Bend: A Dark Mafia Romance

by B. B. Hamel

  “You’re saying you don’t?”

  “Only sometimes.”

  Just then, Mason started to make a face. I knew what that meant, and I quickly took him from Lindy. “He’s about to cry,” I said, “and he needs a change.”

  She laughed, shaking her head. “That’s all you, mommy.”

  I flipped her off, smiling, and took Mason upstairs to his changing spot just as he began to cry.

  I quickly carried him into the nursery. I laid him down on his back, humming slightly to him, and changed his diaper.

  This was my life now: diaper changes and breastfeeding and walks through the nearby park.

  And as I changed his diaper, I realized that I was happy. Having Mason seemed so daunting and terrifying at first, but my parents and Lindy had been so supportive, so helpful.

  I wouldn’t give up Mason for anything. I loved him more than I could say, and he’d changed my life for the better.

  The only thing missing was his father. Even though I had given up on finding that ghost, I still sometimes thought back to that night fondly. I wished I could find Emory and at least tell him that he had a son.

  But that was never going to happen. Mason might never know his father, and I was going to have to be okay with that.

  It just meant I was going to love Mason enough for two people.

  Chapter 2

  Emory

  Sunlight streamed in from the big windows overlooking my sparse bedroom. I woke up with it shining right in my face, making the hangover headache tingling in my skull that much worse.

  I grunted, sitting up and putting a hand on my head. To my right, the girl from the night before stirred but didn’t wake.

  I glanced at her. Thin, blond, and tan; pretty fucking standard for California. I remembered she’d been a pretty good fuck, even though she was vapid as fucking shit.

  I slipped out of bed, trying not to wake her up. I didn’t feel like listening to her voice so fucking early in the morning. I went into the bathroom, shut the door behind me, and took a nice long piss.

  Being a Navy SEAL meant I didn’t get to spend much time at home. Most of my life was spent abroad doing my country’s work. My ass was Uncle Sam’s, and I wouldn’t have had it any other fucking way.

  But that meant my apartment wasn’t exactly decorated. I had the necessities, like a bed, a couch, and a TV, but there wasn’t much else. I didn’t need much, since I barely even stayed there for more than a few days at a time.

  But now that I was getting some R&R, I almost didn’t know what the fuck to do with myself. I had a whole month off from work, a little gift from the upper brass for my quality work out in Pakistan over the last sixteen months.

  I looked in the mirror and splashed some water on my face. Emory Rush, cold-blooded killer, terrorist hunter, and captain of SEAL Team Eight. I specialized in hunting down and eliminating terrorists in the Pakistani tribal regions, and for the last fourteen months me and my team had been embedded in the northern part of Pakistan, right outside of Waziristan, hunting a particularly deadly group called The Network.

  The mission had been a rousing fucking success. The Network had been one step ahead of my team and me for years, always escaping us just before we could take all those terrorist fucks out. But in Pakistan, we finally got the drop on them, killing a few important, key members and dealing a huge blow to their organization.

  But it had cost us a lot. I could still hear the death and the bullets screaming around me as we stormed their compound. I lost two comrades and squad mates that day, and those men would never be forgotten.

  Now I had some time off, and all I wanted to do was get back out there. The Network was hurt, but they weren’t destroyed. I wanted nothing more than to avenge my brothers, to tear apart the bastards that had killed them. I wanted to get back into battle.

  I heard the girl in the other room stirring, and I smirked to myself. I figured so long as I was stuck back in the States, I might as well try to enjoy myself.

  And there was no better way to have a good time than drinking too much whisky and fucking every willing slut I could find.

  I pushed open the bathroom door and leaned up against the frame. The girl stirred and sat up, her hair spilling down around her shoulders, her nice tits bare above the sheets.

  “Morning,” she said.

  “Morning,” I grunted in return.

  She half smiled at me. “Looks like a very good morning.”

  I glanced down at myself and realized my cock was half hard. “Guess so.”

  She crawled forward slightly, smiling at me. “Interested in another round?” she asked. “This time I can swallow your dick. You can do whatever you want to me.”

  I looked at the girl, and for a second I was almost tempted.

  But that wasn’t my fucking style. One night was all these girls ever got. I didn’t want to encourage them to try to stick around any longer, because I wasn’t interested in a relationship.

  “No, thanks,” I said.

  She did that fake pouty face. “Are you sure?”

  “Fucking sure,” I said. “Get dressed. I’m calling you a cab.”

  She gave me a shocked look. “Are you kidding me?”

  I grabbed a pair of sweatpants and slipped them over my body. “Not at all. You have ten minutes.” I grabbed a white T-shirt and left her in my room.

  “Asshole!” she called after me.

  I grinned to myself. The girl had no clue what she was messing with. I couldn’t risk getting some idiot girl attached to me, not when the work I did was so important.

  I put some coffee on and called the local taxi. I used them so much that I didn’t even have to give them my address anymore. They were used to my normal morning pickup routine, or at least when I was in town anyway.

  I rarely remembered the girls I slept with. I couldn’t even remember this one’s name. Cindy maybe? It didn’t matter, though.

  But one stuck in my mind and kept coming back to me all during those hard nights in Pakistan. Just before we went for our final deployment, the upper brass gave my team a week’s vacation in this fancy-ass hotel, which we spent basically drinking our faces off and fucking whatever we could find.

  And on my last night there, I saw her. Long brunette hair, bright green eyes, and a body that made my cock hard the second I caught sight of her. She seemed shy and innocent, or at least until I got her in bed.

  That pussy was incredible. The way she moved, the way she said my name, everything about her drove me fucking wild. We fucked until I was drenched in sweat and came deep inside that beautiful cunt. And then later on, I couldn’t help but get another taste.

  I never got her last name. It wasn’t like I was going to look her up or anything like that, but for some reason I couldn’t shake her at all. Tara was one of those girls who came around once in a lifetime, and at least I’d gotten a taste of her before I was shipped out to hell.

  I sipped my coffee and the time slipped by. Soon enough, I heard the taxi pull up outside and honk once. I went over to the bedroom door and pushed it open.

  “Your ride is here,” I said. The girl was sitting at the end of my bed, looking at her phone, fully dressed.

  “Okay, dickhead.” She stood up and walked straight out my door, not sparing me a second glance.

  “Have a good one, sweetheart,” I called out my window as she climbed into the cab. She flipped me off and then slammed the door shut.

  I grinned to myself and watched her pull away. I was about to head back inside and make some fucking food when I caught sight of a strange envelope tucked under the welcome mat.

  My apartment was half a bungalow, and I was lucky enough to have my own entrance. It was set back from the street and surrounded with plants, shit I was pretty sure my landlord took care of, since I clearly wasn’t doing it.

  I went out my door and down the steps. I bent over and grabbed the envelope.

  On the front was written Captain Emory Rush.

 
I frowned. Who knew about my job in this area? As far as I knew, nobody knew I was a SEAL. If anyone asked, I told them that I was a traveling salesman, and that was that.

  But this had clearly been hand delivered. Whoever put it there knew who I really was and where I lived.

  I had a bad feeling as I climbed back up to my apartment. I sat down at the table and tore the envelope open.

  There was one glossy photograph inside, black and white, a bit grainy, but I instantly recognized the person.

  It was Tara, the girl from the resort in India. She was sitting on a picnic blanket with three other people, two older and another about her age. And she was holding an infant.

  My heart skipped a fucking beat. The baby looked young, maybe seven months at most. I screwed up my face and tried to remember if she’d said she had a kid, or if one of her friends was pregnant, or something like that, but we didn’t talk about ourselves much that night.

  I flipped the photograph over.

  “Fuck,” I said out loud.

  Written in Urdu, the language Pakistani people spoke, the language The Network spoke, was a simple message.

  Emory, we know who you are and who this baby is. Do you?

  I dropped the photograph on the table and stepped away, my mind moving a thousand miles a second.

  The implication was obvious. I thought it the second I saw the girl holding that baby. Sixteen months ago, sixteen months after we slept together.

  But how the fuck could The Network know about her? I was only with her that one night, and for such a short time.

  “Fucking fuck,” I said again. They must have had spies inside that resort. They knew who I was and who my team was; they must have been watching us. They probably followed every person I was with that night, watching and waiting for something they could use against my team and me.

  Fuck, this was bad. Worse than bad. But I couldn’t panic, not yet. I took a deep breath, calling on my SEAL training to remain calm in the face of danger. I didn’t know anything for sure yet.

  All I had was this photograph. Clearly The Network was watching this girl; that wasn’t the issue. No, the real issue was whether the kid was actually mine or not.

  But that shouldn’t matter. The girl’s life was in danger because of me. I couldn’t just hang her out to dry because I wasn’t sure if that baby was mine or not.

  No, I wasn’t going to let The Network have this girl. Fuck them for coming onto my turf, fucking with my people. They could come after me all they wanted, and frankly I welcomed that shit, but they weren’t messing with some innocent fucking girl just because they were too cowardly to come at me directly.

  I clenched my jaw and resigned myself. I was going to find this girl, and I was going to protect her, at least until I figured out what this was all about.

  Chapter 3

  Tara

  The day was bright and comfortable as I pushed Mason in his stroller along the paved, black path.

  I loved taking Mason out for a walk in the park near my house. There was nothing better than spending some time with him out in the sunlight, getting some fresh air and some exercise. Mason seemed to like it too and rarely ever got fussy when we were out for a walk. In fact, it was the calmest I ever saw him.

  It was Friday, and fortunately I had the day off. I worked out my schedule so that I had short days on Mondays and Wednesdays, long days on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and every Friday off to spend the day with Mason. And to give my mom a break from babysitting, of course, though she’d never complain.

  As I walked along, pushing Mason, I started to have this strange feeling on the back of my neck. It was almost like I was being watched or something like that. I looked around, but it looked like a normal afternoon at the park: moms out with their young kids, older people going for a walk, basically what you’d expect from suburban Indiana.

  But I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was staring at me. It was completely bizarre, because normally I felt so comfortable at the park, but suddenly I was acting paranoid. It was probably just because I hadn’t been home in so long. I wasn’t used to being around the neighborhood.

  As I walked, I spotted a friend of mine, Jane. She was a few years older and had a little baby boy around Mason’s age. I waved to her and headed over. She was a little taller than me, with glasses and large, round cheekbones.

  “Hey, Tara,” she said as I got closer.

  “How’s it going?” I asked.

  “Same as always. Hi, little Mason.”

  I smiled at her son, James. “Hi, little guy.”

  “Nice day out,” she said to me.

  “Yeah. It’s pretty nice, though I feel like someone’s been watching me.” I shrugged and laughed, mocking myself.

  She smiled at me. “A little paranoid?”

  “I guess so, but I don’t know why.”

  “Lots of new faces around here,” she commented. “Maybe you’re just feeling exposed.”

  I sighed and nodded. “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “Oh, by the way, how is class going?”

  “Just started this week. It’s going great. Exhausting, but I’m glad I’m doing it.”

  “Awesome. Good for you.” She checked her phone, frowning. “Great. Some emergency at home. Got to head back.”

  “Good seeing you. Stop over sometime.”

  “Will do.” She waved and headed off, pushing her stroller in front of her.

  I watched her go, frowning for a second. What did she mean there were lots of new faces? I looked around but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. It was just the usual people going about their business.

  I shook my head, laughing to myself. I was being so stupid. It was the middle of the afternoon on a beautiful Friday; there weren’t any robbers or murderers around. Plus, it wasn’t like I lived in inner city Detroit. There weren’t many muggers in Dayton, Indiana, probably because there wasn’t much to mug for.

  I kept on with my walk, finishing along the outer path that skirted the park. There was a small jungle gym that Mason would play on one day when he was older, some soccer fields, a little bathroom and concession stand area that was only open on weekends, and even a small pond toward the end of the trip.

  By the time I finished the full loop, I felt tired and calm again. I’d forgotten all about the paranoia and was content to push Mason along, talking to him every once in awhile, but mostly just losing myself in my own thoughts.

  As I turned along the path to head out of the park and back toward my parents’ house, I hit a little bump. “Oops,” I said, checking on Mason. “You’re okay, little guy?”

  He just smiled up at me. The kid was completely resilient. He only ever cried when he was hungry or needed to be changed. Otherwise, he was the calmest baby I’d ever seen.

  I started pushing his stroller again, heading back home. I passed through the gate that closed after sunset every day and walked along the uneven sidewalk, trying to be as careful as I could with Mason.

  And then I got that feeling again, like someone was following me. I glanced back and saw someone walking along quickly, gaining on me.

  I felt my heart leap in my chest, adrenaline taking over. I started to walk faster, trying to stay ahead of whoever was coming closer to me. I glanced back, but he was grinning at me. I moved quicker, walking fast, pushing Mason faster along the sidewalk. I spotted the house up ahead and risked looking back. He was getting closer and seemed to be waving at me.

  I practically started jogging. I didn’t know what the heck I was doing, but for some reason I didn’t want that guy to catch up to me. I was afraid, I realized, absolutely terrified. I started jogging faster, pushing Mason along.

  I made it to the driveway and up along it. I fumbled at the door for my key and realized that my parents both were out.

  “Excuse me, miss?”

  I looked up, terrified. The man had followed me all the way from the park, even though I’d been running from him.

  “I don’t have
anything,” I blurted out.

  He looked at me strangely. “You dropped this.”

  In his hand was my wallet.

  Relief washed over me. “Oh my gosh, thanks so much. It must have fallen off when I hit that bump.”

  “No problem. Are you okay?”

  “Fine,” I said, laughing. “I thought you were a mugger or something.”

  He smiled at me. “Can’t be too careful.” He was taller than me, broad and handsome. He skin was dark and his dark hair was cropped short. I guessed he was Indian or something like that, though he spoke perfect English. He was a few years older than me and was dressed in really simple khaki pants and a polo shirt.

  “Take care,” he said and then turned and walked away.

  I watched him go for a second and then unlocked the door, feeling foolish. I didn’t know why I felt so paranoid and strange, or why I would run from a perfect stranger. All the guy wanted to do was return my wallet.

  I opened the front door and pushed Mason inside, closing it and locking it behind me. Even though I knew that guy wasn’t chasing me to mug me or something, I couldn’t help but still feel a little uneasy. I was a single mother alone in a big house with just my baby. Anything could happen.

  I sighed. “I’m being silly,” I said to Mason as I lifted him from the stroller and walked into the kitchen. “Mommy is paranoid today. I don’t know why.”

  He just squirmed and giggled.

  I got a glass of water and sat down with him at the kitchen table. I sipped the water, thinking to myself absently about trying to make some new friends at college. That was pretty tough, especially with a baby. I was only a year older than most of the people in my classes, which was no big deal at all.

  The phone started ringing suddenly, yanking me back out of my thoughts. I stood up, Mason in one arm, and grabbed it with my free hand.

  “Hello?” I answered.

  There was silence on the other end.

  “Hello?” I said again.

  I was about to hang up, but I heard something. It was someone breathing heavily on the other end, like they were running or something like that.