Bastard SEAL: A Bad Boy Forbidden Baby Romance (Contains bonus book Based!)

by B. B. Hamel

  I climbed out of bed, dressed, and washed up, pissed and determined. How many more days would start like this? How many more nightmares would I have to deal with?

  Despite the dream, my legs felt a little bit better. Every day was a small improvement. Tracey was shocked that I was gaining back so much flexibility and that my pain was slowly decreasing, but it made sense to me. If I was going to put in hours every single day of grueling and intense physical therapy, I damn well better see some results.

  Plus, I wasn’t the type of man to do anything half way. If I was going to rehab my legs, I was going to do it completely.

  I moved down the steps, heading for the far wing of the house. Determination was etched on my face, and although I knew I didn’t have much time before I had to show up for PT, I knew I couldn’t keep letting this shit go on.

  I pushed open the door to the side patio. It was a glass-enclosed room, cooled in the summer but without heat in the winter. Plants lined the windowsills and simple furniture filled the space.

  Sitting in an armchair, exactly where I knew he’d be, was Cliff. He glanced up from his paper as I entered.

  “Good morning, Lincoln. Haven’t seen you in a few days.”

  “Cliff,” I said, nodding.

  “Come sit down. Coffee?”

  “Sure.”

  I hobbled over to the small table, pulled out a chair, and sat down across from him. I poured myself a cup of coffee from the metal carafe he had placed on a silver tray.

  Typical fucking Cliff. Even on a normal morning he acted like he was royalty. Yeah, I had money too, but I hated acting like I had it. There was a line between rich and obnoxious, and Cliff crossed that line at every opportunity.

  “What can I do for you?” he asked as I sipped my coffee.

  “We gotta talk.”

  “Okay.” He put down his paper and pulled off his reading glasses. “Let’s talk.”

  “You know what your producer did yesterday?”

  He shrugged. “Probably something that pissed you off. If I had to guess.”

  “Yeah. Damn right she did.”

  “I’m not sure I want to hear about it, Lincoln.”

  “Too bad, because I’m telling you. It involves your daughter.”

  He paused. “Okay, fine. Go on.”

  “You remember that charity auction my mom put on?”

  He nodded but didn’t answer.

  “Well, I had to go on a date with some horrible woman. Her name was Misty. She admitted to being a stripper.”

  “Seems right up your alley.”

  I ignored that comment. “Misty came onto me hard, but I turned her down. Really awkward situation, and Jess got it all on camera.”

  “What’s this have to do with my daughter?”

  “I’m getting there. Anyway, I turn this girl down, she goes psycho, the date ends. I figure that was all there was to it.”

  I paused and sipped my coffee, letting the suspense build. Cliff kept staring at me.

  “Yesterday morning, Jess shows some footage to Aubrie. Apparently, in that footage, I’m flirting with this Misty girl. Somehow, Jess cut up the footage to make it look like I was into that nut job.”

  Cliff blinked. “Were you?”

  “No. That’s not the fucking point, though, is it?”

  After a second, he stood and paced across the room, standing at the window.

  “Why would Aubrie care about that?” he asked me.

  “That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” I lied. “You heard about the incident with the camera guy?”

  He looked at me. “Thanks for that.”

  “You’re welcome. But I was thinking about what happened. It was pretty weird that he was the only drunk one out of the whole crew. And how they somehow knew to follow him around, trying to get a good shot.”

  Cliff narrowed his eyes. “What are you getting at?”

  I leaned back in my chair and sipped my coffee, letting it sink in. “The footage and Aubrie. That Brent guy and Aubrie. It all seems a little weird, doesn’t it?”

  “Are you accusing me of something?”

  I shook my head. “No, I’m not. But I am trying to figure out why Jess is trying to fuck with everything.”

  “I don’t like your tone.”

  “Of course you don’t,” I sneered. “I’m hitting a little close to home, aren’t I?”

  He looked out the window and sighed, putting his hands behind his back. I watched as he stood there for a minute in absolute silence, looking out across the lawn at the scrubby trees lining the property’s edge.

  I sipped my coffee, content to wait. This was the important part. Depending on how he reacted, I would either be completely fucked and heading back to jail, or I’d have a chance.

  “Do you know why I’ve invested in you, Lincoln?” he finally asked.

  “Because I’m talented and rich. Also famous.”

  He stared at me. “That’s true. But those aren’t the only reasons.”

  “Why don’t you tell me, then?”

  “You have something magnetic about you. People want to be around you. That’s a huge part of why you’ve been so successful, despite the fact that your sport isn’t exactly popular.”

  “Are you flirting with me?”

  He smirked. “Don’t be an asshole. You’re a celebrity. That’s all there is.”

  “What does this have to do with your producer being a psycho?”

  “You lost something, Lincoln.” He stared down at me. “After that crash, whatever made you magnetic was gone. Like it broke more than just your legs.”

  I clenched my jaw. “Maybe being confined in a house with a man I despise doing a documentary I hate is what you’re sensing.”

  “Maybe. But I think you lost a step. You used to be Based Carter.”

  “I’m still Based Carter, asshole,” I growled.

  I knew losing my temper wasn’t the best idea. Cliff held all the cards, had all the power. He could send me to jail if he wanted to. But I wanted nothing more than to slam my fist into his smug fucking face.

  “That’s better, but still lacking something.”

  “What do you want, Cliff? What’s all this about?”

  “Money, you idiot,” he said. “It’s always been about money. You think documentaries pay for all this shit?” He gestured around himself.

  I snorted. “No. Never thought that.”

  “But you, you have a talent for bringing in money, getting sponsorships. I don’t know if you’ve talked to your business manager lately, but your accident only made you more popular.”

  I shrugged, playing it off, but I hadn’t known that. Truthfully, I was hiding away from the world until I got my shit together. I wasn’t interested in doing appearances as the crippled athlete. That wasn’t my style. My business manager’s emails have been sitting in my inbox, unopened and unread.

  “I thought I lost something.”

  He grinned. “You have. But they don’t know that yet.”

  Fucking prick. I wasn’t sure how long I was going to be able to keep looking at his face without hurting him.

  “Get to the point. I have therapy soon.”

  “I told you to stay away from my daughter,” he said. “But you clearly ignored that.” He moved back over and sat down in his chair, leaning forward. “I don’t give a shit, though, so long as you don’t infect her with your stupidity. But I’m starting to think, maybe you’re distracted?”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Distracted how?”

  “Maybe you’re too comfortable here. Aubrie is being too nice to you.”

  “So you what, try and get some dickhole to rape her?”

  He shook his head. “I had nothing to do with anything that’s happened.”

  “What’s with this whole fucking speech then?” I growled.

  “I want you to get that thing back, Lincoln. When your legs are back, I want you to return to making huge piles of money. Jess, the documentary, it just wasn’t doing it.
”

  “So, what? You think pushing my buttons is going to help?”

  He clapped and grinned. “Exactly! I told Jess to stir the pot. Suggested maybe Aubrie would be a good way to do that.”

  “What the fuck,” I said. “You’d use your own daughter like that?”

  “She’s fine, and you shouldn’t be involved with her anyway. She’s tougher than you realize though.”

  I could barely believe what I was hearing. “So all this bullshit, it’s all because you think I’ve lost something, and you think that by fucking with my life I’ll somehow magically get it back?”

  He shrugged, still smiling, clearly pleased with himself. “Yes. Exactly. And honestly, this is the most fired up I’ve seen you in a long time.”

  “You disgusting prick. Stop fucking with me.”

  Suddenly something in him shifted, and his smile was gone. “No. I’m telling you this because I feel like it, but I’m not stopping. Remember, I hold the keys to prison.” He paused and smiled again. “Also, don’t be too hard on poor Jess. She’s just following orders.” He leaned forward and spoke quietly. “It’s all me, Lincoln. Everything that happens to you comes from me.”

  I clenched my fists and stood up. I had to get the fuck out of there before I beat him bloody.

  “Fuck you, Cliff. You’re making a mistake,” I said softly.

  “I don’t think I am,” he said, leaning back.

  I turned and walked toward the door.

  “Oh, and Lincoln?” he called out. “I know something is happening between you and my daughter.”

  I paused, fear jolting through me, but I didn’t turn back. I didn’t want him to see the rage on my face.

  “I don’t know what it is, and I don’t want to know. But if you want to keep her out of all this, stop it. I know you’re not siblings, but it’s still not okay. She’s better than you are.”

  No, I thought to myself. She’s better than you, motherfucker.

  Without another word, I left.

  It made sense that he suspected something. It explained why Jess showed Aubrie the video. It explained the whole Brent thing. Actually, the Brent thing was particularly fucked up, and I had to hope that something went wrong there.

  Still, it was completely screwed that her dad knew she and I had something going on. He could easily have stopped it by saying something to her, but clearly he had ulterior motives. He was more interested in his ability to use my fame to make him money.

  It was probably part of his plan to force me to act the way he wanted. Whatever he thought I was missing, whatever insane shit that was.

  Hours after that conversation, the night was dark as I sped through the streets, my car taking the curves like they were nothing. I wasn’t supposed to leave the house without supervision, but I knew I would be fine if I made it fast.

  She didn’t live far. And I doubted it would take long.

  My mind had worked a million miles per second all through therapy. At first, I was so angry I could barely breathe, but fortunately Tracey and her brutal training helped work that out of me.

  And once I was clear, I could begin to plan.

  It felt good to be out on my own, even though I knew that if I got caught there would be trouble. Still, it was hard to give a shit with the wind in my hair.

  I turned down a side street and parked the car, feeding the meter a few quarters. I limped up onto the sidewalk and headed toward my destination: the Boulder Marriott Hotel in downtown.

  Inside, the lobby lights were harsh. It took me half a second to adjust to everything as I approached the front desk, hoping nobody recognized me. It looked like any other hotel, with vaguely modern-looking decorations, all designed to appear artistic and welcoming while remaining as vague and unobtrusive as possible.

  “Good evening, sir. Can I help you?”

  “I’m looking for a guest. Her name is Jessica Green.”

  The concierge nodded. “I’m sorry, but I can’t give you her room number.”

  “Could you call her for me?”

  “Sure, that I can do. One moment.”

  She dialed a number and handed me the phone. I took it, turning away as it rang. After a few seconds, Jess answered, her voice heavy with sleep.

  “Yeah?”

  “Jess, it’s me.”

  “What?” she muttered.

  “It’s Lincoln.”

  “What do you want? I was asleep.”

  I checked my watch. I had to admit, I was a little surprised that she turned in by midnight.

  “I’m at the hotel. Can I come up?”

  There was a long pause. I had to resist the urge to make sure she was still there. Finally, she said, “Fine. Room 237.”

  I handed the phone back to the concierge and got into the elevator, riding it up a floor. It was annoying that I couldn’t take the stairs, but my legs always hurt the most at the end of the day.

  Once there, I hobbled down the navy blue rug with concentric circles and designs all over it, probably made to confuse drunk people as much as possible. Hotel corridors always had a strange in-between feeling, like they weren’t exactly one place or another. Not exactly in the hotel, but not exactly out of it. Not a destination, but somewhere else.

  I knocked on her door. A few seconds later, she pulled it open.

  “Evening, ma’am,” I said.

  She wore a loose sweatshirt and sweatpants and her hair was messed up from sleeping on it. “Why are you here?” she asked.

  “Not going to invite me in?”

  She sighed and moved aside, letting me enter. I quickly surveyed the place and grinned to myself.

  It was an absolute wreck. Bags were half packed and clothes were thrown all over the place. Underwear was conspicuously piled in one corner. She clearly wasn’t interested in living an orderly existence.

  “Neat,” I said.

  “I hate living in hotels.” She sat down on the little guest couch, and I took the chair across from her, stretching my legs.

  “Nobody does.”

  “Okay. I’m asking one more time. Why are you here? Finally came to your senses?” She gave me a sly little smile

  I laughed. “No, not that. Sorry. This is strictly business.”

  “I figured. What’s going on? You’re not supposed to leave the house, right?”

  “Do you like your boss, Jess?”

  She blinked. “Cliff? He’s fine.”

  “Fine? Cliff is a fucking asshole. We both know it.”

  “Okay, yeah. He’s an asshole.”

  “I want to end him.”

  She stared at me for a second. “I can’t help you, Lincoln.”

  I decided not to waste any time.

  “Fifty thousand dollars,” I said.

  She paused. “What about it?”

  “You give me something I can use against him, and I’ll pay you fifty grand. Cash.”

  She paused, looking thoughtful. “Why would I risk my relationship with Cliff for you?”

  “Because you hate him. I’ve seen the way you react when he calls you up. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

  “He’s hard to work with.”

  “He’s impossible. And he treats you like garbage. I’ve done some digging on you, Jess, and you have a pretty damn good resume. You can get work anywhere you want.”

  “Cliff has a reputation.”

  “I understand that. But so do you.”

  She leaned back, thinking it over. I knew that stroking her ego a little bit would probably do the trick, but the money was the clincher.

  “Okay, say I do this. What happens with this documentary?”

  “It’s yours, isn’t it?”

  “Cliff is the money. He owns a stake, yeah, but not the full rights.”

  “Okay. I’ll bankroll the documentary myself if he pulls out.”

  She nodded. “Fine. I also want another interview with you and Aubrie.”

  I blinked. “Why?”

  “I want to talk about Brent
. We need the footage of her discussing what happened, and it’ll look bad if we don’t get it.”

  “Fine.” I sighed. I didn’t want to get Brie involved anymore, but an interview wasn’t bad.

  “One last thing. Fifty grand isn’t even a year’s salary for me. I need more on top of you paying for the film if Cliff pulls out.”

  A huge grin broke out across my face. I didn’t love that she was trying to get more money, but the fact that she was bargaining at all meant I had her.

  “What’s your number, then?” I asked.

  It didn’t take long after that. We talked for ten more minutes, hammering out the details, but she agreed faster than I expected. I figured there was something I didn’t know about, but that was a problem for another day.

  It was a lot more expensive than I was hoping, but she promised that she’d get me something very useful. And knowing her, I figured it was going to be pretty damn good. At least it better be, considering the deal she just made.

  As I left the hotel, I was out of a large chunk of my cash savings. But for the first time in weeks, I felt good.

  I felt in control. And that was what I needed.

  Fuck Cliff. I was taking control back.

  19

  Lincoln

  Interview #3

  “What happened the night of the charity auction, in your words?”

  I glanced at Aubrie as she slowly began to recount the night.

  It hadn’t been hard to convince her to do the interview. For whatever reason, as soon as I asked, she said yes. Part of me figured it was because she would take any excuse to spend time with me, but truthfully she probably just wanted to clear the air.

  There was a lot of air to clear, although a huge chunk of it had to remain a secret. It didn’t matter what Cliff knew or guessed, and that Jess probably knew as much as he did. We had to maintain the illusion of the secret.

  Otherwise, I didn’t know what would happen.

  “It was toward the end of the night when . . . when that girl won the date with Lincoln.”

  She glanced at me and I grinned innocently. It wasn’t my fault I attracted a certain kind of insane stripper.