Saving Her: A Bad Boy Secret Baby Romance

by R. R. Banks

  “Climb inside,” she said, looking up at me with her big, doe eyes. “We can talk in here.”

  Mariana often used her looks to get what she wanted out of life. Being beautiful and part of one of the most powerful clans in the world came with a lot of privileges. And she used that to her advantage every chance she got.

  I climbed into the passenger seat, half expecting her to sit in the driver's seat.

  Wrong.

  She climbed into the passenger seat along with me, straddling me in the car.

  “I thought we were going to talk?” I said.

  “We are,” she said, grinding her tiny little body against me. “But I thought maybe we'd screw first, talk later. You just got out of prison and all and I figured you could use a woman's touch.”

  “Dirty little mouth on you,” I growled.

  She knew I loved it when she talked that way and was a little aggressive. It was to my detriment, but she knew exactly how to drive me crazy.

  She kissed my neck, sliding her tongue from my collarbone, up to my ear. At the same time, she was moving her hips up and down on top of me, rubbing against the erection growing in my jeans – I was, after all, a warm-blooded male and truth be told, she was sexy as hell. But honestly, I knew it was all an act. I wasn't even sure if Mariana truly enjoyed the sex with me or if this was just another way to try and control me. Either way, it usually didn't matter. I was usually up for anything.

  Except this time, I really wasn't in the mood. Yeah, it surprised me too.

  “Can we maybe postpone the screwing?” I asked. “At least until we're not sitting in front of the police station?”

  She pouted again. “But Asher,” she said, playing with the buttons on my shirt. “I want you. Don't you want me?”

  It was all a game to her. Everything was. And everything she did was aimed at getting something she wanted. Nothing ever came free or easy with Mariana, and everything came with strings attached. I could see through her charms – had seen through them long ago, actually – and I'd had enough.

  “I don't want to get arrested,” I said. “And right now, the Sheriff is looking for any reason to throw me in the can, so I'd rather not –”

  She reached for my belt anyway, a lascivious grin on her face.

  “Mariana, are you even listening to me?”

  “I'm listening to what your mouth is saying,” she said and ground herself down on me again, a low moan coming from her throat. “But your body is telling me another story entirely.”

  She winked at me. She thought this was cute. Normally, I'd probably think it was sexy too and give it a go. But I was tired of being manipulated, tired of her giving me sex as a way to get what she wanted. I wanted to be with a woman who wanted to be with me – not just because of the power that would come with it, but because they wanted me. Wanted to be with me for the right reasons.

  Half the time, Mariana would initiate, get me turned on and then lie there like a dead fish. Like she was just counting the minutes until I got my rocks off and she could be done with it. I'd do all the work, make her orgasm over and over again and she'd take it as a win – and then ask me for a favor afterward.

  I was done. Especially because this time, I knew her favor would include getting information out of me. Information I wasn't ready to give her just yet. Information I didn't think she should ever have, to be honest.

  “Mariana, stop,” I said, my tone firm. “Just stop, okay?”

  The look on her face wasn't a happy one. Actually, she looked downright pissed. But she climbed off me and sat down behind the wheel instead – pouting the entire time.

  “We're going to be married, Asher,” she said. “And I love you. I've always loved you. Why do you keep doing this to me?”

  I sighed. There we go again. The guilt trips. When she didn't get what she wanted, it somehow became my fault. She was a pro at being able to turn things around on me and it was really wearing my patience thin.

  “I'm marrying you, Mariana, because it's the right thing to do. For both of our clans,” I said. “But it doesn't mean I have to allow myself to be used and abused in the process. If you want intel, find someone else to get it from. Because if we're going to be married, we're going to have to work together, not against each other. And that means, stopping with the games and manipulation.”

  “I don't know what –”

  “Yes, you do,” I said. “Don't even give me that crap.”

  She sulked for a moment, staring out the window in front of us with her arms across her chest. If this were a cartoon, I'd be able to see smoke coming out of her ears and fire from her nostrils. In fact, I could almost see it as it was.

  “I just want you to love me, that's all, Asher,” she said. “That's all I ever wanted.”

  “Well, you're not going about this the right way then,” I said. “Not at all.”

  “What am I supposed to do? You won't let me in. You always keep me at an arm's length from you. So, tell me, how am I supposed to go about things when it's obvious that you don't trust me? Hell, for all I know, you don't even really care about me.”

  This time when she looked at me, there were tears in her eyes. Real tears. Damn. Maybe I was being an ass. Maybe I was coming down on her a little too hard.

  “Come here,” I said, motioning for her to lean her head on my shoulder. “I'm sorry, okay? It's just hard. We're from rival clans and I've been trained my entire life not to trust your people. And now, I'm expected to throw out all those years of programming and marry you. It's not your fault, Mariana. It's just life. It's one of those things that's going to take a little time.”

  “You're never going to love me, are you?” she asked.

  Honestly, I couldn't answer that question in that moment. I couldn't see into the future and had no idea what my life was going to be like a year from now. But, I knew that's not what she wanted to hear at that moment.

  “We will grow to love one another, I'm sure,” I said. “. My parents' marriage was arranged and they're very happy together.”

  “They weren't from different clans though,” she noted.

  She had a point. “We'll work it out,” I said, not knowing whether it was actually true or not.

  She looked up at me, the tears were gone. They never did fall and I wondered if it had been another carefully crafted, perfectly executed manipulation.

  “We need to talk to one another, Asher. We need to trust each other. We're in this together, you know” she said. “Do you know anything about the man the Sheriff was asking you about? I need to know; my clan's reputation is at stake as well –”

  “Your clan? I thought we were in this together,” I looked at her, feeling a rage, dark and abiding bubbling up within me. “Could we possibly go five minutes without you interrogating me or working some angle? Christ, Mariana.”

  Had those tears in her eyes earlier even been real? Or was it just another tactic to get me to talk. If she wasn't so pushy and manipulative about it, I might open up to her a little more easily. I might even trust her. But the more time I spent with Mariana, the more I realized she was a narcissist. And was completely untrustworthy. She was a woman who looked out for number one, above all else.

  I opened the car door and hopped out. Mariana wasn't far behind.

  “Asher, wait.”

  “No, Mariana,” I said, shaking my head. “I'm done here. We can talk later. But right now, I really need to get home to my family.”

  “I am your family,” she said softly.

  “Not yet you aren't.” I said. “And until that day – until our clans are officially united – I'm not saying a damn word about clan business. That's been the agreement all along and you know it.”

  Part of me felt bad for talking to her the way I had, but I also knew her well enough to know better than to let myself feel too bad. She wasn't hurt. She was pissed off for not getting her way. That's all the scowl on her face was. Mariana cursed and climbed back into her red BMW, speeding past me in a scre
ech of tires. She flipped me the finger as she did so, which I didn't bother to acknowledge.

  No need to.

  This was my new normal these days, and if our clans had their way, I'd be spending the rest of my life with her. For better or worse, right?

  Chapter Three

  John

  “What could I do, man? I had nothing to hold him on,” Dean said, shaking his head. “I swear, I'm sick and tired of these goddamn bears walking all over the rest of us.”

  “Question is, what are you going to do about it?” I asked, drinking the last of my beer. “Because trust me, brother, you're not the only one. Others are tired of it too, but they're scared to talk, let alone act. The bears are powerful. Scary. People don’t know how to deal with the threat they pose.”

  “And I'm the sheriff,” he said, shaking his head in defeat. “I'm supposed to be protecting those people. But I can't do my job with these clans running the show here. They run the town. Have since before I was even born. They're just like, a piece of the fabric of the town. People accept them.”

  “You know things are only going to get worse once Q'lapa and N'gasso are united,” I said. “They're two powerhouses, intent on controlling the entire Pacific Northwest. And with them working together – ain't no one going to stop them, brother.”

  “I know, man. I know,” Dean said, taking a long pull from his beer. “You said you wanted to talk to me about something? A plan? You got some ideas how we can curb the power of the clans?”

  “Yeah,” I said, leaning closer and looking around, as if someone might overhear us.

  Dean lived alone, we were on his back patio, and there wasn't a neighbor for miles. So, unless some bears were hiding in the woods with electronic listening gear, we were good. But you could never be too careful, which was why I lowered my voice anyway. I didn't get to be where I was by being reckless. Everything I did was carefully planned out.

  “We need to ignite some tension between the Q'lapa and N'gasso. Just a little,” I said. “Enough that this damn wedding doesn't happen and we have them at each others’ throats. If we keep the two separate and weaken them both while we're at it, we can break their hold. Maybe wipe them out altogether.”

  Dean nodded. “I can get behind that idea – but what do you have in mind?”

  “Just leave it to me,” I said. “I'll do the dirty work. Just make sure that you and your guys stay out of my way and let me operate as I see fit. I'll take care of your problem for you. Sound good?”

  Dean, for the most part, was a good man. A man with a solid moral compass. One who didn't condone murder or violence, which is why he became a cop in the first place. As I looked at him, I saw the toll the job was taking on him. He just didn't look well and I had to wonder if these bears had gotten under his skin that deeply. Wondered if they'd pushed his buttons and if he'd allowed his rivalry with Asher Blackwood to be the thing that sent him over the edge. I wondered if it was that frustration with having his hands tied, that was going to allow me to work my magic and do my thing. To solve all of his problems once and for all.

  “We stay out of your way?” Dean asked, giving me an uncertain look. “What's that supposed to mean?”

  “You trust me, right?” I asked. “You know I stand with you on this deal with the bears, and that I only want what's best for Black Salmon Falls?”

  “I do,” he said. “But I also can't ignore trouble when I see it. What kind of sheriff would I be if I just looked the other way when crimes were being committed?”

  “What kind of sheriff would you be if you continue to let these goddamn bears run this town, huh?” I asked, arching an eyebrow. “Listen, once I'm done here, you will be back in charge, man. You will be the law – the undisputed law – and things will be good here in town. I promise you that.”

  After a moment's pause, Dean nodded, albeit slowly. “Alright,” he said. “I'll look the other way. On one condition.”

  “What's that?”

  “Cover your tracks” he said. “And be careful. No innocent person gets hurt or killed – not on my watch. So, you make sure that you and your boys are being extra cautious with the lives of the people in town.”

  Innocent person? Because of how he phrased it, I could agree to that. These creatures weren't innocent, not by any stretch of the imagination. And they were most certainly not people either.

  “That works for me, brother,” I said with a smile. I reached out and shook his hand. “That works for me.”

  Chapter Four

  Rose

  “I found a job in town today,” I told my aunt over dinner.

  “Oh yeah? Doing what?” She pushed her pasta around on the plate, but I noticed that she barely ate a bite.

  “I'll be working at the bookstore in town. Nothing glamorous, just helping customers and whatnot, but it shouldn't be too stressful.”

  “Good. I'm glad to hear that, dear,” she said, smiling back at me. “Did you go by the school?”

  I cringed inwardly at her question. “Uhh no. Not yet,” I stammered. “I'm thinking about taking some time off from teaching. At least for now.”

  Not only was I not ready to go back to teaching thanks to the traumatic experience at my last job, I was also concerned about working too much. My aunt clearly needed me to care for her, and working part-time would give me that flexibility.

  Not that I wanted her to know that. It wasn't the only reason, and hell, it might even be an excuse since I was still not over being accused of sleeping with a student. But either way, this was for the best. At least, for the moment.

  “Whatever makes you happy, Rose,” she said. “The nice thing about living out here opposed to Seattle is you don't have to work a stressful, soul crushing job just to get by.”

  She was right about that. My teacher's salary barely afforded us a place an hour away from the city. Jason's job paid decently well, a little better than mine since he worked in the tech field, but he never moved up within the company before he was fired. Alcoholism will do that to a person.

  “When do you start?” she asked.

  “Tomorrow morning actually,” I said. “They needed someone right away. Which is good for me.”

  “Very good, dear,” my aunt said.

  I looked down at the plate in front of her. She'd taken two bites of the spaghetti and that was it. Instead, she merely pushed the food around on her plate as we sat there.

  “You need to eat, Paula,” I said, giving her a serious look. “Are you not feeling well?”

  She shrugged. “The chemo makes me sick at times,” she said. “It's to be expected. I just need to rest for a little bit.”

  I hated that my once healthy, vibrant, and lively aunt was withering away before my eyes. She'd lost so much weight since I was a teen – and it hurt my heart to see her looking so frail. She couldn't have weighed more than ninety pounds as it was – and not eating would only make things worse.

  “Is there something else I can make for you?” I asked. “Or maybe we can have some ice cream for dessert?”

  Anything to keep the weight on her. I wasn't a nurse, but even I knew she needed to eat to continue to survive.

  “Ice cream sounds nice, dear,” she said.

  I almost told her to eat a few more bites of her dinner first before we had ice cream, but I stopped myself just in time. I wasn't her mother – even though, having to take care of her made it feel like it sometimes. It hurt me to see her like that. To talk to her like a child.

  As we sat there, a memory drifted up from the bottom of my mind. I remembered a time so long ago where she'd had to badger me into eating my spaghetti in order to have ice cream for dessert. And I'd by no means been a malnourished child. Back then, I'd been a little chunky, actually.

  “Alright, auntie,” I said, standing up and taking my plate to the sink. I kissed her on the top of the head as I walked by. “Anything you want.”

  Some days were certainly better than others. Most of the time she seemed cognizant and l
ike her normal, healthy self. And other times, usually after she got a round of chemo, she seemed a little out of it and sick to her stomach.

  A little ice cream never hurt anyone, right? I piled some in a bowl for her, making sure to give her a few extra scoops just to get her calorie intake up.

  “Mint chocolate chip,” I said with a smile. “Your favorite.”

  “It's yours too,” she said, a twinkle in her eye.

  “It's your fault,” I laughed, thinking once again about how so many of my likes and preferences mirrored my aunt's. “My dad always thought it was gross. He wouldn't buy it for me. But you always made sure to have some on hand.”

  “Your dad is an idiot,” she said flatly. “Always was. Probably always will be.”

  There she was. There was my Aunt Paula with the mischievous glint in her eye.

  “You can say that again,” I said.

  ~ooo000ooo~

  “Welcome to One More Chapter,” my boss said as I walked in the door, settling the little bells chiming.

  As soon as she turned around and saw it was just me, she smiled and greeted me with a handshake.

  “Ahh, sorry, I was facing the bookshelves, didn't see it was you, Rose.”

  “That's fine, Mrs. Hawthorne,” I said.

  “Please, call me Mary,” she said. “Everyone in town does.”

  Mary Hawthorne was an older woman with graying hair and glasses, yet she never seemed to actually age. She looked almost exactly the same as she did when I'd come to her shop as a kid. When I visited my aunt back then, she'd treat me with a visit to the bookstore. I remember that I would look around in wonder, reading anything I could get my hands on. Books were little pieces of magic to me and it was one more influence in my life I had to thank Paula for.

  It was so long ago that I'd been surprised she remembered me when I first came in. But as soon as she saw my face when I applied for the job the day before, she rushed over to me and greeted me with her normal, friendly smile, and a warm hug. She was like the town's communal grandmother, she loved everyone. And everyone loved her.