Johnny walks closer, finally noticing my arm drenched in crimson. “Shit.” Frantic, he searches the barn for something to absorb my blood, but all he finds is a tattered rag. “Fuck!”
It’s hard to keep my eyes open. “Use my fucking shirt.”
He rips the jacket from his back and kneels, grabbing the edge of my soaked shirt and wrenching hard. It tears, and he wraps it around my shoulder, tying a knot and squeezing into the wound.
I bite my lip so hard I taste blood.
Then he picks the key from the floor, and the locks slide from my wrists and ankles as he unlocks them.
“You need to stay awake, Sébastien. I need one more thing from you.”
I straighten myself, head pounding. “You promised me all I had to do was kill two cops.”
He glares at me. “This is far from over and I think you know that.”
Sometimes it feels like it’ll never be over. “One more favor, and you’ll leave us alone.”
A grin tiptoes across his face. “You have my word.”
Johnny’s men filter through the barn, carrying red plastic jugs filled with gasoline. “We’ll wipe down for prints and torch the place, but we can’t erase two cops from the world. Street cameras spotted them driving here.”
I know he’s right. The department will leave no stone unturned to find a missing officer.
His voice hardens. “You’re going to stay here when the police come. You’ll tell them everything.”
What? “Why the hell would you want me to do that?”
“To take the suspicion off me. They’ll think the MC did this.”
“But they won’t believe me.”
“You need to make them,” he snarls. “And you need to do it without spilling a word about the family. We weren’t here.”
“I don’t know how the hell I’ll do that.”
“You’re a credible source. They’ll believe you once you prove you’re an undercover. I need you to do this, Bastien.”
Weariness settles in my bones. “What the fuck am I supposed to say about the gunshot wound?”
He shrugs. “Tell them you were cleaning your gun and—boom.”
“What kind of moron discharges their revolver into their shoulder? They’re going to see through that.”
“I don’t give a fuck what the story is as long as you tell them nothing about us.”
I chew my lips. “You need to promise me Vito won’t be a problem. We just want to leave.”
Gasoline splashes the walls, filling the room with its noxious fumes.
Johnny’s eyes glitter with savage triumph. “He won’t be.”
My back twinges with the hardness of the hospital bed and bright lights sear my eyeballs. It’s been several days and the only distraction from the throbbing shoulder pain is Eva, who squeezes my hand tight enough for me to lose feeling.
“Babe, it’s over. You can stop squeezing the death out of my hand.”
Eva lifts from the mattress and shakes her head. “I can’t help but think one of them will burst in here and finish the job. I don’t feel safe.”
Neither will I until I put several hundred kilometers between us and Montreal. “I know it’s hard to believe, but it’s over. My surgery was a success and Johnny got what he wanted. The heat’s off us.”
She nods, tears slipping down her cheeks. “I went to my dad’s.”
Shit. “You did?”
“I tried to get him to stop this. I told him you were the love of my life, and he didn’t give a damn about saving you.”
Wish I could say I was surprised. “We can’t leave right away, but it’ll be soon. My parents know we’re coming. You’ll love it out there.”
To think I was in such a hurry to abandon that place and sink my teeth into the real shit. Fuck that. Never again.
I laugh when I think of what my parents will say when I bring back a pregnant girl.
“I can’t wait,” she says, beaming at me. “I’ll go with you anywhere.”
My heart clenches as she kisses my cheek, the one spot on my face that isn’t bruised. I don’t know what the hell did I do to deserve this woman, but I’m never letting her go. No more secrets and violence. I’m hers forever
Someone knocks at the door and a nurse peeks through. “Sir? The police are here to see you.”
The homicide detective who responded to the scene is a woman in her mid-thirties. Detective Fuller enters the hospital room followed by two other detectives. She smoothes her pencil skirt as she sits down in front of me. The other cops remain standing.
“Ethan, this is Sergeant McGrath and Detective Langley.”
I shake their hands, forgetting their names instantly.
“Detective Fiore, we want to—”
“Just call me Ethan.” I’m not a cop anymore, and I’ll never be one again.
She nods. “Ethan, we want to apologize for what’s happened. Captain Ritter’s department operated with little oversight for way too long.”
Profound relief crashes over me. “How did you find me in the system?”
She folds her hands. “We were able to dig the files out with a data recovery software. Captain Ritter wasn’t the most technical guy on the force.”
Lucky me. “I just want to go home to my wife. I told you everything I know.”
She nods, glancing over my injuries. “I know this has been tough, but we need to go over what happened. You need to tell us who shot you.”
“No, I don’t.”
Bewildered, she grasps the edge of the hospital bed. “Ethan, you’re a police officer. Do you realize what’ll happen if you don’t cooperate?”
I shrug with my good arm. “I’ll probably lose my job.”
Speechless, she glances at the other cops. “Look, our sources tell us the Cravotta family might have been behind the arson and the double homicide.”
“I can’t speak to that. When I arrived to meet Carter and Ritter, the barn was already ablaze. I have no idea who was behind it.”
She glares at me with a little more suspicion. “Ethan, I don’t think you’re being very forthcoming.”
No shit. “I’m sorry you think that way, but I’m telling you the truth.”
Her voice rises into a high-pitched yell. “Your career is at stake.”
“Then I quit. If I had my badge and gun, I’d give them to you right now. All I want is my identity back, but as far as this investigation goes, I’m done. If you have any more questions, you can contact my lawyer.”
Detective Fuller stares at me, aghast. I almost feel sorry for her.
“I’ve given you my statement, Detective. It’s over.”
Looking shocked, she stands from the chair and heads for the door. She grasps the handle. “Did they lean on you or pay you off?”
I smile at her.
Chapter Twenty-One
Eva
Snow falls thick and fast outside, the tufts of white blanketing our porch. I press my hand against the window, the cold stinging my skin. A horizon of pine trees stretches underneath an orange-colored sky. After a lifetime of living in the hustle of a major city, the peace and quiet was a refreshing change. When we arrived here, it was bliss to sit on the swinging bench with a tall glass of iced tea and relax in the baking heat. We take long walks now that my morning sickness is finally gone. We walk the grasslands, endless fields of green and butter-yellow flowers, and stroll past rolling hills of vineyards. It’s gorgeous. Now that Christmas is only a few weeks away, our house glows with a rainbow of lights. Bastien put them up a couple days ago.
I still call him Bastien in my head, but for six months he’s been Ethan. I chime his real name in my thoughts, over and over again, but I slip every once in a while.
The hardwood creaks as he walks into the kitchen in a pair of black briefs. My husband’s always looked good in them and I can’t resist anything that shows off his ass. His chest muscles dance as he reaches into the cupboard for a mug. I move next to him and wrap my arms around his waist
, sliding my hands under the elastic.
Ethan touches my baby bump and gropes my breast. His face widens with a feline grin. “Morning.”
Sometimes I think I see a flicker of the man I met. He’s been subdued ever since we left the city. I don’t expect him to be the same after what happened. A shadow crawls over his face when the news reports an update on the murders of James Carter and Michael Ritter. The cloud of a threat still hangs over us, distant, but real. The scar on his shoulder, an opaque white, stretches like a spiderweb over his skin. It’s healed, but the wounds etched on the inside might never go away.
“What are you doing today?”
He fills his mug. “I have a shift in the morning, but I’ll come back in time to help you with dinner.”
He has a part-time job as a mechanic, but like everything else it’s temporary. We’re both taking it slow, waiting for the wounds to heal, and trying to figure out what to do with our lives.
Dinner. Right. His parents are coming over.
Claire and Richard. They’re amazing. I couldn’t ask for better in-laws. Watching them together always gives me a stab of envy for what I missed in my childhood. They love each other how a couple who grew old together should. They badgered us with questions when we first arrived, and there was only so much Ethan could tell them. Richard didn’t take the silence from his son very well, but the announcement that we were expecting quickly thawed any lingering resentment. We married in a small, beautiful ceremony in the local parish. They didn’t ask why no one on my side of the family came.
Thinking of them sours my stomach.
Dad was killed.
It happened on our drive halfway across the country to our new home. My phone rang with Madison’s voice on the other life telling me what happened. He was shot in the parking lot while picking up a prescription. In the end, it wasn’t cancer. One of his men did it. I tried so hard to keep him alive from the disease, but the real cancer was the life he chose for himself, a world entrenched in violence.
I thought I didn’t have any tears left, but I cried. Despite the horrible crimes he committed, he was still my father. I couldn’t rip out the half of my heart that loved him. The half that occasionally feels a tug toward Montreal.
Sometimes I feel guilty over the people I left behind—Madison. I would’ve liked to help repair her house. She’s a sweet soul who didn’t deserve what they did, but we had to leave before the war heated up. Now a day doesn’t go by without another gang-related shooting.
Thank God we’re out.
Ethan offered to turn around and drive back for my dad’s funeral. My brave, selfless husband would’ve risked himself just so I could say goodbye to my father, but I already said it weeks ago. It still hurts, like a wound on the mend.
One day it’ll heal.
Warmth spreads across my stomach as Ethan grabs me. “Sometimes it feels like I got married to two men.”
He sips his coffee. “Two men, one cock. I’m not sure I agree.”
“You know what I mean. You were a different person.”
“I think you want to believe you belong to two guys,” he says with a grin. “Cherish it, Eva. The feeling won’t last.”
I slug him in the shoulder, smiling. He always knows how to get my mind off things. Sometimes it’s with a wiseass joke, and other times he uses his lips and hands to distract me.
“I’ve been thinking about names.” He lowers the cup from his lips. “What about Sophie?”
Since we found out the sex, we’ve been arguing over names for weeks. “Short for Sofia?” I mull it over, liking it. “We could do a coin toss.”
He laughs. “Yeah, that’ll be a story to tell our kid when she gets older. We couldn’t decide, so your mother wanted to flip on it.”
“There’s still plenty of time.” I spread my finger through his thick, black hair peppered with gray, and he closes his eyes. I plant a kiss on the gorgeous dent just below his Adam’s apple, so deliriously happy I can’t stop grinning.
Ethan looks out the window, to the snow blanketing the landscape. “Shit, look.”
A buck picks its way across the yard, his hooves sinking deep into the snow. It finds the apple tree I planted months ago and rubs its snowcapped antlers all over the bark.
“Damn it! He’ll ruin it.”
“It’s all right,” he says. “Wow.”
Ethan’s face cracks with a wide grin as the deer shreds my tree. He palms the glass and leans closer, laughing at the stupid deer. “Little bastard.”
“I’m glad you’re enjoying the wildlife.”
It’s my fault. I had this vision as a kid, of running through an orchard and reading books under apple trees. I told Ethan about it and he bought one a day later. It’s the sort of selfless, wonderful thing he always does.
Ethan pulls me close and finds my pouting mouth. “We’ll get you more apple trees.”
My lips melt against his as he kisses me, my back pressed against the cold panes of the window. He promised me a different life, but all I wanted was one with him.
And it’s perfect.
# # #
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Knocked Up by the Bad Boy
Cravotta Crime Family #2
Chapter One
Johnny
Smoke shifts in front of me in a gray haze, obscuring the bodies surrounding me. Desaturated shapes move behind the smoky background, and I search through them. It’s hard to tell what makes my veins burn with the need for more—more wine, more cigarettes, and more pussy.
Music pounds into my chest like a second heartbeat, mirroring the vicious desire thrumming through my veins. Cocktail waitresses whisk the smoke-filled room like apparitions. Their clothes cling to their bodies like Saran Wrap.
Scantily clad girls are magnets for my cock, and being the boss means I can have my pick of any of them. It’s a free-for-all. Hard to choose one. Their eyes follow me wherever I go, and I look back, gauging their interest. Do I want to fuck her? How far will she let me go?
A warm, female body slides against mine. Her torso shifts so that she stands right between my legs, the deep neckline of her shirt giving me a nice fucking view of her tits, pressed against her too-small t-shirt. No bra.
Blood seems to drain from my head, feeding the rush to my groin. She sets down drinks at the bar. They make sharp raps as the glasses hit the counter, one after the other.
I recognize her.
It’s the second time she’s rubbed against me like a cat in heat. My cock stirs when she leans into my shoulder, strands of her blonde hair just dragging my shoulder.
Fucking broads. If you want my cock, just ask for it.
Is she hot though? Those big tits distract me, just hanging there without a bra. She leans over the bar counter, chatting with the bartender. I look up her slender legs, all the way to the curve of her ass when her short skirt rides up slightly. Her arm presses against mine as if she’s oblivious, as if she isn’t aware that she’s touching me. One set of deep-blue eyes flash at me as she meets my gaze briefly, smiling through those pink lips.
There are two types of women in this world: those who want to fuck me because I’m the boss, and those who want to fuck me because they’ve heard of my reputation between the sheets.
Not to brag, but I’m a pretty great fuck. I never leave them disappointed. Even the ones who think they can get something out of fucking the boss always beg for seconds. I rarely indulge them. Why try the same thing when I can have any flavor of the week?
My attention turns back to the cocktail waitress, who is still hell-bent on teasing me, leaning over to shove her a
ss in my face. Maddon, I want to grab the backs of her thighs and pinch that perfectly round, bubble ass.
Her, my cock says. Fuck her.
I love getting it wet, hearing them scream my name, night after night. I fucking need it because it’s not easy being me.
The waitress finally pulls away from the bar, her warmth disappearing from my shoulder. A rush of energy makes me reach out and grab her wrist before she can take two steps away. Her pulse jumps into my fingers. She whirls around, her blonde hair clinging to her neck.
I’m disappointed to realize that she’s not as hot as I thought she was. But she hit on me pretty blatantly, and that’s enough to make me want to fuck her.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”
An uncertain smile twitches. “What do you—?”
“That’s the second time you’ve done that.” My fingers circle around her wrist tightly as I feel the burn from her skin.
“Done what?”
Playing coy, are we? I hate that shit.
Pink flushes her face as she sucks in her lip, my cock stirring as I imagine the wet heat wrapping around my dick, her tongue sliding up and down.
“Don’t play dumb, sweetheart.”
“Okay, fine. I just wanted to get your attention.”
A smile widens my face as she allows me to slide my hand down her arm and anchor securely over her elbow. I pull her close. Close enough for her hair to flutter from my breath, and to see her vein jumping in her throat. She parts her lips, her eyes batting as though I’m about to kiss her, and her hands touch my chest.
“Just ask me.”
“Huh?” She barely whispers it.
I spot her name tag. Alyssa. “Alyssa, tell me that you want my cock, and I’ll take you into that VIP room right now and fuck your brains out.”
My words run through her like liquor. A sudden, hot burn flashes over her face. She doesn’t flinch at the word—she’s drawn toward it. “But—my job—”
A deep chuckle from my chest cuts across her words. “Who do you think hired you?”
Tied Down Page 21
