Bad Boy: Valetti Crime Family (A Bad Boy Mafia Romance)

by Willow Winters

  “It w--won’t happen again.” He stutters again, and I swear to God I smell piss.

  “Damn right it won’t.” I toss his wallet back to him. “Get the fuck out of here.”

  As he walks away, nearly stumbling over his own two feet, Tonya walks closer to me and says, “I could’ve handled it myself.”

  I look at her with a bit of disbelief. My eyes roam her body. She’s a bit scuffed up. She takes the hair tie out of her hair and pulls it back up, casually tying it into a ponytail. Like messing up her hair is the worst thing that happened.

  When she looks back at me, I see her true emotions in her eyes. She's pushing down the fear and anxiety I know she's feeling. I know it well, because I do that shit, too. I walk over and stand close to her, wanting to hold her, but knowing I shouldn’t.

  I shouldn’t have even come down here. I’d ended it. But I saw those pricks and the way they looked at her. I wasn’t letting that shit happen.

  I don’t care what Vince has to say about it.

  “You could have, but you didn’t have to.” Her eyes flash with surprise and then sadness. I try to lighten the mood by saying, “I couldn’t let you have all the fun.”

  I put my hand on the small of her back and lead her out of the alley, onto the sidewalk. There’s no one out this late. I doubt anyone around here called the cops either. I take out my phone and text Nicky about the prick we left behind. He’ll clean it up. The fuckers will live, but they’ll know never to do stupid shit like that in our territory again.

  As soon as I hit send, she seems to come to her senses and tries to turn back.

  “I have to call for backup,” she says as she turns to look back down the alley. Fuck that. She’s not calling anyone. I spin her around in my arms and look her right in her eyes.

  “It didn’t happen. Nothing happened.” A moment passes between us, like she's weighing her options. Finally, she nods her head slightly with understanding, but I know she doesn’t like it.

  She looks past me at the passed out fucker in the alley.

  “Don’t worry about him,” I tell her as I grab her by the arm. “He’ll live.”

  She doesn’t put up much of a fight. She just looks at me with curiosity on her face. It’s not good that she’s curious, but at least she’s smart enough not to ask questions. I’m surprised how she lets me lead her out onto the street. She doesn’t care that I’m practically manhandling her.

  That’s another thing I like. She obeys me, and she likes my hands on her. Fuck, I can’t help how much that turns me on. My dick is begging to get inside her. Damn it. I really was going to listen. I have to fucking listen. I try to will away my erection, but it’s not doing anything but getting harder for her.

  As we get to the end of the sidewalk, her eyes steady on a parking lot across the street. I recognize her car and let her lead a bit so she doesn’t realize I know that’s where we’re going.

  I push my luck a little further and wrap my arm around her waist. She doesn’t lean in, but she doesn’t pull away. I’m fine with that. I like feeling her body up against me. I know being out with her like this is a risk. If Vince sees it, he’s not going to believe I’m not trying to get into her pants.

  Shit, I can’t even believe I’m not trying to get into her pants. I have enough willpower to say no though. I’m just taking a little more than I should. After seeing her take care of that asshole, though, fuck it was sexy as fuck. How could I not put my hands on her? I wanna teach her a lesson though. She shouldn’t have gone down that alley.

  If she was mine, I’d have her ass red by now.

  I always thought I wanted a good girl, but this woman is a bad, bad girl in need. I look down at her and watch as her eyes dart around the parking lot as we near her car. It’s the same shit she always does at night. I don’t like it.

  “You alright?” I ask.

  “Fine,” she says simply, and pulls away as she takes her keys from her back pocket. I let her go as she unlocks her car and turns her body toward me. I have to remind myself she's a cop, and that's not okay.

  She looks up at me and I can’t help but feel like a dick for holding that against her. Besides, it’s fucking hot. I wanna test her, I wanna push and see what I can get away with. After all, she left that prick in the alley for my men to clean up. I wonder how far she’d let me go before she did anything.

  I put my hand on her hip and push her ass against the car.

  Her eyes widen as she gasps, and I swear her thighs clench. She bites down on her bottom lip, looking up at me with a hint of fear, but mostly lust. Fuck me, but I fucking want her. I lean down and take in her sweet smell, then dip my head into the crook of her neck. I want her so fucking bad, but I can’t.

  I pull back and look down at her again. I get a glimpse of her badge, and suddenly she’s not the hot bad girl who needs a lesson. She’s the woman who sat in the interrogation room. This is a woman who may be setting me up, but all I can see is a woman who needs my touch.

  Her eyes close and she tilts her head just a bit. Enough that it makes me want to cup her chin in my hand and start out nice and slow. That’s how I’d do it. I’d be sweet and gentle, let her lips mold to mine. I’d make sure she was relaxed after that shit that happened. I’d make sure it was completely out of her mind. And then I’d take her wrists in my hand, pin them to the car and push this raging erection that won’t let up into her thigh so she’d know how much I want her. I can see it all playing out before my eyes.

  But I can’t have it.

  I have direct orders to stay away. And usually that doesn’t mean shit, but Vince is right. This broad could be playing me. I don’t think she is, but she could be. All this tension I feel between us could be her doing, just so she can find something to pin against me.

  My dick jumps in my jeans thinking about pinning her against her car and slipping those jeans down so I can feel if she wants me as much as I want her. My eyes roam her body in appreciation and when I look back up, her eyes are open.

  She looks vulnerable and I take the chance to give her a little smirk and a pat on the ass. She may be using me and until I’m sure she’s not, I’m not giving her anything. Even if my body is fucking begging me to indulge.

  She pouts and then narrows her eyes. But I saw that little pout. Sexiest fucking look a woman’s ever given me. Then she swings her door open and nearly punches me right in the dick. She smirks back with a tilt of her head before climbing in.

  I grab the door before she can shut it and that smirk on her gorgeous face fucking vanishes. I wanna say something smart, something that an asshole would say to push her away, but there's a look in her eyes that's telling me it’d really fucking hurt her. And that's something I don't want to do. I should push her away. I know I should. But she just had three fuckers come after her and she’s not showing any signs of giving a fuck when I know she is.

  It’s hard for me to understand. I’m not used to women taking shit like that. Not in our family. They stay out of familia business. It’s an unspoken rule. Women are off-limits. Yet she chose a career that puts her in harm’s way every fucking day.

  My grip tightens on the edge of the door. I have no right not to like it. It’s her decision and she’s not mine, but I’ll be damned if I say I’m okay with what happened.

  I ask her again, making sure the concern comes through, “You sure you’re okay?”

  She blinks a few times as if gauging whether I really do give a shit before she answers. She nods her head and replies, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  She puts her hand on the door to close it, but before she does, she looks up and asks, “Is he dead?”

  She keeps asking the same question and I don’t like it. Cops ask questions. And answering that particular one could mean trouble for me. The concern is wiped off my face like it was never fucking there.

  “You have a nice night, Officer Kelly,” I say as I turn my back on her and walk away. I get a few feet from her when I hear the car door shut and her en
gine roar to life.

  As she drives away, the anger and disappointment settle in. What the fuck was I thinking? She could’ve handled herself; I could’ve stayed back and made sure she was fine after the fact. Instead I got shit on my hands that she could arrest me for.

  But she didn’t. I’m not sure I trust it though. I sure as fuck don’t trust her. As I walk away with more resolve to keep my distance and listen to the orders Vince gave me, my phone goes off. It’s a text from Vince.

  Why the fuck did you need Nicky?

  Fuck.

  This is exactly why I need to stay the fuck away from her.

  Tonya

  I still don’t understand what happened. I park my car under the light and look up at my steps. I sit there for a moment. It’s a moment too long. I should get inside. I’m quick like I always am, and I walk straight upstairs. It’s not till the keys fall into the glass bowl on the end table that I realize my hand is shaking.

  I take a deep breath and try to calm myself. It happens a lot. I thought it would stop eventually. It’s a reaction from the adrenaline and endorphins wearing off. It’s not shock, but it’s not okay, either. I see it as a weakness and I hate it.

  I sink into the sofa and try to calm myself down. I can do this. I have to do this. Other women are strong enough. Fuck, if a man can do it, so can I. Men use brute strength, while women use leverage, and brains. I truly believe that. But damn, this is fucking hard. It’s so goddamned hard. I thought police academy was rough. And it was. But real-life situations are scary as fuck.

  Hand-to-hand combat is its own kind of beast. It’s terrifying at times. Women are worse than men. Way worse. Men sometimes only go a blow or two. They wanna prove a point. I’ve seen them tear each other to pieces in front of me. Even the bang of my gun going off didn’t pull them off each other. But that's rare.

  Women are the opposite. When they go at it, they’re going for damage. They want blood. Humiliation. They want to scar their opponent and ruin them. They go for the face and eyes, their hair. Anywhere visible. I’ve pulled men apart on my own before. Men stronger than me. But it's nothing like pulling women apart. They go for damage and they don't give a fuck who goes down with them.

  I swallow thickly, trying to just calm down. It only takes a moment to think back to when things were easier. I remember why I’m doing this. Why it’s worth it to continue.

  I remember playing with my sister in the front yard with chalk. Her graduation from nursing school. Talking to her on the phone. I remember the last time I heard her voice. I hear the conversation echo in my head.

  “You’re such a dork, Melissa. You need to go have some fun,” I say to her.

  “I’m seriously fine at home, you go ahead without me.”

  “You are truly missing out. Like you have no idea.” I can’t believe she’d hold herself back again; she's gotta learn to live a little. “There’s nothing wrong with going clubbing. You gotta get some from time to time.”

  “Oh my God, don’t talk like that!” she admonishes me with a hushed tone.

  “Why?” I ask.

  “‘Cause you sound like a slut!” I can hear the humor in her voice.

  “So?” We both laugh at my joke. “You just need to loosen up is all I’m saying.”

  “Well I’m not like you, Tonya.” I can hear a little disappointment in her voice and I hate it. “I don’t have that confidence.” I want to tell her she should. I want to tell her she’s beautiful and deserving of happiness and that includes meeting up with me to go out for drinks. But I don’t want to upset her. I don’t want to be pushy. So I don’t say anything at all.

  And because of that, I missed out on one more night that I could’ve had with her.

  She really was a prude and an ‘inside person’ as she used to say. She didn’t read the same smutty books as me or enjoy the dirty jokes I liked. But she didn’t hold it against me, either. She never judged me. I’m guilty of judging her, though. I assumed she’d meet a doctor and make lots of babies and drive a minivan in just a few years. I teased her all the time about it. To her, it was a dream. To me, it’s a fucking nightmare.

  I shake my hands out and wipe away the stray tears as I walk to the fridge. I grab the opened bottle of wine from the bottom shelf, a cabernet. I take a glass from the cabinet above the sink and ignore the dishes. They can wait. I just need to settle in a bit first.

  I close my eyes and watch the scene from the alley play out again. I did everything right, flashed my badge, said hands up. First guy reaches, I shoot him in the hand. Second guy comes at me, but I’m too slow. I play the scene over while I fill the glass about halfway. Both hands were on the gun. There was nothing I could do with the other one coming after me. I needed a hand free.

  I replay it over and over, trying to come up with a better strategy. But I don’t think there was one. I definitely did right by going for the armed one first. Maybe if I'd used the butt of the gun to smash in the second fucker's nose, that may have been more effective. I rewind a bit in my mind. I should’ve turned sooner, before I'd gone so far down the alley. Fuck me, I just shouldn’t have gone down there in the first place. That was fucking stupid.

  Thomas is why my head is all fucked up. He does something to me. He makes me stupid, that’s his fucking superpower. He blinds me from all this shit that I’ve trained myself to do. He makes me feel...safe, in a weird way. I feel unstoppable around him. That’s not a good thing. Maybe it’s because he gives me hope. When I think about the end to all this shit, when I think about having some sort of closure, I see him there. I can see him handing it to me. Telling me Petrov’s dead. That I don’t have to face my demons, because he’s already killed them for me. Maybe it’s my way of dealing with the failure of not finding Petrov. Maybe I’ve made it all up.

  I don’t know, I’m not a fucking shrink.

  I tip the glass back and drain it. Mmm, I love the taste. I set the glass down on the counter and strip as I make my way to my bedroom. Most of my things are still in boxes. I need to make time to put that shit away. I toss the clothes into the hamper. At least that’s not overflowing. Score one for me.

  My feet patter against the tiled floor as I turn the water on to fucking-scorching, just how I like it. I look at my face in the mirror as the water heats and steam starts to fill the stall.

  I look back at a stranger.

  This isn’t who I used to be.

  I look… tired. That’s exactly how I look. And I am, I’m so damn tired. I’m lonely and angry. And fucking sad and miserable.

  The need for justice. The need for vengeance. They’ve taken over a part of me that I miss. But they are needs. I need to know if Petrov is dead. If he’s not, I won’t stop. I hate that I’ve come to the end of this lead, all because Thomas won’t give me an inch.

  Suddenly, I wish I had more on his ass. I want something to make him talk. I need him to tell me. I could use what happened today. But that’d be so fucking wrong. I feel like a bitch for even thinking it. Maybe this anger that’s driving me, this desire to fuck him over until I get what I need, maybe that’s what fuels Harrison every fucking day.

  The realization snaps me out of my thoughts. No, I can’t do that. I shouldn’t want that.

  But I know that Thomas knows. He could tell me where Petrov is, or if he’s dead. I know he can.

  I step into the shower deciding I need to push him just a bit more. After all, I’ve given him something. I could have called it in, the scene today. I should have called it in.

  But he didn’t have to do it. He didn’t have to help me.

  Oh fuck, I’m such a bitch. I never even thanked him.

  I let the hot water hit my skin and fucking hate the obsession that’s taken me over. Who am I? I shake my head and try to shake off all these unwanted feelings, all these horrible thoughts. I don’t like the person I’ve become. I just want it all to stop.

  If only he’d help me.

  Tommy

  I look out of the peephole and
curse under my breath. This broad has a fucking death wish. I stand in front of the closed door and listen as the loud knock echoes in my apartment. Fucking hell. She just won’t let it be.

  This is what I get for wanting to find out more about this broad. Vince already bitched at me for involving myself. He couldn’t hold it against me though. Not when I fed him a little lie about how she was shaken up from how they'd roughed her up.

  I really think she was a bit messed up from it. But I may have exaggerated some to get myself off the hook.

  I decided I was done with this that night, done with her. I should threaten a restraining order. I could do it, too. I’ve told her I don’t want to talk.

  And now she’s standing outside my door.

  “I know you’re home, Thomas,” she yells from the other side. “I just wanna talk.” I roll my eyes. No shit. That’s all this broad wants from me. ‘Cause she’s a cop.

  I need to send her away. I need to do it now.

  I swing the door open and it stops her fist in the air. I look at her clenched hand pointedly until she lowers it and then I stare at her. I keep my face impassive. None of that bullshit I gave into before. This needs to end.

  “You wanna talk, go ahead and talk,” I tell her in a no-nonsense tone.

  She opens her mouth and then closes it. She clears her throat and looks to the ground before looking back up at me. “Thank you. I just wanted to say thank you.”

  I stare at her, not quite understanding. I’m surprised by her sweetness. It catches me off guard. Which isn’t a good thing.

  “For helping me with those guys.” She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “I never thanked you for stepping in. It would’ve really sucked if you hadn’t.” It would have sucked. That’s putting it mildly.

  I should just stare. I shouldn’t respond. She’d get the message loud and clear, but I can’t do that. I look past her and give a curt nod as I say, “No problem.”