Romance: Motorcycle Club Romance: Outlaw Biker's Baby (Contemporary Alpha Male MC Biker Romance) (Bad Boy MC Biker Pregnancy Romance) (20 page)

She was just dozing
off
when the phone rang. She picked it up, hoping it would be Pavel. He should have been back half an hour ago.

''Hello,'' she said. There was a long silence. ''Hello.''

''So he does have a bitch,'' the person at the other end said. He hung up.

Ella began to shake as she realized what the man had said. She instinctively put her hands
to
her belly in an act of protection. Where was Pavel,
she
thought. Five minutes later she breathed as sigh of relief when she heard the front door.

*****

''How was your flight?'' Ella asked the father of her child.

''Long and uncomfortable,'' he replied.

''So why was it so uncomfortable?''

''Firstly, because you weren't with me and secondly, a toy elephant kept poking me in the leg.
Really, I'll
have to have a word with the guys that load the plane with the stuff for the orphanage. They forgot to leave room for me this time.''

''Well you usually don't fly with all the toys, I suppose they forgot. Please Pavel, be careful, I am worried sick about you. I can't sleep for worry.''

''You know what we discussed. You will be safe at your parents'' Stay there until I come for you. I'm sorry you
are involved
in this, but nobody threatens the woman I love. I will put an end to in once and for all.''

''Oh my God, please don't do anything stupid and get yourself killed. I couldn't bear to lose.......''

''Ella, listen to me. Nothing is going to happen. I will be back in a few days. Get some sleep and look after our child.''

Pavel put the cellphone back in his pocket and walked out of the airport.

''Hello Pavel,'' Lilia said, holding a broom in her hand.

''Lilia, come here,'' Pavel said as he held out his arms. He hugged the
sixty-three-year-old
woman who looked after his apartment in his
home town
of Sochi. ''Thank you for looking after the place. It's a long time since I have been here.''

''It's my
pleasure,
and it's so
nice
to see you. I have stocked the fridge and made the bed.''

When Lilia left, Pavel looked around. He'd kept the small apartment he'd managed
to buy
after he'd left the army. He took a photo from the sideboard and looked at it. It
was taken
in Chechnya. Abram was in the middle, in his officers uniform and
Pavel,
and a few comrades were
huddled
around him. Pavel didn't want to remember his time there. It had been the most brutal of
wars,
and he'd considered himself lucky to escape with his life. Unlike a lot of his
comrades,
he'd been able to come home. His thoughts turned to Nikolai. Now he was going to avenge his unnecessary death.

Pavel showered and drank some coffee. When the taxi
arrived,
he was sitting on the wall in the street outside his apartment. He'd gone out early to get a feel for the place. It hadn't changed much at all. Everyone still hung their washing from wires on their balconies and the kids still rode around on rusty old bicycles.

The taxi, a battered Lada, arrived and took him to Gagarina Street, block 18. He got out and looked up at the dilapidated balconies. Some of them had
been repaired
and some of them looked as thought they were ready to fall down. He went into the building and climbed to the third floor.

''Katya,'' he exclaimed when the old woman opened the door.

''Pavel, my dear boy. How long it is since I saw you, How are you?''

''I'm
really
well. How are you?''

''Come in and I will give you a long list of my ailments,'' she chuckled. Inside it was a typical Russian apartment. A small corridor with a kitchen to the right and a living room to the left. At the end a bathroom and a single bedroom.

''This apartment hasn't changed at all,'' he remarked.

''No. I wanted to renovate it, but I only have a small pension. Now I'm too old to bother,'' she said as she showed him into the tiny sitting room.

''Please Katya, sit down. I'm afraid my visit today is not going to be a pleasant one.''

Katya was in her eighties and just five feet two. She had curly gray hair and for her age remarkably fresh looking skin. She
was dressed
in a flowery summer dress. Outside it was
thirty-two
degrees and inside the
stuffy
apartment,
not much cooler.

Katya instinctively put her hands up in the air when Pavel pulled out a
hand gun
and pointed it at her. ''I am sorry to have to do this Katya. But your son is a disgrace. He is one of the richest people in New
York,
and he's left you living in this hovel. I need him to come home and see what he has done, and there's only one way to do that.''

''Why are you pointing a gun at me and why are you talking so badly about my boy. He's a good
boy
.''

Pavel ignored her and pulled out his cellphone. When he got up and put the gun to her head, Katja closed her eyes. Pavel dialed the number and waited.

''Hello,'' Abram said.

''Abram, Abram, there's a man here and he's going to kill me. Please help me,'' Katya cried into the phone.

''Abram, you've got two days to get your ugly ass back to Sochi or your mother gets a bullet,'' he said. He put the phone down.

*****

''And what the hell do you want?'' he man said as he looked through the peephole in the wooden door.

''My name is Pavel Beljakov. I'm an old comrade of Dimitry's brother, Nikolai.''

''So what, what do you want?''

''I want to speak to him about his brother.''

''Wait,'' the man said. Pavel was standing outside what looked like a Hacienda. It had high walls on all
sides,
and they were finished off with red tiles. After a couple of minutes, the maroon door opened, and Pavel saw a man holding a Kalashnikov. He was just about the largest man Pavel had ever seen. ''Follow me,'' he said.

Behind the
walls,
there was a magnificent ranch house, with white walls, a veranda and red roof tiles. The man showed Pavel inside. They walked to a central courtyard and through a door into a sitting room. Pavel had never seen so many cushions on the giant sofa, and he had certainly never seen a
stag
as big as the one that hung
from
the wall above the fireplace.

''Mr Beljakov, please take a seat, I'm Dimitry Ilyin. You wanted to talk about my brother?'

Pavel sat down on the sofa and looked at him. He was about the same size as his brother had been, six five. He also had blonde hair and blue eyes just like Nikolai.

''I know what happened to Nikolai,'' Pavel said.

Dimitry sat down in
an arm chair
opposite him. ''I'm listening?''

''Before I begin can you perhaps tell me what you thought had happened to Nikolai?''

''All I know is that he didn't come back from Chechnya. His commanding officer Abram
Volkov
told me he had died at the hands of Chechen rebels when he'd become detached from his unit.''

''It's not true.''

''How do you know and who the hell are you?''

''I served with him in the 2nd Battalion.''

''Then tell me what happened to him?''

''Please remain calm when I
tell you
this.'' Dimitry nodded. ''He was shot by Abram Volkov.''

''What? How the hell do you know?'' Dimitry said as he jumped from his chair with his fists clenched.

''Nikolai was with me and some other comrades. It was the last night before we were due to leave for home. He and Abram were playing
cards,
and they were both pretty drunk.'' Pavel looked at Dimitry and thought he saw a tear in his eye. ''The sums they were betting were getting out of
hand,
and we told them to
stop,
but they didn't listen. Abram accused Nikolai of cheating and Nikolai got up and slugged him. He knocked him across the
room,
and Abram lost a tooth. Abram reached for his pistol and shot him. Just like that. No warning, nothing.''

Dimitry let out a roar that hurts Pavel's ears. ''And why did you keep silent about it for so many years?''

''We were all young and scared. Abram was well connected in the army and at home. He had some pretty
powerful
friends. It
was brushed
under the
carpet,
and we all went about rebuilding out lives.''

''Are you telling me, that but for Abram Volkov, my brother would have been alive today?''

''Yes, as I said it, was the evening before we were due to travel home.''

Dmitri got up and walked to a cabinet in the corner of the room. When he opened it, Pavel saw an arsenal of weapons he didn't like the
look of
. ''One more question before I make preparations to blow his head off. Why should I believe you?''

''Please come with me, if you would be so kind,'' Pavel said as he stood up and headed for the door. They crossed the courtyard
again,
and Dimitry nodded to the man to open the
door
. When they were on the
street,
Dimitry saw two men leaning against his wall. ''Alexander, Sergei, come over here,'' Pavel shouted.  The two men dropped their cigarettes and stamped on them. ''Would you please tell this man who killed Nikolai.''

''Abram Volkov,'' they said in unison.

Pavel handed Dimitry a note. He looked at it. ''What is this?'' he said.

The address at which you will find Abram Volkov. He is on his way over from the USA. Please give him a day or so. And if I may make one request.'' Dimitry nodded. ''Please do not harm Katya, his mother.''

*****

  ''Pavel thank you for all you have done for my parents,'' Ella said. ''They are proud people, and they took so much persuading to move, I can't tell you. But their house is just right. Detached, not too big. Dad can't get enough of the yard and Mom loves the neighbors. I'll never be able to repay you.''

''You already have,'' he said as he looked down at their tiny daughter.

*****

THE END

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...do
n'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.