Knocked Up by the Bad Boy (16 page)

Fuck no. I can’t think about this shit.

A glint of metal catches my attention, and I bend over to scrape the shiny coin from the pavement. Nickel. It pings on the street as I drop it and walk down the sidewalk of the industrial town built around the fortress. The houses here are all low income, or they were before they were abandoned to rot. Crumbling streets. I stub my toes on the uneven sidewalks and keep my eyes peeled for a fucking telephone booth, or a diner, or something. Then a see a grubby little sports bar, and it’s open. I stumble inside the dark room and my nostrils wrinkle at the faint smell of piss.

“Can I use your phone?”

The bartender takes one look at my disheveled appearance and shakes his wizened head.

“
Non
.”

I can’t believe this.

“It’s an emergency!”

“I don’t serve biker bitches.
Va chier
.”
Go shit yourself.

I summon all the energy in my chest. “Maybe I’ll tell my father to come to this bar and shove that rifle up your ass.”

I see him angling toward the rifle behind his bar, and he freezes.

“His name is Carlos. Have you heard of him?”

The bartender relents. The threat of my father is too much for him to ignore. He grabs an ancient telephone and slams it on the counter.

“There.
Mange d’la marde
.”

Fuck you, too.

I pick the phone off the hook and dig into my jeans for Johnny’s card. It’s been folded so many times that I can barely make out the black text. It rings, and I release a shaky sigh.

“
Johnny
.”

“I-it’s me. I really need your help.”

Arrogance slides into his smooth voice. “
You called a lot sooner than I thought.
”

“I’m in deep shit.”

“
What happened
?”

“He found out—he knows. I barely managed to get out.”

“
Where are you?
”

“I don’t know. I’m in some shitty bar down the hill from the fortress.”

“
I’m coming to get you. Don’t move.
”

My nails dig into the plastic as I watch the door. “What if he finds me? He tried to kill me—”

“
He what?
”

Static crackles between us. My mouth opens, but I can’t force out a single word. Vivid images flash in front of my face. My mom—what’s going to happen to her?

“
Just fucking stay put. I’m leaving now
.”

As soon as the comfort of his voice fades to a dull dial tone, panic ramps up behind my chest. I walk deep inside the bar and then I consider just hiding in the bathroom stall to wait for him. Yeah, that’s what I’ll do.

The dingy, shitty bathroom only has a cheap screw and a hook to look at, but it’s amazing how much safer I feel. Even though it’d only take one kick to blast open the door.

The light flickers on and I notice the gash on my knee, bleeding freely into my jeans. I reach out to grab a handful of paper towels, but the roll is empty. So is the toilet roll. Great.

There’s another line of blood on my hand, right where Dad’s bullet split my skin open.

He didn’t mean it.

He couldn’t have.

Bullshit, you know he meant it.

My mind buzzes with a strange numbness as I turn the faucet on. The icy water stings my hand, and fresh blood spills from the wound. I splash some on my knee, gritting my teeth as I clean the dirt away.

What just fucking happened to me? Did my father really try to blow my head open, or did I imagine all of that?

“Did you see a girl?”

Jesus Christ, I’m so lost in my own head that I didn’t hear anyone come into the bar. I know that fucking voice. My heart jumps into my throat as if I’ve been shoved to the edge of a cliff. I flatten myself against the wall as his heavy boots stomp through the bar.

I inhale my breath, knowing that any second now, he’s going to give me away.

“
Non
.”

“You better not be lying to me, asshole.”

The footsteps travel down the length of the bar, blood pulsing in my ears as his steps creak closer to me.

Don’t go in the bathroom.

“The president is looking for her.”

“She’s not in my fucking bar.”

I marvel at the bartender’s irritated voice and wonder why the fuck he’s protecting me. It’s probably just his hatred of the MC.

He knocks his fist against the bathroom door. “Hey. Open up.”

Oh fuck.

I look around for something in this shitty bathroom to use as a weapon, but it’s completely bare.

“I can hear you breathing. Don’t make me break down this door.”

Fuck off
!

“Leave my fucking customers alone, damn it!”

“Shut up, old man.”

I inhale a sharp breath as another pair of footsteps walks into the bar. Is it him? Please, God, let it be him. A smooth voice makes my heart stop.

“Is there a problem here?”

I hear the biker’s leather squeak as he turns around. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“You better watch your fucking tone when you’re talking to me.”

A beat of silence.

“I’m looking for the president’s daughter. She ran off.”

I bite my fist as Johnny speaks in a lilting tone. “Has she?” I can just see the smirk on his face.

“You know what I think?”

“I don’t give a shit, actually.”

“I think that girl is in that bathroom, waiting for you to pick her up.”

“Maybe. Maybe I need to take a piss, and you’re in the way. Maybe go fuck yourself.”

The bartender mutters a threat. “I’m calling the police.”

Johnny’s voice growls in response. “You do that and I’ll fuck you up.”

“When Carlos finds out you fucked his daughter—”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I can hear that little bitch in there!”

“I don’t hear jack shit, and you’re starting to piss me off.”

“This is no coincidence.”

“Are you calling me a liar?”

The man’s tone wavers. “No.”

Johnny’s joking voice addresses the bartender. “I think he’s saying that I intentionally banged the president’s daughter.”

“Well—”

“Why don’t you get the fuck out of here before I kill you?”

Another beat of strained silence hangs, and I’m on the verge of shouting a useless warning.

“All right, Johnny, I’m sorry.”

Oh thank God.

The heavy boots scrape the floor and I hear his body push from the door. I sag against the wall in relief. Seconds later my heart slams against my chest as Johnny raps his knuckles on the door.

My hands shake as I unlatch the nail from the hook and the cheap door swings inward, revealing Johnny’s slim figure. He wears black slacks and a dark-green polo, which clings to his body in a way that makes blood rush to my skin’s surface. A heart-stopping smirk tugs at his mouth.

“Close shave, hon.” He steps inside the bathroom and his smile falls. “Jesus, look at you!”

I glance in the mirror as he grabs my face. His thumb gently caresses my neck, brushing over the angry marks where my father choked me. I hiss in pain and pull away.

“That hurts.”

“I’m sorry.”

His voice sounds calm, but I’m scared of the darkness brewing in his eyes when he pulls back.

“That piece of shit did this to you?”

That piece of shit is still the president of the Devils MC.

“What happened?”

I’m still racked with nerves, and I don’t want to look at Johnny’s hard-set jaw and tell him everything that happened. My right ear won’t work properly. The gunshot was so loud that listening to him talk is like hearing a voice through a soda can.

His brows knit together. “We’ll talk about it in the car. Let’s go.”

“Is he gone?”

“Yeah. Come on.”

A warm hand slips into mine and I jump slightly, looking down at it. He frowns at me and walks. I follow him, strangely at ease. We pass by the bar and Johnny digs through his pockets.

The bartender shakes his head. “I don’t want it.”

Johnny slams a small stack of fifty-dollar bills. “Take it.”

“I don’t—”

“Just take it, old man,” he says in a slightly harassed voice, and the bartender shuts up.

I follow the pressure of Johnny’s hand into the sunlight. My head jerks up and down the street, looking for a hint of chrome, but I see nothing.

“Get inside,
quick
.”

I stoop down as Johnny opens the door for me, and then I collapse inside the black leather interior. The door slams shut as he effortlessly slides in next to me.

I am saved.

“Take me home, Chrissy.”

Then he slams the partition shut and for some reason blood rushes to my face when he gives me that concerned look.

“What the fuck happened up there?”

The cold voice feels like a bucket of ice water dumped on my head.

Chuck’s hand was reaching for me. He told me to run. And then my own father shot me.

I bury my face in my hands. If only I had just shut my mouth and kept my fucking thoughts to myself—made up some lie about why I went to
Le Zinc
—none of this would’ve happened.

“Maya, I need to know what we’re dealing with.”

Selfish prick.

“He knows I fucked someone who was at your restaurant. He doesn’t know who. Thanks for the fucking concern.”

His hand tenses next to mine and then it snakes over my shoulder. I feel it like stepping in a hot bath. He pulls me into his chest like a rag doll and his heart thumps against my back.

I can’t remember the last time I was held like this. Even though I know he’s just doing this to placate me, my skin heats like a furnace when his lips touch my cheek.

“What happened, Maya?”

“He—he shot Chuck. I don’t even know if he’s alive. Mom tried to protect me.”

Why am I so calm?

“They saw me going into your restaurant. He thought I was meeting with you to betray the MC or something.”

“Jesus.”

I look up and he irons his face with his hands. Hot, bubbling guilt surges inside me.

“It’s my fault.”

“What are you talking about?”

I have to make him understand the full brunt of my guilt. “I pissed him off on purpose. I was just—I wanted to hurt him. I said—”

“It doesn’t matter what you said. He did this to you.”

A finger brushes over the choke wounds on my throat.

It feels as though it was just another day at the MC. My dad guns down a man I actually respected, and I don’t even shed a tear. Christ, what the fuck is wrong with me?

“I can’t believe this shit.” His voice is breathless as he takes my hand, the one with the gash, and runs his thumb underneath the wound. Then his voice turns black. “If he was any other man, I would kill him. I would turn my car around right now, and gun him down in front of his wife.”

I don’t think I’ve ever heard such a gritty voice. It’s hard to believe that the sound came from his chest. There’s no warmth in him, just cold rage.

“He’s still my—”

“He’s the president, and I owe him the courtesy of explaining what happened, but if he was anyone else he would be dead for touching my girl.”

I freeze in his arms as he presses his cool cheek to mine.

“I’m not your girl.”

He doesn’t skip a beat. “You’re carrying my kid. That makes you mine.”

No, I don’t think so.

“I didn’t leave the MC to be possessed by another man.”

“So you didn’t get what you wanted. Too fucking bad.”

My heart flutters as his lips touch the side of my temple. I really hate how good it feels to be in his arms. I tilt my head to the side to avoid his touch even though I crave it.

“You’re just like my father. You don’t care about me. You just want to control me.”

“I saved your goddamn ass in that bar.”

“Only because I’m carrying your kid.”

His hands slip under my shirt and I gasp as his palm touches my stomach. Urgent lips touch the side of my head, making me burn as his hands glide over me. His hands make a mockery of my pride. They make my skin singe.

“You think that’s the only reason?”

He kisses my neck and it’s like being injected with Valium. I slump into his arms. I’m just so fucking tired of fighting all the time. It’d be nice to give in, for once. To let them win.

But I can’t.

“I think you’d be crazy to risk everything for pussy.”

“World-class pussy.”

I feel his smile tickling my flesh.

“I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind.”

His hands sweep over my body, sensual and rough at the same time. They curve over the hard bones of my ribs and then his fingers slide under my bra. A thin gasp cuts through the air and my heart beats like a hummingbird’s wings, instantly sent into overdrive. Warmth pulses between my legs and I close them, uncomfortably wet as he gropes my tits.

I should be pissed that the only reason he wants me around is because of how good the sex is, but how can I be surprised? We barely know each other and it was always supposed to be a one-time deal. One night became two nights plus that tryst at the doctor’s office, and here we fucking are.

He slides his hand over mine and grazes the wound. He hears my hiss of pain and glances at it.

“You should have never went back. You should have stayed when I told you to stay.”

I hate flinching from the anger in his voice. “I didn’t think he would find out so quickly.”

“I don’t care what you thought would happen. You should have listened to me.”

Arrogant prick.

“I don’t need to listen to you.” He cuts my voice off with a gale of laughter, and I shove his chest, pushing myself away from him. “I’ve spent my whole life under my dad’s thumb, and I don’t intend on becoming your
little bitch
.”

He gives me a wide grin, trying to stifle his chuckles. “Well, you can play that game with me, but you won’t win.”

“Try me.”

“You don’t have a choice, baby. It’s me or the streets.”

Ruthless eyes bore into mine and his smile freezes. “Believe me, Maya. You want me in your life.”