AFRICAN AMERICAN URBAN FICTION: BWWM ROMANCE: Billionaire Baby Daddy (Billionaire Secret Baby Pregnancy Romance) (Multicultural & Interracial Romance Short Stories)

by Carmella Jones

  “So?” I wasn’t sure if he was asking me to help him get out or what he was really up to. I waited, taking another drink.

  “I think we could use it to our advantage.”

  That was exactly the reason that I kept thinking that Shovelhead was alright. He never backed up. He was always pushing forward. “How?”

  “I think we can use it to create a trap.”

  “I’m listening.” I’d hoped to set a trap by using Kelly, but since it hadn’t worked out very well up to that point, I was open to making use of another tactic. The thing with Kelly might still work, but I was starting to get desperate. I’d even considered using Gentry to just remove the problem, but I seriously couldn’t give up that vision of watching the look in Razor’s eyes while my knife sliced his throat.

  “I am thinking of doing something very obvious that gets Razor to come after me.”

  “Would he do that? From what you’ve told me, he is pretty cagey and has a tendency to smell a trap.”

  “That’s just his rep,” Shovelhead countered. “In reality, I think that if I piss him off, he’ll be right on my ass and coming hard. We hit him before he catches on.”

  “What are you going to do to piss him off?” I asked. I didn’t mean to play up Razor’s rep or to argue against Shovelhead, but I felt like, to be safe, I needed to play the devil’s advocate.

  “Same thing I did last time.”

  “What did you do last time?”

  “I messed with Sunshine.”

  I really didn’t want him doing anything with Kelly. I still had some feelings for her even though her leaving had pissed me off. There was still a little bit of the protector left in me and I wasn’t sure if Shovelhead would respect that. “No. You leave her alone.”

  “Use your head, Sabre,” he protested. “His greatest weakness is that girl. He’d come running to wherever I lead him, and throw caution to the wind if I had her as his motivation.”

  “I don’t want to get her involved.” As soon as I said that, I realized that I’d already tried to involve her. I had tried to do it in a much subtler way, of course, but I was still trying to manipulate her into helping me take him down. However, my hope had been that she would do it willingly after seeing him as her own enemy, and come rushing back to me. Jesus, Sabre, you sound like some fucking HBO drama.

  “You’re already trying to involve her,” he argued, repeating my own thoughts.

  “That’s different.” It was only different in that Shovelhead was involved in it. I didn’t like that. Was it jealousy, or was that just stretching my trust in him to a level that I wasn’t quite ready to go to?

  “I’m telling you,” he continued, “if you want him to come running to you in a blind rage and give us the best opportunity to take him out, then use her to make him come to you.”

  It was then that I realized that Shovelhead wanted Razor even worse than I did. He didn’t care who he use or how he went about it. More than likely, he didn’t even care who wound up as collateral damage. I’d known guys like that when I was in the Corps. When they went down, they took everybody down with them. I was also beginning to consider the fact that Shovelhead’s own agenda just might get in the way of the vision that I had already planned out for Razor. Maybe Shovelhead had worn out his usefulness. Maybe it was time to part ways with him before I became a casualty in his own private war. The problem, however, was that we were already in it together, and in it deep.

  Having that sort of dependence upon Shovelhead hadn’t been something that I’d seen coming until I started to consider the possibilities of breaking away from him. If I told him to fuck off, then he’d go, but I’d never know where he was or what he was up to. I was pretty confident that I could handle whatever he brought my way, but what might he do to Kelly? If I kept him close to me, sticking to that old adage, “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer,” then I was likely to become collateral damage. You really didn’t think this one through, did you?

  Maybe I could use the trouble that he was already in with the SB to eliminate him and then wait for Kelly to come around to my way of thinking. It was a long shot and hadn’t looked promising. I had to come up with a response to the problem with Shovelhead before I could deal with Razor. That’s the problem with relying on someone else for anything that you ought to be doing yourself.

  What if someone just happened to pass on the information that Shovelhead had divulged concerning Razor working for an enforcer? That would eliminate that problem, but would it bring on another one for me? It was something to consider, but I needed more time to plan it out. I decided to delay things. To buy time, I decided to be diplomatic. It’s the way that nations got around uncomfortable situations, why not me?

  “Okay. You know what?” I said. “You may be right. Give me a day or two to think about it, alright?”

  “I may not have a day or two,” he replied, rising up from his chair to leave.

  “How about we talk about it tomorrow, then?”

  He shrugged. “Okay, tomorrow.”

  As he walked out the door, I wasn’t sure how things were going to play out, but I was pretty sure that however it happened, I was running out of time.

  Chapter 27: Razor

  It had been quite a while since I was given an op when I’d made my check-in call. In fact, I was starting to wonder if something had gone wrong; maybe I’d been found out and someone was working on taking me out. I didn’t really have any reason for such paranoia. I’d never had it before. I’d gone through long periods of time without an op before and thought nothing of it.

  In spite of the fact that I had no reason to be paranoid, I noticed that I had become increasingly wary of my surroundings and the people I happened to see passing by or lingering near wherever I happened to be. Consequently, when I was finally given a location number for a pick up rather than just a hang up, I was relieved.

  The entire process played out very differently than it ever had before. Where I had been calm and confident before, I had begun to be suspicious of my observations, hesitant with my actions and had even started to second-guess myself. I knew that operating under those conditions was careless and dangerous, but I had to push forward anyway, just like Burn and I had in that building in Afghanistan the day that he was killed.

  As I was doing surveillance on my new target, that scenario continued to play itself out over and over in my head. I had screwed up. I had assumed that the room was clear, turned my head away from the threat and gotten Burn killed. He didn’t die because we had been ordered into some shithole to go after some imam that Uncle Sam wanted in Gitmo. It was my error and my failure. Instead of turning that anger in on myself, I had swallowed it and taken it out on the world. I’d continued killing people without having a problem with it. I’d continued to allow my cold heart to stay cold, even grow colder. I suddenly realized that I couldn’t do it any longer.

  I might have been able to continue down that cold path if it hadn’t been for one thing: a small ray of sunshine that had awakened my soul and began to warm my heart again. Sitting up in one of those god-awful chairs beside the cheap table in a hotel room in Fresno, California, I began to come to terms not only with the fact that I was in love with Kelly and I couldn’t see my life without her, but that I couldn’t carry out another hit.

  It had never mattered to me what it was that the person that I was hitting had done or who they had pissed off, but once my conscience kicked in, I was beginning to see how I could have been used to take out innocent people. Maybe the guy in the suburbs outside of Burbank had made a mistake on someone’s tax return and pissed them off. Did he deserve to die for that? I even questioned my hits on the two Lost Disciples. Did they really deserve to die? If they were following orders from their leadership, then shouldn’t the one leading them die instead?

  I started to see the whole racket that was going on among outlaw bikers. Not all of the guys who put on leather jackets with the MC patch and displayed colors took part in t
hose things, nor were they expected to. But if they did, they were subject to discipline by one man and his enforcers, and I’d been a tool that they’d used to bring about that discipline.

  “Jesus, Burn,” I whispered into the early morning darkness. “What the fuck have I done?”

  As a SEAL, I hadn’t questioned where they sent me and why, up until Burn took a bullet in his brain. I’d simply trusted that what my government was doing was the right thing. When my eyes had been opened by Burn’s death, I began to see that the government was just using me, Burn and all the others as a pawn in its own game of chess, not giving a flying fuck what happened to us. Ironically, rather than rebelling against that, my bitterness had just driven me further into it, not for Uncle Sam, but for some guy who called himself the Godfather.

  With the pressure on me to finish the job that I’d started and my increasing desire to run away, I had to talk to somebody. There were only two people I trusted enough to open up to the way that I needed to. I couldn’t tell Kelly. I never would. So, I punched in the speed dial number for Pepper and listened to it ring and then go to voicemail.

  “Ah, come on, Pepper,” I said aloud, pushing the speed dial again. The third time I tried it, he finally answered.

  “This better be good or you better be about to die,” he growled in a sleepy tone.

  “I gotta get out,” I blurted.

  “So, get out,” he responded.

  “I gotta finish this job first,” I answered.

  “Why?”

  “’Cause that’s what I do.”

  “Where the fuck are you?”

  “Fresno.”

  “What the hell are you doing in Fresno? You know what, don’t answer that. Stupid question. I don’t want to know.”

  “I’ve lost it, Pepper. I can’t do this anymore.”

  “Yeah. I get that. So, why can’t you quit?”

  “’Cause I finish what I start.”

  “And what happens if you screw up?”

  “Then I get wacked or the cops find out…”

  “And then you’re still fucked,” he interrupted me. “Walk away while you still can. Take Kelly with you or leave her alone, but walk away before you screw up. If you’re already questioning it, then you’re already about to screw it up.”

  I’d heard one of my SEAL trainers use that same line before. Pepper was right.

  “You think Kelly would go with me?”

  “Jesus, Razor, did you call me at 3:00 a.m. to whine like a high school teenager?”

  “I don’t want to go if she’s not coming with me.”

  “Then don’t go.”

  “You’re no help.”

  “It’s three o’clock in the morning. Did you expect Dr. Phil?”

  “No. I just wanted somebody else to tell me what to do.”

  “Go jack off, take a shower and then go to bed.”

  “Smartass.”

  “Look, Razor, it’s really pretty simple. There really aren’t any maybes or grey areas involved. You either stay in or get out. There’s not much else I can say.”

  “I’m going to get out.”

  “Then do it right now. Can I go back to sleep now?”

  “Sure,” I chuckled. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Glorious,” he said, disconnecting the call.

  I wasn’t sure how my enforcer was going to take me wanting to quit in the middle of a job, but I was at the point where I didn’t care anymore. I didn’t particularly want to be running and hiding for the rest of my life, but I would do whatever I had to in order to be free. In fact, in spite of how worried I was that my quitting wasn’t going to go over well, I felt an enormous sense of relief. I started packing my things together and stuffing them in the saddlebags on my bike. By 3:30 a.m. I’d turned in my keys, paid my bill, checked William Fairchild out of the hotel and was on the road toward home.

  There were only two more things left for me to do. Make my check-in call at the proper time and say “uncle,” and then go find Kelly. All that snow in Steamboat didn’t seem to be nearly that big of a deal anymore.

  Chapter 28: Kelly

  I have to admit that when Anthony told me he had to go out of town on business for a few days, I felt a knot in my stomach. Two things were really in my favor and helped me keep it all into perspective. First, I’d made up my mind to trust Anthony and love him no matter what sort of thing he was into. Second, because it was a weekend, we were slammed at Le Paris and I didn’t really have time to dwell on it much.

  Mostly, it was the second one that was helping keep me sane. I was still struggling a little bit with the first one, which reared its ugly head as I dragged myself through the door of the apartment after midnight, thinking of nothing but getting out of that stupid uniform, getting into the shower and then into my bed. Anthony’s bed and shower would have been better.

  There is really nothing in the world more frustrating than being completely exhausted and not being able to go to sleep. Of course, my mind wasn’t helping me toward any form of relaxation either. In spite of the fact that I had made up my mind that I loved Anthony and didn’t care what secret life he led, I couldn’t get myself to stop speculating about what it was that he was up to. Why had he gone out of town for a few days? Why couldn’t he tell me? What was he doing? If he had another woman tucked away somewhere, I would have felt more at ease.

  The fact that Viktor might be right about him and that he might actually be a contract killer scared the hell out of me. It seemed to be so far from the Anthony I knew intimately, but not entirely out of the question for the Anthony I’d seen fighting with Shovelhead or facing down Viktor. Repeating those thoughts and the dozens of others that I’d already wrestled with before, the night didn’t seem like it was ever going to end.

  And then I awakened with a start. The sun was streaming through my window and had been up for hours. I didn’t recall falling asleep, but it had happened at some point. I looked at the clock beside my bed. It was almost noon. Would Pepper be at the Panhead yet? It didn’t matter. I was going to go there at noon when Jake opened anyway. That had been the plan I’d worked into my head during the endless night and I was ready to carry it out.

  Showered and thankful that Destiny was still dead to the world, I crept out without waking her up, got in my car and headed toward the Panhead. There were a couple of bikes parked out front. It was still pretty early for some of the guys to be out and about, but I was happy to see Pepper’s bike was among the ones there, and even happier that Shovelhead’s wasn’t.

  I pulled into what had become my spot and headed straight for the door. I was focused on making Pepper tell me what he knew about Anthony. I wasn’t going to allow him to push me aside. It wasn’t easy; the guy was sort of intimidating, but I was on a mission and I could be pretty badass when I got like that.

  Pepper was sitting with two other guys when I stepped into the bar. I got a nod from Jake, along with a crooked smile, but all three of the others sang out “Sunshine” in a chorus as I approached the table.

  “Hi guys,” I smiled. I couldn’t hesitate or I’d lose my nerve. “Pepper, we need to talk.”

  “Alright,” he said, rising up from his seat and moving toward a table that was as far away from the door and the others as we could. “Let’s talk.”

  I slid into a chair across the table from him. “You’re the only person I can trust to tell me the whole truth about Anthony, and I want it.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong,” he responded. “The only person who knows the whole truth about Anthony is Anthony.”

  “But you know that he’s into something. Don’t deny it.” I hurried forward. “Don’t stonewall me. This is driving me crazy.”

  “Okay. I’ll level with you,” he began. “Anthony is a badass, and he has been into something that is extremely secret, the sort of secret that can get a person killed if it falls into the wrong hands. Now, don’t ask any more questions or you might get us all killed.”

 
“But I gotta know.” I could feel the tears building up. I couldn’t believe that I was about to start crying.

  “Look,” he said, leaning toward me and whispering. “I don’t think you have anything else to worry about. He called me at three in the morning and said that he wanted out.”

  “Where is he?” I asked. Even knowing that little would be a comfort.

  “My guess is that he’s either home or almost home.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yep.”

  I pushed back my chair and started toward the door. I’d never been so blindly eager to see anyone. I rushed out of the Panhead and across the parking lot to my car, which I still liked to park where nobody could see the piece of shit. I didn’t see the shovelhead bike lined up with the rest, and neither did I see its owner, until it was too late.

  “Good morning, Sunshine,” he grinned as he pushed his way into my car behind the wheel.

  “It’s afternoon,” I growled.

  “Well, if you’re going to be a bitch about it.”

  He moved quickly, putting a rag with the sickening sweet smell of ether over my mouth and nose and holding it there. It surprised me so much that I didn’t even have a chance to start fighting him before I felt myself growing limp and everything started to fade to black.

  When I awoke, I was locked in a room with my hands and feet tied and a gag in my mouth, which was desert dry. It took me a few minutes to recall what had happened and how I had gotten there, but I was quickly aided by a voice that I recognized: Viktor’s. He was arguing with Shovelhead.

  “I told you that I didn’t want her involved in this,” Viktor shouted.

  “You’re a damned fine one to be talking,” Shovelhead retorted. “I saw those papers that you fixed up to make it look like Razor killed those guys—”

  “Their names were Clap and Gonzo,” Viktor interrupted. “And you were the one who told me that he killed them in the first place.”

  “You were using those papers to try to lure her into helping you bring Razor down, but here you are preaching to me not to get her involved?”