Page 5 of Badd B*tch

He stood while laughing and clapped me on the shoulder. "No, no, don’t apologize for that. I'm just some rich dude, okay? All the sirring and Mister-Thorvaldsen-sir and the bowing and scraping…no thanks. I’d rather you just be yourself. Cool? Cool.” He swept out of the bar, then, typing away at that one-off phone of his, which I'm salivating to play with—I only got a quick glimpse, but it looked like something out of Minority Report or some futuristic sci-fi movie, translucent and rubbery-looking rather than glass, and razor-thin with beveled edges and a quasi-holographic interface.

Tea returned a moment later and stood staring at the booth, puzzled. "Where'd Linus go?"

I shrugged. "Meeting his daughter, apparently. He said, and I quote, ‘you and Tea have the day, and she can have the car.' We're meeting him, or at least I am, at the heliport on Tongass north of here at eight. Which he called oh-dark-thirty."

Tea's lips twitched. “Eight is not oh-dark-thirty. Not even remotely. Not by several hours."

I shrugged again. "He's a billionaire."

"That he is." She looked around the bar as if for inspiration as to what to do. "So…now what?"

I indicated my laptop. "I have work to finish and then a shift at Best Buy."

She frowned at me. "You seriously work at Best Buy?"

"Geek Squad, yeah. That okay with you, Commander Tiernan?"

“I’m not judging. Just…"

I smirked. "You are, though, a little."

"It's just that from what I can tell, that man doesn't hire nobodies. If he's hiring you, you have to have something special."

"Special people, or people with special skills and talents, can work at Best Buy, you know. It pays the bills. You heard the whole nepotism spiel, didn't you? My family is comfortable enough, but I'm paying my own way in life, for the most part. So yeah, I work at fucking Best Buy, okay?"

She holds up her hands. "I'm sorry, really. I think that came out way more judgmental than I meant it. I just mean it's interesting that someone Linus Magnus Thorvaldsen would hire for a special project like this—whatever it is—is moonlighting at Best Buy when by all that I’ve heard, you should be heading a research team or something."

"What I really want to know is how he found out about my other work. I don’t advertise it, and I don’t leave any kind of a signature in my code as some do."

“He's a billionaire, and a genius in his own right."

"True." I opened my laptop. "You're more than welcome to hang here. I can get you food, if you're hungry, or a drink, if you're so inclined."

She shook her head. "No thank you to both. I think I'll stretch my legs, do some exploring on foot. This is a beautiful place."

"Wait till we're out in the bush, Commander. Then you’ll see some real beauty.”

She rolled her eyes. "Just call me Tea." She emphasized her name slightly—TAY-uh—even though I’ve pronounced it correctly every time. "I'm not a commander anymore."

"My dad is a former Navy SEAL, Tea.” I emphasize the correct pronunciation as well. “I think he'd say you earned the rank, which means it's always yours. Just like those wings."

She nodded but said nothing, although I maybe, possibly saw a hint of a smile—I think I maybe, possibly, scored a point or two with that one. But my god, she's a tough nut to crack.

My love for a challenge is perking up—I want to see her give me a full grin, if not a belly laugh. I want to see her soft side—the woman beneath the armor.

Which is what Linus meant, I think—if you could get through that cold, hard shell, I have a feeling there's a hell of a spitfire in there.

I'm gonna get her out of there, one way or another.

Chapter 2

Tea

I don't know what to do with myself.

I've never had much free time, even as a kid—since my father was stationed Stateside as a test pilot for most of my growing up, he was home more than most Navy brats are used to, which meant he ran the home. And he did so with an iron fist. Awake and dressed by six a.m., seven days a week. Chores completed by seven. Five-minute shower, and yes, there was a timer; he would come in and shut the water off at exactly five minutes, sudsy hair or not. Breakfast. Out the door for school by seven-forty-five. When we got home, there were more chores we were expected to complete, along with homework. Even our so-called free time was tightly scheduled, with a list of approved activities. Watching TV was not one of them, nor were video games—although neither Tania nor I ever really cared about them. We could read, visit friends on base as long as we called to check in every hour, perform some sort of craft, e.g., sewing, music, knitting, things like that. Simply "playing" or "hanging out" was not a thing.

This never really bothered me all that much, looking back—I'm hyperactive, and I like a schedule. I need a plan. I don't sit still well, and never have; Tania struggled with our home life far more than I did, which means that even though she's two years younger than me, she’s academically precocious as hell, and actually left home before I did. She skipped sixth and seventh grades, graduated at sixteen, and started university that same year, while I graduated at a more normal eighteen and joined the Navy at nineteen—obviously, I did NJROTC into the US Naval Academy, with no favors from either my father or grandfather; I was expected to earn my way. In that, I understand and respect Jax Badd's determination to make his own way.