HIS PROPERTY: A Dark Bad Boy Baby Romance (Iron Bandits MC) Read online

  This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons--living or dead--is entirely coincidental.

  HIS PROPERTY: A Dark Bad Boy Baby Romance (Iron Bandits MC) copyright 2017 by Zoey Parker. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission.

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  Contents

  HIS PROPERTY: A Dark Bad Boy Baby Romance (Iron Bandits MC)

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Epilogue

  [FREE BONUS BOOK #1] UNCHAINED: Metal Monsters MC

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Epilogue

  [FREE BONUS BOOK #2] RAVAGE: Lightning Bolts MC

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Epilogue

  Books by Zoey Parker

  UNCHAINED: Metal Monsters MC

  UNTAMED: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance

  UNDRESSED: Soul Catchers MC

  UNPROTECTED: A Dark Bad Boy Baby Romance (Hanley Family Mafia)

  Addicted: A Secret Baby Romance (Rebel Saints MC)

  OWN HER: A Dark Mafia Romance (Mancini Family Mafia)

  HARDCORE: Storm MC

  A Price to Pay

  Take Me, Outlaw

  Break Me, Outlaw

  Stolen

  Overdosed

  Ravage

  Bounty

  Trouble

  Monster

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  HIS PROPERTY: A Dark Bad Boy Baby Romance (Iron Bandits MC)

  By Zoey Parker

  I f*cked her like she’s my property – because she is.

  She showed up on my doorstep, desperate and alone.

  My dead brother’s girl – with their baby in her arms.

  I’ll take them in…under one condition.

  As long as they’re here, I’m gonna f*ck her from dusk ‘til dawn.

  I’m not a babysitter, not a saint.

  Hell, I’m not even a nice guy.

  I’m a motherf*cking biker.

  I fight hard and f*ck harder.

  I ride fast and drink faster.

  I don’t ask forgiveness or permission – I just take what I want and crush anyone who tries to stop me.

  But Ellie is an obstacle of a whole ‘nother type.

  I didn’t ask to be the guardian of my dead brother’s family…

  And yet, here they are.

  But it’s more than just a babysitting gig.

  She needs something from me.

  A fake marriage.

  Well, shit.

  I’ll do what I have to do – for my brother’s sake.

  But if Ellie’s gonna be my wife, she better be prepared to perform all her wifely duties.

  This wedding may be fake, but her moans sure as hell won’t be.

  Bend over, sweetheart.

  You belong to me now.

  Chapter 1

  Jack

  “Get up, you lazy bastard.”

  “Uurghnnn.” I peeked up into the harsh light the morning sun wreaked in my bedroom. It was my daily dose of ‘white shades: fail.’ I really needed to see about dark paint, or curtains, or something equally drastic. I was not good with mornings, especially those that came after long nights with bottles.

  “Come on, Jack-o. You’re late. Again. Get the fuck up, man.”

  “Whatimez…” I was totally lucid.

  “Noon-thirty, you asshole. You were supposed to open at ten. Enough, already. Get. Your. Ass. Up.”

  I groaned, swore, braced myself, and rolled up and out of bed. The throbbing vice on my frontal lobe intensified, and I took a moment with closed eyes to get a grip. This was not going to be my day.

  But Grath was right—I needed to get into action. I’d been on a solid bender for…well, for a number of days, anyway. Long enough. Heart heavy with grief, I sent up a thought for my brother, Keith—whose birthday had recently passed—took a breath, and resolved to rejoin the living.

  “Dude, seriously, you gotta go in. There’s some woman there waiting on you, with a baby. Kinda hard to tell for sure, but it does kind of look like you. I’d let you roll longer, but this…Jack, you gotta get up and deal.”

  WTF?—I was still half-asleep, and full-on hung over. Woman and baby did not compute, but something clicked in my brain that sent my cells into action mode.

  So I catapulted my sorry ass into a hot shower, which went pretty far to making me feel more human. By the time I got out, Grath was gone, but the guy had left me a lukewarm cup of dark roast. Not for nothing was he my favorite person alive.

  I rooted around for clean clothes, which I was pretty sure was a lost cause
, but I thought I’d give it a shot anyway.

  Yeah, that didn’t work; it was definitely time to do laundry. I picked up a fallen tee, some jeans, socks, boots, pulled on my kutte, and rolled out.

  By the time I made it to the shop, I was deeply regretting not having guzzled down a gallon of water and some painkillers the night before. Whoever invented sunshine should be shot. That fireball had no compassion.

  Indoors at last, I was met by Trini, guardian of the front desk. She was a heavily-inked and pierced, five-foot-four, pink-haired, cat-eyed, militant organizer of the highest realm, and she provided snark at no extra cost. Basically, she was about the best thing that had ever happened to DeepInk, and we’d have been lost without her.

  But on this day, I was cursing my luck that she wasn’t still out at lunch when I arrived.

  “Hoo-boy. Look what we got today. Rating on the GM’s calendar! To what do we owe the honor?”

  And so it begins.

  “Shut it, Treens. And get me something for my head, would you?”

  “Oh, is somebody suffering la cruda? Pobrecito! Yes, let me rush off to take care of your po’ widdoo head.” She shook her own at me. “Jerk. You deserve it. You back, now?”

  Chin down, I peered at her over the tops of my sunglasses, which I tipped down but protectively kept on my nose. “Yeah, I’m back.”

  She glared at me, then reached into a corner of her domain and pulled out a blessed bottle of ibuprofen. She tossed it to me as she headed to the back kitchen/staff room for what I hoped would be a bottle of water, giving me a shoulder bump on her way. Total gem.

  I was looking over the schedule for the day—okay, I was procrastinating. I had no desire to meet with the mystery woman and her baby, if they were even still there.

  When Trini came back with the water, she destroyed my hopes. “Heads up, boss. There’s a woman with a baby, looks like you, in your office. Been waiting there about an hour and a half, now. You been holding back on us, Jack? Deets, dude.”

  I was careful. I was always careful. I could have been ten sheets to the wind, and I’d still use protection. No way could there be a kid out there with my genes. No way in hell. It was starting to piss me off.

  “Name, Trini?”

  “Didn’t get one. Just insisted on seeing you, I said you weren’t in yet, she said she knew your office was in the back and made her own way there. I don’t know this chick from nobody, but I am not getting in the middle of any lovers’ tiff. Your baby-mama, your problem.”

  At that moment, the baby began to add in its two cents, as if on cue. It sounded like a catfight, but worse, since it came from the direction of my office. My space. This did not help my hangover. It was time to lose this woman and regain my peace.

  “Yo, Jack-o, good, you’re here.” Grath poked his head out from behind the glass separating the artists’ stations from front reception. “That baby’s starting to cry and fuss again. You gotta get your ass back there, bruh. Babies are not good for business. Go deal, man.” He slapped my arm and retreated to his station.

  This explained the coffee drop and home-visit intervention, then—light dawned.

  I popped back a couple—okay, three—pills, took a long chug of water, and headed back. I’d make this quick. Whoever she was, she was not my problem. I’d already decided, and that was that.

  The crying got louder as I got closer, but fantastically stopped just as I arrived at the door. I heard the woman heave a deep sigh, then strode in.

  The first I saw of her was the back of her head, her long wavy blondies held up high in a ponytail, with a whole lot of them escaping around the edges. It looked soft and pretty, and kind of messy—which I loved, usually—but not this time.

  My mind was already wracked to figure out who she was. I usually went for brunettes. The blondes I’d been with in the last year or two were few and far between. Still, that wasn’t really important; women changed their hair colors like it was a required ritual. But if she was claiming that I was her baby-daddy, then I’d have to have met her before. Ha!—understatement.

  But seriously, from this angle, I got nothing.

  She had, appropriately, seated herself in one of the two chairs facing my desk. The other was covered with her stuff. She’d come loaded down, her bags exploding with blankets and baby paraphernalia. Somehow, she had avoided the hell of the typical baby crap—that being all the Easter-egg-colored eyesores—and had opted for basic black, white, and red. Cool chick. I took note of the good taste, and filed it. Maybe this woman was rational. Maybe this would be quick. It gave me hope.

  Best to make this fast. Still standing at the door, holding it open for her, I went for polite first. “I don’t know who you are or why you’re here, but you got the wrong guy, lady. Time for you to go. Get the fuck out of my office.”

  Chapter 2

  Ellie

  Tired and butt-sore, my arms heavy with little Peter, I was just breathing a sigh after getting my little fuss-bugger to latch on and relieve us both: him, of his hunger, and me of my capacity-packed mammaries.

  I loved that I could breastfeed this guy, but it was not the easiest thing to do in public spaces. I was still learning how to adjust, and comfort was not always attainable without the huge nursing pillow, which was way too big and awkward to carry around outside. So I held him as best I could, with a light blanket draped from over my shoulder to shield the view, should Jack ever deign to show up.

  Damn it, I knew I should have called first to see if he was here, but that wasn’t really an option, seeing as I was currently coasting without a phone. But once I had made the decision that today was the day, I had forced myself to go through with it. So I waited, uncomfortable as it may have been. I was finally doing this.

  Truth: I wanted to do this. I wanted Peter to be known, to have more in his life than just me. To have a man to look up to. It was fair, and it was right. And Keith would have wanted it, too. I hadn’t known Keith very well, but that much I knew in my heart.

  God, I hoped Jack was as good a man as Keith had made him out to be. I was really starting to have my doubts. The way the people in this shop had looked at me and Peter was not friendly-like. And I could feel the smirks all around, even though I had placed myself so I didn’t have to see them.

  They, in turn, couldn’t see my discomfort, either. I hoped they saw only an awesome new mommy and strong woman. That was what I was attempting to put out anyway—strong spine, strong gaze, and totally in charge of all chaos that is baby.

  The front area of the shop had been warmly lit with huge windows welcoming in the morning sunshine. On the right was a large glass cabinet-countertop, featuring assorted piercing rings and gauges and stuff you’d find in head shops the world around. To the left was a seating area with a black leather sofa, loveseat, and armchair set, and coffee and end tables topped with ink mags and huge, overstuffed, three-ring portfolio binders.

  The walls were covered in tat art, too. It wasn’t a huge space, but it looked like the shop went deep. A window-topped partition wall divided the front from the workstations inside, to which a glass door served as entry. It was pretty much what one would expect of any decent tattoo parlor; not noticeably fancy, but also not a shack.

  For his part, Peter had done an excellent job when we came in. He had been awake and alert—a bonus, from my perspective. His big baby blues were so much like his daddy’s that I thought for sure anyone who had known Keith would have automatically recognized his son. Both the woman behind the glass cabinet/counter and the big tattooed hulk of a man, who had been leaning on the counter chatting with her, had taken good long looks at my baby before sharing a surprised, silent communication between themselves. I had thought this was a good sign.

  And then they had both looked at me with a load of suspicion and…was that anger? Okaaay. Awesome.

  “Can I help you?” The woman’s voice was hard, her words shooting at me staccato.

  “I’m here to see Jack Edwards.”

&nbs
p; “You don’t have an appointment.” This much I knew.

  “No, I don’t. I was hoping he could give me just a few minutes. Is he in?”

  “Actually, no, he’s not.” She shot a glare at the big guy. “But he should be.”

  The guy shoved his chin out, flared his nostrils, and took in a deep breath. He’d been staring at Peter’s little face, but now looked at me with steel in his eyes.

  “He’ll be here. But it might be awhile.” He watched me, as if determining my resolve.

  “I’ll wait. His office is in the back, right? I’ll just wait there.” I wanted to get away from these people and their prying eyes. What I had to say had only to do with Jack. Peter was not for public consumption.

  Also, I didn’t want my baby out in this space for long. He was still so little, so fragile. My mama-bear protectiveness was up in full steam, and we’d only been in the shop for less than two minutes. No way did I want to be hanging out in front, with its swinging doors, for however long “awhile” might take.

  So I powered past these two guardians and marched through the large middle section of the shop—the inking stations. I could see a central door in the back, leading to what had to be Jack’s office. I didn’t hear either of them try to stop me, so I figured everybody was happy with my executive decision.

  Bingo; nailed it in one.