Page 10 of September’s Bad Boy: Cooper (Bad Boys of Mustang Mountain #9)

COOPER

A few nights later I’m locking up the gym and looking forward to spending some time with Riley, keys jingling softly in my hand, when I catch a flicker of movement across the street.

At first, I think it’s just the wind catching the edge of a sign, but then I hear it. The sharp crack of glass shattering.

Every instinct I’ve ever had flares to life. Crossing the street fast, I keep low, with my boots crunching softly over gravel as I near one of the shops downtown. The front display window is cracked, shards of glass glittering on the sidewalk like ice in front of the hardware store.

Then I hear voices inside. Low, urgent, angry.

I edge around to the side door, the one that sticks unless you lift the handle just right. It’s open.

Inside, I see them. A few of the teens I’ve been training at the community center, their faces pale and anxious, standing in a loose circle.

And in the middle of them, an older guy I recognize from the construction crew working with the developers.

He’s barking orders, shoving a duffel bag into one of the boys’ hands.

"Fill it up. Grab what you can. Fast."

One of the younger boys hesitates. Colby. He’s only thirteen. He glances toward the back like he’s thinking about running.

That’s when I step in.

"Drop the bag," I say.

All heads whip toward me. The older guy sneers.

"Well, look who it is. Mustang Mountain’s favorite felon."

I don’t rise to it. My eyes are on the kids. "You don’t have to do this. Get out of here. Now !"

They freeze. The man grabs Colby by the collar. "Nobody’s going anywhere."

Moving faster than he expects, my shoulder slams into his chest, knocking him off balance. Colby stumbles back, free.

The guy snarls and swings, and his fist connects with the side of my face. Pain bursts white behind my eyes, but I’ve taken worse. I grab his arm, twist, and shove him toward the wall.

Another older teen tries to jump in, but one boy, Trent, steps between us. "Don’t. Just stop. This isn’t right."

More chaos erupts. Another punch glances off my ribs, but I keep my ground, pushing the kids behind me. Protect first, always.

Then the front door crashes open.

Jason barrels in like a storm, eyes scanning the room until they land on the scene. He moves without hesitation.

"Back off," he barks, grabbing one of the older teens and yanking him away.

Together, we fight side by side, breaking it up, forcing the older teens to retreat. The man who threw the first punch spits blood, curses us both, and bolts out the door.

One of the older teens doesn’t back down. He pulls a knife.

"Seriously?" I growl, stepping forward. But before I can move?—

A low, bone-deep growl slices through the air. Everything stops.

From the shadows at the alley's edge, Hades emerges.

The wolf moves like smoke, silent and deliberate, fur bristling, eyes locked on the kid with the knife. No bared teeth. No attack. Just pure, pulsing threat in animal form.

The teen stumbles back, blade clattering to the ground. “What the—what is that?”

Jason turns slowly, eyes wide. “Is that?—?”

“Yeah,” I say, heart still hammering. “That’s Hades.”

The remaining older boys don’t wait for introductions. They bolt into the night, tripping over themselves to get away.

Hades doesn’t chase. He just stands there, a silent sentinel in the dark. Watching.

After a long beat, he blinks once—then disappears out the door and behind the building toward the tree line like he was never there.

We stand there, chests heaving, surrounded by broken shelves and scared kids.

Jason wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "You okay?"

I nod, though my ribs throb. "You?"

He nods once, then looks around. The boys are huddled together, Colby crying quietly, with Trent standing protectively in front of him.

We call Lawson, and he shows up twenty minutes later, pulling into the parking lot with his lights low but flashing. The boys gather nervously in a group outside the shop, eyes flicking between him and the busted window.

Lawson steps out, surveys the damage, then looks to me and Jason. "You two want to walk me through what happened?"

We do, taking turns explaining while Lawson takes notes on his pad. Trent steps up beside us. "It wasn’t Coop’s fault. That guy—he was making us do it. I didn’t know what to do. So, I texted Jason."

Lawson nods, his tone gentler now. "You did the right thing, son. Calling for help? That takes guts. None of you are in trouble tonight. You’re witnesses, not suspects. We’ll get the guy who started this."

Relief floods their young faces, and for the first time since the chaos, the tension breaks.

Lawson claps Colby on the shoulder, then turns back to the boys.

"I’ll give you all a ride home so we can talk to your parents.

They’ll need to hear what happened tonight and how you stepped up.

I’ll make sure they know you did the right thing. "

The boys nod slowly, some still wiping at their eyes. Lawson motions them toward his cruiser, and they file in.

Before Trent follows, I stop him with a hand on his shoulder. "You did good, Trent," I say, clapping him on the shoulder. "I know that wasn’t easy. You made the right call."

He nods, but his voice is shaky. "I didn’t want to be like my dad. I just... didn’t know what to do."

"You already chose differently tonight. That matters."

Jason moves toward them, murmuring soft reassurances. Then, he turns back to me.

"I was wrong about you," he says. "About everything."

We sit down outside on the cracked sidewalk, backs against the wall of the building. The air smells like dust and sweat and summer heat clinging to the pavement. My jaw aches, and blood trickles from a cut near my temple.

I lean my head back against the brick wall, exhaling slowly. "How do you know Trent?"

Jason glances down the street. "I’ve been working with him a little, mostly talking. His dad… he’s a lot like how you used to be. Trent and I kind of bonded over it."

I blink, surprised. "You’ve been mentoring him?"

Jason shrugs. "I didn’t call it that, but… yeah, I guess. Just trying to be there for him. Like I wish someone had done for me when I was younger."

The ache in my chest is a strange mix. Pride. Regret. Maybe both tangled together.

For a while, we don’t talk. Just breathe in peaceful silence.

After a couple minutes I say, "I thought being your father meant keeping you from seeing my mistakes. But maybe it means showing you how to rise after making them."

Jason’s quiet. But he doesn’t move away.

When the sun rises, casting long light across the storefronts, we’re there. Still side by side. Fixing what we can.

Hammering boards over the broken window. Sweeping glass from the floor. Replacing what was damaged. He doesn’t talk much, but he doesn’t leave either.

Later that morning, I find Riley sitting on the front steps of the gym, coffee in hand. Her eyes widen when she sees my bruises.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. We caught some kids breaking into a store downtown. One of them called Jason. We handled it."

Her brow furrows. "You and Jason?"

I nod. "Fought back-to-back. Like a real team."

She lets out a slow breath. "That’s big."

I sit beside her, wincing a little. "I’m still not sure where things go from here. But I know one thing."

She tilts her head. "What’s that?"

"I want to be the man you believe in. Not just for a moment. For real and forever."

Her fingers tighten around mine, and she smiles, and there’s relief, pride, and maybe even a little awe. She leans into me, pressing a kiss to my cheek, just above the bruise.

"You already are, Coop," she whispers. "But if you ever forget, I’ll be right here to remind you."

Wrapping my arm around her, I pull her close, letting the sun warm our backs, while the smell of paint lingers in the air. For the first time in a long time, I don’t feel like I’m chasing redemption. I feel like I’ve finally caught up to it.

She leans her head against my shoulder, and we sit like that in comfortable silence for a while as the town wakes up around us. A shopkeeper sweeps their front step. A delivery truck rumbles down Main. The world keeps moving, but for now, we’re still.

Riley shifts slightly, saying, "I don’t want to just believe in you. I want to build something with you. For real."

Leaning my head against hers, my heart is hammering like a kid on Christmas. "Then let’s build it. One nail, one breath, one day at a time."