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Knocked Up by the Bad Boy

Page 18

by Waltz, Vanessa


  Mom’s eyes lower and she gives me an almost imperceptible shake of her head. Then I feel a gaping void in my chest. That poor man was just about the only decent guy in that place. The only fucking man who stood up for me is dead.

  Suddenly I hate everything about my father, from his grizzled face all the way down to his shitty, steel-toed boots. All he ever did was wear me down and make me feel less than human, and now he’s a murderer.

  “You killed him.”

  Johnny’s hand finds my knee under the table and squeezes it. Shut up.

  I won’t shut up.

  “He never did anything wrong, how could you?”

  His voice explodes as his fist smashes into the table. “How could you let one of them touch you?”

  “I wanted him, and he wanted me. It’s that simple.”

  “They’re the enemy.” He points his finger at Johnny’s face. “This guy doesn’t give a shit about you. The moment you have his kid, he’ll throw you aside like garbage.”

  Blaze puts his hand on Dad’s shoulder as Tanner winces at his comments.

  God, even they think he’s fucking nuts.

  “I’m going to ask you to shut the fuck up one last time, and if another insult comes out of your fucking mouth, I’ll cut your fucking hand off.” Johnny squeezes me so hard that I can’t feel my circulation. “Put your anger behind you.”

  My father’s face turns a nasty shade of puce. “You destroyed my only child.”

  Johnny releases my hand and folds his arms, looking indifferent, but I can see the vein pulsing in his neck. He’s a lit fuse, about to explode.

  “You insulted the club by seducing my daughter and getting her pregnant, but I’m willing to let things slide if you meet my terms.”

  Oh Jesus.

  “Which are?”

  “We want a thirty-percent reduction on your wholesale prices, and we want to regain our territory.”

  Johnny’s teeth look like they’re about to crack. “And?”

  “And my daughter gets an abortion—immediately.”

  The air stills as my father’s voice rings across the restaurant. I don’t dare look at Johnny’s face, but Mom clenches my fingers in my lap. I don’t dare breathe.

  “I will kill you if you suggest that again.”

  “Johnny!”

  I’ve never seen him like this. It’s scary. His lips are white and shaking, like a wolf curling its lips over its fangs.

  “She is mine. Our child is mine. I will not let anyone come between us.”

  “Then we’re going to have a problem.”

  Flecks of spit fly from Johnny’s mouth as he yells across the table. “You’re the one with the fucking problem. I want the Devils and the family to continue our business arrangement. We’re running a fucking business, not a pissing contest.”

  “You fucking Italians think you can do whatever the hell you want—”

  “Dad!”

  He leans over the table, staring at Johnny’s whitened face. “Go ahead, fuck my daughter. Do whatever the hell you want with her. Salute. Is that what you want me to say?”

  “Carlos, shut up!” Mom tries to grab his arm, but he rips it out of her reach.

  “You fucking animals nearly tore us apart in the ’90s—”

  “Without the support of the family, you wouldn’t even be president. I own you and your fucking club.”

  “Not anymore! We’re fucking done taking orders from—!”

  “From what?” Johnny stands up, his screams stabbing my ears as one of his soldiers holds him back. “From what, you fucking coward? Say it!”

  Horrified, I glance at my father, who remains tight lipped. He can’t—he’ll be killed for sure. Beside me, my mother moans. “Please, don’t!”

  “Say it so I can blow your fucking head off, right here. Right now.”

  “If you do, you’re dumber than your father.”

  Johnny’s arm moves and then two deafening shots explode in my ears. Something wet showers over my face and I look at a fine sprinkling of little red drops, all over my hand. Tanner and Blaze crash over the table, blood spilling from their heads like two cracked eggshells.

  “Oh my God!”

  Mom screams as we both stand from the table as blood creeps over the wood. My heart seizes in my chest as I watch Johnny calmly stand up, the silence ringing in my ears as he grabs the scruff of Blaze’s shirt and yanks him from the chair. His body makes a meaty slapping sound as it hits the tiles, and then I see the back of his head, blown open and black, with chunks of pink in his hair. His brains are all over the floor.

  The color faintly reminds me of the charcuterie we had as an appetizer, and the rich meal I ate suddenly rises in my throat. I turn away from the carnage and slap my hands over my mouth, swallowing it down.

  Johnny sits on the chair vacated by Blaze, his suit ruined, and aims his gun right into my father’s stunned face.

  “Johnny, what are you doing?” One of his older men speaks up behind him.

  “Getting rid of this asshole.”

  “NO!” The scream rips from my mother’s throat and Johnny’s head turns toward us as if sensing our presence for the first time.

  “Get them out of here!”

  “DON’T KILL MY HUSBAND! NO!”

  They grab my arms, and I’m still shaking when I’m outside. Mom fights tooth and nail, screaming.

  “Mom!”

  “He’s going to kill him!”

  I know that. It sinks into my head as she grabs both of my shoulders and shakes me.

  “Do something!”

  Why should I?

  A second later I feel sickened with myself. It’s not enough that my mom obviously would be devastated if he died?

  “He’s your father.”

  I search within myself for a scrap of pity for him. He shot at me. Killed Chuck. He ground my nose against the dirt to the point of desperation.

  “He’s all I have!”

  Even she would be better off without him.

  Mom’s face falls, and then she goes in for the attack. “What about the people at the club? Don’t you care? This is going to start a war. People will die! Your cousins will get hurt.”

  I think about Beatrice and her long blonde hair. Doing her highlights every couple months, talking about guys, convincing her to come with me to a connected bar. There were small rays of sunshine in the fortress, and she was one of them.

  I can’t just abandon them.

  Do nothing, and you might as well pull the trigger yourself.

  “Get out of my way.”

  I shove at the two men guarding the restaurant’s entrance, but there are multiple entrances. I run down its side and they take off after me. My shoulder slams into another door and I stumble through the kitchens, where Johnny looks at me as though through a mask of blood. My dad kneels on the tiles, staring straight at Johnny. I realize they moved him to the kitchens because it would be easier to clean the blood from the floor.

  “Don’t kill him!”

  A chill descends over me as Johnny’s handsome face turns toward me, his eyes detached. They’re endless, black tunnels. Nothing. Jesus, there’s nothing there.

  “He needs to go.”

  “Johnny, please.”

  “This was never going to work out.”

  The harsh sound of Mom’s voice grates in my ears. “Maya, stop him! Oh God!”

  “He’s the president. You’re going to start a war.”

  I scream his name, but it’s like yelling at a brick wall. His men grab my shoulders and rip me backward, and my heels connect with someone’s shin.

  “Fucking bitch!”

  Johnny gives his soldier a deadly look and eyes me with the same deadened expression. “It’s too late now.”

  Blood runs from my dad’s nose, which looks broken. “Pull the trigger, you son of a bitch. Watch what happens.”

  Johnny digs the muzzle in my father’s skull. “What’ll happen is this bullet will go right through your fuc
king head!”

  “No!”

  I shove his arm away and he grabs me, rage contorting his features as he attempts to shove me out of the way. His face tightens under my fingers as I grab him.

  “Please, Johnny.”

  “Why? Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill him.”

  I search for reasons inside me, anything that might spare my drunken asshole of a father for the sake of my mother’s tears. I just know deep down that killing him will make things worse.

  “Two dead bikers is bad enough, but their president? You’ll have to kill every last one of them.”

  “Then that’s what’ll happen.”

  “He deserves a chance—”

  The restaurant echoes with his hollow laughter. “You don’t know me very well. I don’t give second chances.”

  He smiles against my hand, and it’s his smile that makes my throat tighten and tears slide down my cheek.

  “Give him one. For me.”

  Then slowly, little by little, he lowers the gun from my dad’s head, his haunted eyes never leaving me.

  * * *

  From here on out, we’re done. You stray from your territory, I’ll kill you. You make an attempt to contact my fiancée, I’ll kill you. You so much as suggest to her that she should get an abortion, and I’ll take my time pulling you apart, limb from limb.

  The sodden rag I’m holding drops into the dirty dishwater.

  Pink mist.

  Like the suds of this dishwater, except blood red, flying through the air in fine water droplets.

  He just killed them. Two men from the MC. Foul bastards, but still. They had wives. And he just blasted them as though they were nothing. He was going to do the same to my father.

  My heart pounds a wicked beat as I wash the dishes.

  Just keep him happy. Keep him content.

  Or he’ll kill your father, and that’ll be enough to start a war between the bikers and the mob.

  I don’t want anyone else killed for me. I wanted so badly to get out of there that I wasn’t prepared for how much I’d miss my mom. My cousins.

  And now it’s all turned to shit. What’s going to happen when Dad goes back to the MC and tells them that the boss of the Cravotta family gunned down two of his men?

  It’ll be a long, bloody war with casualties on both sides.

  So how the fuck do I stop it?

  I need to control him.

  There’s no fucking controlling Johnny Cravotta, you idiot.

  I have to try.

  A key scrapes in the lock and I jump to action, washing the rest of the dishes and hurriedly putting them away.

  He steps inside. I hear the hollow sound of his footsteps and a chill runs up my spine.

  I’m not weak.

  I barely hear my own footsteps as I walk toward him. A smooth dark-navy suit glides over his body like silk, and he glances up at me even though I’m not making a sound. I feel as though I’m balancing on a tightrope the closer I get to him. Looking at him feels hot and cold. His smile makes my skin break out in a hot flush, but his eyes clench my insides with a cold grip. I can’t look at him the same way I did before. I force myself to step closer to him. My hands tremble as though I’m trying to tiptoe past a lion. He stares at me as though I’m meat. I hook my fingers under his jacket and I pull it off his lean shoulders. His lips stun my cheek and I feel a glow burn into a sudden flare, but I turn away toward the closet.

  My feelings toward him are so fucked up.

  I hang his jacket in the closet, and when I turn around he’s still staring at me.

  What did I do?

  “What’s that I smell?”

  “Oh, I made dinner.”

  “Huh.”

  I never make dinner, because I can’t cook for shit.

  He walks into the kitchen and grasps the edge of the dining table, looking at the neatly laid silverware and dishes. A smile tugs at his mouth.

  “What is all this?”

  “It’s dinner.”

  “I can see that,” he says, pushing off the table and stepping into my space. “You can’t cook.”

  “I’ve just never tried.”

  He takes a look into the sink filled with suds, the pans blackened. I should have just ordered something, for Christ’s sake. He lifts the lid off the pan on the stove and raises an eyebrow at the fish.

  “Are you trying to kill me with all this black shit?”

  The smirk in his voice sets me off. “I took all the black shit off. Don’t be a baby.”

  A shadow crosses over Johnny’s eyes and my heart leaps. Then he threads his fingers through my hair and yanks my head back, and the two men he butchered in front of me are tugged to the forefront of my mind. I never saw so much blood in my life.

  His breath hisses over my neck.

  “All of this reeks of desperation.”

  I am desperate.

  “Johnny—”

  “Stop it,” he snarls. “Stop being so fucking scared of me.”

  But I am scared of him. He could end this fucking war if he wanted. Only he can ensure whether the people in the fortress live or die, my mom among them.

  He reaches under my shirt with his other hand, smoothing over my back. My bra snaps against my skin as he lifts the strap. My muscles contract at the small sting.

  Then his voice rolls over me, smooth as velvet. “You have nothing to fear from me.”

  “You killed those men right in front of us—”

  His eyes are like lead. Seductive fingers twist my strap, slowly loosening the hooks. The skin around my straps starts to tingle and a flush spreads over my chest.

  “I’m sorry you had to see that, but I’m not sorry for killing them.”

  All this time I never saw the darkness. I knew it was inside him somewhere, deliberately hiding out of sight. Now it’s staring at me in the face, talking to me through his remorseless tone as he removes my bra with a loud snap that makes my legs clench together.

  His hands smooth over my bare back, bringing me within his intoxicating embrace. The dimples curving into his face tell me that he knows exactly how affected I am.

  “You didn’t have to do it.”

  “I’m the boss of the family. “

  “He mentioned your father, and you went berserk.”

  Johnny’s eyes blaze. “He pissed me off beyond endurance. It set me off.”

  What if he does the same thing to me, someday?

  His fingers slide out of my hair and the smile disappears. “Don’t look at me like that.”

  “You’re going to start a war!”

  The apartment rings with my voice before I remember that I’m supposed to be playing the demure housewife role. Oops. Too late.

  All smiles again, he descends on me, his hands soothing my shoulders, my face. “Is that what’s got you so worked up?”

  “Of course it is.”

  His voice is like honey. “Everything’s going to be fine.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  “I’m the most powerful man in this city. Nothing’s going to happen to you.”

  But I can’t say the same for your family.

  “You killed two of the MC’s men. If you think they’re going to sit back and just—”

  Johnny takes both of my hands suddenly and walks backward with a huge smile on his face. “I got you something.”

  “Got—what?”

  I’m distracted by the excitement in his voice, my heart still beating fast.

  “A little engagement present.”

  He slips his hand inside his back pocket and removes a long, thin envelope, which he hands to me, smiling.

  “You can’t just distract me with a present.”

  “Open it.”

  He looks so fucking pleased with himself. I stare at it for a long while. He can’t just fucking bribe me like this.

  What’s in it?

  I stick my finger inside the envelope, but it’s already open. I can’t imagine how a
piece of paper is going to make me happy. A folded, pink paper falls out.

  It’s a letter from the Robertson Beauty Academy.

  “Read it.”

  “Dear Maya, on behalf of the Admissions Committee, it is my pleasure to welcome you into the Robertson Beauty Academy for the Hairdressing Program.” My voice trembles and breaks. “How did you do this?”

  “Turns out, I know a guy who knows a guy whose wife works there.”

  The paper shakes in my hands as I reread that sentence over and over. It’s one of the best schools in Montreal. The curriculum is better than anything I could’ve ever dreamed of.

  “I can’t believe it.” Tears fall from my nose. “Why would you do something like this?”

  Warmth glows from his hand, which smooths my cheek and wipes away my tears. “I want you to be happy.”

  No one’s ever said that to me, even my own mother. Happiness was valued last over the MC and family.

  “Why do you care?”

  It’s just such an alien concept to me. I’m so used to seeing people treat their wives like crap that part of me believes this has to be a trick.

  His gives me a chaste kiss on my forehead. “I want our kid to grow up in a happy home.”

  He wants me to be happy.

  I can’t believe he actually bought the courses for me—he remembered what I told him at the restaurant and got the classes. It’s such a sweet gesture that I have a hard time reconciling this with the man who blew away two men in front of me.

  “Now you can follow your dreams.”

  JOHNNY

  Four a.m.

  My favorite time of the day.

  When midnight blue lightens into a color that reminds me of a deep coma, washing over the bed and the walls. Covering her skin in that coolness. My arm is snug around her waist, my palm resting over her smooth belly, just underneath where my kid is growing.

  I shouldn’t have let him go.

  It nags at me constantly. It’s the fucking reason I’m wide awake at this time, as she sleeps, oblivious. I prop my elbow on the pillow, watching as a strand of hair flutters over her nose. The ethereal blue light makes her look like stone, but she’s warm in my hand.

  Sal says I fucked up by killing his two men, but how long was I supposed to tolerate his disrespect? The fucking bastard wanted my child dead. I wanted to kill him. I should have, but she begged me for her father’s life. The splinter in my chest aches like an infection. God, her loyalty reminded me of mine. I almost forgot what it was like to feel a sense of duty toward your father. He said jump, I jumped. Would have done anything—killed anyone for my dad.

 

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