UNPROTECTED: A Dark Bad Boy Baby Romance (Hanley Family Mafia)

by Zoey Parker

  I got on my bike, wanting to be back at the clubhouse before the card game started. It was what we always did on Friday nights, and Onyx agreed with me that things needed to stay as normal as possible.

  I was only a block or two away when I looked further ahead and saw a familiar patch on the back of a kutte. My blood boiled. The Vicious Wolves. I knew they were behind the murder of my men, but hadn’t been able to prove it yet. What the fuck was one of their guys doing in our territory?

  Part of me wanted to mind my own business. No sense starting a fight—I didn’t see one of my guys on the ground, so it wasn’t up to me to step in. Besides, we didn’t need any more trouble with that club. Things were bad enough.

  Then I saw that it was a woman on the ground, and she was cowering in fear. If there was one thing that pissed me off, it was a man hurting a woman. My good sense still told me to keep riding, but there was no way. I was already dying to hurt one of their members, and this was just another reason to go for it.

  The bike was barely parked before I jumped off and ran to them. He was just about to bend down to the girl, and she had her eyes closed with an arm over her face. I got there just in time.

  I shoved him away. He spun toward me with surprise on his face. I only gave him a split second before I lunged at him.

  He threw a punch, which would have connected with my eye if he wasn’t so slow. I ducked, then hit him with three solid jabs to the ribs. He doubled over and my knee connected with his face.

  He staggered back, hitting an old fence. When he bounced off it, I caught him by the lapels of his kutte. I steadied him before hitting him with a roundhouse to the face, connecting with his eye. Another one, this time to his nose.

  He fell on the ground and I had the satisfaction of kicking him. I kicked him for every one of my guys. When he rolled over, I did it again.

  Finally, he stopped moving. I knew he was alive, but didn’t care either way. I was tired of fighting. He wasn’t going to hurt anyone now.

  I stood over him and felt victorious. Like an animal standing over my prey. My heart was thudding hard, and I smelled his blood in the air. It smelled good to me.

  Then I looked down and saw her.

  The first thing I noticed was her hair. It was long and blonde, and it shone in the light from the street lamps. Then her eyes. Wide, blue, scared. Her lips were parted slightly, and she breathed heavily through them. She was tiny, like a little doll.

  I wanted her.

  More than that, I wanted to get her out of there. Not to mention myself.

  My eyes locked onto hers and I didn’t want to look away, but I had to. I looked down the street, in both directions. Someone was going to come by soon enough.

  I reached down to her. “Come on.”

  “What?” Her voice was high, shaky. She looked like I just asked her to eat a bug.

  “Come on!” I was louder this time. She had to get the idea I was serious. We needed to leave, immediately.

  She was still cringing away from me like I would burn to touch. Part of me wanted to leave her there if she was going to be that way about it. Screw her. Let her find her out way out of this hell hole. I wouldn’t be there for her the next time she got into trouble.

  “I just want to go home!”

  I just bet she did. I kinda wanted her to go home, too. She was already more trouble than she was worth.

  I looked around again, half expecting to see a motorcycle speeding toward us. We had to get the hell out—odds were slim this asshole was by himself. “Right now, you need to get out of here and go anywhere else. You have to come with me. Now. Before they find you.”

  “Who?”

  “I’ll tell you, just come now.” I was starting to get seriously pissed. I wouldn’t ask her again. A few more seconds, I’d be on my bike. I didn’t owe this girl anything. Especially when she looked at me like she thought I was less than nothing.

  It was fascinating, watching her face as she changed her mind. She wasn’t stupid. I saw her take something from the ground out of the corner of my eye, then she was up and running behind me.

  “This?” she asked, pulling up short when we reached my bike. I rolled my eyes, climbing on and starting the engine.

  “It’s this or your ass. So get your ass on it.” She got on behind me, clumsy like she’d never ridden before. I wasn’t surprised. She was a princess.

  “Around my waist,” I barked, shoving her arms down from where she’d grabbed me around the chest. “Not too tight. Try not to kill me.” Then we took off. I heard her squealing behind me, where she pressed herself against my back. I didn’t hate the feeling.

  Who the hell was she? What had I gotten myself into when I picked her up off the ground? And why did that asshole want to hurt her? I hoped it was something as simple as him wanting to rob or rape her—not that rape was simple, but it would mean she was a stranger.

  Otherwise, she was fucked, because the Vicious Wolves didn’t back down once they got their teeth into someone.

  I wasn’t sure where to go. If they were following us, the clubhouse would be the safest place. It would also be the worst. I didn’t want a war tonight.

  My eyes went between the road in front of me and my mirrors. I needed to know if there was any chance of being followed. I couldn’t lead anyone to the rest of my club. They knew where our headquarters was located, but leading them there after I beat the shit out one of their guys would be a bad move.

  After five or six blocks, I could see there was no one, and I dropped the speed a bit. The last thing I needed was to get pulled over with blood on my knuckles.

  “Where are we going?” She sounded panicked. I didn’t blame her, but she could have at least sounded a little grateful. I didn’t have to help her. I didn’t answer. She’d find out soon.

  Chapter Four

  Erica

  I was fairly certain I’d throw up all over the back of his leather vest by the time my misadventure was over. I wanted to close my eyes and take deep breaths, but every time I closed my eyes, I felt myself getting dizzy. It was being on the motorcycle. I couldn’t seem to get used to the feeling. The panic probably wasn’t helping.

  It was a struggle not to lean the side of my face against his back, just to rest my head and calm myself. Who knew how he would take it. Besides, what I’d seen him do to that man didn’t give me confidence, even if the pig deserved it.

  What had I seen before that? Was the man in the alley dead? I shuddered, my arms tightening around the stranger’s waist. How could one person be so evil and cold toward someone else? But there was no doubting what my eyes had seen. The knife had disappeared into the man’s stomach like it was butter.

  It could have disappeared into me.

  “I have to throw up,” I moaned, fighting the wave of nausea.

  “We’re almost there.” He barked it like I was an inconvenience. He didn’t have to take me with him. Now he was treating me like a piece of garbage.

  “I mean it! I have to puke!”

  “Calm down. Take a breath. You’ll be fine. I can’t stop right now.” His words were almost lost in the wind, and I had to lean into him to pick them up. I smelled sweat, blood, and aftershave. It was a unique mixture, and it didn’t do much for the nausea.

  But I did as he said and took a deep breath. Then another. I told myself to calm down. I didn’t get hurt except for the scrapes along my hands from the glass on the sidewalk. That was nothing. The man in the alley was probably dead. I had a boo-boo.

  The thought made me laugh. I was becoming hysterical. Calm down, girl, I thought, taking another breath. You’re fine.

  Was I? I didn’t know this man from Adam, and I’d seen what he could do with his fists. What would he do to me?

  No. Don’t even think about it. He didn’t have to save me. This wasn’t the jungle—he wasn’t taking me for himself. He was ensuring I didn’t get hurt. I could call a cab when I got to wherever we were going. It wouldn’t be a big deal. I could go home
and crawl into bed and consider staying a children’s photographer for the rest of my life because nothing was worth the feeling that I was about to die.

  I thought about my camera, back in the pocket of my hoodie. If the memory card was destroyed or somehow stuck inside, there was no chance of using what I had on there. It would all have been for nothing. What a joke. What a cruel, senseless joke. It reminded me of the end of my favorite episode of “The Twilight Zone,” when the man with the thick glasses finally had time to read all the books he ever wanted…before his glasses fell to the ground and broke. I felt like that man.

  We sped on and I looked at the man who had saved my life. Who the heck was he? Why me? Was the Universe throwing me a bone to make up for my broken camera by sending a man to save my life? He didn’t look like an angel, and I didn’t think angels typically beat men unconscious. I’d never forget the way it felt to see another person’s face getting punched in like that. Not that he didn’t deserve it—he totally did, and then some. But it was nothing like what I’d seen in the movies. Visceral and loud. I had heard his nose break. It wasn’t a sound effect. I’d heard the real thing. My skin crawled.

  We were moving out of the city, into the outskirts near the river. My instincts went into overdrive. This was even sketchier than the blocks I’d been walking on earlier. It was darker, more rundown. Empty warehouses and factories stood out against the cloudy sky, their windows long since broken. Empty docks stretched out to our left, lining the river. This used to be a thriving port, but the advent of air travel slowed things up considerably. Now it was more of a hangout for homeless people and drug dealers. What the hell were we here for?

  The air was damp, chilly, especially with the river so close by. He wasn’t going to dump me here, was he? Or worse? Was I wrong all along? Was he only taking me for himself?

  Then we pulled up to a lit building, with a row of bikes like his lined up in front. The building didn’t inspire much hope, but there were at least signs of life coming from inside. Was this his hangout? I didn’t want to see what awaited me inside.

  As it turned out, I didn’t have a choice in the matter. He pulled up at the end of the row of motorcycles and turned off the engine, pushing down the kickstand before resting the bike on it. I was stock still, frozen in place. I didn’t want to move for fear of what would happen next.

  “You have to get off if I’m gonna get off,” he said, his back still turned to me.

  “Huh?” My eyes were going in all directions. His words weren’t sinking in.

  “I said get the hell off the bike so I can get off, too.”

  The tone of his voice cut through my shock, and I put down one shaky leg to balance myself as I swung the other over. I watched him do the same thing, though he looked considerably more in control of himself than I was.

  “You okay?” he asked. He took my arm, shaking me a little.

  I thought about the blood that had to be on his hand, and I remembered what I’d seen him do and what might have happened to me. I ran to the side of the building and bent over, throwing up as quietly as I could.

  When I finished, my knees shaky and weak, I thought I might burst into tears. None of this was supposed to happen. I wasn’t supposed to be here. I was a nice girl, a good girl, never mixed up in anything even remotely shady. This building, the bike I’d ridden, the man I held onto, was all part of a different world. I wanted to go home and pretend none of it ever happened.

  “Finished?” He was behind me, and I could have died from embarrassment. Nothing like a stranger listening to you throwing up to make you feel about two inches tall.

  “Yeah, I think so,” I said.

  “At least you managed to wait.” His voice wasn’t totally unkind, and I appreciated it. I stood, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “Come on,” he continued. “I’ll get you something to drink inside. Maybe we have some ginger ale or something.”

  What a parental thing to say, I thought. I remembered all the times my mom gave me ginger ale for an upset stomach. Strangely gentle for a man like him.

  I had no choice but to go with him, or stand outside and catch pneumonia in the cold dampness. I walked through the door, dreading what I would find inside the warehouse. My jaw nearly fell to the floor when I saw what was there.

  It was gorgeous. Totally renovated, completely modern. Hardwood floors and a bar that polished to a deep, rich shine. Leather sofas and chairs. A pool table, a row of old-fashioned video games and pinball machines. A beautiful jukebox, playing old R&B songs. A strange choice, I thought, but then what did I know? I’d expected a rat’s nest when I walked in, and I was in the middle of a high-class boys’ club. It wouldn’t have been out of place in a mansion, some sort of expensive man cave.

  “Come on,” he said, leading me to the bar. “I’ll pour you a ginger ale.”

  “Thank you,” I mumbled, still looking around as I walked behind him. The room was empty, with several rooms leading from it. I heard noise coming from behind one of the closed doors. It sounded friendly enough, telling me there wasn’t anything scary happening.

  My savior went behind the bar, and under the brighter lights, I saw a lot more of him. First, I noticed the blood on his knuckles. He noticed me looking, and his own eyes followed my gaze. He winced, then went to the sink to wash up. He didn’t speak, just washed thoroughly up to his mid-forearms. Then he turned, pulling out a glass and pouring ginger ale from the drink gun. He handed it across the bar.

  I watched him as I sipped, and he watched me just as openly. Drinking the soda gave me something to do. Otherwise, I would have been ogling him.

  He was gorgeous. Flat-out, no-holds-barred gorgeous. I hadn’t gotten a great look at him in the darkness, and from what he’d done, I’d expected him to be nasty and scarred and rough-looking. Just the opposite. His features were fine, balanced. He had a firmly chiseled jaw, his mouth was full and sensuous. His eyes were a striking light hazel color, but they burned into me. His hair was thick, long-ish, dark brown. It flopped over onto his tanned forehead.

  Why was a man like him in a place like this? He could have been gracing a magazine or billboard, but instead was in some headquarters or lounge for what was obviously a motorcycle club. It made no sense to me.

  He smirked, one corner of his mouth going up. Like he could ready my thoughts. I blushed.

  “You feeling better?”

  I nodded, taking a chance on speaking. I hoped my voice didn’t give away the sudden heat between my legs. “A little. Thanks.”

  “Good.” He leaned forward, his hands on the bar. “Then why don’t you try telling me what you were doing out there tonight?”

  I was at a loss. Could I trust him with what I had seen? From the way he beat that other guy up, there was no love lost between his crew and theirs. But what if there was some code I wasn’t supposed to break? What if he ended up getting into trouble over what I told him? I didn’t want that to happen. He’d saved my life.

  He saw my hesitation and the way his brow furrowed told me how frustrated he was. He opened his mouth, but anything he had to say was cut off by a half dozen men flooding out of the room from which I’d heard the laughter and noise when we first came in.

  “Hey, you’re finally here! Been waitin’ on ya.” The men all acknowledged my hero, whose name I still didn’t know. Then, one by one, they turned to me.

  “Who’s she?” one of them asked, and his tone wasn’t exactly kind.

  “Not sure yet.” My new friend came out from behind the bar, taking me by the waist. “But I’m gonna find out.” My eyes went wide and I looked at him in abject horror. So this was why he brought me here? Just as I opened my mouth to cry out in protest, I caught the look he gave me out of the corner of his eye. That look told me to keep my mouth shut, so I did. He had a plan, and I was supposed to trust him.

  How could I do that when I didn’t know him?

  Still, I did what he wanted and allowed him to lead me to a back room. The other men whist
led and shouted, and my cheeks burned just knowing what they were thinking. I wanted to spit in their faces and call them white trash and every other insult I knew, but fear and the iron grip around my waist kept my mouth shut.

  He led me to what looked like an office and hurled me inside. Only when he closed the door behind us did I whirl around on my new captor.

  “What the hell are you trying to pull?” I spat, glaring at him. “Making them think I’m some kind of…of…”

  “Whore?” He looked amused, smirking again.

  “Whatever,” I said. “I’m not like that.”

  “Oh, I can tell what you think you’re like,” he said. “Believe me, it comes through loud and clear.”

  I narrowed my eyes. No matter what he had done for me, it didn’t give him the right to talk to me that way. “Oh? Illuminate me.”