Untamed (A Bad Boy Secret Baby Romance)(87)

I throw him against the bookcase again in disgust, step back panting, hands on my hips.

That baby is my baby.

He wants to take my baby.

Why didn’t Dee tell me she had missed her period? Was pregnant? Why the fuck hadn’t I paid attention? I was too focused on preparing for the fighting… too…

Fuck!

“You’re the father, aren’t you,” Glass says, pointing at me.

“No,” I lie.

“Then why do you care so much?”

“Dee was my best friend,” I say. This time, it’s no lie. “But she never told me.”

“Women don’t tell men these things,” Glass says, shaking his head. “She didn’t tell me, either.”

I furrow my brow, cast an angry stare at him. “Then how did you find out?”

He doesn’t answer me. Instead he says, “I’m going to get my grandchild back. And my daughter. I’ll expect you to help me. She seemed to trust you.”

Obviously not enough, I think.

“I won’t help you, Glass,” I tell him.

“I should have left you in that alley you rat fuck. You take my money, take my hospitality, and now you turn on me? Fucking typical.”

“You got your return on your investment.”

I catch the eye-contact between Glass and Frank, and whirl around, strike Frank in the side of the head with the back of my fist. He goes down, drops his gun. I pick it up and unload it then place it on the coffee table, scatter the bullets across the carpet.

“Don’t send your boys after me,” I tell Glass.

Frank groans on the ground, gets up. “Damn it, Duncan! Why’d you have to hit me so hard?”

I put my hand on Frank’s shoulder, press on him. “I like you, Frank,” I say. “But don’t make me put you out.”

Wisely, he sinks back down.

“You just signed your death warrant, Duncan,” Glass spits impotently. “You’re done for.”

I look at the gun again, then back at him. “You want to threaten me now?”

“Fuck you.”

I pick up the gun, point it at him, pull the trigger. An empty click, but he winces, and his whole body jolts.

My heart is racing.

“Next time it’ll be loaded. Don’t fucking come after me.”

“Where will you go?” he calls to my back as I make my way out of the house. “You can’t escape me! You hear me, you fucking shit! You can’t escape Johnny fucking Marino!”

I ignore him, take the Volvo and gun it down the driveway.

I knew there would be a day when Glass and I would face up against one another… I knew it would be over Dee, too.

But I never knew it would be like this. Dee, pregnant with my child, all alone.

She took our baby, kept it a secret, disappeared. Now she’s got her crazy father after her, and he has the resources to track her down.

I’ve got to get to her first. I’ve got to keep her safe. I’ve got to protect my family.

Maybe, just maybe, I’ll also find out why she did this to me.

I tighten my grip around the steering wheel, grit my teeth together.

Why did you take my baby, Dee?

Why didn’t you tell me?





Chapter Thirty Two





Chung King Mansions. I’ve been outside the thirty-floor apartment complex for no more than five minutes, and already I’ve been offered weed, coke, meth, and sex.

I grimace, and pull my backpack tighter up on my shoulder.

The building in the Tsim Sha Tsui district of Kowloon, Hong Kong, is well known for being a hub of vice. Reading about it on the plane ride over, murders don’t just go unsolved, but sometimes uninvestigated.

And here I am, a pregnant woman on her first visit, and I’m about to go inside the dark, maw-like opening, and begin the climb up the escalators until they stop, before waiting for an elevator.

I have no choice, but I’m not that worried. This is also a tourist hot spot. They say you can get the best curry in Hong Kong here, according to my guide-book, anyway.

As long as I keep to myself, I’ll be alright. I tell it to myself over and over.

I weave my way through mobile phone stores selling knock-off or stolen products, past clothing stores selling the same. As I make my way higher into the building, it becomes less crowded, and I realize, to my astonishment, that I’m already at a residential area. People live amongst the markets, sleeping in the back of their shop stalls on hammocks tied between steel posts.

Cage houses adorn the walls; literally men living in cages that would be considered inhumane for a big dog.

I see the weary eyes of the downtrodden. Kids younger than teenagers smoke cigarettes in the stairwells when they should be at school.

I reach into my bag, and pull out my mask with an air filter. They’re sold all over, the only true way to ward off the smog that blankets the southern coast of China.