by B. B. Hamel
“This was just a warning,” I said calmly. “Look at what I did on short notice. Sure, maybe you’ll get me eventually, assuming you even survive this encounter. But how many of you do you think I can take out before you finally catch me? Ten? Fifty?” I paused, letting that sink in. “I know where you all live.”
Gennaro’s laughter died down. He stared at me, not saying a word for a minute or two, and I stared right back. This was the moment that I was waiting for.
He spit on the ground. “She’s worth more than fifteen.”
“You’re not in a position to bargain.”
“You have me there.”
“Take the money,” Pagano counseled. “Be glad you’re alive.”
“Shut up, old man,” Gennaro said. “You just want to keep your head on your shoulders.”
I punched Gennaro in the mouth. His skull snapped back and my fist came back bloody.
“Pagano is to be left alone, too,” I said calmly.
“Fuck,” Gennaro groaned. “You piece of shit.”
“You have two minutes to decide.” I walked over to Jodie and took the gun I had given her earlier. She nodded at me as I checked to make sure that a bullet was in the chamber. “Think fast.”
Gennaro sighed. “Fine,” he said. “Fifteen grand and I won’t come after you.”
“And you leave Pagano be,” I said.
“Fine.” Gennaro glared at me.
“How do I know you’ll keep this promise?” I asked him.
“Because this is how business works.”
I grinned wickedly. “No,” I said. “That’s not right.” I walked over to him and crouched down next to him, putting my mouth near his ear. “If I get a whiff of someone from the mafia, I’ll come back, and I’ll kill you. I’ll hunt you down and I’ll kill you one way or another.”
Gennaro nodded. “Fine.”
“Okay then.” I stood up. “Nice doing business with you.
I held out my arm and Jodie walked over, lacing her hands through. She held onto me as we walked toward the door.
“Wait,” Gennaro said. “One more thing.”
“What?”
“Why this girl? Why throw it away for one fucking girl?”
I smiled then looked at her. “Because I fucking love her.”
She smiled back. “I knew that already, you big idiot.”
Gennaro groaned, but we ignored him. I headed down the stoop and back outside. I deposited Jodie into the passenger side of the mafia truck then climbed into the driver side. I pulled out into traffic, my girl on my arm.
I couldn’t be sure that Gennaro wouldn’t come after us, but this was our best option. If we had just run, they would have tried to kill us without a doubt. Now at least I felt reasonably sure that we could get away.
“So,” I said to her. “Where to?”
“Anywhere you want.” She took my hand. “I’m with the man that I love. I can be anywhere.”
I laughed and we headed out of the city, driving fast down the highway, not looking back.
Maybe this all started because I was forced to take some girl prisoner, but I was glad it happened. I was glad Jodie got thrust into my life. Because if she hadn’t, I never would have fallen in love, never experienced what it meant to be a real man, never been the person I needed to be.
All it took was taking Jodie prisoner for me to learn how to be free.
Chapter 27
Jodie
Two Years Later
I was sweating as I walked up the winding cobblestone street. The sun was high in the sky which meant most people were hiding inside, pretending like they were working, or really just sitting around and drinking wine. Ahead, I could see our apartment building in this old factory space that was bombed out during World War II and rebuilt into apartments years later. Locals hated it, but I loved it.
Sure, it didn’t have that rustic old-world charm that everything else did, but you could only take so many dead-end streets with gorgeous fountains before you got tired of the whole thing.
I spotted him sitting in the shade of a small, stubby tree, reading a newspaper with his legs kicked up in front of him. I smiled and shook my head as I approached.
“Bienvenuto,” I said to him.
Dante grinned. “You’re getting good at that.”
“Not really.”
“How’s my gorgeous girl today?”
“Tired,” I said, sitting across from him. “I don’t know why you look at that paper. You can’t read Italian.”
“I know,” he said, grinning. “But I like the pictures.”
After the showdown with Gennaro, Dante took me up into New York where we met some people he knew. We used the rest of our funds to buy a passport plus two tickets on a boat. I didn’t imagine we’d be going into Italy on a boat, but it turned out that was the easiest way to sneak into the country.
We were illegal immigrants. I laughed every once in a while when I realized it. We lived in Italy illegally and rented from a landlord that didn’t ask questions.
And I loved it. I worked as a waitress at a café and Dante picked up odd jobs around the neighborhood. He was something of a legend among the kids because he was constantly handing out American candy, though I had no clue where he was getting it all, and he refused to tell me.
“How are you feeling?”
“I wish you’d stop asking.”
He shrugged. “I have a right to ask.”
“You do. And I have a right to be irrationally annoyed.”
He laughed, shaking his head. “Whatever you want, my dear.”
I grinned. “I’m fine. Honestly.”
“Good. We’re about to have a little Italian baby. I need you to be good and strong for him.”
“You’ll be strong enough for the both of us.”
He smiled and leaned back in his chair, surveying the neighborhood.
We’d been in Italy for two years, and I was three months pregnant, and things were amazing. We lived in a small apartment in a space nobody else wanted to live in, but we made it ours. We slept together nearly every night, even while I was pregnant, and Dante never seemed to tire of my body, exploring every new inch of me whenever he could.
I was amazed by him every single day.
“What do you think?” Dante asked me after a little silence.
“About what?”
He looked at me, a sly smile on his face. “Getting married.”
I laughed. “We’re illegals, remember?”
“Sure, sure. But how about we do it anyway?”
I bit my lip. “Seriously?”
“Come on.” He stood up, holding out his hand. “Come with me.”
“Dante. What’s going on?”
He took my hand and led me down the block. He made a left and followed a winding path, ignoring my pleas for more information. Finally, we ended up in a dead-end cul-de-sac with a beautiful fountain in the middle. At the far end was a priest, smiling at us, and I recognized him as the local Catholic priest.
“Dante?”
He smiled at me. “Want to do this?”
“Of course.”
“Then follow my lead.”
“Okay.”
My heart was pounding my chest as he led me up toward the priest. Dante said something in Italian and the priest nodded, smiling. Dante faced me, holding my hands, and the priest began to speak.
“What’s he saying?” I whispered.
“Something about God and marriage,” he whispered back. The priest gave him a look and we stifled our laughter.
As he continued, slowly people began to filter into the square. I recognized a few of them: my boss, regulars at the café, people Dante did jobs for, plus all the children he regularly saw. They filtered out one by one until the square was full with smiling faces, some we didn’t recognize, but mostly friends.
“Non si prende quest’uomo come tuo marito?” the priest said.
“I know this one,” Dante said to me. “He wants to kno
w if you’ll have me.”
“Si,” I said. “Yes.”
The priest repeated that line but slightly altered to Dante.
“Of course I will, father,” Dante said. “Si.”
“Poi Baciarla!” the priest said.
Dante grinned, swooped me up in his arms, and kissed me.
The crowd went wild, cheering and throwing rice into the air. We laughed as we finished the kiss, shaking hands and kissing cheeks as people came up to congratulate us.
All the while, Dante held my hand, and I knew I’d never let go of that hand again
I was going to have his baby. And now I was his wife, if not legally, at least in spirit. One day, we’d make it legal when we could, but for now this was perfect.
It felt right. After everything, I felt alive and like I was living for the very first time. I felt like I knew what I was meant to do and where I belonged, and it was all because of him.
Dante did that for me. Dante gave me that gift. And I couldn’t be happier.
I’d be with him forever, my husband, my love.
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This Hard Bastard is going to tease you until you can’t say no.
I let her go once, but this time she’s going to beg to stay.
They say I’m a hard man. Rough. Dirty. Bad. I have a reputation and it sure as f**k isn’t a good one.
None of that matters when she walks back into my life.
Sadie was my high school sweetheart, a nice girl from a loving family. She was too good for me to resist.
But I knew it wouldn’t last.
I couldn’t let her get dragged down by a low life like me. When she moved across the country, I had to let her go.
Ten years later and now she’s back. I couldn’t resist her then and I sure as f**k can’t resist her now. I know she remembers how I made her body feel when we were teenagers, and she’ll definitely never forget what I can do as a man.
The only problem is, she’s the attorney assigned to prosecute the Russian mob, and I’m the hired killer tasked with taking her out.
I’m going to go through hell to get her, and I’m going to make damn sure I keep her.
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I want to take on the world, but that arrogant bastard just wants to take me.
I’m no mob princess. But I should’ve been.
When my father Arturo Barone refused to let me join the Barone Crime Family, I cut ties and started my own gang. Now we’re at war, and I’m going to destroy everyone in my way.
Young, tall, and handsome, Wyatt Carter is no normal politician. He’s a notorious former bad boy turned State Attorney General, and I need his help if I’m going to crush my father’s mafia.
His perfectly tailored suits cover the tattoos that snake up his sexy, muscular arms. I hate that I want those arms to pin me up against a wall.
It’s supposed to be business between us, but he wants more than I’m ready to give.
Danger is everywhere, and I can’t afford to let my guard down. But Wyatt doesn’t know where the line is -- and even if he did, he’d cross it.
I'll bow down to him, but first he has to lay the world at my feet.
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Bastard’s Baby: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance
Chapter 1
Kaley
“He’s so cute!”
I smiled at Sophie. “Yeah, I know.” I took another picture of little Alexei, nestled in his crib, and sighed. “But Dad is still pissed.”
“I was going to ask you about that.” Sophie sat down in a chair, crossed her legs. She was about my height, and we’d known each other for ages. Her dad worked for my dad, so we’d been raised more or less like sisters.
“Is he still pushing?” she asked.
I nodded. “More every day.”
“I can’t believe him.”
“He thinks it’s a stain on our family’s honor.” I sat down on the ground at Sophie’s feet, leaning back on my hands.
“Still, that can’t be enough to make you give him up.”
“I’m not going to give him up, Soph,” I said. “That just won’t ever happen.”
“You know how our family can be,” she said softly.
“They’re not going to take him away,” I said fiercely. “I don’t care what my father says.”
She leaned forward and put her hand on my head. “I know that, Kaley. But listen to me. I heard my dad talking last night.”
I felt coldness enter my stomach. Sophie’s father was the enforcer for my father’s crew within the Russian mob. He was a hard man, violent and dangerous, and although he was like a second father to me, I knew he was deadly. People spoke of him with respect, fear, and awe.
“And?”
“He was talking about you.”
I stared at her. “Tell me, Soph.”
“I only heard my father’s side of the conversation.” She leaned back in her chair, concern clear on her face. “I think they’re coming for Alexei soon. I think they’re coming tomorrow.”
“What?” I asked, standing up. “No.”
“It’s just what he said,” Soph replied. “He said he could take care of the brat tomorrow.”
“Are you sure he meant my baby?”
“No,” Soph admitted, “I’m not sure. But what other brat is there?”
I bit my lip, looking down at little Alex.
My father was the captain of a prominent crew in Chicago’s Russian mob. I’d grown up in the mob, knew it like the back of my hand. I feared nothing and nobody, except for my father’s wrath.
Anatoli Kozlov was a difficult man to grow up with. He’d always been hard on me, pushing me to succeed in school, to become a better person. Some girls were little mob princesses, treated like royalty and spoiled, but not me. Anatoli, my father, was distant and brutal in his methods. Everyone feared him, including my mother and me. He never hit us or anything, but he had a temper, and it could be terrifying.
“You know who the father is, right?” Soph asked in a whisper.
I glanced around the room. Nobody was supposed to know the true identity of Alex’s father; I had lied to everyone and told them that I didn’t know. It made me seem like a whore, and only made my father hate Alex even more, but I had no other choice.
If they knew the truth, my life would have been much, much worse.
“I know,” I said, nodding.
“Go to him,” Soph said. “Go to him tonight.”
“I can’t,” I said softly. “You don’t understand.”
Sophie stood up and came to me. “Please, Kaley. Take Alex and run. Your father is never going to let you keep him.”
Pain wracked my body. I felt like I was being torn in half. On the one side there was my family, the people I felt a fierce loyalty toward. And on the other was Alex and his real father, two people who could never mix with my family.
Because the truth was, Alex’s father was in the Italian mob.
I wasn’t supposed to know that. And
as far as he knew, I didn't. But the night I’d met him at the club, I knew exactly who he was.
I’d been a little tipsy and very, very rebellious. My father had just given me more grief for doing poorly on an exam at school. I was a senior at the University of Chicago back then, a prestigious and difficult school to get into, and so my father held me up to impossible standards.
I was so angry that night. And when I saw him, that beautiful, dangerous Italian mobster, I couldn’t help myself. I knew that he was exactly the sort of man that would hurt my father the most if he ever found out.
And so I insisted on no names, even though I knew his already.
Vincent Mori, one of the new up-and-coming guys in the Italian mob.
“He doesn’t know,” I said to Soph.
“So? Tell him. If he’s not a total fucking piece of shit, he’ll help you.”
“What if he is?”
“Then you can run on your own. I’ll give you the money I have.”
I sighed, shaking my head. “I can’t just run, Soph. I’ve not finished school.”
“Forget school. This is your baby.”
I frowned down at Alex and felt warmness in my heart. Having a baby was so difficult, but every time he looked at me and smiled, everything was worth it. All the pain and the shame my family felt, it was worth it. Because I loved my son and would do absolutely anything for him.
“Kaley, please,” Soph said again. “Run. Tonight if you can. Tomorrow morning at the latest.”
I looked back at her. “Okay. We’ll talk tonight, and I’ll go tomorrow morning.”
She smiled. “Come on. We’ll plan it out.”
