“Do you have information? I’ll trade for it,” she says, pushing her plate toward me. I eat more fries even though they’re dry. I’d probably eat a dead rat if she offered it.
“Struggling?” I’m not ready to share the dead body story. I don’t have a good explanation for why I found it.
Josie taps her pen against the table. “Other than the fact that they’re all boys and around the same age, they have nothing in common.”
“Sounds like a mystery.”
“It is. I want to solve it.” Her eyes are bright and eager. I want to haul her over the table and kiss her until some of that glow fills me up.
My mouth opens, and words spill out. “I’ll be your Watson, then.”
“Really?”
For a half second, I think about rescinding my statement because do I really want to follow Josie around while she tries to piece together clues about missing kids? Then I realize that there’s nothing in the world I’d rather be doing than following Josie around, missing kids or no missing kids.
“Yeah, really.”
Chapter Two
JOSIE
This could be dangerous, and I don’t mean finding the person responsible for all the missing teens in the area. No, I’m talking about Bam, because he is that way too sexy bad boy your parents warn you about. I mean, I’m sure my dadwouldwarn me about him, but he doesn’t know who the hell he is, and he’s always on the road working anyway.
Bam has that dark messy hair that isn’t messy at all because it somehow insanely works for him. Then you got those freaking blue eyes that are such a contrast to the black hair and black shirts, and let’s not forget the black jeans and boots. Don’t get me started on the tattoos either.
I should have run out of here with everyone else when he entered the coffee shop, but I have this knack for doing things I shouldn’t be doing. This is what happens when you’re left to your own devices, as I often am.
“Why do you want to help me?”
“Why not?” He shoves another fry into his mouth. How are his lips better than mine? They are full and plump. It’s bullshit. “You don’t want my help?”
“I do.” There are a few places I don’t dare go. I am a mere couple inches over five feet and weigh one hundred and fifteenpounds, soaking wet. Bam here is the size of two of me, and it scares the crap out of people, except some girls. I see them checking him out; he never pays them attention. If I had Bam with me, I could go almost anywhere.
“Then what’s the problem?”
“You can’t go falling in love with me,” I deadpan. “That will complicate things.”
“Can’t promise that, shortcake.” He winks at me. I need to make a rule that I too will not fall in love with him. I’ll write that down later in my notebook. That way I’ll remember.
“Did you just nickname me?”
“We’re partners. You should have a nickname.”
“I’ll allow it,” I agree.
“The nickname or being your partner?”
“Both, but you’re on probation.”
“You might be surprised to hear this”—he leans forward, putting his elbows on the table—“but it’s my first time on probation.” I snort a laugh.
“I am not surprised. Who in their right mind is going to try to arrest you?” The cops don’t tangle with the Riders. I should take a page from their book, but, yeah, no thanks. My dad would warn me away from them too.
“How about you? I bet you’ve been to jail a few times,” he tosses back.
“Hey, only once.” How did he find out about that?
“Are you fucking serious?” His lips twitch into a smirk.
