Knocked Up by the Bad Boy by Vanessa Waltz Page B

done. “Do it.”
    Relief washes over his face, and I almost want to laugh at him. I’d probably kill him anyway, just to tie up loose ends. I don’t trust him to keep his trap shut if anyone’s busted, because he’s not a member.
    “Thank you, John.”
    “If you don’t get copies of the keys, don’t come back at all.”
    I watch him leave, an uneasy feeling eating away at my stomach as he walks away. Then I beckon toward Chris, who kneels to my side immediately.
    “I want you to follow him. And then I want you to take care of him.”
    Chris doesn’t betray any shock. His young face freezes for a moment, and then his dark eyes slide to mine. “Take care of him?”
    You know what I mean.
    Then he leans back and nods, patting his front jacket pocket as he heads outside.
    It takes a split second for me to make a life-or-death decision.
    Like I said, I don’t give second chances.
    The Mafia is a family, yes, but it’s mostly a business. We’re in it for the money, not the fucking honor. I surround myself with people who are valuable. I don’t give a fuck whether someone isn’t one hundred percent Italian.
    I grab another slice of pizza and carelessly tear into it with my teeth as that girl pops into my head again. It just galls me that someone might discriminate against me , of all people. All week I couldn’t get that cunt out of my mind. Can’t forget the way she let me fuck her. The screams she made when she came on my dick. All week I’ve been waiting to bump into her in that bar, like some schmuck .
    Whatever. I’ll find a new piece of ass to fuck. I always do. Hell, even in this restaurant. Women turn their heads to look at me, sitting with a few of my soldiers. I could ask the waitress out. She has a nice ass.
    Not as nice as hers.
    I swallow painfully as that truth sinks in. How can I forget her? I spanked her ass right before I sank my dick into her. Before that, she climbed into my lap naked. I can still feel her skin gliding in my palms. Her gorgeous curves bounced in front of my face. She let me put my hands all over her—she let me do things to her that I only did with hired pussy.
    I smile into my wineglass as blood rushes to my cock. Fucking hell, I cannot get hard in this place.
    “François, we need to head up to Sorel-Tracy. There were problems with the last shipment.”
    His face twists slightly, but he nods. He hates bikers on principle. Hell, we all do, but we don’t have to like each other. We just have to work together.
    They run all the drugs, and I handle just about everything else because I never wanted to be involved in drugs. I facilitate the shipments, and the bikers sell the drugs on the streets. Getting twenty-five years for possession is not worth it to me. Anyone in my crew caught selling drugs gets his head chopped off.
    I get up from the table and my bodyguards follow me outside. I slide into the passenger seat of my car as François takes the wheel, and my thoughts linger on a certain brunette as he drives. Finally we get to that concrete shit-hole of a fortress that is like a beacon should the CSIS ever decide to raid the place. The walls are thick, and guards patrol the towers with guns.
    François lays on the horn and the metal gate screams as it swings aside.
    “ Putain de merde .”
    Carlos waits just inside the community, wearing his filthy leather jacket. We roll the car into a dirt parking lot and I open my door, fixing a smile on my face.
    “Carlos, good to see you.”
    “John.”
    He nods at me, and then we walk toward that shack he calls a clubhouse. I’ll have to wipe the dust from my shoes when I get out of here. I walk past a lot of sullen, drawn faces. Like dogs at the pound. What a depressing place to live in.
    The clubhouse has a bit of charm. Inside, there are strippers wearing pasties, gyrating on poles as those bearded fucks ogle them. Loud rock music grates against my ears. A biker grabs a passing stripper and pulls her onto his lap, groping her