ROMANCE: MC BIKER ROMANCE: Bad Boy Biker's Baby (Bad Boy Alpha Male Motorcycle Club Romance) (Contemporary MC Biker Pregnancy Romance) (131 page)

''Sure anything,'' he smiled. He took her hand, but she pulled back.

''I'm pregnant Nathan. I'm pregnant, and I really need a favor.''

''You're what?'' Now there was no chance they would ever get back together.  ''So why the hell did you call me and not the father?'' Nicki avoided his gaze.

''He doesn't want to have anything to do with me.''

''I'm not surprised,'' he said cruelly. ''You're behaving like a whore. Limping from one man to the next.''

Nicki tried to ignore his words. ''Can you help me get a job at the Times?''

''You're kidding. Maybe I could have helped you, but now you're pregnant how do you expect anyone to employ you?'' The waitress appeared carrying a menu. The manner in which he waved her away did little to make her long day any better. ''There is no chance. Do you seriously expect to start a job and then a few months later go on pregnancy leave? Which boss in his right mind would welcome that?'' She nodded and stared out of the window at a woman with a pushchair. ''What happened to your dream of being freelance. Did it go down the pan as I told you it would?''

''I have written a couple of things that haven't sold.  I don't have the energy to chase the big stories. Most mornings I'm hanging over the toilet.''

''Well you should have thought about that before you went screwing around.'' He scowled and drew in a large gulp of air. ''Here's what I suggest. You either go home to your parents or you look in the paper for a part-time job until the baby is born. I've noticed there's plenty of jobs for office cleaners. Goodbye, Nicki.'' When he got up, her eyes followed him to the door. What he was no longer there, she felt empty as never before.

*****

When Andrey saw Sokolov, he wanted to kill him. His treatment of both him and Mel had been arrogant and brutal, and it was time to teach him a lesson.

''Andrey, my boy, have you come to apologize?''

''No I've come to tell you that you are a two-bit piece of shit. You're nothing but a low life, whore fucker.''

Sokolov flew into a rage. He got up and tried to grab Andrey, but he was too fast and dodged the heavier man. Andrey continued to goad him. 

''All you've done with your life is threaten and rob people.''

Sokolov was now at one side of the sofa and Andrey, the other. They played cat and mouse around the sofa for a few seconds, before Andrey spoke again.

''You've never done half the things attributed to you. Everyone thinks you're a tough guy. You're not, you're a pussy.''

Sokolov was now beside himself. He jumped over the sofa and caught Andrey by his T-shirt. Andrey pulled away hard, leaving Sokolov holding the shirt. ''I've done more with my life than you will ever do. Who do you think you are? I'm gonna kill you,'' Sokolov shouted. One of his bodyguards appeared, but Sokolov held his hand up. ''Leave this to me.''

''You're just a show-off. Leaving everyone to think that you killed Judge Hudson but got away with it. Why don't you ever deny it? Everybody knows the jury was right.  You haven't got the balls to kill any body.''

''I killed Judge Hudson, just like I'm gonna kill you.''

''You didn't, you're a liar and a cheat, I've never met anybody so full of bullshit.''

''I tell you, I killed him with this gun.'' He walked over to a cabinet and opened the drawer. When he pulled out a Magnum, he pointed it at Andrey. Andrey put his hands up and stood still.

''Bring him over here,'' Sokolov said to the bodyguard. The bodyguard took hold of him and brought him closer to Sokolov. Sokolov hit him in the stomach as hard as he could. Andrey fell to the floor and curled up. ''Lift him up,'' Sokolov ordered. He hit him again in the same place and again Andrey fell. This time, Sokolov began to kick him. On the back, in his face, and on his ribs. The bodyguard cowered away at the sickening noises Andrey was making. When Sokolov was out of breath, he looked at the bodyguard. ''Take him and dump him next to the freeway,'' he said.

*****

Nicki was lying on her bed considering what she should tell her parents. Her cell phone rang.

''Hello, is this Nicki?'' the man said.

''Yes, that's me.''

''My name is Sergeant Jonathon Greaves from the New York Police Department. I was wondering if you could help me.''

''Er....sure I will, if I can, but I haven't done anything wrong.''

''No I'm sure you haven't. It's just we've found a man lying by the side of the freeway, very badly beaten. When we checked his clothing, we found a note with your name on it.'' Nicki put her hand to her mouth. ''It says quote, '
Dear Andrey, I am sorry I have disappointed you. If you ever change your mind, please call me. I will always wait for you,'
and then your telephone number.''

''Oh my God, is he dead?'' she asked fearfully.

''No. But he's in intensive care. Who is he?''

''He's a man I met at a restaurant in New York,'' she lied. We had a good time and then a bit of an argument. I liked him, so I left him a note. Can I go and see him?''

''Sure, but I warn you he's a mess.''

*****

Nicki almost screamed when she entered the hospital room where Andrey was lying. A TV hung from the ceiling, and there was a cupboard on wheels to the side of the bed. She didn't want to count how many tubes were sticking into him. There was a machine on a stand that seemed to be measuring his heartbeat and other vital functions.

She took off her coat and pulled up a chair.  What had he been doing? Who had done this to him? Will he be angry when he wakes up and sees me? She would have to wait.

After a couple of hours, a nurse came and replaced the drip.

''Is he going to be alright?'' Nicki asked.

''We think so. All his organs are okay, and he hasn't suffered any brain damage. He's got a few broken bones, and he'll need painkillers for sometime, but we're optimistic.'' She looked at Nicki sympathetically. ''Are you his wife?'' She shook her head.

Sometime around eleven pm, he woke up. Nicki was asleep in the chair next to him. When he saw her, he smiled. His mouth was swollen, and he couldn't speak very loudly, but Nicki wasn't in a very deep sleep, and his whisper was enough to wake her.

''Nicki, I'm sorry.''

''No, it's alright. I'm just glad you're alive.''

''Where are my jeans?''

Why does he want his jeans? Surely they should be the least of his worries. ''I don't know.''

His eyes narrowed slightly. ''Please find them.''

Nicki went to find a nurse and when she came back she opened, the beside cabinet and pulled out a plastic bag. When she took out a pair of jeans, she heard him give a sigh of relief. ''Here, the nurse said she'd put them in the cupboard.''

''Great,'' he paused and took in another breath. ''Look inside the left leg.''

''Andrey, why?'' She put her hand up into the leg and felt around. When she pulled her hand out, she was holding a tiny wire with a little box on the end of it. ''What is it?'' she asked.

He didn't answer. ''Now call Mel at the restaurant and tell her to go into my apartment. Under the bed, there is a black box, the size of a cigarette packet. She should bring it here.'' He coughed and winced. ''Tell her to take my wallet from the bedside cabinet and some of my clothes. She should close the restaurant and come here. Tell her to be quick.''

Nicki dialed the restaurant and told Mel what Andrey wanted her to do. While they were waiting for Mel to show up, Andrey took his opportunity.

''I want you, Nicki. I want to be with you and be the father of our child.''

She gasped and fought back the tears. ''Then why didn't you tell me when I came to you? Why did you send me away in such a cruel manner?'' She didn't understand his behavior and she wanted some answers.

''Sokolov. Because of Sokolov. When you told me your were going to try and interview him, I wanted you to know how dangerous it was.'' He gulped some more air before continuing. ''I didn't want him to see you hanging around me. And when you arrived pregnant at the restaurant I had to be cruel and send you away. For your own sake. He's a racist and will kill you if he finds out about our child. Forgive me, but I could see no other way at the time.''

''So you cared for me all along?''

''Yes, very much. I have been thinking about you all the time.''

''Then why didn't you give me some indication. Anything.''

''Because I wanted to do something for you first.''

''What?''

''Wait until Mel get's here.''

They sat and held hands as they waited for Mel. Nicki tried to kiss him on the lips, but the pain was too great. She ended up kissing him on the top of the forehead.

When Mel arrived, she was carrying a bag that was almost bigger than her.

''Did you find the small black box?'' he asked. She nodded and held it up.

''And your wallet and some clothes. Hi Nicki by the way,'' she added.

''Right listen to me, both of you. I've got a house nobody knows about. It's in Montana. I want you both to go there and wait for me. When I get out of here, I'll come to you. You'll be safe there, and if Nicki does her job properly, we'll soon be safe forever.''

Nicki understood the part about going to Montana,  not the part about her doing a proper job.  “What do you mean?'' she asked.

''Take the black box, open it and listen to the tape inside.''

She took the box from Mel and opened the lid. Inside there was a tiny recorder. She pressed the play button and listened.

''Andrey, my boy, have you come to apologize?''

''No I've come to tell you that you are a two-bit piece of shit. You're nothing but a low life, whore fucker. All you've done with your life is threaten and rob people. You've never done half the things attributed to you. Everyone thinks you're a tough guy. You're a pussy.''

''I've done more with my life than you will ever do. Who do you think you are? I'm gonna kill you. Leave this to me.''

''You're just a show-off. Leaving everyone to think that you killed Judge Hudson but got away with it. Why don't you ever deny it? Everybody knows the jury was right.  You haven't got the balls to kill anybody.''

''I killed Judge Hudson,  just like I'm gonna kill you.''

''You didn't, you're a liar and a cheat, I've never met anybody so full of bullshit.''

''I tell you, I killed him with this gun.''

''Bring him over here. Lift him up. Take him and dump him next to the freeway.''

''But how?'' Nicki asked when the tape had stopped.

''That wire in my jeans transmitted the signal to the recorder. I knew if I goaded him, he would give us something. I did it for you, Nicki. If you get this story right, your career will take off like you never expected. It's a very hot story. Take it and use it. The world will think you are the best journalists alive. The murder weapon is a Magnum; he keeps it in a drawer in the sitting room.''

Nicki had no idea what to say.

''Mel give me my wallet.'' He took out a couple of cards. ''Here are two credit cards. Use them to pay for the journey. There is a car in the garage in Montana so you can go and get supplies. Here's the address and the number of the housekeeper.'' He handed Nicki a note.

*****

Nicki and Andrey stood outside the church and applauded as Mel and her new husband, a rancher from Great Falls, Montana came out to cheers and lots of confetti. Nicki bent down to Andrey junior and helped him and his toy elephant onto his father's shoulders.

''Well, Journalist of the Year 2015, what do you think to that. Almost as good as our wedding, wasn't it?'' Andrey senior said.

              Nicki nodded and kissed him.

*****

Three weeks later.

''Andrey, where do you want me to hang this?'' Nicki shouted

''What is it?'' he asked.

''The article about Sokolov being sentenced to life in prison.''

''The best place for him is the toilet.”

*****

Here is a FREE bonus 10.000 word romance story by Tyra Hughes, “The Billionnaire’s Secret Love Child – Keke’s Story”

He was taller than anyone else walking down North Market in Dallas. He was also much leaner. As he looked around, what he saw made him nauseous. Fat blubber America he called it. People with no self-discipline, filling their faces with all sorts of junk. Fat kids munching on fries, and their even fatter parents licking ice cream. It'd do them all good to be sent to a desert island and left to starve for a few months, he thought.

When he reached Wild Bills Western Store, he stopped and looked at his watch. He was a little early. He liked Wild Bill's. It was a throw back to the days when Americans were tough. When they wore cowboy boots and stetsons and ordered people to do things while holding a gun to their head. Not like the politically correct, soft, I know my rights kind of society that had emerged in the last decade.

He looked at his reflection in the window. He'd been looking at the same face for fifty-two years, and nothing much had changed. It was still thin, and his blue eyes had the same steely determination they had always had. Only now he was more careful. When he was younger, he'd been carefree, and the cops had almost caught him a couple of times. He couldn't recall how many people he'd killed, and it didn't matter to him, but he'd learned that eliminating people was a serious business and needed to be done with the utmost care and precision.

Late, he thought. Tardy bitches, he didn't care for them. If they were slovenly enough to be late to such an appointment, they usually had blabber mouths. Two minutes and she can go to hell, he decided.

Just as a man and his wife walked out of Wild Bill's with a new pair of boots, he spotted her. He didn't have to be told it was her. He knew. They all looked the same. Trophy wives. Same body shape, same hairdo and same pretty face. Come to that, he thought, they all had the same personalities. None of them had done well at school, none of them had a career or built their own identity, and all of them were spoiltt brats who thought the world owed them a living.

''Are you Steve,'' she asked. He detected a tremor in her voice.

''Follow me.''

As she struggled to keep up with him, he laughed to himself. She was just like all the others. If there were a quiz show called 'Guess who wants to murder their fiancee,' he'd win it, he thought. They reached a small alleyway that ran adjacent to Wild Bill's. He pulled her into it.

She gasped as he held her against the wall. ''Now listen to me. On the phone, you told me you want me to do a job for you. I can do that job. But it requires three things of you, all of which must be strictly adhered to. If you fail to do so, I will kill you and leave your fiancee alone. Do you understand?'' She nodded. Maybe she'd gotten herself into more than she could handle, she thought.

When he let go of her, she rubbed her upper arm. His grip had been vice- like, and her arm had gone numb. ''Now tell me, slowly, what do you want?''

Britney composed herself as he watched her. All the same, he reminded himself. Brunette, five feet six, brown eyes, pretty face, anemic and neurotic. ''As I indicated when we spoke, I want you to kill my fiancee, as soon as we have signed the insurance papers. I'll tell you when.''

''Why do you want him killed?'' He looked round as a car drove past the end of the alleyway. It wasn't a cop car.

''I don't love him, in fact, I hate him, he's an alcoholic. I'm virtually forced to marry him, and I don't want to. He's rich and well insured, so I'll get a nice payout and be able to live a life of luxury.''

The same old reason as well, he thought. Greed. The bitch probably never got off his case, nagging and moaning him all the way to the bottle. Not being satisfied with ruining his life on earth, now she wanted the poor sod dead too. Not that he cared, money was money.

''The three things: First, you don't talk to anyone about this. If you tell a single soul, I will shoot you.'' Britney nodded, her eyes wide open and her bladder on the point of exploding in fear. ''Second, fifty grand up front, no negotiation.'' Again she nodded. That was the easy part she thought. ''Third: details, lots of details. Name, address, place of work, the time he comes home and the time he goes to work. Also a list of places he frequents regularly, and a list of his family members, friends and business colleagues.''

Britney hadn't expected him to be so frightening. A head taller than her and dressed solely in black he cut a very eerie figure. When she gave it a bit more thought, she realized he ought to be frightening, he was an assassin.

''Now you have met me, you are bound to continue with the plan. No going back. I told you on the phone, if we meet you are bound. Do you understand?'' She nodded again. ''Remember if you don't deliver what I have asked for, it is you who will die.''

*****

Keke Miller looked through the window at the man getting out of the red Ferrari. Not bad, she thought.

''I wouldn't mind a piece of that,'' the waitress said as she poured Keke's coffee. ''We don't often get guys like him around here.''

Keke nodded in agreement as her eyes followed the tall, well-dressed man from his car to the door. The waitress walked back to the counter and Keke dropped a lump of sugar into her drink. Jesus, when will I stop doing that, she thought. ''Next time, take the sugar away from the table, Jessie. My ass is fat enough as it is,'' she shouted.

''You've got a complex, there's nothing wrong with your ass,'' the waitress shouted back.

Keke kept her eyes on the man as he walked to the counter, and spoke to the waitress. ''Over there,'' the waitress said, pointing at Keke. Keke sat upright on the red seat and curiously watched as he walked towards her.

''Hi, are you Keke Miller?'' he asked.

Keke looked at him. He wasn't the usual type of man that came to her for advice. ''Yes, that's me.''

''I'm Dan Stephenson, I called into your office a few minutes ago. Your secretary told me you could be found here most lunchtimes.''

Darn woman, Keke thought. How often had she told Janice that she wasn't to be disturbed at lunchtime? ''Sure. Well, you've found me. Take a seat and tell me what I can do for you.''

Dan sat down on the other side of the booth and pushed the unused cutlery to one side. Beautiful woman, not at all like the stereotypical private detective, he thought. Since when were they young, black and attractive? ''You're not what I was expecting,'' he said.

''Really? And what were you expecting?,'' Keke said, leaning forward.

''I don't know. Most private detectives are white, middle-aged and fat. They are in the movies anyhow.'' Then, at least, he doesn't think I'm fat, Keke thought. ''I need someone to watch my fiancee,'' he continued.

Keke raised her eyebrows and leaned back again. ''Why?''

''Er.. I...don't really know I.....''

Keke looked at him and ticked off his features against her wish list. Dazzling green eyes, tall, well built, dark hair well cut, white smile, beautiful honest-looking face, no designer stubble and about her twenty-five, her age. Perfect. ''Dan, if you don't know why you're asking me to investigate your fiancee, how do you expect me to be able to help you?''

Dan felt embarrassed. The beautiful woman opposite him with the seductive lips and sexy smile had pointed out a flaw in his presentation of the problem. Lack of preparation, he usually did a much better job in his business, so why not now? He wondered

''Yes.. er ... sorry. Perhaps you'll allow me to be more specific?'' He picked up a spoon and threaded it through his fingers as he waited for Keke to nod. ''I have been engaged for around three months. My fiancee and I live together. Since we became engaged, her behavior has changed dramatically.''

Jesus, this man really can't get to the point, Keke noted. ''Dan, let me help you. You think she's screwing someone else, and you want me to check it out.''

''Maybe,'' Dan said as he looked around the diner. When he saw a picture of a tin of Budweiser, he was sorely tempted, but he remembered all to well, what Dr. Needham had told him would happen if he had another drink. '' I don't know whether she's having an affair, but I want her checked out before I settle down and marry her. She won't touch me anymore, and she spends two or three nights a week at a girlfriends house. She's just behaving really weird.''

Keke sighed and looked at her watch. She was anxious not to miss her two o'clock appointment with Mr. Sanderson. He could be really important for her struggling practice, she thought. If Dan were asking her on a date, she'd say yes, without hesitation. But asking her to investigate his woman just because her behavior had suddenly changed, was a much less interesting proposition. ''Dan, you'll have to excuse me. I have an appointment soon, and I need to go. It was nice to meet you.'' Keke nodded to the waitress who brought the check. When she put it on the table, she smiled at Dan and gave him a wink.

''I'm Jessie,'' she said, hopefully.

Dan stood up as Keke left the table and watched her walk towards the door. He'd always been a sucker for a woman in a business suit and black stockings, especially one with such a beautiful behind as hers, he thought. ''My Dad's Ernie Stephenson,'' he shouted after her.

Keke stopped and turned around. ''Ernie Stephenson from ESM, the largest mining company in the world?'' she asked, trying to hide the sudden surge of interest within her.

Dan looked at her and noticed how her breasts fought against the softness of her blouse. ''Er..yes. That's my father.'' Dropping his father's name worked every time, he thought, as Keke began to walk back to him.

''I'm sorry I was a little abrupt,'' she said. ''I really do have an appointment at two, but can you hang on until it's finished? It shouldn't take too long.''

''Okay, then let me give you a ride,'' Dan said.

''I usually walk, it's good for me, but I've never been in a Ferrari so why not.''

When Keke got into the low seat, her skirt rode up, revealing her soft thighs, a fact that didn't escape him.

*****

Dan pulled up outside the office and took a good look at it. The peeling paintwork around the windows and the weeds growing through the surface of the small parking lot led Dan to one conclusion. Keke's business was not flourishing. When she opened the door, he was already round at the passenger side, helping her up. Chivalrous as well as hot, she thought.

''Come with me. It's not much of an office I'm afraid. I've only just started the business. The office needs some renovation work doing.'' Inside it was a scruffy as outside, which surprised Dan because Keke was obviously the kind of person who took great care in her personal appearance. Perhaps it was a lack of money, not a lack of will, he thought.

A man in his middle sixties stood up and shook Keke's hand. ''Dan would you mind sitting here for a while?'' Keke picked up some old magazines from the arm chair and put them on the glass coffee table. Why the hell do I employ a secretary, if I have to do everything myself, she thought.

''Janice, make Mr. Stephenson some tea, please.'' Keke left Dan to the mercy of her secretary and disappeared into the back office with Mr. Sanderson.

''How do you like it?'' Janice asked referring to the tea.

''Milk, no sugar.'' He watched Janice as she got up and skilfully navigated her ample rear end through the gap between her desk and the wall. She walked past him to the kitchenette. The office was a small wooden construction, with white painted paneled wood walls and a V-shaped roof supported by iron trusses. It needed a coat of paint and the linoleum on the floor needed replacing. There was a picture of a tall ship in a storm hanging on the wall behind Janice's desk. The picture reminded him of his life. He was just like a ship in a storm, perhaps a rudderless ship.

Janice brought his tea and almost spilled it on him as she reached over to put it on the glass table. ''Thanks,'' he said. ''How long have you guys been operating?''

Janice put a finger to her lips and rolled her eyes to the ceiling as she tried to remember the exact date they opened. ''I think we started in April two years ago.''

''And is there much work for private detectives in Dallas?''

Janice put her head to one side and started to play with her red hair. Stop looking at his bulge, she told herself. ''Most of it is working for men who think their wives are cheating on them. Easy stuff really. Follow her, take a few pictures and send an invoice.''

''And how do you actually become a PD? I mean it's not exactly a mainstream kind of job?''

''I'm just a secretary, but Keke studied criminology at Harvard. She's a bright lady.''

''Does she have a male friend?'' He mentally crossed his fingers and waited for her reply.

'No, she's single.'' Janice felt disappointed. It was she who'd first helped him and sent him to look for Keke. Why was he asking about Keke? What was wrong with her? She tried to look nice everyday, she really did, and it wasn't her fault she'd inherited her grandmother’s pear shaped figure.

When the old man left the office, Keke appeared and showed Dan into her office. It was tiny. There was a laptop on an old dining table and two chairs. In the corner was an aluminum case that he assumed was her photography equipment. There was a picture of a black woman that he'd seen before, but couldn't quite place.

''Madame Tinubu. She was a slave trader who realized the error of her ways and became a scathing opponent of slavery,'' Keke said when she saw him looking at the picture.