Bastard's Baby: A Bad Boy Secret Baby Romance (Barone Crime Family) (Includes bonus novel Smash!)

by B. B. Hamel

  Bastard’s Baby

  A Bad Boy Secret Baby Romance

  B. B. Hamel

  Contents

  Copyright

  Mailing List

  Prologue

  1. Kaley

  2. Vince

  3. Kaley

  4. Vince

  5. Kaley

  6. Vince

  7. Kaley

  8. Vince

  9. Kaley

  10. Vince

  11. Kaley

  12. Vince

  13. Kaley

  14. Vince

  15. Kaley

  16. Vince

  17. Kaley

  18. Vince

  19. Kaley

  20. Vince

  21. Kaley

  22. Vince

  23. Kaley

  24. Vince

  25. Kaley

  26. Vince

  27. Kaley

  28. Vince

  29. Kaley

  30. Vince

  31. Kaley

  32. Vince

  33. Kaley

  34. Vince

  35. Kaley

  36. Vince

  37. Kaley

  Thank You!

  Preview

  Smash: A Stepbrother MMA Romance

  Copyright © 2016 by B. B. Hamel

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Sign up for my mailing list and find out about new releases, giveaways, and more. Plus, get a free book! Click here.

  Keep reading for the full text of Smash: A Stepbrother MMA Romance included at the end.

  Note: Bastard’s Baby ends around 50%

  Prologue

  The lights were down low in the club when I first saw her.

  She was shaking her ass like there was no fucking tomorrow. She looked across the crowded room at me, and I felt my cock stiffen as she smiled.

  I couldn’t stop myself. I made my way across the crowd, pressed myself against her, and let her grind herself against me.

  She was just another club slut that night. I didn’t know her from anywhere else. The only thing I saw was a tight dress, long, thick hair, and a full ass that kept moving for hours.

  “What’s your name?” I whispered in her ear.

  “No names tonight,” she said.

  I grinned at her. “Even better.”

  We danced for hours together like that, sweating, bodies pressed close, practically fucking on the dance floor. I was basically tearing through my fucking pants, hard as all hell, by the time the club was closing.

  Back in the cab, I whispered in her ear. “I want to see how soaked that pussy is. I want to see if that ass can shake on my big cock.”

  She smiled, and as soon as we got into my apartment, she proved that her hips were good for more than just dancing.

  She took my cock like a pro, sliding her tight pussy down along my shaft. The way she threw her head back, moaning loudly as I pressed myself deeper and deeper, drove me insane.

  Those moans haunted me for months afterward.

  I worked her body, hard and fast, making her beg for what she wanted. I wanted her to say my name, over and over, but we weren’t using names that night.

  No, we were just pure animals fucking because we were young and beautiful.

  There had been plenty of women before her, but none lived up to her. My nameless girl, the one with the perfect mouth, round, firm tits, and an ass that rode my dick like she couldn’t get enough.

  And then in the morning, after hours of sweating and fucking and moaning, she was gone.

  My cock still hummed with the pleasure from her perfect, tight cunt. It drove me wild lying in bed and remembering what she did.

  I never knew her name, never found it out. Not that night, at least. One night was all we had, or so I thought.

  My nameless girl. I never stopped thinking about her, not once.

  I never slowed down, either. When you worked for the mob, you didn’t have time to wonder what if. I was too busy with my gun, running my crew, working my way up through the ranks to try to find this nameless girl.

  There were plenty of other club sluts out there in the world, and I had my taste of all of them.

  Blood, money, and pussy. That was all I knew and all that I needed in my life. I was aiming to take over the city one day, and nothing could stop me or get in my way.

  And months later when she showed up at my door again, a crying bundle in her arms, I still couldn’t forget that night.

  1

  Kaley

  “He’s so cute!”

  I smiled at Sophie. “Yeah, I know.” I took another picture of little Alexei, nestled in his crib, and sighed. “But Dad is still pissed.”

  “I was going to ask you about that.” Sophie sat down in a chair, crossed her legs. She was about my height, and we’d known each other for ages. Her dad worked for my dad, so we’d been raised more or less like sisters.

  “Is he still pushing?” she asked.

  I nodded. “More every day.”

  “I can’t believe him.”

  “He thinks it’s a stain on our family’s honor.” I sat down on the ground at Sophie’s feet, leaning back on my hands.

  “Still, that can’t be enough to make you give him up.”

  “I’m not going to give him up, Soph,” I said. “That just won’t ever happen.”

  “You know how our family can be,” she said softly.

  “They’re not going to take him away,” I said fiercely. “I don’t care what my father says.”

  She leaned forward and put her hand on my head. “I know that, Kaley. But listen to me. I heard my dad talking last night.”

  I felt coldness enter my stomach. Sophie’s father was the enforcer for my father’s crew within the Russian mob. He was a hard man, violent and dangerous, and although he was like a second father to me, I knew he was deadly. People spoke of him with respect, fear, and awe.

  “And?”

  “He was talking about you.”

  I stared at her. “Tell me, Soph.”

  “I only heard my father’s side of the conversation.” She leaned back in her chair, concern clear on her face. “I think they’re coming for Alexei soon. I think they’re coming tomorrow.”

  “What?” I asked, standing up. “No.”

  “It’s just what he said,” Soph replied. “He said he could take care of the brat tomorrow.”

  “Are you sure he meant my baby?”

  “No,” Soph admitted, “I’m not sure. But what other brat is there?”

  I bit my lip, looking down at little Alex.

  My father was the captain of a prominent crew in Chicago’s Russian mob. I’d grown up in the mob, knew it like the back of my hand. I feared nothing and nobody, except for my father’s wrath.

  Anatoli Kozlov was a difficult man to grow up with. He’d always been hard on me, pushing me to succeed in school, to become a better person. Some girls were little mob princesses, treated like royalty and spoiled, but not me. Anatoli, my father, was distant and brutal in his methods. His men lived in fear of him, including my mother and me. He never hit us or anything, but he had a temper, and it could be terrifying.

  “You know who the father is, right?” Soph asked in a whisper.

  I glanced around the room.
Nobody was supposed to know the true identity of Alex’s father; I had lied to everyone and told them that I didn’t know. It made me seem like a whore, and only made my father hate Alex even more, but I had no other choice.

  If they knew the truth, my life would have been much, much worse.

  “I know,” I said, nodding.

  “Go to him,” Soph said. “Go to him tonight.”

  “I can’t,” I said softly. “You don’t understand.”

  Sophie stood up and came to me. “Please, Kaley. Take Alex and run. Your father is never going to let you keep him.”

  Pain wracked my body. I felt like I was being torn in half. On the one side there was my family, the people I felt a fierce loyalty toward. And on the other was Alex and his real father, two people who could never mix with my family.

  Because the truth was, Alex’s father was in the Italian mob.

  I wasn’t supposed to know that. At least, he didn’t think I did. But the night I’d met him at the club, I knew exactly who he was.

  I’d been a little tipsy and very, very rebellious. My father had just given me more grief for doing poorly on an exam at school. I was a senior at the University of Chicago back then, a prestigious and difficult school to get into, and so my father held me up to impossible standards.

  I was so angry that night. And when I saw him, that beautiful, dangerous Italian mobster, I couldn’t help myself. I knew that he was exactly the sort of man that would hurt my father the most if he ever found out.

  And so I insisted on no names, even though I knew his already.

  Vincent Mori, one of the new up-and-coming guys in the Italian mob.

  “He doesn’t know,” I said to Soph.

  “So? Tell him. If he’s not a total fucking piece of shit, he’ll help you.”

  “What if he is?”

  “Then you can run on your own. I’ll give you the money I have.”

  I sighed, shaking my head. “I can’t just run, Soph. I’ve not finished school.”

  “Forget school. This is your baby.”

  I frowned down at Alex and felt warmness in my heart. Having a baby was so difficult, but every time he looked at me and smiled, everything was worth it. All the pain and the shame my family felt, it was worth it. Because I loved my son and would do absolutely anything for him.

  “Kaley, please,” Soph said again. “Run. Tonight if you can. Tomorrow morning at the latest.”

  I looked back at her. “Okay. We’ll talk tonight, and I’ll go tomorrow morning.”

  She smiled. “Come on. We’ll plan it out.”

  “Thanks, Soph.”

  “Don’t thank me. This is easy for me. You’re the one running away.”

  I nodded. She was right.

  Running was going to be the hardest thing I’d ever done.

  Especially running from one dangerous situation directly into another one.

  I barely knew Vincent Mori. I knew he was young, handsome, and deadly. I knew he had a bad reputation with the Russians and just about everyone wanted him dead. Our two groups were constantly on the edge of war, constantly threatening violence. And I was terrified that they would turn me away.

  But Alex was Vince’s son. He couldn’t just abandon his child. I didn’t care what he thought about me, what he felt about me, as long as Alex was safe.

  “Let’s do this,” I said to Soph, terrified.

  I would do anything for my son, including betraying everything I knew.

  2

  Vince

  I rolled out of bed, a hangover buzzing in my skull.

  I grunted as I got up and walked into the bathroom of my little South Side apartment. I turned on the faucet and brushed my teeth, looking into the mirror.

  I looked like shit. I hadn’t been sleeping much because of the big deal happening with the Chinese, which meant a lot of fucking stress and headaches.

  “Vincent?” came the girl’s voice from the other room.

  I grinned at myself. I didn’t look so bad that I couldn’t pick up some random ass from the club, fortunately.

  “Yeah, babe?” I asked, looking into the bedroom.

  Her hair was disheveled as she sat up and looked at me, pouting. “Why are you getting dressed? You promised me breakfast.”

  I laughed. “Did I?”

  “Yeah. And you promised me some more fun.”

  She gave me these obvious fuck-me eyes, and I just grinned at her.

  “Another time, babe,” I said.

  “Vince! You promised.”

  “I have to get to the office.” I checked the clock and sighed. It was a little bit past eight in the morning.

  “I thought you were a gangster?” she asked. “You don’t have an office.”

  I walked over to her, and she crawled toward me on her hands and knees. She was wearing only a thin T-shirt that barely covered her full tits, her blond hair falling down around her.

  “Guess you don’t know much about the fucking mob,” I said.

  She looked up at me, smiling. She reached out and began to stoke my cock.

  “Wanna teach me?” she asked.

  I leaned down and put my lips against her ear. “No. Now get the fuck out.”

  I straightened up as she tried to slap me. Her hand whiffed in front of my face and I laughed again.

  “Fucking asshole,” she said.

  “Seriously. I’m going to take a shower. If you’re still here, I will throw your ass out on the street myself.”

  I turned and walked back into the bathroom, shutting the door.

  “Asshole!” I heard her scream, and I heard something thump against the door.

  I started the shower. “That better not have been something I cared about,” I muttered.

  Just another typical fucking morning in my life. The girl would be gone soon enough, and I’d be off to the compound to start my day.

  The bitch really had no clue who she was fucking with. I climbed into the shower, grinning to myself. Life wasn’t so fucking bad when you were a made man and a crew captain.

  Not so fucking bad.

  * * *

  The compound was a sprawling mansion sitting on about fifteen acres of prime Chicago suburbs. It was the Barone crime family’s main hangout and the place where I had lived for most of my life.

  These days I had my own apartment in the city. I found it more convenient to stay there when I was bringing women home from whatever club I had gone to with my crew that night, though I still spent a lot of time at the compound.

  The Barone crime family was the largest mob in the city, just ahead of the Russians. The compound was the heart and soul of the mob, the place where we did our dealing, where we trained our people, counted our money, fucked and fought and lived. It was like a home to me, and the mob was my fucking family.

  And I was one of the youngest captains in mob history. After my old boss, Lucas Barone, son of the head of the family, Arturo Barone, promoted me to mob captain, I quickly began to gather power and influence around me.

  Lucas had taught me well, and I was using those skills to strengthen myself within the family. Arturo was barely holding on to his power, and Lucas was too busy getting his wife fucking pregnant all the time.

  As I drove up the long driveway heading toward the main house, I shook my head, annoyed with Lucas. Ever since he’s gotten married to that girl Natalie, he’d been too busy pumping out babies and spending time with his family to really get deep into the politics of the mob. Sure, he was still running his crew and was still one of the best captains. He was definitely first in line to succeed his father. But he was no longer actively trying to overthrow Arturo and take control of the family.

  Not like I was trying to do that, either. I liked where I was for the moment. But Lucas used to be a fucking gangster.

  Since he had softened, I had gotten much, much harder.

  That was our way in the mob. When someone made a little room, you took as much as you could. Since Lucas had given me my own crew
and some power, I’d been slowly muscling into territory near my own, taking it street-by-street, amassing wealth and power and reputation.

  I wasn’t fucking around. I wasn’t the type of man to take these things halfway. It was all or nothing, like everything in my life.

  I parked my car and climbed out, tossing the key to the valet. He nodded to me and climbed in as I walked into the main foyer of the house.

  The Barone mansion was fucking ridiculous. It was the epitome of wealth, with gilding and expensive paintings and million dollar chandeliers everywhere. Since the mansion was meant to be the center of the Barone power structure, it had to exude all the wealth the family had. It was like a centerpiece, meant to show exactly how the family meant business.

  As I moved through the foyer, a familiar face appeared by my side.

  “Morning, boss,” Rafa said.

  “Morning,” I grunted. “Food?”

  “In the office.”

  Rafa was the second in command of my crew and, ever since Lucas went all fucking weak on me, my closest confidant. I had brought him up through the ranks back when I was promoted, and I trusted him with my life.

  We moved down a few hallways, finally entering into a side room. It was my office, very literally my office. There was a desk in the back, a small table against one wall, a computer, filing cabinets, and a little desk for Rafa. There was coffee and bagels on the table.

  I grabbed some coffee. It was weird for a mobster to have an office, but the mob wasn’t what it used to be. Sure, we still went around breaking knees and being violent fuckers, but it was also a business these days. We had accounts, we had investments, and I needed a place to manage all that shit, somewhere that wasn’t my piece-of-shit apartment. I could get business done in the Barone mansion, and since they had way more room than they knew what to do with, it had been easy to carve out a little spot.

  Rafa sat at his desk. “You hear from Bao?”

  “Not today,” I grunted.