Vindicated Read online

  Contents

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  EPILOGUE

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Other books by Jeana E. Mann

  Felony Romance Series

  Intoxicated

  Unexpected (Novella)

  Vindicated

  Impulsive (Coming in 2015)

  This book may be read as a standalone, but you will find it more enjoyable if you read the series in order. Intoxicated is the story of Jack and Ally’s romance. Unexpected is the novella with all the details about Randy and Karly’s one-night stand. I hope you enjoy the ride!

  Chapter 1

  With grinding gears and the squeal of tires, Karly screamed her 1979 Trans Am into the parking lot of the English Studies building at Laurel College. She leaped out of the car, backpack in hand, and sprinted toward the lecture hall. A fellow student watched her bound like a steeple-chaser over the landscape bed and run full out across the lawn.

  "You can't park there," he shouted.

  She streaked past, waving him off, aware of the penalty for parking in a faculty space. Behind her, the Trans Am rattled and shuddered before it died with a dramatic bang. Pigeons rocketed into the brilliant blue January sky, scattering feathers and dead leaves in their wake.

  Late twice in one week. This is so not good. Professor Marks is going to kill me. Professor Marks was the toughest teacher on campus with a strict code of conduct for his classes. With two part-time jobs, she barely got any sleep. He wouldn’t be interested in her excuses, or the fact that she’d worked a double shift the day before.

  Two hallways and one set of doors stood between her and her destination. The ancient walls reverberated with her rapid footsteps. The scent of polished wood and austerity hung heavy in the air. She rallied her flagging energy, jogged the last ten yards, and threw open the lecture hall door. She paused at the threshold, blowing and puffing like a winded horse, and scanned the room. Silence. Twenty-five pairs of eyes swiveled and fixed on her. One open seat. Bottom row.

  Shit.

  "Late again, Ms. Eriksson?" Professor Marks's nasal voice dripped with sarcasm. The gray goatee on his chin waggled when he spoke. He peered over the top of his reading glasses. “Nice of you to join us. Are you in or are you out?”

  Double shit.

  “Please, by all means, take your time. We’ll wait while you decide.” He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the table.

  Whispers rippled through the auditorium. Accustomed to the hushed voices, blatant stares, and condescending comments of her peers, she lifted her chin a notch. By the expressions on the faces of her classmates, she might as well have a big scarlet A emblazoned on her breast.

  "I'm in. Thank you." She swallowed hard and squared her shoulders. With her brightest smile, she let the door swing shut behind her. Tuition cost big money. It would be a cold day in hell before she let a bunch of judgmental hypocrites deprive her of an education.

  "Then perhaps you'd like to take a seat?" The professor nodded to the empty seat in the front row. “I saved a place for you in case you decided to grace us with your presence today.” His attention snagged on a gum-chewing student across the room. He veered like a hound scenting blood to chastise the unfortunate young man.

  With an inward sigh and an outward smile, she hefted the backpack to her shoulder and trotted down the steps to the first row. One person sat in the aisle seat, blocking her path to the proffered seat beside him, his long muscular legs and heavy boots extended into the aisle. At her arrival, he stood, towering over her. Intent upon her destination, she kept her head down and squeezed past, her bottom brushing against his hips. The heavy backpack shifted on her shoulder and caught him squarely in the chest. He grunted and pushed it aside. She turned to apologize and found her nose level with an imposing set of pecs beneath a tight brown Henley shirt.

  Oh, my. This was not your typical college boy. This was a man full-grown and then some.

  With large, long-fingered hands, he pushed his shirtsleeves up sinewy forearms. Her eyes followed the lines of a tribal tattoo from his left wrist to where they disappeared beneath his sleeve. Bulging biceps stretched against the fabric. The tattoo emerged on the north side of wide shoulders, escaping his shirt collar and curling around the back of his neck. She’d seen that tattoo before—up close and personal.

  Randy Mackenzie, bouncer at the notorious Felony Bar and all-around bad boy, blocked the aisle to the only free seat in the house. Unwilling to believe her bad luck, she bit her bottom lip and lifted her eyes to a stubborn jaw and lean cheeks covered with stubble. The sensitive mouth above his dimpled chin, a mouth capable of taking a girl to ecstasy with its talented lips and tongue, ghosted a smile.

  Their gazes connected. Curiosity flickered in his eyes. Flashes of their one night together blazed through her memory. Tangled legs. Fingers clutched in bed sheets. The brush of male chest hair over her breasts. Calloused hands ripping off her panties. All culminating in the empty mattress beside her the next morning.

  Heat flooded her cheeks at the recollection of the way he slipped out while she was asleep. How embarrassing. But it had been months ago. Maybe he didn’t remember. A second more horrific thought rushed in. Oh God, what if he really didn’t remember? Wouldn’t that be worse in a way? To be totally forgotten?

  The corners of Randy’s mouth curled into a knowing smirk. I’ve seen you naked, his smile said. Her belly dipped in reply.

  Oh, yes. He definitely remembered.

  Professor Marks’s annoyed throat clearing released her from paranoia and nostalgia and hurtled her into the present. How long had she been standing there gaping like an idiot? Seconds? Minutes? It felt like hours. The backpack turned into a two-ton weight. The strap bit into her shoulder.

  Just sit down, you idiot, and act cool. It’s not that big of a deal. She sank into the hard theater seat with a whoosh of exhaled breath and let her hair swing forward to shelter her expression from the hunk of sin sitting next to her.

  "Is it me, or is this awkward?" Randy’s voice rasped into her ear. The deep and throaty voice, rich with bass and roughened by life experience, reverberated in her ear while she struggled to remove her coat. He tugged on
the sleeve and slid it from her shoulders.

  “Little bit,” she replied.

  “Is that why you never called me?” The heat of his body warmed her shoulder. “I waited by the phone for weeks.”

  She snorted and rolled her eyes. “Yeah. Right. You practically left a vapor trail on your way out.”

  “There were extenuating circumstances,” he said. “I left a note on the coffee table. Didn’t you see it?”

  “No.” Uncertain, she flicked her gaze to his, assessing his sincerity and trying to remember the events of the morning. A lot had happened in the last six months. Most of the finer details of their night together had blurred or disappeared entirely, blocked by too many cocktails and the humiliation of being fucked and forgotten.

  The chair creaked under his weight. He leaned into her ear again, his nose brushing her hair. “But you could have. Called me, that is.”

  “Phone works both ways,” she replied.

  “You never gave me your number.”

  “You see my best friend every day. All you had to do was ask her.”

  “Maybe I did. Ever think of that?”

  No, in fact, she hadn’t, and made a mental note to ask Ally at the next opportunity. She bit her lower lip and studied his face, unsure exactly what to make of this guy. He returned the scrutiny with unusual gray eyes, dark and brimming with secrets. Engrossed by the gravity of his stare, she didn’t notice Professor Marks. He’d been pacing the stage during his lecture on gothic horror in the Victorian era, and stopped in front of her, his lined face purple with indignation.

  "Ms. Eriksson. Mr. Mackenzie. Is there something you would like to share with us?"

  “Not really,” she replied. “But thank you for asking.”

  Snorts of amusement twittered through the room. The hard wooden back of the theater seat bit into her spine as she shifted to meet his stare.

  "Please. I insist. Enlighten us with whatever is so very entertaining.” Karly shook her head. “No? And how about you, Mr. Mackenzie? Care to share?”

  “We were discussing the underlying themes of homoeroticism found throughout Bram Stoker’s Dracula,” he said without missing a beat.

  “Were you now?” Professor Marks lifted a wooly eyebrow in surprise. “I see you’ve done your homework, Mr. Mackenzie.” He shifted his gaze back to the students at large. “Would anyone else care to chime in on this topic?”

  "Nice save,” Karly whispered. Randy shrugged. One corner of his mouth quirked. "It's not funny," she chided and bit her lip to hold back her own smile. "He doesn’t like me. I don’t need to give him any more reason."

  “Have you been a bad girl, Ms. Eriksson?” The dark eyes glittered with mischief.

  “I have been a paragon of virtue, Mr. Mackenzie.” Their eyes met, and they shared a smile. Despite the sour ending of their previous encounter, she felt the pull of attraction, an instant reminder of why they hooked up in the first place. The warm feeling turned ice cold when his gaze flicked down to her chest, and his face flushed. He frowned and looked away before pointing a finger at his own massive chest.

  "Uh, I think you’re having a wardrobe malfunction." He lowered his eyes to his desktop. She glanced down. The front of her blouse gaped open, the center button set free from its closure during the struggle with her coat, baring her breasts and the neon green bikini top serving double duty as a bra. She groaned and buttoned up the blouse.

  “Going swimming later?” Randy kept his eyes averted. “It’s a little cold out, don’t you think?”

  "Laundry day," she replied.

  They both chuckled.

  Professor Marks scowled and slammed his hand on the podium. "Ms. Eriksson. Mr. Mackenzie. I will not ask you again. If you cannot be quiet, please leave my lecture."

  “Sorry,” they both replied in unison and lowered their gazes to their desktops.

  Randy twisted in the seat, looking for a more comfortable position, the snug fabric of his brown shirt bunching and stretching over his chest and abs. The lazy tension in his movements, like a spring coiled for release, flustered her composure and ruined any chance of concentrating on the lecture. From beneath her lashes, she stole an admiring glance. Did memory fail her, or was he better looking now? Dark auburn hair in need of a trim curled softly over the collar of his shirt. Her fingers twitched with the urge to touch the glossy locks. As if sensing her scrutiny, he cast a self-conscious sideways glance in her direction.

  The ding of her cell phone signaled an incoming text message and jerked her attention away from Mr. Tall-and-Tasty. She fumbled in her backpack to silence the ringer and saw the text from her little sister, Emma. With a flick of her thumb, she opened the message to find a picture of an adorable young girl with round blue eyes and reddish pigtails holding a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

  Emma: Its PBJ time. Miss u. Hugs.

  Karly: Miss u more.

  A huge grin spread over Karly’s face. Incredible warmth filled all the empty spaces inside her. Eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches had been Emma’s favorite meal as a toddler. Her smile saddened. She missed her. With a sigh, she shoved her phone into the backpack and turned her attention to the lecture for the next hour.

  Chapter 2

  In her haste to leave after class, Karly ignored Randy lounging against the wall in the corridor. Although his unexpected appearance piqued her curiosity, it also dredged up an attraction better left forgotten. At his shout, she glanced up in time to see the glint of auburn and coppery-black strands in his messy curls. Only Randy could pull off a leather jacket, heavy boots, and faded jeans in a university known for conservative neckties and pinstriped shirts. A silver wallet chain dangled from pocket to belt in the light streaming through the windows. He was the picture of outlaw, bad-boy deliciousness.

  Amber Patrick, bane of Karly’s existence, stood in front of him, twirling her hair and smiling, perfect as always. Tall, leggy, and empty-headed, Amber made beauty look easy. Her expensive designer clothes and matching accessories probably cost more than Karly’s car. If that was the kind of girl he liked, she didn’t have a chance. She shook her head. Why did she even care? Whatever she’d shared with him on their one night together ceased to exist when he vaporized the next morning.

  The weight of his gaze hastened her steps, unnerving her. Determined to breeze past, she tucked her chin into the collar of her coat. Randy’s long legs ate up the distance between them. He pulled a baseball cap from his back pocket and tugged it low over his forehead. Very sexy.

  "I don't mean to be rude, but I'm late for work,” she said with an apologetic glance and more than a little curiosity at his sudden interest in her.

  "No problem. I'll walk you out. I'm leaving, too." To her dismay, he shortened his stride to match hers. "Here, give me those." Before she could protest, he slid the backpack off her shoulder and onto his. “What the hell is in this? Rocks?”

  “Books.”

  “Ever heard of an e-reader?"

  “I like print books,” she said stubbornly. “I like the smell of the paper and the feel of the pages.”

  “Me too,” he said with a grin. “But I don’t carry all of mine with me.” One dark eyebrow quirked, daring her not to smile. She lost the bet.

  A few steps later, their smiles faded and uncomfortable silence stretched between them. He opened the exit door and moved aside to let her pass. An icy winter wind blasted through the opening, whirling bits of leaves and grass over the threshold. She tugged her coat tighter around her waist. The wind blew Randy’s hair into his fantastic gray eyes.

  What exactly did a girl say to a one-night stand six months after the fact? Gee, the sex was incredible…so glad we hooked up the one time…you were the best orgasm I ever had.

  She settled on something safer and less incriminating. “What are you doing in my class anyway? I didn’t see you in there before.”

  “Last-minute schedule change.” He shrugged and studied her, eyes narrowed, measuring her up. “You know, I di
d want to call you, but…” The large hands shoved into the pockets of his leather jacket.

  “It’s no big deal. Really. We both agreed it was a one-time thing.” Despite her nonchalant words, a tiny part of her wished it could be otherwise. Maybe he really had left a note for her, and somehow she’d managed to overlook it in the depths of clutter at her apartment. Or, maybe he was like every other man in her life, a temporary blip on her sexual radar.

  “Yeah, I know what we said, but…” His inability to finish a sentence piqued her curiosity. But? But what? He cleared his throat and started over. “So how’s your sister? Emma, right?”

  “You know Emma?” At the mention of nine-year-old Emma, tears stung Karly’s eyes.

  “Yeah, well, Mitch might’ve mentioned her in passing.” He flushed and cleared his throat. She cringed at the mention of her brother’s name. Mitch, self-absorbed asshole that he was, would never mention Emma. He seemed to have forgotten her existence.

  “She’s fine.” In an effort to avoid more questions, she quickened her pace. Thank goodness, her car loomed into sight. “This is me.” He slid the backpack off his shoulder and held it while she rummaged the depths for her car keys.

  "This is your car? Sweet ride." He cast an appreciative glance over the blue flaming bird on the hood of the Trans Am. "My uncle used to have one of these. Not too many around anymore."

  "Yeah? Well, it gets me where I’m going." She jingled the keys in her hand. "See you around."

  “Yeah, see you,” he said, with a casual nod. He turned and sauntered to his truck a few spaces away.

  She slid behind the steering wheel of her car and tried not to follow him with her eyes. The cold from the blue vinyl seat seeped through her coat. She put the key in the ignition. After several attempts, the engine sputtered and roared into life. Relief mingled with disappointment as she pulled out of the parking space and headed to work. Over the past months, she’d managed to minimize her attraction to Randy and deny their chemistry. After sitting in close proximity to his taut body, reality struck with vicious intent. Their encounter in the lecture hall should have brought closure to his abrupt departure following their night of passion, but it didn’t. Instead, it left her unsettled, and edgy, and wanting more.