Knocked Up by the Bad Boy (24 page)

She traces a finger over my chest, her eyes not quite meeting my gaze. For a few minutes there’s nothing except the sounds of our breathing. Hesitation makes her open and close her mouth.

Just fucking say it.

“What is it?”

It takes a few false starts before she finally looks at me and speaks.

“I never said thank you.” Anxious eyes slide over to mine.

It takes me a couple seconds to realize she’s talking about the classes I bought for her.

“You don’t need to thank me for that.”

“Yes I do.” Her brows furrow. “You’ve done so much for me without me even asking.”

Because I have selfish motivations.
“You look like that bothers you.”

“It feels like you’re paying me off.”

I am, but another part of me can’t deny that it makes me happy to see her smile. I want a devoted wife, not a prisoner.

I lower myself so that my nose touches hers. “I’m not just here to fuck you into oblivion every day.”

A smile twitches on her lips. “No?”

“I want you to be happy. Why can’t you believe that?”

A slow burn fills Maya’s cheeks. “I don’t know.”

“I like the way you are.” I kiss the side of her head and hear her sharp intake of breath. “I like that you speak your mind, that you’re not afraid to give me shit. I like that you have dreams. Any normal girl in your position would’ve just given in to your dad, but you didn’t.”

She looks at me with fire blazing in her eyes. I know that I should tell her that I love her.

Just do it. You don’t have to mean it.

I should love the woman I’m marrying, but I don’t even know if I believe in love. Fuck, I can’t just lie to her face. A guilty, poisonous feeling spreads inside my chest when two tears slip down her cheeks.

“I’m sorry I didn’t believe you.”

She slides her hands around my neck and kisses me hard, her tears transferring to my face. Her kisses become lighter as she tires, and then I pull her onto my chest as she falls asleep. The wheel in my head keeps spinning as she falls asleep. In the past, I would have never bothered with any of this. I would have bought her jewelry, or given her a thick wad of cash for her to buy whatever she wanted. I want her to be mine, but putting a ring on her finger isn’t enough.

Her loyalty needs to be mine.

* * *

I have better shit to do.

My muscles tighten as I impatiently sit in the small bakery, only half-listening to the owner prattle on and on about this flavor or that one. Several trays of slices of wedding cake lie on neat ceramic plates. The owner takes them off the tray and explains the flavors
in detail
, one by one.

For God’s sake just shut up.

Then I look at Maya, her eyes widening at the choices, the big smile on her face.

This is her first wedding. It’s special.

“We have a lavender vanilla, a chocolate rose, maple bacon—”

“Bacon?” The word catches my attention.

The owner points out the small slice of cake, a medium-brown color with a sticky glaze. I stab it with my fork and taste the caramelized bacon and maple syrup. Shit, it’s not bad.

I turn toward Maya with a piece of my fork. “You’ve got to try this.”

“I’m not going to have a bacon-flavored cake at my wedding.”

“Just try it!”

“Fine!”

She opens her mouth and I slide the piece inside, unable not to think of blowjobs when I see her throat moving as she swallows.

Fuck, not now.

“Yeah, it’s good, but I’m still not having a bacon cake.”

After all the cakes are laid out, the owner stands up. “I just have a bit of paperwork to do in the back, so I’ll let you guys try the cakes while I do that.”

Good, get out of here.

Her heels click on the tiled floor as she disappears behind the glass counter and through an office door. I slide my arm over her shoulders and my fingers disappear into her hair.

“Whichever one you like, we’ll get.”

Seized by a sudden desire, I bend over her chair and kiss her head.

Maya’s face flushes with pleasure. “No, you have to help me choose. Try some of these.”

She takes a few plates and drops them in front of me. I’m really not into sweets, but I try them anyway. There’s so much shit I have to do, but pleasing my future wife comes first.

“They’re all good.”

“I would have thought a boss would be more decisive.”

Sensing that tone in her voice, I take a handful of her blouse and pull her toward me. “I am about things that matter.”

Earlier this morning we went to the doctor, who gave us the baby’s due date and a list of things to do. I couldn’t believe how happy she looked.

“All these details matter, Johnny.”

“Then you decide. I’ll marry you if there’s a fucking maple-bacon wedding cake, I don’t care.”

A slow smile spreads across her face, and then she picks up a small piece of strawberry cake with her fingers and holds it against my mouth.

The feeling of her fingers on my lips makes blood rush to my cock. It swells and hardens into a rock and I don’t know why, except that this woman gets me so fucking worked up that I feel like a teenager again, getting hard-ons in the middle of a bakery. I swallow the piece of cake without tasting it, and then I grab her wrist, sucking every clinging bit of sweetness from her fingers. A blush rises in her cheeks.

I slide her fingers out of my mouth, digging my hand into her hair as I crush her soft lips against mine. My heart leaps in my chest. I sweep my tongue across her sweetness and stand up, pinning her against the wall. Her stomach twitches when I slide my hand underneath her shirt and she gasps into my mouth.

“You feel how fucking hard I am?”

“We’re in a bakery!”

It doesn’t matter where we are.

“I don’t care. I want you.”

“She’s going to come out!”

The part of my brain that listens to reason is turned off. She sighs when I kiss a trail down her jaw to her neck, using my tongue to suck. She wears a boat-neck t-shirt, which teases at a hint of cleavage. I bend my head over it and suck, biting hard when she digs her fingers into my scalp.

“Did you pick something?”

I almost laugh at Maya’s horrified face as the cheery voice echoes loudly in the bakery. She pushes my chest desperately and I sit back down, pulling Maya onto my lap so she can feel how hard I still am. My cock rides against her ass as the baker walks in the room with a big smile on her face for the happy couple.

“I don’t know. Maya?”

“I-I think we need a bit more time to decide.”

My smile is buried in the back of her head.

* * *

A low series of beeps plays in the background as I gaze down at a white hospital bed holding a man so badly beaten that only a few square inches of his face are visible. Wedding cakes and this in one day. I can’t take this shit.

“They found him in the street, outside
Napoletana
.”

Tommy, one of my newer soldiers, grips the railing of the hospital bed and bares his teeth. “I couldn’t fucking do anything. There were too many witnesses, John.”

My icy tone hits the air. “What happened?”

“I was still inside the restaurant, getting the money. I saw six of them drive up on bikes. He ran across the street and they caught up to him.”

That is no fucking excuse for letting this happen to one of our own. “You didn’t do anything to stop it?”

His voice rises from the judgment in my tone. “I was outnumbered and the cops were on top of them two minutes later. Like I said, there were too many witnesses.”

His fingers whiten around the railing as I walk closer to him. “So you let those assholes get away with this?”

Tommy’s hazel eyes shine as a grim smile stretches his mouth. “Not all of them.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

I turn around as he strides past me, closing the door to the room as he faces me with an ear-to-ear, hair-raising grin.

“I got one of them. Pulled him right off his bike and bashed his head in—”

“Why the fuck didn’t you just say so?”

Tommy inches closer and bows his head to my ear. “He’s in the trunk of my car.”

Jesus fucking Christ. This is the problem with having too many hotheaded type A assholes working for you. They make stupid decisions. I can’t believe this shit. I want to smack him around—the stupid fuck.

“
Are you out of your mind
?”

“He’s still alive,” he says in an undertone. “We can get information from him.”

Tommy’s new, but he came to me straight from New York. He was no longer welcome there after killing two made guys. Vincent always sang praises for him. Apparently he was quite effective at getting information out of people.

I don’t trust torture. People will say anything when there’s a pair of pliers and a blowtorch in their face.

“I want to see him.”

Sal’s voice cuts through. “Johnny, we can’t let this slide.”

“I’ve something in mind.”

The idea grows in my head, festering like an infected wound, coursing vengeance through my veins.

Carlos knows damn well that I would have been well within my rights to kill him, but I didn’t. I spared his worthless life.

You’re becoming weak.

Not after tonight.

* * *

The air feels thick, almost as if it’s soaked with blood.

He lies like a slab of meat in the backroom of a deli where we play poker, sometimes. The wooden table slowly soaks with his blood as Tommy, that fucking maniac, carves him up like a turkey.

The boy screams, and the sound punctures my ear. Fucking loud. Tommy barely flinches. He moves his knife over the biker’s skin like an artist. A stroke here, digging it in the ribs there. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

I place my hands on the edge of that blood-soaked table and look into his eyes, which are very blue. “We can end it now, if you want.”

“What do you want? I don’t know anything!”

He’s a younger guy than the rest of the bikers I know. Tears well up in his eyes and spill down his dirty cheeks, and Maya’s face flashes in my mind.

It’s the way it is. They fucked up one of my men, I kill one of theirs.

I didn’t get to be the boss by playing fair. I need to know what Carlos is planning, to protect the family. To protect her.

Another loud scream punches my head as Tommy twists his knife, his face impassive as the boy’s face streams with tears. He’s ready to crack. I can see his sanity splintering in his eyes like broken glass.

“He knows about the airport heist!”

His chest heaves and his eyes go dark as if he immediately regrets what he said.

A thrill shoots into my heart. “What? What the fuck did you say?”

His face screws up in pain. “He knows—someone inside told him that you’re planning something.”

My insides turn to ice as Tommy shares a worried look with me. Then I seize one of the knives on his tray and wrench that fucker’s hair, the tip of the blade right next to his eyeballs.

“I’ll take your fucking eyes out if you lie to me.”

“I swear to Christ, I’m not lying. He wants you dead.”

“
Saint sacrament de tabarnak de marde
!” I slam the knife back on the table and try to keep my emotions in check. All year—all fucking year I’ve been developing this thing. It’s the scam of all scams. The biggest in Canada’s history. And Carlos fucking Lemyre knows about it.

“He thinks he can fuck with me?”

“I don’t know.”

Tommy looks at the boy and then back at me with a firm nod. He’s telling the truth.

Then I have no more use for him.

I don’t even bother lowering my voice. “Kill him, but don’t get rid of his body. I need it.”

I have a plan in mind, and I won’t deny that it turns my stomach a little, but it needs to be done.

“NO! PLEASE, DON’T!”

Tommy nods in affirmation and quickly ends his screaming with a slice. The boy’s gurgling gasps hit me harder than the screaming, and I walk out of the room, breathing hard. I have a fucking headache.

This cannot be fucking happening to me right now. Millions of dollars are at stake.

One crisis at a time.

Send
Les Diables
a message they’ll never forget.

* * *

“It’s just a dead guy, for fuck’s sake.”

François and Chris give me a look as they hesitate in between grabbing both rigid arms and hoisting the body onto the truck.

“Are you sure about this?”

That’s the second time he’s questioned me in front of my other men. He drops the man’s arm as I approach him, energy seething through my body. He can probably see how pissed I am.

“Yes, I’m fucking sure, and I don’t remember having to explain myself to any of you. I’m the fucking boss. Shut up and do as you’re told.”

We’re right in the middle of biker territory, and I don’t have time for this shit.

“Put his fucking body on the car.”

They jump at the sound of my voice and hoist the broken body over the car’s windshield. The dead body’s arms splay over the windshield like a cross. Chris winds ropes around his wrist and wraps it inside the car. The dead biker’s head lolls onto his shoulder as his other wrist is tied.

“Jesus Christ,” Tommy says as he stares at it, hands deep in his pockets.

“The fucking cocksucker deserved it.”

We’re down the hill from the fortress in Sorel-Tracy, but I’m going to ride with them all the way to the top.

Tommy opens the door to the truck as Chris prepares to light the fuses leading to the barrels of gasoline.

“This is so fucking dangerous. I can’t believe I agreed to do this shit.”

The spark flies and Chris runs to our car, diving behind the wheel as I slide into the passenger seat.

“Go!”

The truck lights up like a bonfire, and Tommy floors it for the twenty or so seconds that it takes to reach the fortress. The whole thing explodes into a bright fireball as Tommy crashes it right into the gates, denting them as the blaze quickly rises, crawling up the walls of the fortress.

In all my life, I’ve never done something so fucked up. It’s a bright, furious sign. A warning to those fucking jerkoffs.