A Secret Vow: A Bad Boy Secret Baby Romance by Zoey Parker Read Free Book Online Page B

taken place, to hide with a stranger I barely knew. I am letting this man, who has made me some fragile promise I barely understand, let alone trust, tug me apart from the bonds of life as I know it. I’m putting my life in his hands, and I don’t know what he wants from me.
     
    Somehow, I’m okay with it.
     
    I let him lead me to his motorcycle, parked on the sidewalk at the end of the alleyway. He helps me settle onto the back, then he mounts in front of me. I wrap my arms around his waist; the abs under my touch are the solidity I need. He starts up the engine and we take off down the road with a roar.
     
    We reach the boardwalk. Mortar starts to take a left. “Wait,” I say. He looks back at me curiously. I tug the ring from my finger and look at it for a moment. It catches the sunlight. It’s objectively beautiful. Even in my current state, I know that. More importantly, I know everything that it represents.
     
    Which makes it that much sweeter when I cock back my arm and hurl it into the ocean. It sinks beneath the waves with barely a blip. Mortar leans back and gives me a rough kiss. Then we speed away, headed for a new life filled with nothing but uncertainty.
     
    I hope I haven’t made a fatal mistake.

Chapter 4
    Mortar
     
    This is one hell of a ride.
     
    Can’t say I’ve ever felt so damn giddy on the back of a bike. Not since the first time I rode. Back then, it was about freedom—open road, wind in your hair, all that kind of cheesy shit. This time is a little different.
     
    This time, it’s about victory.
     
    I picture that fucker Grady and the world’s biggest shit-eating grin takes over my whole face. Gotta love it. Who couldn’t? I’m giving that bastard a one-two punch like he’s never seen before. The only downside is that I don’t get to watch his face when he finds out.
     
    I’m cruising down the boardwalk with his girl—scratch that, his wife —hot and horny right behind me. Shit, I can smell her pussy from here. My cock is hungry as hell for a taste. She’s a special girl, too, far more than just a next piece of ass. I can’t quite put my finger on it yet, but there’s something beyond the fucking here. I intend to explore.
     
    All the cards are just falling into place. Grady and Kendra in one fell swoop. Both mine, albeit in completely different ways.
     
    We pull up to my place. It’s a bungalow on the edge of town, spitting distance from the beach. The Angels prospects keep the yard landscaped. I like the bushes big. Keeps the passerby from looking too closely. You grow up the way I did and you come to value a little bit of privacy, however you happen to find it.
     
    I park the bike around back and help Kendra off. She’s still wobbly on her heels. It’s hard to say whether the exhaustion is emotional or physical. Still hits you the same either way, I suppose. We walk inside.
     
    “Sit down,” I tell her. “I’ll get us some drinks.”
     
    She’s too shaken to respond, but I ease her onto the couch and she follows without an ounce of resistance. I wonder what kinds of thoughts are going through her head.
     
    I step into the kitchen and find a bottle of whiskey and two tumblers. Bringing them back out into the living room, I fill a couple fingers’ worth in each glass and slide one in her direction.
     
    “Drink slow,” I caution. She nods numbly. I watch as she raises the cup to her lips and takes a tiny sip. She winces, but the effect is immediate. A long sigh comes straight out of her belly. I can see some tension easing, too.
     
    I make sure I keep still as I sit across from her. I haven’t said anything about the other day. I don’t think she’s ready for that yet. Who knows how long it will be until she is, but it’s not my place to make her confront all the shit she’s been through since that first night at the races.
     
    The weird part is, I don’t want her to confront it; I want to confront it for her. It’s a strange feeling, wanting to