Knocked Up by the Bad Boy (28 page)

I run through the list of things in my head as I pull away from the curb and drive toward the meeting at St. Joseph’s Deli. We’ve got the keys to every door, we know the exact procedure to get in and out of there, we know all the guards by name, even that you have to shut the door before opening the safe, otherwise it trips a silent alarm. I have a guy who will dispose of the van at the junkyard after I transfer the money at the garage to another car. If this goes perfectly, we won’t have to fire a single shot.

Common sense tells me to stay the fuck away, but I can’t shake that I need to be there. It’s the biggest robbery ever attempted. I’ve
got
to be there.

You’re putting yourself at risk.

Fuck.

* * *

Waiting’s the hardest part of my fucking job. For years I was a soldier, getting my hands dirty while my father sat on his ass, waiting for me to bring home a thick wad of cash. Dick.

Now I’m the boss. I delegate things, which is hard when you like doing everything yourself. I sit in the back of the car. We’re parked near the cargo terminal of the airport.

Distant screams of jets vibrate the ground and I clench my teeth as I check my watch. The fifty-minute window rapidly approaches, and there’s no sign of my men.

Something’s wrong.

“Fuck!”

Sal clenches his fist at my outburst. “Take it easy.”

“We have a small window, Sal. I was very fucking clear about that. It only takes them ninety seconds to seal this whole place.”

Dark shapes fly out of the cargo terminal, and Chris immediately starts the car.

“What the fuck are they doing?”

I see the duffel bags on their shoulders, and then I see them heading for bikes.

“GO!”

A white, consuming rage shakes my hands as I grab the pistol strapped to my waist. Chris cuts off the motorcycles with the car and I see their rat fucking faces. One of them swings a shotgun at the window.

BAM
!

The shotgun’s blast kills my hearing as it blows a hole the size of my fist in the window. I slam the door open and fling my body behind it, squeezing off shots that I can’t hear. The biker’s head whips back, the blood like a slingshot behind his head as several sparks burst on the door next to me.

Carlos’ people are already fucking here.

“John!”

A heavy weight slams into my back, and my chin hits the cement. Then I hear a scream and Sal’s body rolls off me, blood bursting from his chest. I see movement and my arm jerks instinctually. I pull the trigger, but not before he squeezes off a shot. I dive to the right, and my jacket rips open as a bullet grazes my shoulder.
Shit
. It stings.

Motorcycle engines roar all around me and I scream into the air as Sal clutches his chest. I know that look draining his face. He’s not going to fucking make it.

A bike slows down and I jump back behind the car door. A deep voice laughs over the roar of the engine and I realize that I’m out of ammo. And I’m staring at the end of a double-barreled shotgun.

Oh God. Maya—

It’s him. Carlos. He laughs his fucking head off and anger bristles inside me. His fucking face is going to be the last thing I see.

“Eat the road,
fuckface
. I’m bringing my little girl home, and I’ll kill you and any other motherfucker who gets in my way. Thanks for the cash.”

Then he aims his gun at the tires in my car, blowing them out in a series of deafening blasts.

My scream dies in the guttural roar of his engine as he throttles away.

Maya
!

This has to be a nightmare. I’m just cracking up a little. There’s no fucking way
Les Diables
made off with my score, killed Sal and I don’t know how many others, and is en route to rip my wife and baby from my arms.

I stand up, leaving Sal to die on the pavement because nothing matters to me more than getting to my wife as quickly as possible. Blood roars in my ears as I see several more bodies.

“Chris!”

He limps toward me as the rest of my crew sprints out of the airport terminal. François and the others grind to a halt, shock all over their faces.

“Jesus. What happened to the money?”

Who the fuck cares about the money?

“He’s going after my wife! Where’s your fucking car?”

Sirens cut through my voice, and François gestures to the car. I sprint toward it, but François and the other men hesitate. “We can’t just leave them.”

“GET IN THE FUCKING CAR!”

My family—my real family—comes fucking first. He doesn’t try to argue with me a second time. I sprint toward his car, the footfalls of my guys behind me. We pile into the car and a pang hits me as we roll beside Sal’s body.

I’ve got to end it. He should’ve been dead weeks ago, and now I’m paying the price.

The tires screech as we drive the fuck out of there. I try to think of where Maya might be. Home? There’s no way he’d make it to my apartment.

“Where is she?”

“Try the hair salon.”

It keeps playing over and over in my head as hot blood slides down my arm. He cut us down like dogs, and then he took my fucking money. Now he wants to take my wife, too.

What if he does the same to her?

A horrifying image of Maya surrounded by a pool of blood makes me pound the dashboard until my knuckles bleed. My mind goes red when François drives on the street where my wife’s hair salon is. Chrome glints in front of the place. Three, four bikers. They raise their weapons.

SMASH.

The windshield splinters like a spiderweb.

“RUN THEM OVER!”

He slams it and the car screeches as metal folds underneath, their bodies flying over the cracked windshield. There’s a huge bang, and he loses control of the van, crashing into a parked car. My body slams into the dashboard as he hits the brakes, but immediately I open the door and get out, the world swimming in front of me.

I have to save her.

Gunshots crack at me, exploding next to me as bits of brick fly. My shoulder smashes into the salon’s door, and a female scream hits my ears.

“I’m not going—LEAVE ME ALONE!”

“You’re coming with me if I have to fucking drag you back. We’ll get you some doctors—we’ll fix the—”

“NO! JOHNNY!”

My wife screams my name as I draw my gun. He has her hair fisted in his hand, and I can’t see anything but my father. My vicious, backstabbing father.

I took the black bag from his face—

I sneak up behind Carlos and with the hand holding the pistol, I crack it across his skull.

He sneered at me, his hands cuffed behind his back.

He lets out a deep moan as I do it again, and again. There are screams all around me, like a chorus of demons. I make the bastard kneel on the hard floor.

Dad kneeled on the shitty floor as I held my Beretta against his head.

He looks at me with hatred.

“What the fuck is so wrong with me?”

I screamed the question to him. It was raining. Big fat drops all over my skin, as if I were crying. It felt like it.

I see my old man, staring up at me. “WHY ARE YOU MAKING ME DO THIS?”

I waited, but he said nothing.

Then I raise my gun to his head, and I pull the trigger. I kill him all over again. Dark blood vomits out of the back of his head, and his eyes immediately roll up into his head, but this time a woman screams. His body crashes to the floor, blood spilling over the brand-new tiles.

“You’re going to die alone, surrounded by your riches.”

I loved him.

Now he’s dead. He’s fucking gone and I killed him. My feet give way and I sink to the ground, clutching my head as the pool of red touches my feet.

“JOHNNY!”

Maya’s shaking arms pull me into a hug, and I’m ripped to the present. I’m kneeling in her father’s blood. Technically, my father, too. She’s my wife.

She’s all that matters now.

MAYA

Time heals all wounds.

Whoever invented that phrase was full of shit. It absolutely does not heal all wounds. The unopened invitation to my son’s birthday party is fucking proof of that. Mom wants nothing to do with me. I haven’t healed from that. The pain doesn’t go away, it just gets easier to deal with.

Live and let live, Johnny says.

Time won’t heal the fact that he killed my mother’s husband, the president of the Devils MC. It also won’t make the MC forget the bloodbath that followed the botched robbery at the airport.

Yeah, I know all about it. The whole world does.

“
Papa
!”

Matteo runs on two uncertain, wobbly feet as the door opens, signaling the arrival of his father. The rambunctious toddler attaches himself to Johnny’s leg, and his deep laughter echoes into the kitchen as he stoops down and picks up his son, hoisting him in his arms.

Even after all this shit, I still melt when I see him holding our son.

“Hey, little man.”

“Johnny, it’s time for his nap.”

“Noo!”

A wide grin splits Johnny’s face as Matteo protests. “I’ll put him to bed.”

“Okay.”

I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so happy as when he first held his son in his arms. Tears of joy swam in his eyes. There’s a bounce in his step that wasn’t there before, and I wonder if it’s because his void is filled.

I walk to the living room and settle on the couch, grateful for a minute of peace and quiet after spending the whole day with Matteo. I lean against the cushions, almost nodding off, and then I feel his presence behind me. Hands suddenly caress my shoulders, and then he walks around to join me.

He pins me against the cushions with his body as his hands light a trail of desire on my skin. They find my neck, and I turn my head, tasting his breath. He kisses me and a rush of heat hits my groin as he slides his tongue across my mouth, and then he pulls back.

“I want another one.”

Another baby?

“Are you crazy?”

“He should have a brother. Or sister.” He leans in and nips my ear. “It’s time to get you knocked up again.”

Why don’t you get knocked up?

At the same time, I can’t deny it doesn’t appeal to me, especially when his lips kiss the vein throbbing on my neck. Even though I’m exhausted, a thrill hits me right between my legs.

“I want another kid, Maya.” He palms my womb again and slides his hand between my panties and jeans, forcing it all the way down. “And you’re going to give it to me.”

Then his finger dips, stroking my wetness.

Fucking hell.

It doesn’t take me long to shed every stitch of clothing, his mouth greedily sucking every available inch of flesh. I cry out, my gasp hitting the air. Then he flips me over the couch and grabs my hips. I feel the heat of his thighs against my ass. Then it slides in, the head pushing my walls apart. He fucks me until I’m gasping for breath, until I think I’m going to collapse from the sheer ecstasy of his cock’s relentless pounding. Then he empties his seed inside me with a huge groan and I come with him, both of us climaxing together.

I want to pass out.

He kisses my back, his chest pulsing, and even when he pulls out he keeps his hand inside me. The thought of actually trying for a baby gives me a thrill I’ve never felt in my life.

“You’re an amazing father—better than I even could’ve hoped for.”

He glows when I say that, unable to contain the wide, ear-to-ear smile. He’s the love of my life—father of my kid.

“Then you’d better get ready. I’m not stopping until that stick turns pink.” He kisses me. “I love you.”

Everything falls into place when he holds me. I know that I’m supposed to be with him. We have each other. And that’s all that matters when you’re in love.

# # #

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If you enjoyed this story, please remember to leave a review on Amazon! You might enjoy these other works by Vanessa Waltz:

High Stakes (Vittorio Crime Family #1)

Double Blind (Vittorio Crime Family #2)

End Game (Vittorio Crime Family #3)

His Witness (Vittorio Crime Family #4)

Married to the Bad Boy (Cravotta Crime Family #1)

No one in their right mind marries a bad boy… 

I’m a player. A man whore. Whatever the hell you want to call it, I get around.

During the day I crack heads and extort businesses. At night I find girls to fuck. I live to hear them moan for me, but one night is all they get. No one ever made me want more.

Until her.

Elena.

The moment her lips wrapped around me, I was done. All day I think about running my tongue all over those curves.

Too bad those curves are off limits. She’s running from a man who will kill me for touching her.

Well, she’s tired of running and needs my help.

She thinks I’m doing it for money.

I’m doing it to make her 
mine
.

Note: This 82,000-word standalone novel continues right after the events in
His Witness
, but it is not a sequel. This is the first book in the Cravotta Crime Family saga, but it is a
standalone
novel.

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What if a handsome man offered you thousands to pretend to be his girlfriend? And what if you started to believe the lie?

Jessica has never had a boyfriend, and that's just how she likes it. She's still trying to rebuild herself from a sexually abusive past, and a guy - no matter how gorgeous - would only mess up the fragile balance of her life.