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

By: Jordan Marie


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.

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