MC ROMANCE: Wanted by the Alpha Biker (Motorcycle Club Alpha Male Bad Boy Romance) (MC Romantic Suspense Contemporary New Adult Short Stories)

by Alix Labelle

  Her mother’s face came into her mind. The hazel eyes she shared, the dark hair, the smile Gaea never lost (even in her sickness.) Isadora’s mother never complained. She led her life from moment to moment, appreciating every second of it. Once, when she was young, Isadora asked what Gaea thought when she found out she was having a child (Isadora had a baby doll she liked to pretend was her own and imagined motherhood to be the best thing she’d ever do.)

  “To be honest with you, my sweet, I was terrified,” Gaea answered after thinking for a long, long moment. “Your father and I were young. We kind of led this forbidden romance.”

  “Like Romeo and Juliet?” Isadora asked (having watched the Leonardo DiCaprio version not long before.)

  “Not exactly. We were a little older than that; my parents just thought he was trouble because of his family.”

  “Did you run away together?”

  “No, we didn’t have to. It took me a long time to work up the courage to tell him the truth. By then, I felt you in my stomach, and I knew you were my greatest gift. But I was still scared of what he would say, what my parents would do.”

  “What happened?”

  “He was scared too, but we loved each other and stuck through it.”

  “What about your parents?”

  She shrugged, “Sometimes your parents don’t make the right choices. I think one day they’ll let it go.”

  “Are you sad?”

  She shook her head, “I have you, Isa. I could never be sad.”

  Isadora took a deep breath, wishing she had her mother to talk to. Even then, she wished Doran were there. He had a calming presence about him. He made her feel safe when she was with him. She walked slowly to her room and reclined on her bed. She wanted to close her eyes and forget about everything. She wouldn’t remember her mother or Doran or the baby – everything would just be fixed and fine.

  She wondered why life never went the way she wanted it to. She rethought the decisions she’d made – had she brought it all upon herself? She never really wanted to connect with anyone (besides Adam) after her mother died. She couldn’t forgive her father for climbing out of the hole of misery and still resented him.

  What would he say? Would he want her to get rid of the child? Could she get rid of it? The more she thought about it, the more she didn’t want to. But then again, she also wanted Doran there with her. Though he hadn’t been the most upstanding teenager, he seemed to love his family. He always talked fondly of his father and took good care of his mother (when he wasn’t driving her crazy.)

  She didn’t know what to do. She felt stunted, unable to make any good decision. And her heart longed for the man she’d single-handedly sent away with her own stoic disregard. What could she do?

  In the next few days, Fiona and Isadora stuck close to each other. Isadora missed Doran, thinking and talking of him often. Fiona tried to convince her that he wasn’t a great man, and she shouldn’t miss him, but Isadora couldn’t stop. At the end of the week, Georgia took off early, but insisted they keep their phones on them in case she needed anything.

  And she always needed something.

  “I think I need a better system for the puke bucket,” Isadora said after finishing her work. “It is pretty gross. I’ve been cleaning it every day, and I feel like a janitor.”

  “Maybe just run to the bathroom?” Fiona replied.

  “That seems too easy.”

  “I’ve been looking into the Roselli incident, and I’m wondering if Doran had anything to do with it after all.”

  “Remember he had that blood stain on his shirt? He must’ve been involved.”

  “That might have really just been sauce. Some people I interviewed said they liked to do that. And you said there were two guys there with you, right?”

  “They were at the bar.”

  She showed her a picture of the two middle-aged men who’d been at the restaurant that day. “Is this them?”

  “Yeah, that’s them. Why?”

  “They’re hitmen. They get orders straight from Sicily.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “I can’t reveal my sources.”

  Her phone started to ring in her pocket. It startled them both, but they played it off. She pulled it out, expecting Georgia, but a different name blazed across the screen. “Oh no.”

  “What? Is it Georgia?”

  “No. It’s Doran.”

  Fiona swatted the phone to the ground. “Don’t answer it!”

  “That’s not cool, man. Don’t swat my phone to the ground.”

  “Sorry. I got caught up in the moment.”

  Isadora picked up her phone and stared at it. “I’ll call him later.”

  “You’re going to have to tell him sometime.”

  “Not now.”

  At the end of the day, they walked out together silently. Isadora carried her puke bucket, preparing to just throw it in the dumpster and try her hand at running to the bathroom. Or using her trash.

  “Are you going to call him back?” Fiona asked.

  “To be honest, I can’t even imagine talking to Doran right now,” Isadora answered as they stepped outside.

  “I’m glad you talk about me when I’m not around,” Doran’s voice startled them both. They looked up to see him leaning against the building, smoking a cigarette like a new-age James Dean.

  “Doran! You’re back!” Isadora threw up her arms in an awkward (and fake) wave of celebration. “It’s uh… nice to… see you.”

  “Your excitement is infectious,” he said dully. “I called you, but you didn’t answer, so I decided to just come by.”

  “I was pretty busy today.”

  “Are you carrying a bucket of vomit?”

  She looked down. “Oh yeah, I was going to throw it in the dumpster. I wasn’t feeling well.”

  “Well, I’m going to go,” Fiona backed away as if she saw a huge spider in her walking path. “Bye.”

  Isadora and Doran watched her go with varied reactions - Doran raised an eyebrow to the strange interaction, and Isadora revealed a frown of great woe. He gave her a look and grabbed the puke bucket to throw it away for her. She stood unmoving as she watched him move to the side of the building where the dumpster lived. Her feet felt like they wore cement shoes made from the sidewalk below her.

  “That’s pretty gross,” he said as he returned. “Did you get food poisoning or something?”

  “Not exactly. I need to tell you something.”

  “Look, I know you want to act like nothing happened. I thought I couldn’t do that, and I freaked out a little bit, but I’m okay now. I got a lot of perspective while I was away.”

  “Oh.” She searched his eyes, seeing a sparkle of sadness and regret in them. “How was your dad?”

  “As he usually is.”

  “Your mom said he’s a businessman?”

  “Not exactly. He’s more like a common thug.”

  Her blood froze. “Doran, are you involved with the maf…”

  Before she could continue, a noise similar to the backfiring of a car exploded at them. BANG, BANG. Doran pounced on her, bringing her to the ground and covering her with his body. Flecks of bricks from the building rained down as screams radiated around them.

  “What was…” she started.

  “Shh. At my mark, run for the alley at the side of the building. Understand?”

  “Yes.”

  “One… two… GO!”

  She sprang up and ran toward the alley. More explosive bangs came from the street. Doran rounded the corner and grabbed her hand, running with her through the alley and into an alcove of the building next to her work.

  “Are those gunshots?” she whispered.

  “I think so.”

  “What is…”

  He covered her mouth, listening to the sounds on the street. He pulled her further into the darkness of the alcove, pulling a gun from his waistband with his free hand. Pounding footsteps raced past them as more gunshots rang th
rough the air. Sirens erupted from all directions, creating a chorus with the screams and pounding footsteps. She closed her eyes and wished to be anywhere but there.

  “Are you okay?” he asked very softly. “You’re shaking.”

  “I don’t know,” she whispered back.

  “It’s okay. I’m here with you.”

  Tears started to crawl up her throat as she closed her eyes tighter. Her limbs trembled, her mind raced – she wanted her mother. She needed her mom to hold her and tell her it would all be okay.

  “Izzy, look at me.” She opened her eyes to look into his. “You can do this. You’re one of the strongest people I know. We have to get home, all right? Can you do that?”

  She nodded. “I need to puke.”

  “I guess you should’ve kept the bucket around.”

  She rushed to the dumpster, crawled up on the lip to get more height, and vomited over the side. Doran stood in front of her, making a safety barrier with his body. He helped her down and rushed her to his car. He told her to get into the backseat and “stay down” as he put a blanket over her.

  She felt like she was floating in a dangerous dream above her own body – her life in complete chaos and nothing making sense.

  “I want you to stay in the car while I check out the house, okay?” he said as he parked. “Stay out of view, do you understand me?”

  “Just go. I need to not be talked to right now.”

  “Izzy, you can’t imagine just how much I…”

  “I am going to lose my shit, Doran.”

  He chuckled, “Okay, okay. I’ll leave you alone. Just stay out of sight.”

  She folded her hands over her chest and pretended to be dead. Death might be okay. It’d be better than this.

  “This is a mess,” she said to herself softly as she wiped her eyes. “What did I get myself into?”

  Suddenly, the car door opened and the blanket was ripped from her face. Isadora screamed as her life flashed before her eyes.

  Chapter 6

  “Don’t scream,” Doran hissed, standing above her with the serious look from his yearbook picture. “Let’s get inside. It’s safer there.”

  “I thought you were a killer,” she responded.

  “You’re not wrong,” he smiled. “They say I’m a killer in the sack.”

  “I don’t know who says that.”

  “Come on, we need to get inside.”

  She rose, taking the blanket with her for some kind of protection. He raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. They turned a corner, her home a bit up the block.

  “Why’d you park so far away?” she asked.

  “So they didn’t know we’re there. If the car’s parked out front, they’ll know.”

  “Don’t you think they’ll see us walking up?”

  “Well, you are being very inconspicuous with that blanket wrapped around you.”

  “I’m asking a legitimate question, jerk.”

  “We’ll go through the back. I don’t think they’re after us anyway.”

  “Who were they shooting at then?”

  “Let’s get inside first. Follow me.”

  He weaved through one of the back yards of a neighbor without a fence. Somehow, he moved so quickly and naturally, no one seemed to notice. Of course, no one in her neighborhood seemed to notice anything other than themselves. Rich people.

  “We’re going to climb the fences. Can you do that?” he asked. “I can help you.”

  She only nodded, jumping on the fence and going over it. He followed until they finally made it to their home. He rushed her to the back sliding door, slipped inside, and locked it behind her.

  “I cased the house, and no one’s here,” he whispered. “Be careful though.”

  “Where’s my dad?” she asked.

  “They got out of town until all of this blows over.”

  “They just left town?! Why didn’t they take me?”

  “Your dad thinks you’ll be okay, I guess.”

  “All right, what is going on? I was just minding my own business, leaving work…”

  “Carrying a puke bucket…”

  “Carrying a puke bucket and when suddenlywe were shot at.”

  “They weren’t shooting at us.”

  “Then who were they shooting at?”

  “Vinnie Gorello and his goons. They were at the restaurant across the street.”

  “I don’t know who that is.”

  “He was a business associate of the Rosellis. A real shady character.”

  “Okay, so the Rosellis are the Italian mafia then?”

  “I think we should go upstairs. I don’t want them to see us in the windows.”

  “You are avoiding the question.”

  “I am not avoiding the question, Isadora. I just want to get upstairs where it’s safer, and I’ll answer any question you have.” She stood her ground, keeping her mouth paper thin and her eyes narrowed. “I know you have your mean face on, but it’s really hard to take you seriously with that blanket wrapped around you.”

  “It’s my armor.”

  “Yeah, okay.”

  She sighed and gestured for him to go ahead of her. He smirked, leading her upstairs to the master bedroom and the huge walk-in closet. He went to one of the walls and felt along the corner, his fingers exploring the surface.

  “What are you doing?” she asked crossly.

  “Shh,” he responded.

  He found a little nick in the dry wall and pressed against it. The wall slid open, revealing another room. She looked at him, astonished.

  “I’m good with my hands, as you know,” he grinned with a cocky shrug.

  She rolled her eyes and moved into the room. “How did you know about this?”

  “I saw your dad in here once. I was hoping to take some money from their secret stash.”

  “Naturally.”

  The room was small, but cozy enough – a small loveseat sat against the opposite wall along with boxes and some clothes hung up. It looked like an extension of the closet with storage built into the walls filled with boxes and cans of food. It reminded her of some kind of rustic bomb shelter – a perfect hiding place from destruction.

  She ran her hands over the dresses hung up. “These are my mom’s. I always wondered what happened to her wedding dress.”

  “I guess he didn’t want to get rid of them, but didn’t want to tell my mom about it,” Doran shrugged. “Do you want me to answer your question now?”

  She smelled the dresses, “They still smell like her.”

  He watched her for a moment as she hugged the white lace dress, taking in its scent. He sighed, pulling a cord hanging from the ceiling to turn on a small light bulb and closed the wall. She didn’t notice, wrapped up in the memory of her mother’s perfume. She turned to the boxes, finding other mementos.

  “It’s the photo album my mom made before she died,” Isadora said softly, pulling out the artifact and sitting on the couch. “I thought he got rid of this.”

  Doran walked forward and sat down next to her as she opened the album. “Is that your mom?”

  She touched a photo of her and Gaea together. “Yeah. This was my kindergarten graduation. She wore her favorite floral dress.”

  “You look a lot like her.”

  “I know.” She smiled, turning each page carefully and cherishing every shot. “Sometimes, I know my dad sees her when he looks at me, and he gets sad.”

  “I think he really loved her.”

  “Yeah,” she paused, looking up at him. “So, what’s going on, Doran?”

  He sighed, “It’s kind of complicated. Do you know a lot about your mother’s family?” She shook her head. “Well, there are two powerful Italian families in the city: the Rosellis (as you know) and the Libericcis. Your mother was a Libericci, and your father was a Roselli.”

  “Your mom told me about my dad. I didn’t know that about my mom – she told me they stopped talking to her when she got pregnant with me.”

 
“I think they just wanted to protect her. Your dad wasn’t the oldest son, so they kind of made an arrangement with the Rosellis that they both stay out of it so your parents could live.”

  “Where do you come into it?”

  “Well, as you may know, I’m not related to you.”

  That’s good news for the baby. “I have heard that.”

  “My mom met my dad when visiting Ireland with her family. She thought he was a great guy – seemed successful, charismatic, strong family. She married him, had me, and then realized he was involved with some not-so-legal business.”

  “So, he’s in the Irish mob?”

  “Kind of. He’s one of the younger brothers himself of a powerful family. But he’s such a fuckup that he doesn’t mean anything.”

  “Okay. And you?”

  “My mom married a Roselli unknowingly. Her sisters introduced her because they knew. Your dad didn’t know her past relationship. You’re kind of like this mob princess, so I guess they hoped we’d get together.”

  “So, you slept with me to answer that call?”

  “No, no. I didn’t know about it all either. I came back from Ireland when Dad tried to pawn me off on one of his sisters, and lived with Mom. I thought Dad was dangerous and cool, so I chose him in the divorce. ThenI wanted to do something more meaningful with my life.”

  “The military?”

  He looked into her eyes, something sweet in them, “I have to be honest, you were so beautiful, and I was so in…” he sighed, tearing his eyes away from her. “I wanted to prove myself as more than just the punk kid of a disowned thug.”

  She felt guilt rising from her stomach. At second thought, she realized it might be more vomit, but she took deep breaths to keep it at bay. “I was a teenager then. I thought I would somehow marry Leo DiCaprio still. You didn’t have to prove yourself to me. Plus, you went into the Navy SEALs. Doesn’t that mean you killed a bunch of people?”

  He nodded, “I killed more than a few.”

  “Did you… do work for your family too?”

  He raised an eyebrow, “Did I do work for the Irish mob? Why would you think that?”

  “It’s kind of strange Roselli’sblew up the morning after we were there, Doran.”

  He laughed derisively, “That’s different.”