Bad Boy (Blue Collar Bachelors Book 3)

by Cassie-Ann L. Miller

  He scratches his temple and sighs. “After that whole thing happened—the breaking and entering gone wrong—I knew I needed to get out of the MC life. It didn’t happen overnight. It took me far longer than I thought it would. I started trying to figure out where to go. That led me to start searching for my real father. It took me years to find out who it was but eventually, I stumbled upon this forum where people were discussing the Becker’s women’s shelter and everybody had these glowing, ass-kissing reviews. Except for this one woman.”

  “Lisa?” I ask.

  He nods. “She kept slinging mud at Norman and his wife and I realized that something more was going on with her. I wanted to know what it was. So I messaged her privately and after talking for a few days, it all came gushing out.”

  “How did you know she was telling the truth?” I remember her when she was using drugs. She wasn’t the most credible person. And when stacked up against a man with a solid reputation like Pastor Becker, I never would have believed her if I’d been in Clinton’s shoes.

  He chuckles. “DNA. I had the kids tested. The results showed that we’re a match.” He throws his head back and stares at the ceiling. “You don’t understand what it was like to find them, Vivian. I was all alone in this world and then all of a sudden, I had two little rugrats who shared my blood. I’d do anything for them.”

  My hand instinctively goes to my stomach where another little rugrat is growing. Clinton’s own child.

  He shoves frustrated hands through his hair. “The man is a monster. I couldn’t imagine treating my children the way he has.”

  I feel a fierce tightness in my chest. I reach across the table and hold his hand. “You’ll be an amazing father, Clinton.” His eyes are heavy with a mix of emotions as his gaze falls to the table. I touch his chin, forcing his eyes to meet mine. “You’ll be an amazing father in about, say, eight and a half months or so.”

  His gaze sharpens. “In eight and a half months?”

  “I’m pregnant…” I whisper trying to gauge his reaction before breaking out into an excited jig.

  His chest is virtually vibrating. “You’re pregnant?”

  Okay, now I’m getting impatient. “Maybe stop parroting me and tell me if you’re feelin’ this.”

  He launches out of his chair and scoops me up into his arms. “Oh, Sunflower, you’d bet I’m feelin’ this. You’re having my baby?”

  I nod. “Yup. I’m having your baby.”

  “Fuck, Vivian! Yes!” Our lips crash together and I lock my body around his.

  Chapter 37

  Vivian

  “Oh god…”

  “Shit! Vivian!”

  “Yes. More. Please, Clint. I’m so close.”

  “Vivian, yes!”

  My arms curl around his back and my knees bracket his waist as my man props me on the edge of the dresser and drills into me. Our foreheads touch and we breathe the same air as we near the peak. So intimate. So powerful.

  We haven’t stopped making love over the past two weeks. We can’t keep our hands off of each other. Maybe that’s why it’s taking Clinton so long to finish moving his stuff in here. We’ll get around to doing the chores eventually. Right now, the only thing on my mind is the mind-blowing orgasm that’s right within reach.

  He rears his hips back and his thumb presses on my clit. My eyes zip shut and I shout. Everything inside of me breaks loose and Clinton hits his peak at the same time, shooting his seed into me.

  We stay just like that, foreheads pressed together, limbs intertwined, struggling to breathe. A soft smile touches Clinton’s lips as my heart rate begins to slow. “That was amazing,” he whispers. “You good?”

  I nod my head and grin. “So good.”

  And he spins me off of the dresser, dropping me onto the bed. I giggle when he plops down next to me and stretches his muscular arms over his head. After taking a few seconds to recover, he rises from the mattress.

  “Come back to bed…” I groan, reaching for him as he slinks out of my grasp.

  “We need to finish emptying my boxes today. And I’m gonna need some storage space for my clothes, woman!” He fakes a stern tone. “Chop, chop!”

  I take the opportunity to appreciate his stong, toned butt as he stands in front of the dresser and yanks a drawer open. “We can do it later,” I whine.

  He shakes his head. “No, now.” I roll over and burrow my face into the pillow in protest. “Vivian, I’m warning you. If you don’t come empty this drawer for me right this minute, the sunflower skirts go in the garbage!”

  Well, that’s the threat that gets me on my feet. “Don’t you dare touch my sunflower skir—” My breath catches in my throat when I peer over his shoulder. I reach in and pick up the diamond ring sitting in the empty drawer. When I turn back to him, he’s down on one knee.

  Instant waterworks. Pass me the tissues.

  “I love you, Vivian. I wanna be the guy by your side. Your man, the father of your children, your best friend. For the rest of our lives. As your bush gets whiter and whiter.”

  Growling through my laughter, I punch him in the arm. His massive grin doesn’t flinch as he waits for my answer. “Will you marry me?”

  “Yes, baby. My answer is yes!” He takes the ring from me and slides it down my finger as I wipe tears away with my other hand.

  I pull him to his feet and wrap my naked body around his. We get lost in a passionate kiss. My knees are so weak. Good thing Clinton’s got his arms around me. My heart flips around, knowing these are arms I can rely on for the rest of my life.

  When we pull out of the kiss, he can’t stop grinning. “We need to celebrate!” He brushes hair from my sweaty forehead. “What do ya say, beautiful?”

  I run a hand over my belly. I’m hungry. I’m always hungry thanks to the little bundle growing in my belly. “How about brunch? Something with bacon. I’ll go get it started while you empty the boxes. Sounds good?”

  “Sounds good.”

  I throw on a T-shirt and some underwear and make my way into the kitchen to get the pancakes and bacon feast started.

  They catch me by surprise…

  As I pour the beans into the coffee maker, I don’t expect the set of rough hands shoving me down onto a kitchen chair and the trio of wicked, greasy faces sneering down at me.

  I scream.

  Chapter 38

  Clinton

  When I rush into the kitchen, the first thing I see are the King Vulture patches covering those broad, leather-clad backs. Vivian’s face is white and her eyes bulge out of her face as her gaze darts between them.

  “What the fuck are you doing here, Franklin?” As usual, my brother flinches at the sound of his given name.

  He turns to face me and squares off his shoulders. “It’s Prez,” he grits out. “I’m the president now.”

  “Con-fucking-gratulations,” I say through a tight jaw as I take a step closer. “Now, again—what the fuck are you doing here?”

  I can almost smell Vivian’s fear. “Clinton, please…” she says, silently begging me not to do anything stupid.

  Franklin looks around at his men and the three of them share a sinister grin. “I think the better question is, what are you doing here, brother? In this humdrum little suburb with this pretty, All-American princess?” He slides his grimy fingers down Vivian’s cheek and I fucking snap. I lunge at him and she screams as Franklin’s thugs pull knives, pressing the glistening blades to the front of her throat.

  I freeze and Vivian’s panicked gaze hooks onto mine. I’m agile and I pack a mean punch. Plus, I’m not scared to get blood under my fingernails when the need to defend myself arises. I can easily take Franklin and his men. But Vivian…she’s carrying my baby. I can’t let anything happen to her. To protect her, I’ve got to keep my temper under control and measure each move carefully.

  My brother just rolls his eyes. “Vultures, stand down,” he orders them. “As a matter of fact, go take a walk. I need to have a private conversation
with Prince Charming and Snow White here.”

  The men grumble as they march out the front door, visibly disappointed that Vivian won’t be the one to quench their appetite for blood on this late November morning.

  When the men step out of the room, my little brother’s tough guy façade falls away. His gaze drops to the floor and he tracks his fingers through his dark greasy hair. I know that look all too well.

  I ask the question again, this time softer, hoping to catch a glimpse of the little brother I once had. “Why are you here?”

  He glares at me, so much anger in his eyes. “Loyalty is the first rule of the Vultures family. You don’t get to just leave. You don’t get to just walk away. The MC was your mess to inherit. You were next in line after my father died. And you just cashed your check and rode off into the sunset and met some hot chick to go domestic with. Meanwhile, I’m stuck with MC politics rammed balls deep in my ass. You have to come back. Bring Ms. Disney Princess along with you. I don’t care. Because it’s getting real out here. Would you believe the Pink Fury MC stormed our compound last weekend?”

  Vivian’s little voice rings out. “The all-female motorcycle club? I did a cupcake tower for their last annual meeting. Really sweet ladies.” She smiles proudly.

  Franklin growls. “Those women are vicious. Outsiders don’t understand it. Rumor has it that all their menstrual cycles synced up. That’s why they’re so wicked. They’re a force to be reckoned with!”

  I turn away and scrub my hands over my face to keep from laughing. “Dude—you can just leave the club. Let the chips fall where they may. Like I did.”

  “And you look weak.”

  “I’m not weak. I’m free and that takes strength. More strength than you have, apparently.”

  That statement unleashes something in him. He lunges at me.

  With the element of surprise on his side, he slams me backward. I hit the wall hard and he puts all his weight behind the punch he sends straight to my jaw. I grab him by his leather lapels and shove him off of me, then throw a sharp elbow at his ribs. Vivian’s screams in the background are a distraction. I just want to get to her and make sure she’s okay. But Franklin roars with pain and charges again, this time bringing his shoulder square into the middle of my chest. I lose my breath as the impact ejects the air from my lungs. In the two seconds it takes me to cough, Franklin’s fists are showering blows down on my head.

  My hands come up to protect my skull. I chance a look over his shoulder just as Vivian is approaching with a bottle of champagne in her hands. She rears all the way back and I duck down just as she swings her arms forward with all her might. The bottle makes contact with my brother’s head and he stumbles to his knees, just as the cork pops out and champagne rains down all around us.

  Stunned and proud as hell, I step in front of my woman. Mostly to protect my brother from her because the protective look in her eyes tells me that she’s ready to keep going. Ms. Suddenly-Badass.

  Franklin’s men show up, bursting through the door to defend him. Panting and rubbing the back of his neck, my brother holds up a hand to stop them. “Leave them alone,” he mutters bitterly. “The girl’s even crazier than he is.” He rises to his feet, alcohol dripping from his hair. “They’ve earned their freedom and they’re prepared to defend it.”

  I kiss Viv’s cheek. “You’re damn right about that.” I drape an arm around her shoulder.

  Just as he’s about to slip out the door, his eyes come to mine. “Have a nice life, brother,” he mutters under his breath.

  I pull him into a rough hug and slap him on the back. “Have a nice life, brother.” I take a snapshot of his face with my mind—his dark eyes, his crooked nose, his hard jaw—because I know it’s the last time I’ll ever see him. “And give my regards to our mother,” I spit out snarkily.

  Chapter 39

  Vivian

  Clinton is stepping out of the barbershop just as I’m stepping out of the bakery. We grin at each other.

  “You ready to go?” he asks as he turns the key in the lock.

  I nod and do the same, securing the cupcake shop for the night. “I’m ready.”

  Today, we have an appointment at the clinic. We’re going to hear the baby’s heartbeat. I’m so giddy with excitement that I can’t even walk straight. Clinton comes and drops an arm around my shoulder as he caresses my little belly.

  “Let’s do it.” He kisses my cheek. “And after that, dinner at Gallos?”

  “Definitely.” Because when am I ever not hungry these days.

  I’m headed for my car but Clinton pulls me toward his motorcycle. “We have the rest of our lives to drive in your sensible little Chevrolet. Let’s be adventurous tonight.”

  “No!” I laugh, thrusting my car keys at him.

  “Yes!” He stretches a helmet out to me.

  I arch a brow and shake the car keys again.

  He winks and wiggles the helmet in response.

  My resistance is weak. I’m happy and I’m in love and I’d follow this man to the ends of the Earth. Let’s just hope my bladder keeps it together for the ride.

  Clinton is helping me put on the helmet when Mandy’s minivan frenetically swings into the parking lot. Tires screech and she throws the thing into park. She hops out of the driver’s side and stomps around the front to yank open the passenger’s side door. Ernie climbs meekly out of the vehicle. His wife literally grabs him by the collar of his trench coat and drags him down the sidewalk toward the cupcake shop.

  “I really can’t believe that I share DNA with that chump,” Clinton whispers out the side of his mouth. “And with a name like ‘Ernie’…”

  I shake my head ruefully. “The poor guy never even had a chance at being a winner.”

  Clinton was not pleased when we finally put two and two together and discovered that my cowardly ex-boyfriend is one of his half-brothers. It was actually kind of hilarious to hear him grunt and grumble about it.

  Anyway, Mandy’s bickering with her husband as they approach. “…You are going to tell her that you didn’t mean any of those things you said to her and then you’re going to never set foot back on this side of town again,” she instructs him.

  Clinton stands protectively in front of me. “Is there a problem here?”

  Mandy folds her arms over her chest. “After reviewing the information on the tracking device I implanted in his boxers, I think my husband has a few things to say to Vivian. A few retractions and clarifications, if you will.” The furious woman glares at the spineless, little chump she married. “I’m waiting, Ernie.”

  I pull Clinton’s arm around my shoulder and tuck my head against his chest. “We’re sort of running late for an appointmen—"

  Mandy cuts me off. “Spit it out, Ernie. Or I’m gonna file for a divorce so fast it’ll make your head spin. I pushed three enormous Becker foreheads out of my birth canal and I’ll be damned if I don’t go down swinging!”

  “Now really isn’t a good time.” I say it with a smile but Mandy keeps on hollering and threatening her husband. His eyes dart around frantically for the nearest hole to hide out in.

  I tried to be polite but my patience is running on empty. I’ve had enough of them. “I’ve come to some stark realizations about the two of you.” I glare at Mandy. “You go around mean-momming her way through life as a means for masking your repressed ambition and your sexual dissatisfaction.” I turn my attention on Ernie. “And you? You’re so low on testosterone that I can even find a metaphor that would do your situation justice. And I just don’t have the gigabytes in my emotional data plan to deal with either of you today. So, excuse us.” Clinton takes me by the wrist and helps me mount his bike.

  Mandy’s jaw drops in shock. “Bu-but I have some things I need to discuss with you…”

  I look her straight in the face. "Apparently, you don’t understand. Okay, let me rephrase that for you. I've never given less fucks in my life."

  Clinton jumps in front of me on the bike and
I lock my arms around his waist. As we peel out of the parking lot and leave Ernie and Mandy in the dust, my man throws a hand into the air. “Middle fingers, bitches!”

  And then we ride off into the sunset. Poetic as fuck.

  Epilogue

  Clinton

  Dangerously-close to nine months later…

  "Are you okay?" I run the back of my hand over Vivian’s forehead. It's hot and slick with sweat. Her cheeks are flushed.

  She grips the wooden banister beside her and looks up at me with a forced grin. "I'm perfectly fine, Clint," she says through gritted teeth. "You don't have to ask every twelve seconds." She shifts all her weight to her left hip and cranes her neck toward the front of the room.