King's Baby: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance

by Nicole Fox

  “What the …” he stammered, and then began reaching for his gun.

  “Uh-uh,” I said, raising my own pistol. “You keep your hand off that holster or I shoot.”

  A vein in his temple throbbed. I could tell he was so angry he was considering reaching for it anyway. But at last, he said, “Did you … did you do this?”

  He nodded towards to body on the floor.

  “Actually, I did not,” I said, rising to my feet. “She did.”

  As one, Calvin and I looked at Farrah. I could see the stricken look in her eyes as she thought, Why is he selling me out? But I ignored it. I had a plan now.

  “She …” He gasped in disbelief. “She … that little whore … why?”

  “Because Minghelli wanted this,” I said, holding up the DVD. Calvin’s eyes centered upon it, and I saw beads of sweat forming on his brow. He was frozen, torn by a lust for vengeance and my obvious advantage in the situation. Wide eyes—both Farrah’s and Calvin’s—focused on me, waiting for me to act.

  I lifted the DVD up, high above my head, and then slammed it to the ground, where it cracked in half. For good measure, I drove my heel on top of it, twisting until it was nothing but silvery shards and dust.

  “Wha …” Mumbled Calvin.

  “Tom Minghelli was an honorable man,” I said, walking about the room as if I was giving a lecture. “He was a good mobster, a good brother, and a good friend to those he accepted.”

  Calvin nodded, mute and bewildered.

  I continued, “It would be an awful shame for people to find out he was killed by a useless whore, wouldn’t it?”

  Calving found his words. “How would you … prove it?”

  I chuckled. “Oh, the whole scene was recorded. Extra copies are being sent out right now.”

  Calvin blanched. He probably didn’t even know what the DVD had contained, and yet he was far more worried about people knowing that his brother had been killed by a skinny little blonde girl. That was how criminal pride worked.

  I could tell I was reaching the end of his patience and his capacity to think. Even though he was clearly outmaneuvered, his hand once again went for his gun.

  “Hold on there, Calvin,” I said. “I have a proposition. As you can see, I have just destroyed the DVD your brother wanted. That conflict is over. The only issue here is how your brother died, so I offer this: In exchange for letting this go, and for the Minghellis leaving us alone, I vow here and now to tell everyone that Tom died like a worthy mobster, in a knifefight with a Devil’s Wing. That way, he can be remembered as strong and proud as he always was. Would that be acceptable?”

  Calvin stared. “The Minghellis … forget all this, and you … killed him?”

  “Yes. There is no need for anyone to know about her.”

  Calvin looked to Farrah, who looked cold and composed and yet tiny and feminine nonetheless.

  I tensed. My whole plan came down to this: which was stronger, Calvin’s anger or his pride? The two are so closely connected, and yet …

  He hand moved away from the holster, and rested at his side.

  “It is done,” he growled. “But I don’t want to see you … or that bitch … ever again. You got it?”

  “Yes, sir, Mr. Minghelli,” I said, nice as pie. “You got it.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Farrah

  Calvin left. I was so relieved, and so exhausted, that I wanted to curl up then and there on one of the Berth’s beds and take a nap, but Connor informed me that we’d best be going. The Minghelli men would be around soon to collect Tom’s body, and we didn’t want to push our luck any more by being there when they arrived.

  I could not agree with him more.

  So we left, clambering back onto his bike and meeting Joey at the rendezvous point. He had a bloody lip and his leather outfit was scuffed, but otherwise he and his men looked fine. I was so happy to see him that I gave him an enormous hug, laughing into his shoulder until Connor got playfully jealous and broke the two of us apart. Then, the whole group of Devil’s Wings mounted their bikes, and rode back to the compound.

  Which reminded me of one more problem I still needed to solve.

  I tapped Connor on the shoulder and hollered over the wind, “What about Montengo and Honi? She is still lying, and he still thinks I’m Princess.”

  Connor, surprised, turned his head around so quick to look at me that he nearly toppled the pair of us off the bike. Controlling himself, he muttered, “Fuck. I forgot about all that. What are you going to do?”

  I took a deep breath, drawing on the bravery I had felt when facing Minghelli.

  “Don’t worry,” I said. “I’ve got a plan.”

  When we arrived at the compound, I asked Connor not to walk in me through the front, but to sneak me into his office through the back. He scowled, and was obviously about to ask, “Why?” But he stopped himself. I could see in his eyes that he was beginning to trust me.

  That made me feel braver.

  So Joey and his comrades burst in, informing Montengo that Tom Minghelli was dead and that Calvin had turned tail. A party was immediately thrown, and all of them began enjoying the ruckus that ensued. Meanwhile, Connor and I snuck quietly into his office. I just caught a glimpse of Honi as we slunk by, and a petty part of me was pleased to see that she looked nervous. Of course she would. Now that Minghelli was dead, there was no reason for the Devil’s Wings to keep housing her.

  It was the same fear that had been preying on my mind the whole trip back.

  I knew the Devil’s Wings wouldn’t keep me. Connor and Joey would try to, but Montengo would think me as nothing but trouble. I had to prove my worth to the Devil’s Wings and reveal my true identity—all without allowing Honi to come to harm.

  And the solution to all that waited in Connor’s office.

  After we were inside, I shut the door behind us and locked it. Connor watched in curiosity as I opened a seemingly random door in his desk. There, I found the envelope.

  “Huh,” he gasped as he saw it. For a second, I was worried he would get angry like the last time he had seen me with it, but he just frowned and crossed his arms, waiting for me to act.

  Good. I had no time to worry about him.

  I booted up the computer, undid the envelope, and plugged in the jump drive that it had contained. Immediately, at least fifty files popped up, every single one of them gibberish.

  “Farrah,” he said at last. “Do you know how to decode that?”

  I took a deep breath and said, “I know how to try.”

  And then, I began working.

  It took several hours. By the time I was done, my eyes were straining, my head pounded, and my skin felt clammy. At least three times, Connor disappeared for a few minutes, only to return with cups of coffee. I took them with a quiet ‘thank you’ every time and returned to work.

  At last, I pushed the keyboard away, wiped my sweaty brow, and said, “I think I’m finished.”

  “Great!” Connor exclaimed, slamming the ‘Print’ button and catching the pages as they emerged from the printer. “Now, let’s take these to Montengo!”

  “Wait a minute,” I interrupted. “There’s one more thing I have to do.”

  I reached into the pile of papers and fished one out. “This,” I explained, “is the information for several of my aunt’s secret tax-dodging accounts. Each one contains something like ten thousand dollars.”

  “Yes, yes,” Connor said excitedly. He looked like a kid in a candy store, surrounded by the prospect of so much money.

  “Well,” I said, “I want to give you these, and then, in exchange, I’d like you to give me ten thousand dollars cash.”

  His smile faltered.

  “Right now?” he said.

  I nodded firmly.

  “Yes. Right now.”

  He stared a long time at me, and then said, “All right.” There was something strange about his voice, but I was too tired and exhilarated to figure it out.

&nb
sp; He left the office, going, I assumed, to the secret coffers the Devil’s Wings had for emergency cash. When he returned, he counted out the money, and then left in silence, without a word.

  What’s going on with him? I thought. He seemed angry.

  But I had more important things to worry about.

  Feeling nervous about leaving the office, I crept out and snuck to the fringes of the party. There I saw Honi, sitting alone and with a disgruntled look on her face, nursing a cigarette and a glass of champagne in turn.

  “Honi,” I whispered to her. “Honi, come here.”

  She jumped, spilling a drop of champagne on her expensive outfit, and then looked my way, scowling.

  “Princess!” she exclaimed. “You’re alive! What do you want?”

  “Come here,” I said, gesturing her away from the party. “I need to talk to you.”

  She crossed her legs, looking like a petulant toddler. “Why should I?” she demanded.

  In answer, I pulled out several of the many fifty dollar bills I had stashed in my jacket and waved them through the air. Her eyes perked. I needed nothing more than that.

  Like a hound on the scent of fine meat, she followed me into Connor’s office.

  “All right, you whore,” she spat. “What do you expect to do with that money? The Devil’s Wings still think you’re Princess, and they own you.”

  “Actually, Honi,” I said gently, “the money is for you.”

  Her eyes went wide. Obviously, she had not been expecting that.

  “There are ten thousand dollars here,” I said, holding up the wad of cash. Even without counting it, its thickness showed that it was an incredible sum of money. “I want you to take it, then I want you to leave the Devil’s Wings, and get out of my life forever.”

  Honi’s eyes narrowed. “What?” she asked.

  I took a deep breath. “I want you to take this money, and then I want you to consider whatever debt me or my aunt owed you paid. I don’t want to hear about you anymore, and I don’t want you whoring. I want you gone, and our problems finished. Agreed?”

  Still, she hesitated, waiting for the catch. It struck me how much in that moment she looked like Calvin, making a similar decision. Wounded, violent, desperate people, forced to evil things.

  Slowly, she raised a trembling hand and made to grasp the bills.

  “Hold on!” I interrupted. “Agreed? I will not do this without your word.”

  She glared at me, then chuckled. “You’re the only one I know, Farrah, who would respect a whore’s word. All right. I agree.”

  “Good,” I said, and tossed her the money. With hunger in her eyes, she held it to her nose, inhaled deeply, and then began to count. When she finished, she had a grim smile on her face. Odd. I expected her to be ecstatic.

  “Honi?” I asked tentatively.

  She wouldn’t look at me. “Do … do I have to go tell Montengo who I really am?” she asked. I was astounded to hear fear—real fear, little girl fear, in her voice.

  “No, Honi,” I said. “I will do that. I will take care of everything. The only thing you need to do is leave. Right now. And forever.”

  She nodded, and wiped at her eyes. Then, to my utter astonishment, she threw her arms around me.

  “I’m sorry, Farrah,” she whispered.

  “That’s okay, Honi. I understand.”

  She nodded, offered me a real, faltering smile, and slipped into the shadows, out the back of the compound, and away from me and all the Devil’s Wings.

  I never saw her again.

  # # #

  Next, I had to confront Montengo.

  I gathered up all the printed papers, revealing the financial and blackmailing goods the Berth of Venus had to offer, and emerged once again from the office.

  Montengo was in the center of the party the Devil’s Wings were having, looking drunk and happy. Joey was handing out drinks nearby, but Connor was nowhere to be found. I approached him, and he looked up at me, a childish smile on his face.

  “Princess!” he exclaimed. “I’m glad things worked out! You seen Farrah around?”

  “Actually, President Montengo,” I said, sitting down beside him. “I have a confession to make. I am the real Farrah Michaels. The woman you were with is named Honi, and she lied about who she was in order to help protect me from the Minghellis.”

  Montengo stared. I could tell my words were battling the liquor in his brain. “What?” Was all he could manage at last. I could sense the anger brewing in that single word, like water just short of boiling.

  “I’m the real Farrah Michaels, sir, and I can prove it,” I persisted. “Here, take a look at these.”

  I handed him the papers.

  “These are a gift from my aunt. All the information from the Berth of Venus has been decrypted, and I’m giving it to you.”

  Montengo stared from the papers up to me, and back down to the papers. I could tell he was trying very hard to keep from seeing double.

  “You bitch,” he growled. “These teeny little sums aren’t going to make me stop believing in … hiccup … the woman I love!”

  “Check the zeroes, sir. Count them again.”

  He did. And as he did so, I saw his eyes widen.

  “Christ almighty,” he gasped, and collapsed into a drunken stupor, head flat upon the table.

  I laughed. I couldn’t help it.

  Joey must have heard me, for a moment later he was by my side.

  “Did you tell him?” he asked.

  I nodded. “Yup. I just hope he is sober enough to remember. I don’t want to have to tell him again tomorrow.”

  Joey laughed, and then offered me a beer.

  “No, thank you,” I said. “Actually, I was hoping to find Connor. Have you seen him? He stepped out a little while ago.”

  Joey frowned. “Not for a bit,” he admitted. “Earlier, I might have heard his bike though. Can’t imagine where he’d be going. He’s not one to miss a party.”

  Now it was my turn to frown. Though I couldn’t figure out why, I had a feeling this had to do with me.

  “Okay,” I said to Joey. “Well, if you see him, or talk to him, can you tell him to call me? Or at least meet me at my apartment?” I wrote down the address for him. “Now that this whole Minghelli thing is over, I’m finally free to go home.”

  Joey nodded, and then raised his beer to me. “To Farrah. A real Devil’s Daughter—and one of the bravest people I’ve ever met.”

  “Thank you, Joey,” I said. I leaned him, kissed him on the cheek, and left.

  Once outside, I realized that the fresh air had never smelled sweeter. I would have walked home if it hadn’t been so far, but instead I was forced to grab a taxi. I had a few twenties ‘borrowed’ from Honi’s ten thousand (I preferred to think of it as severance pay) and was easily able to afford the ride.

  My apartment felt cold and alien to me as I walked in, even though I realized it hadn’t been that long since I’d been away. Maybe, I thought, it’s not weirdness you’re feeling, but loneliness. After all those long nights wanting to leave the compound, I found myself wanting to be back there—in Connor’s arms.

  “Connor, where did you go?” I asked myself aloud. And then, internally, I whispered, I miss you.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Connor

  There I was, yet again, drinking myself silly at a sports bar because of some stupid chick. First, that raven-haired witch—Christ, that felt like a million years ago—and now Farrah. Princess. Farrah.

  “I thought she wanted to stay,” I muttered into my glass. But of course she was leaving. Why else would she have wanted that ten thousand dollars? I couldn’t blame her for wanting to get the fuck out and to start a new life. It was the smart, practical thing to do.

  So why the hell was I so upset?

  “Because she was a good fucking lay,” I murmured drunkenly. I didn’t care that I was speaking aloud. Anybody sitting near me had shifted away ages ago, probably afraid of my dangero
us expression.

  But if I was really honest with myself, I knew that there was more to it than that. She was a good lay, of course—a great lay—but I had realized that I had actually enjoyed spending time with her, not just fucking. Despite all the many, many casual relationships I’d had throughout my life, that had never really happened to me before.