ROMANCE: MENAGE ROMANCE: Tapped and Taken by Two (Pregnancy Sports MMA UFC Fighter Romance) (Alpha Male Romance)

by Maxi MacNair

  “What’s the other thing,” Jason asked.

  “You know you’re the father right Jason?”

  He went stiff and pulled away from her. “You did a paternity test?”

  She shook her head and prepared to explain herself. She didn’t need to.

  The realization slowly took over him. “She’s mine,” Jason said. “I know she is.”

  Kylie nodded, and he melted next to her in his bed like all his bones were turned to jelly. “I knew it. I knew it from the moment I met her. But…it’s nice to hear it said by you.”

  He leaned his head into her shoulder and she wrapped her arms around him. Love was all around them.

  ~The End~

  Hit and Run: The Bad Boy’s Baby

  1

  “The suspect is fleeing in a black Jetta,” the voice on the radio announced. Detective Randi Gagnon and her partner Christine McDonald knew the address and saw they were directly in the path of the suspect’s escape. Holiday traffic clogged the streets though so Randi jumped out of the car to cut across an alley to increase their chances of catching sight of the car. In the distance, she heard sirens blaring from the first National Bank after three masked men got out with almost a quarter million dollars. One of the suspects was in custody, the other fired on one of the security guards, and was killed instantly when a second security officer opened fire. The third suspect, disappeared from the scene like a ghost, but was just spotted headed this way in the jetta.

  Traffic was almost gridlocked, and Randi’s partner Christine McDonald stayed in the unmarked car in case the suspect came down High Street instead of taking the more obvious route out of downtown, which Randi now had eyes on. She felt confident she could intercept him, could get out ahead of him. Randi pushed her way through the holiday shopping crowds, dressed in running shoes and a smart tailored suit. She never wore heels on duty, and this was the reason.

  Chris radioed to her to let her know she’d saw the Jetta down the street take a quick turn, which would mean it would be coming up on Randi’s location any moment. It made the turn Randi thought it would. Chris cursed inwardly, she needed to get over to help her partner.

  Bursting out of the ally, Randi stopped short as a handsome man crashed into her, his arms full of wrapped Christmas packages.

  “Sorry sir, Police matter.”

  “No, no, I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

  Randi crained her neck, searching for the black Jetta as the man slowly started collecting his packages.

  “What do you mean I should see it?” Randi frantically radioed to Chris. She looked around for another few seconds then realized the time had past. She radioed back to dispatch, “suspect has not been seen on High or Tisdale, suspect assumed to still be in black Jetta.” Her shoulder’s slunk down and she saw the man collecting his Christmas packages. She bent to help him pick them up. They were all heavy, the wrapping job neat in a way she could never manage, all crisp angles and corners. One was torn from the fall, and she saw pale cardboard underneath.

  “Oh no, this one will have to be re-wrapped.” She handed it to him apologetically.

  He took it, examined it, and fixed her with his blue eyes. “Don’t worry about it officer, just doing your job I guess.”

  Randi asked him he had seen a black Jetta driving fast and frantic in the past few minutes.

  “No officer, I can’t say I have, but I’m doing some shopping around this area for a little while still, I can ask around and call you if I hear of anyone seeing something.

  Randi opened her mouth. Closed it again. Glanced at her watch. He was really very good looking, clean cut, neat dark hair, a sharp, expensive suit. His lips were full, his nose long and aquiline. His chin and jawline strong.

  “Ummm, ya okay, thank you sir. If anything comes up you should call me.”

  She could tell he was sizing her up. Randi was used to being looked at differently when people saw her as an officer. She fished a card out of her wallet, and handed it to him. “Use the cell number on there. I always pick up.”

  He read her card, and his eyebrows raised. He looked her up and down, taking in her tiny physique and blonde hair.

  “A detective?”

  “Yup, I’m on duty right now as you know, and have to run. Literally.”

  Chris buzzed in her ear. She was bringing the car around to pick Randi up.

  The man seemed amused, but didn’t say anything.

  His looked changed though, he regarded her differently. Randi wasn’t used to being looked at like this when she was on the job and her stern and official persona dropped away. In the midst of all that chaos and adrenaline a very strange and real moment occurred. It looked like there was something he desperately wanted to tell her.

  “So…call me?” She gave him what she hoped was a winning smile, because she realized she really liked the look of him, and in any other circumstances would’ve wanted him to call for entirely different reasons. Then she ran off towards Chris and the car. She left him—she hadn’t even caught his name!—standing in the sidewalk with his bags of presents.

  As she slid into the passenger seat of the warm Impala, the radio crackled and dispatch let them know the black Jetta had been located—drenched in bleach and set on fire. Someone had just called the fire department and the flaming Jetta was literally a few blocks from where they were. She glanced back over her shoulder. The perp was out there somewhere, close to where she’d been. She hadn’t noticed anyone in the black sweats all three robbers wore when they left the bank. There wasn’t time to dump the car, bleach the car, and change. He must have gone another way.

  Chris drove them to the site of the burning car, already surrounded by yellow police tape and an-ever growing crowd. It was an empty parking lot surrounded on three sides by tall office buildings. The two women got out, though they knew there wasn’t much they could do, the fire would take care of most of the evidence. Randi though overheard a statement a uniformed police officer was taking from a couple goth looking teenage boys in long trench coats.

  “Didn’t see anybody man, we were just waiting for the bus when this dude came around the corner holding a bunch of presents and told us there was a fire. By the time we went to go look, the car was like a total ball of flames and that’s when we called the fire department.”

  Randi stopped for a moment to go and ask them more about this man, could it be the same guy she just met, but then stopped herself as three other guys carrying wrapped boxes elbowed their way through the crowds. The chances that he was the same were probably one in a million. She looked up at all the windows that looked onto the parking lot. Better chance if she started there and coordinated everyone into checking with all those people. The first snowflakes of the season started to fall, sinking lazily from the grey sky. Jingle bells played loudly from the speakers out front of a nearby store, and Randi knew it was going to be a much longer day than she had hoped for.

  * * *

  James Moore stared down at the card in his hand. Detective Randi Gagnon. Detective who was on the run, searching for a suspect as they spoke.

  Searching for him.

  He laughed shaking himself out of the momentary trance he just felt, adjusted the boxes in his arms as he blended into the crowd, and made his way back to the garage where his Mercedes was parked. Whistling Christmas music in the falling snow, he drove toward a warehouse on the edge of town. The designated rendezvous point. The heavy packages he’d loaded into the trunk of the car each contained tens of thousands of dollars. Not his best work, not by a long shot. He hated it when things didn’t all go as planned.

  He turned on his police scanner, and the realization hit him like a sledgehammer. Easy job? Not even close. He’d gotten away with the money, but one of his partners—had to be Blitzen—had been shot at by the police. A second man, Donner, he knew was in custody. He had no idea if Blitzen was alive or not.

  Only James himself—Cupid—made it away.

  He pulled over on the side
of the interstate. A stupid move if he got pulled over, but he couldn’t drive right now. He turned his hazards on and let his forehead drop to the steering wheel. He didn’t know the other two men’s real names, and they didn’t know his. Very little connected him back to them, and he’d been the one to carry two thirds of the payout. Blitzen would have had the remainder, and it sounded like it was re-appropriated. It suddenly dawned on James that the rendezvous point was probably the last place he should go. No telling what the other two were telling the police right now.

  A man could be dead because of him.

  Again.

  No. He’d had this talk with himself before. He’d encouraged them not even to carry guns. They didn’t need them. And Blitzen started firing when he got pinned down. What did he expect would happen? At least it seemed like Donner was all right. In custody, sure, bound to face some serious jail time, but for sure alive.

  James had done jail time before. Vowed long ago he never would again, and not because he’d go out like Blitzen. He was too smart for the cops, after his first screw-up, his track record proved it. James was thorough, he covered his tracks. He had more escape planes for himself than everybody he had ever worked with put together. This job now though had too many loose ends to just forget it and move on. Luckily, he might now have a way to get some inside information.

  He dialed detective Randi Gagnon’s number and she picked up.

  “Still working?” he asked.

  “Who is this?” All business.

  “My name is James Moore. I don’t think you caught it earlier when you knocked all my Christmas presents on the ground.”

  “Yes, sorry James, you know I thought the same thing as I was driving away. Thanks for calling me.

  “Are you free tonight?”

  “Wha-What do you mean, do you have something you need to tell me?”

  “No, when you left I just knew that I needed to call you. I felt like I wanted to have a drink with you, and I don’t like to just let something go away when I feel it.”

  Randi didn’t know how to react to this. Here was some random handsome stranger calling the detective he just met and asking her out on a date. How ridiculous could one guy be. Her back warmed by the bleached out and flaming car, Randi remembered his eyes and recalled the moment when they stared at her piercing and vulnerable at the same time. Knowing there was every reason in the world to hang up and tell him to contact the tip line if he hears something, Randi couldn’t do it, and somehow completely understood what he meant when he talked about not wanting to just let something like this just go away. She wanted to see him again, and she couldn’t logically explain why. I don’t know, this is a little weird you asking me out like this.

  “Ya maybe, but I thought how else was I going to do it. Wait until a few days go by. I dunno, I saw you, I want to see you again, and so I’m asking you if you want to maybe see me again soon.”

  Randi wasn’t used to someone being so matter of fact. She wasn’t used to anyone asking her out at all. “I guess I could text you when I’m done. Could probably use a drink after a day like this. “I’m going to warn you though. I’m a detective. So anything could come up and I might have to bail on you last minute.”

  “Duly noted. I look forward to your text, detective.”

  They hung up.

  Randi didn’t know what she had just gotten herself into. At least she had a way out, but all day she started thinking about how she would rather be there with this attractive, but obviously strange guy. Through the fifty or so interviews she conducted herself that turned up nothing, everyone seemed to be on vacation already or only looked out the window when there were flames, she kept coming back to the idea of going. She started looking forward to sitting down for a drink with this attractive guy she had just met. It might be just what she needed.

  “Is this even a date?” she asked herself.

  2

  Randi met James in a martini bar downtown. She went home after work, showered and changed. The day left her lonely and…hungry. For the first time in quite a while, she shaved her legs, and slipped into a black lace thong. Nothing wrong with getting lucky tonight. Randi fought with herself the whole way though pulling up that pair of panties. Everyone at the office teased her about it, about not putting herself back out there. Although no one would say the exact words they all knew that she’d grieved long enough, it was time to live life again, but is this really the situation to do it in. It’s not like she met this guy in a normal way. Randi didn’t really know anymore though. It’s not like her life had been anything but normal, and it’s not like she had ever been part of a dating scene. The kind that is portrayed on television and in romantic comedies as normal. The only thing she had to work with was the feeling that she wanted to and actually really felt like just getting laid. She wanted to wear the black lace thong and she wanted it to be that odd but incredibly handsome guy she had run into to pull them off her.

  As she tugged a tight red dress over her head, her eye caught Devon’s photo on her bedside table, dressed in his uniform, standing tall and proud. The photo was before the war broke him. Before the real Devon died overseas and the shell of what he was came back to pretend to live the life Randi and the real Devon had.

  “I’m sorry,” she said to his photo, and turned away from it to zip up her dress, pick up her purse, and head out to where the cab idled. She knew she needed this.

  James was there when she arrived, waiting for her at a dark table for two tucked off in a corner. He stood, held her chair, and did an admirable job not ogling her ample breasts. Most men couldn’t peel their eyes off them, so the fact he kept his eyes on her face gave him major points, in her book. They ordered drinks, and she got a strong one, her favorite when she wanted to make bad decisions, a Long Island iced tea. He ordered a martini, stirred. He shrugged and said he was no Bond. “Did you catch your man?”

  “Ha, no. I did find a burning car with all trace evidence removed. Not much to go on.”

  “Trace evidence removed?”

  “Oh, you know, hair, DNA, anything like that.”

  “The fire burns it all out?”

  Randi gave him her best smile. “Please forgive me. I really don’t have any interest in talking about work. I was there for fifteen hours today, and I want to relax. Besides, I know I gave you my number under the pretence of you helping out with this case, but I shouldn’t really discuss too much with you.”

  The waiter placed their drinks in front of them.

  He held up his hands. “Okay then, I get the hint loud and clear. Let’s just move on. I guess I’m more interested in how I can help you relax anyways.”

  “Honestly?”

  He nodded. He seemed to be picking up what she had been thinking about while pulling on the skimpy panites she found at the bottom of her underwear drawer.

  She took a long pull from her drink. There’s probably one thing you could do to help me relax a little.

  “The bathroom?”

  “Definitely...no wait what?” she said. She was more than a little shocked it was happening so quickly, that this guy was so fast and forward, and that she liked the thought of what he was suggesting. She had imagined herself drinking at least a couple more drinks, slowly getting more loose and flirty, her thoughts of Devon pushed way back in her mind and not found again until the morning. Spending at least a few hours hinting and teasing until he picked up where she wanted to go with the night and started being more hands on. Right now, James was skipping all of that. He knew what she wanted, and didn’t seem ready to play any games. Randi, now that she knew she didn’t need to go through all those motions either, was surprised to find herself totally relieved. No games, no social graces, no long night of the two of them slowly maneuvering each other toward the bedroom. They both wanted it, they were both going to give it to each other.

  Randi didn’t do this sort of thing. She had barely had sex since Devon, but she stopped trying to think of why she wouldn’t in the mom
ent. It’s what she wanted. It’s the reason she put on the lace thong. She was tired and frazzled from the day and here was her cure. She was going to take it.

  Her head buzzed, and not from the drink, though drunkenness would follow soon enough. She’d had a few wild nights in college once. Then she’d met Devon, and decided never again. They said their vows, ‘til death do them part. Little did she know how soon the unthinkable would happen. So what did it matter if she fucked a stranger in a bar bathroom? What did any of this really matter anyways. She could use a little pleasure in her life.

  They both pounded their drinks, and he led her down an angled flight of stairs to a unisex bathroom next to a store room. He locked the door behind him.

  He could be anyone, could do anything. She only knew that he was the type of guy to immediately call a detective after getting her number to ask her out on a date, and that he was the type of guy with the confidence to suggest that they go and do something like this after having been around each other for a total of about thirty minutes. It flooded her with lust and she lunged for him, kissing him, smearing him with her lipstick. Their teeth crashed together, their tongues fought, and she ground her hips against him.

  * * *

  The awkwardness of cleaning themselves up, zipping up, and not making eye contact.

  “That was fun,” she said.

  “Yeah, sure was,” he replied.

  “I’m going to go, though.”

  “Umm okay. You want a ride home or something?”

  “No, It’s not far.”

  “Anything I can you know…do for you?”

  “I think you did great, thanks. Like I said. Long day. Needed to relax. I’m now so relaxed I can’t walk.”

  “Okay. Well.”

  “Goodnight,” she said for him.