DON’T TOUCH MY BABY: Ricci Family Mafia

by Zoey Parker

  The first thing I did was start making calls. I had to look at places outside of Mount Cherry that would do abortions because, obviously, I couldn’t have it done here. Mount Cherry was growing, but a lot of the small-town mentality remained. If I had any hopes of keeping this a secret, I’d have to go outside the general Mount Cherry area to do it.

  I found several places that were a couple of hours outside the city limits. They were nearby some decent hotels, and I had already begun to work out a story for my father to explain what I was doing—a fun trip with my friends before the summer was over, and I went back to school. I grimaced but accepted that I would have to throw him that bone.

  By agreeing to not put up a fight about going back to school, I would secure Dad’s support. He wouldn’t question a last, fleeting fun summer with friends. I’d get Rochelle and Mia in on it, though I wouldn’t tell them the real reason for the trip. I’d fake getting sick, then slip out to have it done—according to the lady I spoke with, the operation didn’t take very long. I’d be back before they even realized I was gone. Then I’d take a couple of days to recover, we’d all lament how sick I was the whole trip, and when I came back, no one would be any the wiser.

  It was a perfect plan. There was only one problem with it: money.

  The procedure was expensive. Not unreasonable, given my family’s financial condition, but since I couldn’t tap into any of those resources without my father getting suspicious, I might as well have been dirt poor.

  Maybe I can get him to believe something’s going on that needs cash? I considered in my head, trying to work out how to get the money for the procedure without using a credit card. Dad would get the statement and see what it was listed as. He was meticulous about purchases, checking each and every one of them even when he knew what they were. There was no way I could get away with using the card.

  I fell back on my bed, clutching my stomach. How could this have happened?

  It was all a huge, glaring mistake, but there was no taking this one back. Not unless I came into some quick cash and fast. I could ask Rochelle and Mia, but I didn’t trust them not to say anything. Mia was the Queen of Gossip. Rochelle? Well, she was just too conniving. I didn’t think she would try to use this against me, but at the same time, I wouldn’t put it past her.

  No, I would have to get the money somewhere else.

  That was when I made the decision to figure out where Asher lived. If anyone would be just as happy to get rid of the baby as me, it would be him.

  ***

  It took me two days to track him down. It wasn’t that difficult to figure out where the Anarchy’s Horsemen worked. They owned a tattoo parlor, Black Opus, downtown that my father had been trying to shut down since it opened. It was listed as one of the legal enterprises governed by the Anarchy’s Horsemen, a matter of public information. That wasn’t the tricky part. The tricky part was finding Asher.

  Maybe it should have been easy to just waltz into Black Opus like I belonged there and ask for Asher, but it wasn’t. Not for me. Part of that was that most people recognized me as the mayor’s daughter. Normally, that was sort of a good thing; it got me all kinds of freebies. It was a good deal, but it also meant that when my father decided to go after someone, that someone knew who I was and wasn’t very happy about it.

  And just my luck, my father hated the Anarchy’s Horsemen. I’d chosen Asher deliberately for that reason, I reminded myself, but it still seemed like absolutely rotten luck that things would wind up like this.

  As a result, I wasn’t interested in checking out Black Opus and asking about one of their members. I was slightly afraid it might get me beaten up or something. Dad was always saying they were a dangerous, rowdy bunch. I hadn’t ever really thought that until now when I had to face them on their own turf.

  Ultimately, I ended up standing outside Black Opus for forty-five minutes trying to decide what to do, then leaving without having even gone inside, much less spoken to anyone. That was when I got the brilliant idea.

  I’d call them. Tell them I was an ex who had gotten knocked up and I needed to speak to Asher. I wasn’t sure if they needed all that information, but it would make them more likely to tell me where he lived, right?

  I hoped so.

  “Black Opus, tattoo shop, this is Winston speaking,” came a gruff voice through the receiver when I called.

  I hesitated. Did I really want to do this? I have to do this! “Yes, I’m calling because I… I need to find Asher?”

  There was a pause. “Who is this?”

  I didn’t want to give him my name. It wouldn’t help anyway since I’d never told Asher what it was, so he wasn’t going to recognize it. “Um, it’s… it’s Carol. We were, um, together the other night and I, um, was wondering…” I had never been so flustered, so rambling and nervous in my life. I always had it together and yet somehow at this moment, talking to this gruff man over the phone, I was completely and utterly hopeless.

  “Carol, eh?” he said, and I thought there might be a chuckle in his voice somewhere. “Well, honey, what you need to get a hold of him for? You lose his number or something?”

  I bit my lip. I didn’t want to tell him I’d never gotten it. That sounded tacky, and it wasn’t going to get me Asher’s address. Letting out a sigh, I went with my original plan and told him the truth. Most of it. “We were together, but it wasn’t serious. But I, I’m…” I broke off, searching for what to say, really not wanting to mention the pregnancy, then blurted, “We really connected and I think I have a chance with him. I just need to talk to him.”

  There was another pause, then I heard a laugh on the other end, a jovial, booming sound that surprised me. “Well, he hooked himself one, did he? Tell me, honey, you that blondie? The one he liked so much from the bar?”

  I blushed profusely and was grateful that it was over the phone so he couldn’t see. That blondie? From the bar? Had Asher been talking about me? I’d been mostly kidding about the connection. Yes, we’d had a wonderful, intense night together, but I didn’t think either of us had expected anything long-term from it. I still didn’t. But it was interesting that he had mentioned me.

  “Yes, that’s me,” I finally told the man, hoping it would be enough to get me an address.

  “All right, honey. I’ll tell you where you can find him.”

  He gave me an address, one that I was pretty sure was his home address, which surprised me. I didn’t think that would be the sort of thing they’d give out. Then again, he was also a dangerous biker. Probably no one went snooping around his place, looking to cause him problems.

  I thanked Winston, then hung up the phone, feeling butterflies fill my stomach like I was a kid about to get on stage for the first time.

  But I went to the address later that day just the same.

  When Asher opened the door for me, I was struck once again by how handsome he was. He was wearing those leather pants again, and this time he had on a heather gray T-shirt to match it. It said Black Opus across it. It was tight against his broad shoulders, outlining the firm muscles of his arms and the flat plains of his chest.

  I had half imagined that I’d been so desperate to get back at my father, that I had only thought he looked incredibly attractive. Now I was sure it wasn’t only my perception that night. He just was that sexy.

  He invited me in, and I was left with that dreadful moment where I had to tell him. “I’m pregnant.”

  For a long time, he just stared at me. His eyes were wide, those dark pools as deep as ever, inviting me to drown in them. His full lips were slightly parted, and he looked just absolutely flabbergasted. I’d caught him off guard, and that really wasn’t a surprise.

  There was silence for such a long stretch that I was beginning to think he wasn’t going to say anything, either because he was in shock or because he couldn’t figure out why my being pregnant would bring me here. I sincerely hoped it wasn’t the latter of those two. But in the end, he did say something.

&nb
sp; “Pregnant? Are you sure?”

  I actually laughed at him. “Would I have shown up on your doorstep if I wasn’t?”

  “Good point,” he conceded. We fell into silence again, then he gestured to the couch. “You wanna sit down?”

  I glanced at the couch. It was old and lumpy and had probably seen more than one of his conquests. Did I really want to sit on it? Folding my dress up beneath me, I took a risk and did so. He came to sit beside me. Not right next to me, but close enough that I was aware of the ripples of his strong, muscled body. It was hard not to be.

  “It’s yours,” I blurted because it suddenly occurred to me that maybe he was with a bunch of women and thought women did the same thing, that this baby could have belonged to anyone.

  He raised a single dark eyebrow at me, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly like he wanted to smile at me. I felt my heart thump in response, thinking that smile might be a real sight to see. I blamed it on my mood swings, the breathless feeling I was having, and shoved the thought aside.

  “I believe you,” he told me simply.

  A little of my nervousness eased. At least he wasn’t going to just treat me like I was some lying whore; that was definitely something. I knew I had to keep the ball rolling, that I had to tell him why I was here and how much money I would need for the abortion. But I just couldn’t quite make myself spit it out yet. I couldn’t say why.

  “What’s your name?” he finally asked, throwing me off.

  I almost asked him why he wanted to know, but instead, I simply answered, “Carol.”

  This time he did smile, as though thinking something to himself. “Carol. That’s a pretty name. I should have asked you that night.”

  His eyes darkened with desire, and I knew he was thinking of the things we did that night. I was thinking of them, too. The way he eagerly buried his face between my thighs, tasting me and fondling me until I erupted in an explosion of pleasure that I couldn’t rein in. The way he slid himself inside me, filling me so completely that there was no more room for anything else.

  Oh, yes, I’d thought about our encounter a time or two.

  My cheeks reddened, and my heart sped up as I tried not to look down at his crotch to see if he was aroused. I was aroused, though I wouldn’t tell him that. So much of what I was feeling these days was hormonal mood swings, so I didn’t want to put too much stock in them, but there was no denying that I was turned on by him.

  “Well, we weren’t really doing a lot of talking,” I finally answered him a little breathlessly.

  He let out a low, gravelly laugh that sent shivers through my body. “No, we weren’t. We were pretty occupied with other things, but I still should have. Maybe before I buried my face between your thighs and started tongue-fucking that pussy of yours.”

  My eyes widened. Instantly, I felt hot and bothered, and I wanted to jump onto his lap and ride him to completion. But I shoved that thought away. I shouldn’t like him saying vulgar things like that, though it was clear I did. “You can’t just say things like that,” I admonished but found my voice came out more light and teasing than anything else.

  He grinned at me like the cat that ate the canary. “No? You want me to stop, baby? ’Cause I have a few other things I could share with you…”

  I shook my head, standing abruptly. His eyes followed me. “I come here to tell you I’m pregnant and all you want to do is fuck?” I asked incredulously.

  He shrugged his shoulders lightly. “Pretty much. Don’t you?”

  I hesitated, and he noticed. His grin widened, and he reached out one of his large hands for me to take. I hesitated, not sure where he was going with this, but then put my own in his. He wrapped his large fingers around my much smaller ones, then jerked me towards him.

  I let out a yelp as I tumbled and fell into his lap, my legs parting automatically to straddle him, mostly to try to brace myself for the landing. I caught my breath and found my face inches from his, his lips close enough to mine that all I’d have to do was lean forward an inch to press our mouths together in what I knew would be a searing kiss.

  He grinned wickedly at me. “Since you’re already pregnant, it’s not like I can make things worse,” he teased, his hands going to my hips and adding a slight pressure so I slid a little closer to his crotch. When I was nestled firmly on his lap, I felt he was hard beneath me. I remembered how hard he’d been that night, how deep he’d plunged inside of me, how he’d made sure I found my release fist.

  I blushed harder. This was not how I had pictured things going. I felt myself considering giving in to his temptation. After all, he was right; I was already pregnant. But then I reminded myself that my reckless behavior with him was what had landed me in this position in the first place.

  I forced myself to be serious, to keep a level head. I wouldn’t let desire rule me, even though I wanted it to. Putting my hands on his chest, I stalled him as he pushed himself towards me, his mouth aiming for mine. “Wait. Please. We need to talk about this. This is my life!”

  My pleas must have swayed him because he paused. The teasing, hungry smiled dropped from his lips, though he didn’t move away. He just studied me for a minute, looking over my features like he was reading a book. Maybe he was, maybe I was that easy to read. “Okay,” he said finally. “What do you want to do, then?”

  I gnawed on my lower lip. Saying it out loud was somehow harder than anything else. “I… I want…” I shook my head, trying to clear it. Taking a breath, I tried again. “I’m here because I need help paying for the… I need to get rid of it. My life will fall apart if I keep it.”

  It was somehow much more terrible to say out loud, but I couldn’t take it back, and in the end, it didn’t matter if I could. It was still the truth.

  Chapter Seven

  Asher

  She was straddling my lap, a knee on either side of my thighs, her core pressing ever so slightly over my growing erection. I wanted to fuck her. As soon as she’d walked in through that door, I’d wanted to fuck her, though the promise of bad news had stayed that desire. But then she’d told me and… It wasn’t such bad news. It wasn’t the end of the world as I’d presumed based on the look on her face.

  She was pregnant.

  It was startling. It shocked the hell out of me and left me reeling, but it wasn’t like she had cancer or something. And once the worry that there was something seriously wrong had left, the desire returned. That pretty little corn silk blue dress. That bouncy ponytail. Those little kitten heels. And those tits. Full, round, perky and shaped in the most perfect heart I’d ever seen. I wanted to hold them in my hands, to squeeze them and weigh them in my palms. I remembered them being soft but firm, the perfect feel.

  Though I could tell she was turned on, too, her panic over the possibility of this baby was greater than her desire. And now… Now I knew she wanted to get rid of it.

  I didn’t know why it bothered me to hear her say it. Until about five minutes ago, I hadn’t even known her name. Carol. It was a sweet name. It suited her blonde hair and her blue eyes, but I had the feeling it was short for something. Another thing on the long list of things I didn’t know about her but found myself wanting to know.

  I told myself my interest wasn’t all that serious. I was infatuated because she was one of the best lays I’d had—certainly the best I’d had in years. And that lingering familiarity from the bar, I reminded myself. She was familiar, and maybe I didn’t like mysteries or feeling as though I didn’t have all the information.

  I told myself it was because she was hot and I was horny and stressed out. I told myself it was all kinds of things, and maybe it was, but there was a basic, primal attraction there that was mixing with an unusual urge to protect her.

  My hands lingered on her full hips. Birthing hips, I thought, though I didn’t share that with her. I didn’t think she’d appreciate it just then.

  “I see,” I finally said, not sure what to say.

  Her delicate eyebrows pulled i
nto a frown. “It’s the right choice. I mean, it’s not like you want a baby and I have school in the fall—” She broke off abruptly like she was trying to work through her own issues with the whole situation.

  Of course she is, you idiot. She’s pregnant from a one-night stand!

  Clearing my throat, I tried to help her out. “Look, you don’t have to get rid of it. I mean, there are… options. And I’m here.”

  Her eyes widened a bit and, for a moment, I had shocked her speechless. “You’re here?” she repeated incredulously. “What do you mean by that? And options? What? To raise my baby here with you? Like you would want us.”

  My hands slipped from her hips to her rear, pulling her closer to me. I caught the tiniest of gasps, telling me she noticed, but otherwise she didn’t make any note of it. “I’m just saying you don’t have to get rid of it. Maybe you should think about this a little bit. Consider other options.” I squeezed her perky ass, unable to help myself, wishing that we weren’t talking about getting rid of an unwanted pregnancy and instead doing the very thing that had led to it.