast—and there’s not a rescue in sight.

  Dedication

  To my “Jordan Did A Bad Thing Crew”. Thanks for not letting me believe the sky was falling.

  Danielle Palumbo, thank you for calming the scary author nerves. Yes, I made you a judge, but you may only swing your hammer for good—not evil.

  Doreen Foucault, thank you for letting me turn you into an old woman on a rocker.

  Gloria Esau and Krystal Fhal…so I made you cheating bitches… I still love you to pieces!

  Bonnie Hildwein, I probably made you old too… but I did it with love and hey, at least you dress snazzy and you didn’t have a walker like poor Doreen.

  A special shout out to Author Aden Lowe for letting me borrow his pretty name. If you haven’t read him check him out at www.adenlowe.com !

  And finally,

  Dessure Hutchins, so many books you’ve been my rock. Never leaving my side, you instead build me up, hold my hand, and you keep me sane and writing fun. I would have quit long ago without your presence in my life.

  Xoxo

  J

  Prologue

  Hope

  “What do you mean, I have to have a new air conditioning unit? Each room has its own unit. This is crazy! I don’t have the money for this!”

  “I’m just telling you like it is lady. You have to have this place brought up to code and to do that each room has to have all new units. The ones you have now are a damned fire hazard for the load your wiring is designed to carry. It’s a wonder the inspector hasn’t shut the place down before now,” the foreman growls back.

  He doesn’t realize that his words are killing me, or that I’m on a razor’s edge and about to go over the deep end. I’m close to a freaking panic attack. I’ve sunk everything in this motel.

  Everything.

  When I got the letter from my Aunt Edna’s attorney, I’d just been laid off from my dead end job at the factory in Indiana where I spent my day putting together parts for porta potties. You didn’t read that wrong. I literally got laid off of a job where I spent the day working on places for people to shit. The letter informed me I’d just inherited a motel in Clancy, Idaho. I didn’t know anything about Idaho, but I wasn’t exactly happy in Indiana either. It seemed like fate—a sign from heaven.

  I loaded up everything I owned—which, quite honestly, fit in the back seat of my run-down, more-rust-than-metal, gray, 1990’s Volkswagen Beetle. I cleaned out my savings, which wasn’t that much, and I headed out, my son in tow.

  I don’t know what I expected. When I thought of this place, I guess I pictured a bigger hotel, kind of like a Holiday Inn. The Hard Acre Motel in Clancy was nowhere close to a Holiday Inn. The place looks more like the Bates Motel from the Alfred Hitchcock movie. It also hadn’t been opened in close to ten years. Flash forward six months and I’ve sunk every bit of money Aunt Edna left me, plus my meager savings into this dump. I wanted to make a go of it, so that my son and I had a steady income. I was due to open this week and that’s obviously not going to happen now. I sit back down in my new office chair, behind the newly varnished desk of the reception area, and let the reality of the situation hit me. I feel sick to my stomach.

  “What do I tell them?” the contractor asks, bringing my attention back to him. Stress is churning inside of me so intensely I feel like I might pass out.

  “I don’t have the money. All I have is what you’ve already been paid to do.”

  “Then I guess we’re done here until you come up with the cash,” he shrugs.

  “Done!?!?! But you haven’t even finished the concrete work out front and what about the fencing? You have to fix that. Guests can fall into the pool!”

  “You can’t have guests, period. This place won’t pass inspection to open unless you upgrade your wiring and those heating and air units,” he answers harshly.

  “But—” I break off, not finishing my sentence. It wouldn’t do any good. He’s already gone.

  I’m alone. Alone with my two-year-old son on my hip, no money, apparently no motel to make money with and I have absolutely no idea what I’m going to do next.

  Prologue

  Aden

  “You can’
t just leave. You have obligations, Aden! Damn it. You can’t just walk away!”

  “I can and I am.”

  “You are a billion-dollar empire. You can’t just disappear! If the judge’s ruling sticks, you’re due to start filming next month! Did you forget that?” my manager, Reggie, asks.

  He doesn’t get it. I doubt anyone would really. I’m at the top of my career. I just walked off the set of a movie I was going to get seventy million to star in. Seventy million. That officially makes me the highest paid actor in the United States. I should have no worries. Instead, I’m miserable. I have to take a break. If I don’t, I’m going to crack. I can feel it. It literally feels like the walls are closing in on me.

  “Lawyers will tie up the court battle for months.”

  “And you think that’s an answer? How in the hell am I supposed to spin this with the press?”

  “I don’t know—or particularly care. But that’s why you get paid the big bucks, Reggie.”

  “Damn it, Aden. I know that mess with Gloria threw you, but—”

  “That’s just it, Reg’. It didn’t. I couldn’t give a fuck about Gloria or the fact she was screwing that director. Gloria has always been more interested in who could make her career soar. I never really cared. We were only together because she was a clean pussy to get my dick wet, and it didn’t hurt that she loved being fucked.”

  “Christ you’re a bastard.”

  “Probably so. All I know right now is if I had my way, I would walk away from it all without a second glance and, honestly, I’m hoping that is what happens with all the court battles. I need a damn break.”

  “What the hell are you going to do if you walk away? This is the only life you’ve ever known, Aden. Besides that, people don’t just walk away from an industry that has just promised to pay them seventy million dollars.”

  “I am, I’m tired of the games and the bullshit. You figure out how to handle the press so they leave me alone. I don’t give a damn what you do. Tell them my dog died, my mother died, that Gloria broke my heart, I don’t care what you tell them to be fucking honest—just handle it.”

  “Where are you going?”

  I look at the map pinned on the board behind my desk. I could tell him, I guess as my agent he deserves to know, but I don’t.

  A month ago, I met with my friends in Vegas for Gavin’s wedding. White set me up in a motel his cousin runs. I’m not sure what to expect and Clancy, Idaho seems like a crazy place to find myself again—but I’m willing to give it a shot.

  “I’m not sure where I’m going,” I lie, while my eyes are zeroing in on Idaho. One bright spot about the place is that it will be the last place in the world the press, Reggie, Gloria or anyone would look for me.

  “You better check in,” Reggie warns.

  “I’ll check in,” I tell him, but I don’t mean it. I hang up the phone quickly— before he can demand more from me. I step closer to the map and take in the state of Idaho. My gaze travels over the different roads and towns. Only one really catches my eye. The map has the population of the city underneath the name. Clancy Idaho, population six hundred.

  That sounds like heaven and nothing like Hollywood and California.

  1

  Hope

  “Is this the only motel in Clancy?”

  I look up in shock at the door. I could have sworn I locked that door. It’s like ten o’clock at night and my brain is going in circles. I’ve watched enough true crime television to know leaving my door unlocked in the middle of the night is a recipe for disaster.

  “I believe so, yes.” I answer, looking around the counter for a weapon. He doesn’t look like an axe murderer, but then again, I’m not sure what one would look like. He’s got a beard, some crazy looking tattoos on his arm, and he’s tall and wide—kind of like my cousin White who plays football, only a little more dangerous and less good ole’ boy from Texas.

  I see a box of paperclips. Can you kill someone with paperclips? They’re the large ones, maybe I could stab his eye out… God. I’m pathetic. What kind of idiot doesn’t have some kind of weapon in her desk?

  “That’d be my luck,” he growls and his growl does sound dangerous. I frantically look one last time for a weapon and finally decide on the stapler. I know it’s pitiful, but it’s all I have.

  “Is there a problem?” I ask, trying to nonchalantly pick up the stapler in my hand and grip it.

  “I have a reservation,” he sighs out the words like they’re being ripped from his soul and steeped with regret—which kind of pisses me off. I mean the place doesn’t look great, but I’ve done a lot of work and it’s not open for another two weeks—thanks to the electrical inspector.

  “I’m sorry, I’m not open for two weeks. You must have the wrong place,” I tell him sweetly. My grip has eased on the stapler a little. He’s probably not an axe murderer, at least there’s that. He’s just someone who is afraid he’s here to stay in my motel. Which is understandable. I’ve sunk every dime I have into the place and there are still times at night I cry because I’m here. Still, he’s kind of rude about it and that makes me want to hit him with my stapler.

  “I’m early. It’s there if you look, Aden Mc—Aden Smith,” he says and I frown. Okay I realize there are reasons people check into motels with the last name Smith. He doesn’t seem to have a woman with him however, so I doubt he’s hiding from a jealous husband. It’s not my problem though.

  “I recognize the name, but it’s not until the twenty-sixth and as I said we’re not open yet,” I explain. I look down at the motel registry as if there are a million bookings—which is laughable. There’s only this guy, and I doubt many people will be knocking down my door to book this place in advance. Still, a girl has to have hope…the irony that my name is Hope, does not escape me. My father had a twisted sense of humor when it came to naming his children.

  “Well I’m early,” he replies.

  “I see that. It’s just we’re not opening for—”

  “For another two weeks, I heard you the first time. However, I’m early and I need a room. Since you’re the only motel in the area, we’re stuck,” he answers, as if he is explaining things to a small child. I grip the stapler tight again. I wonder if it would hurt business if the owner gets arrested for hurling a stapler at the head of a would-be guest. I’m guessing it might…Damn it.

  “I’m sorry. I can’t accept guests until after I pass inspection. That’s why when you called, I specifically informed you that I would not be open for—”

  “Let’s cut the crap, shall we?” he says abruptly, walking towards me. He struts, long stealthy strides, that look angry and I have no doubt are meant to intimidate—because they do.

  “Stop!” I tell him, without taking a minute to think about it. Strangely enough he does, mid-step.

  “Listen, why don’t you quit angling here, and name your price,” he says, and immediately starts walking toward me again.

  I hold up the stapler as if it was a weapon that was about to save the world from mass destruction.

  “I think you better leave.”

  “That was the thought when I saw this place. But, the nearest motel I’ve passed besides this shit-hole is about three hours away and I’m too damn tired. How about you be a nice little girl and hand me a room key and let me crash.”

  “I think maybe we have a language barrier, so I need you to listen and I’ll speak slowly so you understand. We. Aren’t. Open.”

  “Name your price.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I said name your price, lady. Everybody has one and from the looks of this place you definitely do. So how much to rent this place a couple weeks earlier?”

  “I can’t—” I begin, but my mouth snaps shut quickly when he lays out a roll of hundreds. I actually drop the stapler. It crashes onto the counter with a loud clanging noise causing me to jump. I can’t make myself look away to see if it’s destroyed.

  “That’s twelve hundred dollars for your cra
ppy room for one week. I doubt you’ll find that anywhere else. Do you?”

  “But you already paid for—”

  “And that will be for the following week.”

  “But we’re not ready for business. I haven’t had my final inspection,” I tell him again, trying to ignore his insults. The rooms aren’t great, but they’re much better than what they were. He’s just an asshole.

  “I won’t tell if you don’t. So, do we have a deal?” he asks, and he says it in a way that I know he fully expects me to agree. I wish I could tell him to stuff his money, but the new air conditioning and wiring I have to get done before the inspection is a reality. This money and the money for the following week would pay for that. I can’t afford to say no…No matter how much I really want to.

  “Twelve hundred for this week and twelve hundred for next?” I question him and I hate the look of victory that comes over his face.

  “Yes.”