A Secret Vow: A Bad Boy Secret Baby Romance (2 page)

“I’m sure you’ll go on to be a wonderful father to a whole litter of other typical male pigs, too.”

I want to laugh, but her joke hits home. Funny that she should bring up family. I think about my brother and my blood runs cold.

In my head, I count the days. Has it really been so soon? Ten days ago, he was living, breathing, walking, joking. Now, he’s worm food with a bullet hole through the middle of his skull.

All of which has got me thinking lately about family. About legacy. There’s no one left to talk about Colin except for me. What happens if I go? Who carries on my legacy? Who remembers me? It’s not something I like brooding on, but I just can’t seem to stop. The questions stay in my head whether I choose to acknowledge them or not.

“Might be time for that in the near future,” I tell Kendra.

“Don’t you need to find the woman before you have the kids?”

“There’s always the chance I’ve found her already.” I give her my biggest smile yet. She laughs, and I think to myself,
Goddamn. I could live in that laugh.
Then I give her body another glance and think,
And that’s not so bad either.

I see the napkin she’s holding is stained through. I pluck another one from the table and press it to her lip. She hesitates, reaching up to move my hand away, but I stop her. “Let me.” She relents. Her fingers rest on my wrist. The touch is butterfly light, barely there. I want more of it.

Then I see something out of the corner of my eye.

One thing about this line of work: you learn to act first and ask questions later. I wrap my hand around Kendra’s wrist and pull her with me as I spring backwards. My back hits a wall and Kendra flies into my embrace. A split second after we’ve collapsed against the building behind us, a massive chunk of metal slams into the couch where we had just been sitting. I hear the crackle of cooling aluminum. The edges are razor sharp.

On the track, a car slows to a halt. It’s beat to hell, missing a sizable portion of its front fender from a collision with the concrete girder that lines the quarter-mile course. Coincidentally, that fender is the one that is impaling the couch that Kendra and I recently vacated. People hop the fence to tend to the driver. He looks shaken as he crawls from the wrecked car, rips off his helmet, and vomits.

Poor bastard. But he knew what he was getting into when he got behind the wheel. It’s like the racers say: buy the ticket, take the ride.

He’ll be fine, though. I look to Kendra. Her face is an open book. I see fear and adrenaline, and there, just behind her eyes, the hint of arousal. I’ve got one arm around her lower back, tucking her into me. I can feel warm skin through the fabric. Her smell is intoxicating. There’s a cinnamon tint to her lotion, but I like what’s underneath it—the sweat, the true scent of her body. That’s the real aphrodisiac.

Her breasts are pressed against my chest. True to form, they are ripe. I glance down at the hollow between them and imagine running my tongue up her torso, licking the drops of perspiration on my way up her neck, past her throat, en route to whispering in her ear all the things I want to do to her.

My dick is longing to be freed from my jeans. I can feel it straining against the zipper. I’m pretty sure she can feel it, too, pressing against her inner thigh. Part of me wonders if I should be embarrassed. It’s probably bad manners to shove your hard prick against a girl you just met. But the other, larger part of me thinks,
Fuck it. Let this girl know you’re a man.

Like I said, I trust my gut.

Putting my dick aside for a moment, it feels incredible to hold this girl in my arms. She’s like a glass vase. I want to run my hands down every curve, but I’m almost scared to push too hard, just in case she shatters in my grip. The fibers of her muscles are so thin and lithe. They’re still right now, though. She’s just looking in my eyes. Not saying a word. I wonder what she’s seeing in there.

“Smooth move, cowboy,” she says. Her face is inches from mine. I can feel her breath coming in shallow spurts as she tries to calm her racing heart. That, too, is fluttering against my chest.

“I’m full of them.”

“What else you got?”

“Let’s get this dress off you and we can find out together.”

She frowns. Reaching up, she puts her hands against my chest and pushes me. I let her separate a few inches, but she’s not getting away just yet. “You really shouldn’t be saying things like that. Not here.”

“Where, then?”

“I don’t know. Not here.”

“Come with me.”

“I told you. I can’t.” I notice that she isn’t pushing anymore. Her hands are resting lightly on the muscles of my chest.

“I don’t see why not.”

“I’m engaged, for starters.” She raises a hand to show me the diamond ring glittering there. It’s lost just a touch of its sheen, like it has been a long time since she got it.

“To Grady.” It’s not a question.

“Yes, to Grady.”

I glare at the ring, then look back up to her. I take a moment to watch the light sparkling behind her eyes. It’s way more interesting than any shiny rock. “Do you love him?”

“We’re engaged, aren’t we?”

“You’re not answering the question.”

Her hesitation says everything there is to say. Of course she doesn’t love him. No one could love a pig like Grady. Especially not a beautiful, intelligent girl like this one. It’s a miracle she isn’t crumbling in my arms. She’s the most delicate thing I’ve ever held. She deserves better than the egotistical asshole milking my club for hush money. She deserves better than being slapped in the face.

She deserves me.

“Come home with me,” I say again before she can decide what to say to my first question. “Right now. No turning back.”

Her eyes narrow. “You know I can’t do that.”

“No such thing as impossible. I break rules for a living.” I give her a wink.

She’s wavering. I can see it, printed in her pupils like skywriting. There’s something here, and it’s more than just the horny pulse of two people who know they’d have one hell of a time fucking each other. There’s a lot more to it—layers, depth, oceans of possibility that deserve a careful and thorough exploration. I let my hands on her hips do the talking.
Come with me
, they’re saying.
You know you want to.

“The fuck is this bullshit?” an ugly voice thunders. I cringe and look over Kendra’s shoulder to spot the last person on this planet I wanted to see.

I twirl Kendra and push her against the wall next to me, raising my arm across her chest as if to protect her.

“Grady,” I growl by way of introduction.

“Mortar Matthews, you outlaw piece of shit, get the fuck away from my girl.” He is a red-faced snarl, all twisted nose and splotchy cheeks. I’m close enough to count the blood vessels in his nose that are busted and bleary from years of hard drinking. He’s big in every direction, but I’ve yet to meet a motherfucker in this life who scares me. He comes to a halt in front of us. His nostrils flare like a bull’s.

“And you,” he bellows, turning to Kendra, “you fucking whore, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

She starts to answer, “I wasn’t doing—” but Grady cuts her off by pressing a hand across her mouth. His fingertips dig into her cheeks with force as he yanks her face close to his. Spit flies from his mouth while he talks.

“If I ever catch you near this scumbag again, I’ll gut you like a fucking fish,” he hisses.

“Asshole,” I interrupt, “don’t lay a fucking hand on her.”

“Do you know who the fuck I am?” Grady tosses Kendra aside and extends to his full height, cracking his knuckles together. “I’m a cop, motherfucker, and you’re a law-breaking shitbag. I can do whatever the fuck I want, and you don’t get to say a goddamn word about it, understand me?”

There aren’t words in this world to describe all the things I want to do to this son of a bitch. My pulse is pounding a harsh beat against my temple. I know without looking that the vein there is standing up like bridge cables. I’m open, wide, flowing with electricity, ready to rock this motherfucker across the face the second I see a window.

I open my mouth to respond, but a hand claps down on my shoulder. I look left to see Croak. He is unsteady on his feet, but his eyes are icy. “Come with me, Mortar.” His hands are a vise on the back of my neck. I give Kendra one last look before submitting to Croak and following him to a secluded couch in the far corner of the patio.

The adrenaline sighs from my bloodstream, frustrated and pent-up. It wants release. Hell, I do, too; I want to release my fist into Grady Freeman’s ugly mug.

I can’t believe I’m leaving Kendra with that fucking asshole. I’d slay to get her away from there. But for now, I don’t have a choice. I just have to trust that she can take care of herself.

Croak sits me down and settles in across from me. He hitches up his jeans, laces a boot, brushes some imaginary dust off of his knee. I can’t stand when he does this shit. He knows I hate waiting, hate sitting here brewing silently while he just lets the pressure cooker I call a skull heat up and up.

Finally, he leans back with a sigh and crosses his arms. “I was sorry to hear about your brother, Mortar,” he says.

“It’s nothing,” I growl. I’m squeezing my fists, but the fight is starting to slip from me. There’s nothing to be done right now. I need to calm down, let it go, and wait until a new angle presents itself. For tonight, Grady Freeman gets to keep on keepin’ on. Lucky punk. I refocus my attention on Croak. Like always, he surprises me with his ability to pull himself together, in spite of the toxic cocktail of cocaine, alcohol, and God knows what else that I’m sure is coursing through his system. The motherfucker just doesn’t get fazed.

“I was out of town, so unfortunately I couldn’t be at the funeral.”

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing. He’s your brother. That’s family. Family is important.”

He’s right, of course. It’s not nothing. I don’t even know why I’m saying that. Every time I think of Colin, there’s a cold stab in my chest. Shit still hurts. He shouldn’t have gone down like that. “Thanks,” I manage to grit through the clouds of emotion brooding in my chest.

“I liked Colin. He was always one of my favorites. He didn’t deserve what happened to him. We’ll get back at the Mexicans in due time.”

“I know,” I say. And I do know. This game is about having a long memory and a steady hand at the wheel. As much as I wanted to skin every last bastard who had anything to do with Colin’s death, I was still the guy telling everyone to keep calm, to bide our time. Wait until they drop their guard.

“In the meantime, we tend to our crops, so to speak.” He waves a hand at the raucous night around us. Cheers rise up from the huddled crowds every time the cars come flying past. Every table in the club is jammed with people drinking, laughing, and dancing. It doesn’t take much of a seasoned eye to know that we’re earning a fortune tonight. Croak’s done a good job making this gig flourish. I hope he tightens up his act. We can’t afford to get sloppy now.

Croak fixes an eye on me. “You understand all that that implies, yes?”

I nod without saying a word.

“It means understand why we are allowed to make all of this happen, Mortar.” He’s leaning forward on his elbows, staring at me intensely. I’m not an idiot. I know exactly what Croak means. The jerk of his head towards where Grady and Kendra are embroiled in yet another argument is unnecessary. I can feel the bile rise in the back of my throat.

“I get it.”

“Do you, though? You can’t go flying off the handle over some chick, brother.”