BAD BOY'S KISS: A Dark Bad Boy Mafia Romance

by Naomi West

  But Leonard looked dead serious.

  Pistol curled his lip into a half grin, half sneer. “That’s insane. You’re insane.”

  “Am I?” Leonard waved the gun slightly. Pistol refused to flinch. “Then I guess you’d better not push me, hmm?”

  Oh, I’ll do so much more than push you, you fucking—

  “You’d better do it, Pistol.” Kong’s low, tight voice.

  Pistol turned to him, stunned. “What?”

  “Say yes.”

  No way. No way would Pedro “Kong” Ortiz go along with this for any fucking reason. Pistol’s hands clenched at his sides, and he prepared to protest, to fight. The look Kong gave him was nearly inscrutable, but Pistol suddenly understood.You have no choice. Do this for your brothers. Give him what he wants … for now.

  Pistol turned back to Leonard. “DoesKatrin want this?”

  Leonard brushed some imaginary piece of lint from his suit. “She seemed quite taken with you when she spoke about you earlier. I imagine she’ll come around to the idea without too much fuss.”

  “You haven’ttold her?”

  “I didn’t want to spoil the surprise.”

  Jesus Christ. This guy was a bona fide lunatic.

  Somewhere, a coyote howled. Others answered it, a chorus of yips and wails that made the nearly non-existent hair on the back of Pistol’s neck stand up.

  Then there was another sound — one Pistol didn’t recognize at first. A frantic, huffing sound that Pistol suddenly realized was coming from Mica. He glanced at the kid. Mica was half doubled over, shaking with near hysterical laughter.

  “Shut up,” Kong snarled at the kid. “Shutup.”

  But Mica straightened, still laughing, and looked directly at Leonard. “That’s your evil genius plan? You want a grandkid so bad you’re gonna make Pistol marry your daughter? Dude, that’s … that’s lame as fuck.”

  Pistol’s heart pounded. He could see that Mica’s hysteria was a cover for his terror, but he wanted to congratulate the kid for saying what was on everyone’s mind. He couldn’t tell if Mica was stupid as hell, or a whole lot braver than Pistol and Kong and the others combined. “Kid, don’t,” he hissed.

  Leonard took a step closer to Mica — thought not before gesturing to a henchman to take over guarding Pistol. “What’s your name?” he asked Mica quietly.

  “Leonard,” Pistol called. “This is between you and me. Leave him out of this.”

  Mica bit his lip, but huffs of laughter kept escaping. He leaned forward, never breaking eye contact with Leonard, and enunciated each word: “Fuck. You.”

  Leonard raised the pistol and fired once. Mica went to the ground, clutching his shoulder and screaming in pain.

  Leonard turned back to the group, pretending to scan it before his gaze landed once more on Pistol. “Now, where were we?”

  Pistol tried to drown out Mica’s cries, his jaw set tight. This was serious. This was dead fucking serious, and Pistol wasn’t feeling very confident anymore. Still, he squared his shoulders and faced Leonard. “You were blackmailing me into marrying your daughter.”

  “Ah, yes.” Leonard gestured at him with the gun. “I’m not going to get down on one knee and offer you a ring, Jax.” His voice softened. “Say yes.”

  Pistol had a sudden vision of his mother — her brittle, bleached hair as wild as her eyes. Her bony fingers were clasped around his wrist, and she was staring at him, tears tracking down her cheeks.“Say you’ll stay with me. Say you’ll stay no matter what.”

  He was sixteen years old. Old enough to drop out of school, if he wanted to. Old enough to get a job. To leave this house and this woman behind. But the way she looked at him… He was afraid to disobey her. Afraid of what she’d do to him, to herself, if he didn’t say what she wanted him to say.

  “Say yes, Jax.”

  He’d sworn he’d never let himself feel that helpless again.

  “Promise me.”

  And after all those weeks of waiting for his sixteenth birthday, saving money, dreaming of the day the authorities couldn’t make him go back to her…

  “Yes,”he’d said, voice cracking.“I promise.”

  Now here he was, in a stare-down with this fuckhead, and everything in him wanted to fight. He didn’t even care if he went down, just as long as he got a chance to physically tear that smirk off this asshole’s face before he died.

  But Kong’s words came back to him from seven years ago.“You have potential. But you’re reckless.”

  “So when do I get a spot in the club?” he’d demanded once, a studied sullenness covering up his need, his desperation to be allowed into the Blackened Souls. To have a family he could fucking rely on.

  “When you learn to put others’ needs before your own. When you learn you’re not the center of the universe.”

  He stared at Leonard. Mica’s groans had turned to soft hisses.

  What other way out was there? For the sake of his brothers, he had to bow down. It was temporary anyway. As soon as they were out of here, they’d regroup at the clubhouse and start strategizing. They’d find a way to get Leonard Smith to back off. Hell, if Pistol was lucky, maybe Kong would assign him to personally “exterminate” the bastard.

  “Yes,” he said through gritted teeth, glaring defiantly at Leonard for another moment before dropping his gaze.

  “Excellent,” Leonard said, and Pistol could hear the grin in his voice. “I’ll bring the happy news home to my daughter.”

  Love to see how she handles that.

  He felt another ache as he thought of Katrin.

  Leonard’s henchmen began loading the truck. Leonard grinned again.

  “Pedro? I’ll be in touch.”

  Pistol watched Kong. Kong wouldn’t look at Leonard. Wouldn’t look at Pistol. Pistol felt a stab of betrayal.You let this happen. I thought you’d come here to help us fight. Not bend over and let this dog fuck you.

  There had to be a reason.Hadto be.

  Kong went with Ford to hoist Deion up, while Bones went to help Mica. Deion was conscious, but barely. Kong put Deion on Kong’s own bike, on the bitch seat. He growled at Deion to hold onto his waist and not let go.

  A few feet away, Mica gave a groan through gritted teeth as Bones pulled him up.

  Leonard still had his pistol on Pistol. “Jax? This goes without saying, but don’t even think about running. I have friends in high places. And I know you’re not a coward. Are you?”

  Pistol narrowed his eyes. “I’m no coward.”

  “Good. I’ll be in contact about wedding arrangements.” Leonard gestured toward the hut. “Go ahead. Mount up.”

  Pistol guessed he wasn’t getting his Glock back.

  He walked numbly to the hut, aware of Leonard watching him. All this reckless rage, and nowhere to put it. So he thought instead about Katrin. Those eyes. No girl’s eyes had ever pierced him like hers. Had made him want to … to know her.

  Shit. He’d never wanted anything like that before. Had never needed anything but his bike, the open road, and his brothers. The idea of being with Katrin filled him with a combination of fear and resentment and something else, something deeper, wilder, something he didn’t understand.

  Holy fuck.

  He was getting married.

  Chapter Nine

  Katrin stood in the backroom of the church, staring up at a stained glass window depicting the Ascension. She was praying for the first time since her mother’s illness. Nothing coherent about the prayer, just a stream of random pleas under her breath.

  She was shaking.

  She looked down at her floor-length white strapless gown, with its beaded bodice, lace detail, and long, swooshing train. The sort of dress she’d spent hours staring at in a catalogue when she was little. Imagining the day she’d be grown up enough, lucky enough to wear it.

  Lucky.

  It had been four weeks since her father had come to retrieve her from Pete’s Goods. She’d been sitting in a chair by the register,
trembling with rage as Rex puttered behind the counter, whistling, his revolver in one hand. She imagined rushing him, imagined grabbing the gun and fleeing the store. Fleeing this town, jumping in her car and driving back to Ohio, back to Maddy and her memories of a happier time.

  She’d known Rex probably wouldn’t shoot her. Rex had said Leonard had “plans” for her. Clearly those plans didn’t include her being shot — at least not right away — or she’d be dead already.

  But she was scared. Scared of a man with a gun. Scared of what her father would do when he turned up.

  Rex had seen her eyeing the door. “Don’t even think about it, girlie.”

  So she’d waited, clinging to a shred of hope that this was all a mistake. That her father would show up and demand to know what Rex was doing, holding her hostage. That he’d have an explanation for the guns and the money she’d found in his room.

  Like what? Holding them for a friend? I don’t trust banks? Personal protection?

  There was no explanation.

  It occurred to her that maybe he’d left those things in the bedroom on purpose. Hoping she’d find them.

  But why?

  Her father eventually showed up. Asked her if she was okay. Acted like nothing was wrong.

  No. I’m not fucking okay.

  Then he’d thanked Rex for keeping an eye on her. Keeping an eye on her — like he hadn’t showed her a fucking gun and told her to stay put.

  The drive home had been tense. When she’d opened her mouth to speak, her father had cut her off.“It’s best not to ask any questions.”

  “How can I not?”she’d demanded, too furious and scared to keep quiet.“I found your guns, I found the money. Whoare you?”

  A long silence.

  Leonard had turned onto their street, keeping his gaze on the road.“In a way, my dear, I suppose it’s good that you found those things. Now you’ll understand how important it is to do precisely as I say.”

  Was hethreatening her?

  “Dad.”Katrin’s eyes were full of tears of anger and despair.“What are you talking about? Please, whatever this is about, you can tell me.”

  He’d gotten that distant look that she saw on him sometimes. That look where he didn’t even seem to recognize her.“Your life is about to change. Katrin. It’s about to change very much indeed.”

  And then he’d explained what he intended her to do. She’d been so stunned she almost wanted tolaugh.

  “But that’s absurd. You can’t — you can’t order me to marry somebody. This isn’t the 1800s.”

  “Do as I say, darling. It’s what’s best for you. Trust me.”

  Was it possible? Was it possible that he was doing all this to protect her from some greater danger? Possible that her father was actually a hero, rather than a villain, and that the truth was simply too dangerous for her to know?

  “But why?”she’d asked again and again.“Why do you want me to marry him? I barely know him!”

  “All you need to worry about is following my orders.”

  Oh, that was a laugh. All she needed toworry about?

  She’d spent the past few weeks thinking of any possible way to get out of this. She’d followed Maddy on Facebook for a few days, wondering if she could get back in touch, ask Maddy for help. But they hadn’t really spoken since she had left, and she had no idea how to explain this situation to her friend. Plus, Maddy had her own troubles: her financial aid had been revoked; she wasn’t sure she’d be able to continue with school. One of her best friends had recently been injured in a car accident. Katrin couldn’t add to her stress. She thought about confiding in Jenna, but she’d never met Jenna in person.

  She could have fled on her own, but she wasn’t surehow. She’d led a sheltered life, and had no money of her own. What little she’d made at her campus jobs in Ohio had gone toward rent and food and tuition for her new nursing program. She had no savings. And besides, she didn’t know where to go, didn’t know who would take her in, keep her safe. Wherever she went, she was sure her dad would find her. He was a more resourceful man than she’d ever imagined.

  And so she’d gone along with it. Hadn’t seen her husband to be since that night in the bar, but had been assured by Leonard that Pistol wasvery interested in getting to know her better. Katrin was terrified to think what that might mean.

  She was interrupted by the arrival of the very sweet old lady from the church who’d been wrangling guests all afternoon. The old woman smiled gently at Katrin. “It’s time.”

  Katrin nodded numbly.

  “Such a pretty dress,” the old woman said, looking her over. It was the third time she’s said it today. “You’re such a beautiful girl. And the church looks so lovely, the way you’ve decorated it.”

  I didn’t decorate it.

  Or, she had, but under duress. Her father had sent her links, the way he’d once sent her links to funny videos online. He’d stood over her while she selected various decorations.

  He’d come with her to the bridal store and watched her try on dresses, finally choosing the one he liked best on her.

  This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. She’d always thought if she were to get married, it would be on her terms. A small yet elegant ceremony. Guests she’d invited. Centerpieces she’d chosen, on her own. A man she loved.

  Instead she was marrying some tattooed asshole who thought she was another notch for his belt.

  God, she wasscared of him. He could be anyone. If her father was a criminal, if that was how he knew Pistol, then Pistol could be someone ten times worse than Leonard. Someone her father was paying to get her out of the way — marry her, then kill her and make it look like an accident.

  You never let me ride a motorcycle. But you’d force me to marryhim.

  She stopped herself. She’d been down this rabbit hole too many times in the past few weeks. She needed to get herself together. She had to be strong now. For herself, and for the memory of her mother.

  She was eleven. Her mother had just started playing for the Cin City Crushers. She was the only woman on the team. Said the guys were mostly good about it, but gave her some crap once in a while. She’d told Katrin:“Nobody else dictates where you go in this world. The world is as much yours as anybody else’s, and if anyone tries to tell you otherwise, prove them wrong.”

  Yet here Katrin was, going dumbly along with her dad’s plan. She ought to be embarrassed to call herself her mother’s daughter.

  I’ll figure something out. I will. I’m not gonna be other people’s pawn forever.

  She swiped her thumbs under her eyes to get rid of any smeared makeup, and followed the old lady to the door.

  ###

  Pistol threw back another slug of whiskey. “It ain’t working.” He passed the whiskey bottle to Deion.

  “Mm.” Deion took a swig. Coughed. “You just need to keep drinking.” He handed the bottle to Pistol, swiping at his burning eyes.

  They were in an alley behind the church. Pistol was trying to delay the inevitable for as long as possible. Trying to numb himself to this outlandish reality.

  He stared at the bottle. “This isn’t gonna help. I mean, it’s not gonna change anything.”

  “Yeah. But it’ll drown your fuckin’ sorrows if you drink enough.”

  Pistol didn’t take another drink.

  When the Blackened Souls had returned to the clubhouse after that night in the desert, Pistol had rounded on Kong, expecting an explanation, expecting aplan.

  But Kong had simply helped Bones guide Mica to the bathroom to clean and bandage his shoulder. The wound was a graze — it bled a lot, but wasn’t serious. Bones set Mica on the toilet and cleaned the wound with some whiskey. Mica was already furiously insisting that they track Leonard Smith down so Mica could personally rip his head off.

  Pistol had looked after Deion. And “looked after” meant “handed him the remaining whiskey and asked, ‘Does your face hurt? ’Cause it’s killing me.’”

  Deion whee
zed out a laugh and took a long drink.“Fuck, man. I must look pretty badass, huh?”

  “You look like you stuck your fucking face in a blender.”Pistol peeled off his bandana and threw it at Deion.“Wipe some of that off, man.”

  Deion spat in the bandana and started wiping the dried blood from his face.