by Zoey Parker
This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons--living or dead--is entirely coincidental.
UNPROTECTED: A Dark Bad Boy Baby Romance (Hanley Family Mafia) copyright 2017 by Zoey Parker. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission.
***
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Contents
UNPROTECTED: A Dark Bad Boy Baby Romance (Hanley Family Mafia)
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Epilogue I
Epilogue II
ADDICTED: A Secret Baby Romance (Rebel Saints MC) [FREE BONUS BOOK #1]
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Epilogue
Bounty: Fury Riders MC [FREE BONUS BOOK #2]
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Books by Zoey Parker
OWN HER: A Dark Mafia Romance (Mancini Family Mafia)
HARDCORE: Storm MC
A Price to Pay
Take Me, Outlaw
Break Me, Outlaw
Stolen
Overdosed
Ravage
Bounty
Trouble
Monster
INKED ANGELS: A Bad Boy Romance Box Set
Zoey Parker Mailing List
UNPROTECTED: A Dark Bad Boy Baby Romance (Hanley Family Mafia)
By Zoey Parker
I took her unprotected... now, I'll guard her with my life.
She witnessed something she was never meant to see.
If she wants to stay alive and out of jail, she’ll need to listen to my every command.
So when I tell her to strip, she strips. When I tell her to suck, she sucks.
And when I tell her to bear my baby, she’ll have no choice but to obey.
Lily Erickson was in the wrong place at the wrong time.
But I don’t give a damn about her sob story.
The things she saw could ruin my whole business if she blabs to the wrong person.
There’s only one thing to do:
Make sure she never opens her mouth to anyone –
Except for me.
I make my terms very clear.
I’ll let her live.
In return, she’s going to submit to me.
Whenever I want, however I want.
After all, she can’t have witnessed those murders if she was bent over my bed getting relentlessly pounded, right?
It’s an alibi as tight as her little body.
But the cop snooping around suspects something.
Lily may think she’s caught between a rock and a hard place.
But I’m determined to teach her the most important lesson there is in this town:
Whatever I say goes.
And right now, Lily, I say this…
Get on your knees.
We’re going to put a baby inside you.
Chapter 1
Lily
All the coffee in the world can’t keep me awake.
I’ve tried to stay awake, but I’m failing miserably.
Still, I’m dumping the old, burnt leftovers from mid-afternoon, rinsing the glass pot, filling a new filter with the ground coffee, and turning the machine on, all while attempting to not doze off while waiting for my latest cup.
The dripping isn’t helping. I’m being lulled to sleep.
Drip, drip, drip.
No, I’m not falling asleep. I’m only resting my heavy, achy eyelids. I’m going to wake up once the pot’s done, and I’ll speed through organizing the final few contracts, close shop, and head home.
My plan drifts to the back of my mind, my head bobbing forward. I jerk awake and then close my eyes again, head lolling back too far and startling me upright. Back and forth I play this game until the pot of coffee is ready.
I prepare my cup and I leave the pot on the burner in case this goes on longer than I planned. This morning, I came into work like usual, figuring I’d be home by this time. Instead everyone’s files were dumped on me courtesy of the boss’s surprise performance review.
Turns out that despite their record high sales and customer service approval, the entire sales team has been running a conspiracy against me. I don’t mean that literally. But it feels like it now, at fifteen past eight, my overtime pushing well past the two hours I’d initially predicted when accepting this mammoth task of organizing a half year of files for all thirteen sales representatives at Hanley Auto.
I’m down to the last of those thirteen idiot men who let their sales files run amok. All that confidential and very important client information floating around, with very few indications as to whose file linked up to what sale. It was atrocious.
An hour later, I have the files in better shape. I still have to go through and confirm sales with each of the reps and school th
em on the wonders of password-protected files, but other than that, I have something to be proud about here.
“You did good, Lily,” I murmur, catching the blurry reflection of my fatigued smile in my computer screen. I power through, finishing up the last file, labeling it with the sales rep’s name and adding it to the other twelve I have on my USB drive.
I take the USB drive and tuck it in my top desk drawer, locking the drawer and powering down my computer. Taking a moment to stretch my arms up, I push out of my seat and grab my emptied mug, ready to call it a night.
Once I’m done in the small kitchen, I head past my desk, my kitten heels digging into the plush carpet before clacking onto the gray natural stone flooring of the showroom.
Some of the backlights are on. They shouldn’t be. They’re usually turned off by one of the sales reps, but since I offered to stay later, I guess was left with that task as well. Shutting those off, I clack back in the semi-dark, passing shadowy silhouettes of our cars on the way to the office section of the dealership.
I mentally prepare to be free from work. My desk is in sight. I need to grab my coat and purse and then I’m out. But I pause and backtrack a bit in front of the only area I’m not well acquainted with at work.
The boss’s office.
Translation: off-limits.
I get the sense it’s even more of a restricted area without him being there, like snooping around someone’s house on the way to their bathroom. Only I can’t be blamed if I’m curious. There’s a light on in there, and I know I’m the only person that’s here.
Or should be here.
I can't recall if the light had been on earlier. My brain is coffee sludge at this point. I’ll be lucky to remember where my apartment is, let alone knowing if a thief snuck in—which, if true, I’d be more worried for the thief.
My boss can be a frightening man. Think a slimmer Bruce Wayne only with golden blond hair, but all the wealth and animal magnetism. The man barks and everyone near him rolls over.
Before I call the cavalry, I decide to take a peek.
It’s going to be hard with the door shut, but as I twist the handle, turning it slowly, I find it's unlocked. Opening the door wide enough to poke my head and upper torso through, I find it empty.
I see the light is coming from his desk lamp. The boss must have been in a hurry to leave both the light on and his door unlocked.
Pushing into the room, I only mean to turn off the light, but I stop and take a look around the space.
It’s small but packed with the necessities of any office. There’s a metal file cabinet with locks keeping the contents safe. There are two cushioned seats for guests across from the boss’s desk. The framed photos on the wall are of cars, perhaps laudable sales in the past, or the boss’s cars.
I wouldn’t know. I hardly speak to the man. But I know enough to realize if I’m caught in here, it will spell trouble for me.
As I round the desk to pull the sleek steel lamp’s chain cord, my gaze alights on a framed photo on his desk. It’s the only one that’s focused on people and not a car, though there is a car in the background.
It’s a picture of Luke Hanley, my handsome, blond, Batman-esque boss, with an older, graying, thicker version of himself—his father, Floyd Hanley. Together, son and father co-own the family car business.
Luke’s green eyes are sharp in the photo. His hair is cropped short, his grin wide, cheeks stretching from his happiness. Instead of his typical suit, he’s wearing a plain white tank and faded blue jeans. Dressed similarly, only instead of a tank, a white t-shirt, his father has an arm thrown over his shoulder as they pose in front of a vintage, cream-colored Cadillac.
I don’t remember ever seeing the car on the showroom floor, but then again this photo had to have been taken at least two years ago, if not three—before I started working here. Luke’s hair isn’t that short anymore.
I’m not sure when I’ve lifted the photo to my eyes, but I blink and there it is, in my hand, my nose and lips practically brushing the glass.
I settle the photo frame right where I picked it up from and shut the desk lamp off before I head out of the forbidden office.
Returning to my desk, I draw my coat off the back of my chair and shrug it on. I scoop my bulky purse from off the floor under my desk, and I take a look around the space one last time. Clicking my lamp off, I prepare to leave when I hear my phone vibrating.
I check my caller ID, groaning and answering my friend’s call.
“I forgot,” I say, leaping into a pitiful apology. “I got swamped with work, so, so, so, so much work, and I just—do you hate me, Kerry?”
“I’m fighting not to.” Kerry laughs, reassuring me. “I’ll live knowing I spent an hour at a bar alone, surrounded by strangers, most of whom were alone too.”
“That’s sounding positive.”
“Positive are the numbers I got from two different guys. Both are very cute contenders for my lonely heart.” Kerry’s enthusiasm and her luck eases my guilt for standing her up on our girls’ date night.
Remembering to keep moving, I head for the exit, eager to get home. Kerry keeps me company on the way out.
“I was going to give you one of the numbers, but you’ll have to convince me now that I know you’re not coming,” she tells me. “Woo this number out of me, girlfriend.”
“I don’t want to though.” I try not to whine.
Kerry is wonderful and I love her not only because she’s the first friend I made when I moved to this town, but because she’s smart, sexy, and a thrill-seeker. Everything I’d want to be if I wasn’t so shy.
But Kerry is matchmaking again, and she’s not bothering to be sneaky about it. One of the things I cringe about the most is my best friend’s desire to see me riding happily off in the arms of my very own Prince Charming. She fancies herself a godmother minus the fairy dust and singing.
But I’m no Cinderella. Just the opposite, actually. I’m a city girl who blew a little off course and rooted down in a run-of-the-mill town.
“You haven’t seen what these ones look like,” Kerry urges. She’s good at taking a commanding tone and forcing me into listening.
“I promise you, Lily, they’re adorable as far as men in Potentia go: medium town, meh potential. That should be our new motto. Memo the mayor.” Kerry’s voice is weaving in and out, drowned out by the bar’s music on her end. I have the phone pressed tightly to my ear, following along with affirmative hums.
I have to show I’m listening though I have no desire to go on a double date with these men, regardless of how she well she spins them.
I’m passing through the scary-dark showroom, glad for the company, even if she’s on the phone.
It’s the only way to access the side door to the building, and it’s the shorter way to the parking lot reserved for staff out back.
My decade-old sedan should be sitting in the lot alone on the far end. No matter how early I arrive, the spaces fill up. As awful as they are at organization of their files, one thing the sales team at Hanley Auto isn’t are slackers. Each one is up early, ready to start the day, metaphorical guns blazing.
Working here for nearly three years now has kept me on my toes. I might be the only woman working here, and the only administrator the dealership has, but I’m the best they’ve got. And they’re the best I have in Potentia.
Like Kerry, I owe the Hanley men a lot.
A job meant I could live here, clear my head, and pick up the pieces of my then shattered life. Luke would never know that though. I can’t imagine revealing that much to such a paradox of a man, both enigmatic and larger-than-life.
Putting Luke Hanley out of my mind, I dig through my cavernous purse for my car keys. It’s a cat and mouse chase as I hear them rattling around in there, banging against my compact mirror.
“They work you hard,” Kerry is saying. “A little too hard, those Hanleys. The darlings of Potentia.”
I snort at that, imagining Floyd and Luke
in tiaras and rocking sashes with the Hanley Auto logo. “Funny. And I love that you care, Kerry, but I like working here and I get, what, once or twice a year of these late nights. Give the Hanley men a break.”
“All right. Backing off, officially.” Kerry chuckles. “Who knew you were such a fan? You want me to call the Hanley fan club and ask for a membership form?”
“You’re a riot. Letting you go now. I’ll call you when I get home.”
Kerry and I click off with that promise. Dropping the phone in my purse, I hold it open wider and finally find my car keys. I zip my purse and hoist it up my shoulder. Turning the corner, I stop and stumble back, shoulder smacking the wall.
Hanley Auto is a squat, aged red brick building occupying a vast property, much of which is vacant. Vacant like a lot of the buildings around here. Potentia might have a population of twenty-some thousand, but it was Hicksville, Missouri for someone born and raised in St. Louis.
The side door I used forks to both the front of the building and the back, and I need the back to get to my car and drive home. That was the plan. Now I’m pressing against the wall, inching to take another look through the glass door at darkly-clothed figures in the parking lot.
I can see my car, exactly where I left it, glass intact, no dents signaling vandalism. The men, and I figure they’re men because of their heights and bulky weight, are standing at the back of one of two other cars.
