HITMAN’S SURPRISE BABY: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance

by Thomas, Kathryn

  Finally, I sit up and cry along with my orgasm. “Oh my God, Bishop!”

  He watches me from his spot, a wicked smile on his face. His cheeks part so much that I can feel them lift against the pressure of my thighs. Bishop lingers where he is for a second longer before letting out a small roar of excitement and straddling himself between my thighs. My hips rise to meet him, up and off the bed, with my ankles hanging in the air around his shoulders.

  “Do you want me, Rivet?” he asks.

  It’s one of the rare times he doesn’t call me Jane when we’re alone, but I try not to think what this means. I nod, and he leans back and presses his hips into mine. Still in midair, he positions me just right so that I’m waiting for his arrival. And with one sturdy thrust, he’s inside of me. His cock goes in only part of the way and then pulls back out with a rush of pressure. And before I have time to take a deep breath in, he dives in again with all of his strength.

  It’s punishing and painful, but damn does it feel good. He uses my legs like holders as he pushes back and forth at a pace that I can barely keep up with. My hips roll with him, wanting to take him in deeper, but it’s nearly impossible with me in the air like this. He doesn’t mind. I can tell by the look in his eyes that he wants one thing and one thing only—to let it all go.

  Like a storm picking up, his face steadies on mine. His thick lips curl into a half-satisfied smile and his hands smooth out against my legs. In and just nearly out, he directs his cock. And all I can do is say his name over and over again until it sounds more like a song than a cry for relief. From the top of my head to the ends of my toes, I heat up again with that deliciously warm feeling that creeps across my skin and lights me on a low boil. His skin grows red, and his body nearly glows in sweat from the effort of speeding up.

  His cock races now. Like a beating drum, it raps against me. My slickness can’t beat the friction of his long, ample shaft. And when I’m about to give in, to let myself come again, he drops my legs down and presses himself against me. Our faces meet, our eyes locked. He kisses me; it’s so sweet and soft that it takes me by surprise. A man like him should be a wild fucking animal, but he never fails to astound me—not even as he takes my hands by the wrists and pulls them straight up to my head. I know he’s trying to remember our first time, when we had no idea who was behind those masks.

  My eyes flicker open to watch as his lips attempt to say my name before it’s over. He pulls out of me as quickly as he can, and his liquid pours out onto my leg and stomach. I’m not too far behind. The rush of him leaving me is enough to spark my own; my second orgasm reaching completion. This time, it’s a flood of relief—not that it’s over, but that we’ve done it.

  It’s a while before one of us moves. He rests in the crook of my arm, a complete change from how we spend most of the nights with me spooning into his warm, large body. His arms can wrap around me twice, but he still manages to get comfortable against me. At one point, I wonder if he’s sleeping, but I don’t dare to turn my head to him in case it would break this blissful spell.

  When he does move, it’s to blow a piece of my hair away from his nose. We both laugh as it sticks to his sweaty face. He finally sits up and picks the strand off of him manually.

  “That was—” I try to say.

  “Do you want something to drink? Something to eat?” he offers suddenly, quickly, as if he’s searching for something to say.

  “I—I’m okay. A glass—”

  “It was fucking amazing.”

  We both laugh again, realizing we won’t get a word out if we keep going like this.

  There’s a beat of pause before I finally respond, “It was really good.”

  “Really good?” He chuckles with one bushy eyebrow raised in question.

  “Okay, it was fantastic.”

  “As good as the first time?” There’s a slight hesitation in his question, but I know what he means. He wants to know if he lived up to the hype.

  “Better,” I answer truthfully. This time was more… more real. There were no boundaries, and I far prefer that.

  “Good.” He nods his head solemnly. “I agree.”

  Bishop goes to stand, but I catch him with another question—this one far and away more important. “So, Bishop, what’s next? Do we keep doing this?”

  “If you want,” he replies, but he studies me a bit harder this time.

  “I don’t want you to claim me,” I suddenly spurt out without even thinking. The words are a shock even to me. It’s every club girl’s dream to be claimed, especially by the president. It’s like the ultimate prize when you’re in the circle. You’re automatically moved to the head of the class.

  “But—but I could protect you.” Bishop fumbles his words, and I’m not entirely sure if he is fighting back my unexpected statement or if he really does want me to be his. His words are so blank that they could mean both or neither options.

  “I don’t need protection,” I try to explain, but my words shake. What the hell am I thinking? Of course I need it. I need it more than ever.

  Bishop stares at me, then goes to stand. He grabs hold of his boxers and jeans and puts both on in silence.

  “If that’s what you want, Rivet, I’m not the kind of asshole to force you to do anything you don’t want to do. You do your own damn thing, and let me know if you need me, okay?”

  “I do need you,” I blurt out. A hand instinctively goes to my mouth as I realize what is about to come out.

  “You need me?” He presses his hand back into the mattress, the knuckles going white as he makes a fist.

  “I’m sorry. I—I—I can’t keep this from you anymore.”

  He takes a step backward, and I don’t blame him. But he wants honesty. He wants me to stop concealing what’s going on with me, and I’m tired of explaining myself, lying away my days. I’m not going to be able to hide it much longer, and the talk with Dr. Abby earlier, mixed with our time together, has opened my eyes. Bishop needs to know.

  “I’m pregnant,” I burst out.

  “ What?! ” A blank, passive look falls across his usually expressive face.

  “I’m pregnant…. About three months along now.”

  He appears to do some mental math before asking, “Is it Viper’s?”

  It would be easy if it were. This conversation would end, and we wouldn’t sleep together anymore. I’d raise the kid to be part of the club, and we’d be happy apart. No one at risk, a kid unharmed, everyone okay with the situation. But that’s not the truth, and it’s not fair to pretend it is.

  “It’s yours, Bishop. Viper and I… He couldn’t or, I mean, maybe he could but didn’t… He didn’t come in me. And the timing… it had to be around Halloween. The doctor has confirmed it—told me it happened around the end of the month.”

  “And you didn’t tell me because?”

  “I didn’t know it was yours. It’s like I told you, I had my suspicions, but I wasn’t sure. I didn’t want to hide this from you. You have to believe me on that!” My voice rises as he looks down at that fist digging deeper into the comforter. “When I started to think it was yours, I was… I don’t know… happy, I guess. Having Viper’s kid would have been a lie. I wasn’t in love with him. I didn’t even like the guy in the end. But you—I know this is crazy, and you’ll want to run away from me, but I feel something for you, Bishop.”

  “But you didn’t tell me, Jane.” He says my name, my real name, with such depth that it anchors me to the spot. I want to reach out and touch him, but I know it’s the last thing he needs or wants. “You could have told me at any time we were together all these weeks. I could’ve told you if it was mine. We could’ve… I don’t know.”

  “That’s the point, Bishop. I didn’t know. I didn’t want to be silly or to start drama that wasn’t supposed to be there. And, until tonight, I didn’t know if I was going to keep it. I still had some time to make the decision. But then Dr. Abby said some things that made me reconsider the other alternative. She talk
ed to me about being a single mom, and… I know I can do it. If that’s what you want.”

  “What I want?”

  “Yes. I can take this kid, and I can go away. I can go back home to the trailer park and raise him like we were. Or I can stay here and pretend it’s Viper’s. This can be the end of it; the last time you’ll ever hear about it again. I don’t want anything from you.”

  It’s a lie. On the inside, I know what I want, but I don’t dare say it. I don’t even let myself think it in case he doesn’t feel the same way.

  He stands up and heads towards the door. Before opening it, he paces a few times and then looks at me over his shoulder. “Jane… I don’t know what to fucking say right now.”

  “You don’t have to say anything. We can table this. You can go somewhere else and leave me be. I understand if you want nothing to do with me. I lied to you. I shouldn’t have lied. I am so—”

  “BISHOP!” The voice roars from outside the bedroom window as we now notice the bright beams of light shining through the thick wooden blinds. I snatch up the sheets to cover myself.

  “Get down!” Bishop yells to me, and I throw myself over the side of the bed. He opens the door to the bedroom and heads into the hallway. The same voice calls him again, and this time it is unmistakable to me.

  Bishop runs back in, a gun in his hand, as he calls out, “Get the fuck out of here, Dig! You don’t want trouble from me!”

  But before another word can be said, a bullet flies through the window with a crash of glass and wood. It lands only inches from the bed.

  Chapter Fourteen Bishop

  “What the fuck?” Rivet whispers to me as she reaches for her bag of clothing. “Bishop, w-what is happening?” She slips on a tight sports bra and a pair of panties and then covers up in a black cotton dress. Her hand falls around her stomach, a small bulge I hadn’t noticed until she uttered the word pregnant .

  “Can you crawl?” I ask her as I wave towards the open door. My leg brushes the few shards of glass that have been blown out by the shotgun blast. They’ve landed all over the bedroom floor, making it nearly impossible to move without her cutting herself on something. “Get to the bathroom and shut yourself in. Lock the door if you can. Then get ready to climb. There’s a window in there you can get yourself out of. I doubt these stupid motherfuckers are smart enough to—”

  Another gunshot. The bastards are firing at random, trying to scare the shit out of us and push us out by force. But I’ve been through this kind of thing before, and it ain’t going to work. I’m not going anywhere—at least, not with them. The fucking traitors will have to start a damn war with me to break me out of here. And unlike them, when I shoot, I aim to kill.

  “I’m not leaving you, Bishop. Ever. We’re together in this now. You go with me, or I don’t go at all.”

  Jesus fucking Christ. The woman stares at me with fiery eyes that burn in stubbornness. I know the look because it’s all mine. She’s put her mind into it, and she’s not about to be pushed out. But as I look at her, still clutching her stomach, I know how wrong she is. There’s a third person in this game, and that person has no say in who gets to live and who gets to die.

  I grit my teeth and take a deep breath as I growl out, as calmly but as sternly as I can, “Get your fucking ass to the bathroom and sneak out the shower window. You don’t have a damn choice in this matter, Jane.”

  Jane. I keep calling her that, even though she’s acting more like a Rivet now that danger is back. Honestly, I can’t decide which one I’d rather have at this moment—Jane’s common sense and smarts or Rivet’s fearless will and determination. But I know that no matter what name she is going by, she’s the mother of my child first and foremost and that mother needs to get the hell out of here before Dig and how many men he decided to bring along make a move on the house.

  I can’t wait for her any longer. I reach over towards her foot and grab hold of her ankle. In one swift move, I drag her past the side of the bed and towards me at the door. She cries out but muffles herself at the sight of the window, which has a slight breeze coming through it thanks to a pair of massive bullet hole marks. I pull her in towards me so that she’s practically sitting on my lap. Her arms wrap around my neck, and I stand as quickly as I can with her lightweight tied up to me.

  As we shimmy towards the bathroom on the other side of the house, I whisper into her ear, “Hang on.” I’m about to say more when another bullet fires in, this time hitting the wall of the living room two rooms down from us.

  Thankfully, it’s another miss. This is getting a little crazy, quite honestly. They either have the shittiest aim, or they really have no clue what the fuck they are doing here. I bet they haven’t thought of covering the backyard where there is a small gate anyone over five feet could jump over. The back door would be too obvious if they had eyes out there, but the bathroom is surrounded by a few overgrown bushes that dot the side of the home. She could jump into them easily and then make a run for the gate. The neighbor’s home is only forty or fifty feet from there. If they are home, they’re probably already on the lookout for where the gunshots are coming from. Hell, they’ve most likely already called the police which would be even better in getting Rivet and the baby— my baby—to safety and protection.

  I open the door to the bathroom and slip her inside. She yanks at my bare neck with nails that make their marks on my skin. “Please, Bishop. Don’t leave me in here. I’m not gonna listen to them kill you and then come for me next…” Her eyes are desperate as they search mine for understanding. Her lips part like she has more to say, but instead she swallows hard and looks towards the door. The handle is turning against the lock. They’re trying more conventional methods to breaking in.

  A few seconds later, the alarms we’ve set up in each of the safe houses begin to ring—moments too late.

  “Rivet! Go! Get the hell out of here. Through the bathroom door, jump into the bushes, run and jump over the gate, and get yourself to the neighbors. Call the cops. I mean it. Do not let anyone come talk to you until you see me.”

  “But what if you’re—”

  “Shut up!” I growl at her. “Don’t even fucking think it, you hear me? I’ve been in situations worse than this, and I always get out of ‘em. I’m like a goddamn cat with nine lives. And besides, I’ve got this.” I flash my gun at her, swinging it back and forth between my hands. I aim the gun towards the door, knowing that whoever is on the other side would be done for if I dared to fire. But I hesitate as she continues to hold tightly onto my arm.

  “Go,” I finally urge her, looking back over my shoulder. “Get the fuck out of here. I’ll find you. I promise you that I will find you.”

  “You can’t promise that.”

  “I just did. Now go before they—”

  With a bang, the door bursts open, flying off its hinges. The alarm sound ticks up a notch as the lights in the whole house go black. Rivet screams, but I can’t hear it over the damn squealing and whirling of the alarms doing their best. If the neighborhood wasn’t awake by now, they sure couldn’t sleep through this kind of warzone chaos. The cops have to be on their way. This can’t last longer than a few minutes. I just need to hold these fuckers off until Rivet can get out of the damn house and into safety.

  “Go! Rivet!” I shout. “Get word to the Carnivores! You have to do this! You have to—”

  A searing pain shakes me. Red splatters against the white door of the bathroom and onto Rivet’s neck and face. Stunned, my hand grabs at my shoulder and then pulls away.

  Blood—my blood.

  It pours out of me around the gaping bullet wound several inches from my neck. Another shot fires and I can’t move in time. I practically watch it spin in the air as it lands on my battered arm, this time skimming my elbow so that the fabric of my shirt curls and breaks away from the tattered ends.

  “Bishop! No! Oh my God!” Rivet stands in shock, looking back and forth towards the window and me. She’s got a decision to make,
and I can’t wait for her to make the right one. In the split-second I have, I see it all. I see her. I see me. I see a baby, a dark-haired, wild-eyed baby with sunshine shining on his or her face as it plays in a well-manicured lawn. I toss him or her a ball and the baby giggles as it runs barefoot through the grass towards it. Jane, looking more like Jane than Rivet, stands guard with her hand over her mouth, trying to control a laugh.

  I’m not giving that up, and goddammit, no one is going to take that away from me—certainly not one of these pansy-ass motherfuckers.

  I use my foot to kick Rivet fully inside the bathroom. She screams a protest, but I slam the door shut behind me and hold tight to the handle so she cannot escape. After one or two tries, she gives in, and I hear the shower curtain pull back. She’s going to escape. She’s going to be okay.