Kane: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (Mob Daddies Book 2) Read online

  Kane

  A Bad Boy Mafia Romance

  Alexa Hart

  Copyright © 2020 Alexa Hart

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording or other

  electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  For permission requests, foreign and subsidiary rights, contact the author or her representative via [email protected]

  Passion Pique Publishing

  United States

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are

  sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or

  locales are completely coincidental.

  Digital Edition

  Contents

  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

  Also by Alexa Hart

  About the Author

  This book is dedicated to all the hopeless romantics. To the beautiful lovers out there who just want love, plain and simple. Love… wrapped in a delicious, hard as nails, muscle-clad package that will make you forget your own name… plain and simple.

  - ALEXA HART

  Chapter 1

  Summer

  The little girl sitting next to me on the Greyhound Bus to Chicago is as cute as she is chatty. We are only twenty minutes outside of Madison and I already know that her name is Maddie and she just turned nine three weeks ago, she’s going to be a vampire zombie cheerleader for Halloween, that she lives with her dad, who works in finance, though I have no idea why she uses air-quotes when she says it, and that she’s on the bus coming back from a trip to visit her mom, which didn’t seem to have gone as well as she would have hoped based on her red-rimmed eyes. I’ve learned all this, and we are still in Wisconsin!

  Unlike my little seatmate, I’ve always been on the shy side myself. My nickname in high school was the “librarian” because I was so quiet and always had my head buried in a book. Even now, in a white silk blouse, pencil skirt, fluffy, super soft cardigan, and my long brown hair up in a bun, I suppose I still fit the mold of the prim and proper bookworm, except I’ve mostly traded my glasses for contacts. But quiet, shy me enjoys letting this little girl talk my ear off. She actually reminds me of Becca, my best friend, who’s currently doing an internship in London—one I was supposed to do with her. As Maddie goes on and on about her favorite subject, (math!) and a boy who’s bothering her at school, (Elijah!) I realize this mini-Becca is exactly what I needed—and it’s clear she needed a good listener too, something us shy girls happen to excel at.

  When I’d boarded the bus back in Madison, I’d had a lot on my mind, and I’m used to working through how I feel on my own. This stoicism is one of Becca’s biggest complaints about me, besides the one about how I’d bailed on London, which was supposed to be my first big adventure, well, ever. I’d always been a good kid and an A student, but ever since my parents died and Becca’s parents took me in so I could finish high school with some stability, I’ve tried my best to be no trouble to anyone. Now, fresh out of college, I’ve never been drunk, gotten a piercing anywhere but my ears, and, um...well, never done a lot of things actually, especially in the men department. And instead of living it up like Becca and finally cutting loose like I’m supposed to at this age, I’m ditching my best friend and going to help my Uncle Rudy run my grandparents’ old bakery while he recovers from back surgery. Why his stepson Angelo can’t do it is beyond me, but Rudy is the last family I have, and the bakery meant so much to my mom. When Uncle Rudy called me, I couldn’t say no. Family is family and when you’ve lost your family as I did, you hang on to what you have left, no matter what. So, I turned down the internship, pissed Becca off pretty royally, and am now heading to Chicago instead. I guess the librarian nickname existed for a good reason.

  So when I got on the bus I admit I was looking forward to a few hours of silent contemplation, though it could just have easily turned into rumination, and there were still a few empty rows on the bus where I could have sat with a window seat and no pint-sized, chatty seatmate. But as I walked down the bus aisle during boarding, she’d looked up at me with absolutely the biggest, bluest eyes I have ever seen — eyes that were red and swollen from crying — and I slid right in next to her. I couldn’t explain it, but I knew that feeling. And when I was little and would get upset my mom always baked cookies for me. My favorite was her famous cheer-up chocolate chip cookies, and it just so happened that I had a whole cookie tin of the same recipe in my big carry-on bag. I’d baked them that morning to prepare for the move, a sort of cheer-up to myself. It had been a long time since I had pulled my mom’s old recipe book off the shelf, and it hurt my heart just leafing through the well-worn pages that she’d touched so many times. Now though, I’m glad I’d gone through the trouble, and besides, if I was going to help out at a bakery I’d need to brush up on my skills. I opened up the tin as the bus pulled out of the station and took one out for myself. I offered the tin to the girl and she eyed them, rightly suspicious I suppose. I took a bite of my own cookie to prove it wasn’t poisoned and she took two herself. She had long, wavy blonde hair and the most beautiful eyelashes. Whoever she inherited those eyes from must be a stunner.

  “These are still warm,” she had said in awe as she took a second bite.

  I nodded. “I just made them this morning. They’re my mom’s secret recipe.”

  “My mom never bakes.” The girl said. “She has a cook.”

  “Wow,” I said, “that must be nice!”

  “I guess,” Maddie shrugged.

  I nodded. “I mean, not every mommy has to cook, right? What about your dad? Does he like to cook, or does he have someone to do that for him too?”

  Maddie snorted. “Definitely not. But he does have a sweet tooth. Maybe he could have one of your cookies when we get to Chicago. What about your dad, does he cook?”

  “My dad? He used to love to cook. But that doesn’t mean he was good at it.”

  Maddie had noticed my use of past tense and maybe even the look in my eye and dropped the subject. She was one observant kid.

  “My name is Summer,” I had said.

  “I’m Maddie,” she’d nodded.

  “Very nice to meet you, Maddie,” I smiled. I could see she was sizing me up, but after one more cookie and a once over that made me wonder what she’d deduced about me, Maddie decided we were best friends. And that started the chatter!

  Now, as we get closer to Chicago, the talking and the sugar rush fade and Maddie falls asleep on my shoulder. The sun is bright through our window so I reach out and block the light shining through with my hand, so it isn’t in Maddie’s face as she sleeps. I look her over and noticed that her clothes are nice, but her h
air hasn’t been brushed in what seems like a few days and she was obviously hungry — cook or no cook, she’d swiped three more cookies before I put the tin away! I’d nannied for a few of these types to help pay for college. Financial analysts and CPAs and trophy wives with personal chefs who paid well to assuage their guilt that they were too busy for the small things with their kids, the things that mattered, the things I would've given anything to have with my parents one last time.

  My heart tugs for her. She looks young and vulnerable asleep, without her chatter to hide her fears. And why is she traveling alone? She seems way too young. Is she a pawn in an ugly divorce? I’d nannied for a few of those too, where the kids were just chess pieces to use as leverage for more alimony or to trade for the lake house. I don’t know Maddie well, but it’s obvious she’s special and this girl deserves so much more. I feel a bubble of indignation. These kinds of rich, entitled parents are the worst, and if I’m brave enough, I just might give Maddie’s fancy financier dad a piece of my mind when we arrive. One thing is for certain, he’s not getting any of my cookies, sweet tooth or not!

  Chapter 2

  Kane

  My gloved fist hits Danny Marino in his abdomen with a satisfying thump and he gives a good-natured, but pained grunt.

  “Easy there, Tiger,” he chuckles as he knocks his boxing gloves against each other and takes a moment to get back into fighting position. “This is just a friendly match.”

  “Friendly, my ass,” I say.

  Danny was the one who’d wanted to spar in the ring this afternoon instead of the usual lunch meeting, and I know it’s probably because he’s found out about his sister coming over to my place again last night. I also know it won’t do any good to tell him I’d turned her away again, and that she was getting down-right annoying. Trixie Marino isn’t my type. That is, she’s the type that wants a relationship, and I’m not doing that again, ever. One time with my flaky, silver-spoon ex was plenty. Hell, too much. The only good thing I got out of that shit storm was Maddie, and for that, I’d do it again in a heartbeat, but that doesn’t mean I plan to repeat the same mistake twice. Lesson learned. There are plenty of women who are more than happy to accept my conditions of no second dates. Hell, even the first dates are optional. Sex, like exercise, is something I do to stay healthy. Relationships, on the other hand, are toxic. And in my line of work, they are a dangerous liability. Keeping Maddie safe and far removed from the business is hard enough. Plus, I’ve never known a happy couple, ever — and I spend most of my nights roughing up jackasses who hurt or gamble or lie to their supposed loved ones, treating them like trash. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that it’s all bullshit. From next to my duffle bag I hear my phone buzz and I glance over to see if I can catch the ID on the screen. While I’m distracted, Danny Marino steps left and jabs me in the nose. I feel a sting and I can confirm, based on how unfriendly the punch felt, that he’s heard about Trixie coming over.

  “I didn’t touch your sister,” I say, dodging another jab and stepping back with a quick foot. My shirtless, muscular body is sweaty with movement, and I appreciate these matches because for once I’m not here to hurt anybody — not that I mind landing a punch to an asshole, I’ve always enjoyed using my strength to drill into someone who deserved it, it’s just, that is work. I dodge another punch and get a light jab at Danny.

  “You’re playing with me,” Danny huffs.

  “I’m going easy on you because you’re the boss,” I say, dodging another lunge.

  I’m also going easy because Danny Marino isn’t just my boss but also my oldest friend, and while he’s fit enough to destroy the average jerk on the street with his fists, he and I both know I could hurt him if I wanted. Fighting is the one thing I really excel at. I dodge another punch. “Dude, I’m not sleeping with Trixie.”

  Danny growls. “I know that. But I can’t fight her for being an idiot about you… so this….” he swings again and I let him land a punch to my stomach, “is how I get out my frustration. But if you don’t make it clear to her that it’s never going to happen, I swear to fucking god I’ll send my best man to rough you up and he’s no fucking joke.”

  I land one last punch, ready for the conversation to be over, and Danny falls flat on his ass. “Since that man is me, I’ll take my chances. But trust me Danny, Trixie knows where I stand. She’s just got that tenacious Marino blood that makes your family good at what you do…” I tear off one boxing glove with my teeth and then reach down with my ungloved hand to pull him back on his feet, “...and terrible at knowing when to stop.”

  Danny shakes his head. “I just...know how you are with women these days, Kane.”

  “And how is that?” I ask.

  “The same way you are with your job. Merciless. Cold. A fucking dick.”

  I shrug. In truth, Trixie is hot as hell, all black hair and big breasts and a smoldering look that tells me she wants me whenever we’re in the same room together, but that’s the thing — that look quickly becomes something else, and I never mix business with pleasure, even if Trixie would be a pleasure. The way to do what I do and live the way I live is to compartmentalize and stay in total control.

  I hear my phone buzz again down by my workout bag and I uncuff my other glove. I step toward the edge of the boxing ring.

  “You get out of the ring, you forfeit,” Danny chuckles.

  “Yeah, yeah, you win,” I say. “And it might be Maddie. She’s with Julie this week and I’ll fucking kill her if she ignores Maddie again the whole time like the last visit.”

  I climb under the boxing rope and wipe a towel over my sweaty face before grabbing my phone. There’s a bunch of frantic texts from Julie that Maddie’s left on her own while she was out at the salon. I check my messages and sure enough, there’s one from Maddie using Julie’s phone to tell me she’s coming home early and the details on her bus arrival. When did that kid learn to be such a fucking grown-up? She’s still supposed to be an innocent little girl. Instead, she got a mom who acts like a kid, and worse when she’s drinking, and a set of rich grandparents trying to cover it all up and act like everything is great, but always at Maddie’s expense. This time, I can’t contain my anger. I punch the wall, leaving a dent the size of my fist.

  “You’re paying for that,” Danny says.

  “I know. Just text me the details on the guy whose debt is past due. I’ll pay him a visit tonight.” I pull on my t-shirt and my brown leather jacket. I look at the time as I finish getting dressed. Shit, I won’t get to the bus station before Maddie is due to arrive. “I’ve gotta run.”

  Danny eyes the hole in the wall and my bleeding knuckles. “Fucking glad you took it easy on me, man.”

  Chapter 3

  Summer

  When we arrive at the Greyhound Bus Station, a giant brick and glass monstrosity that reeks of diesel and sweat, Maddie’s dad is not there. I gather my suitcase, but I can’t just leave Maddie alone in the depot waiting. So I tell her I’ll wait with her until her dad arrives. The more we wait, the more I fantasize about the uptight, Brooks Brothers suited CPA with a cell phone glued to his ear that can’t leave his very important meeting to pick up his daughter, or worse, sends an Uber to pick her up instead. Also, the more I wait, the more I want to kick him in the shins when I meet him, or, if it wasn’t so improper, kick him someplace that could really teach him a lesson. Maddie assures me it isn’t his fault and he’s a great dad and he’ll come to get her soon, but the kids I nannied for did that too, made excuses to hide their pain. And though I am not sure of its nexus, I can tell this smart little girl is in a lot of pain.

  “Can I borrow your phone?” she asks.

  I nod and hand her my phone. She zips off a text and then hands it back. She’s frowning and to keep her mind off of everything, and because I feel a little guilty about only giving her cookies on the bus ride, I buy Maddie a hot dog. I know it is only incrementally healthier than a plateful of cookies, but the bus depot isn’t exactly a farmer
’s market overflowing with kale and honeycrisp apples, like the kind we have in Madison. I promise myself I’ll eat a huge salad for dinner to make up for the day’s guilty pleasures. We find a table in the food court area and we sit together giggling and eating our hot dogs as we thumb through my mom’s cookbook together. Maddie insists I don’t need to wait with her, but I can tell that she only means to show me she is a tough, independent kid. I get that. It’s more than a little too familiar. So I also know it doesn’t mean she doesn’t still need someone to watch out for her — doesn’t actually long for it. And as we look through my mom’s recipes Maddie admits she’s never even baked a cake before. She says her dad’s birthday is coming up in a few months and she wants me to teach her how to make one for him. Even though I am feeling less than charitable toward her absentee dad at the moment, I smile and agree. We can’t help our family. I tell her she can come down to my uncle’s bakery anytime so we can remedy that fast. I’ll teach her to make the best birthday cake her dad has ever tasted.

  About twenty minutes into our waiting, Maddie excuses herself to use the bathroom. I stand up and ask if I should come with her. She gives me the most amazing pre-tween look as if I may have a few screws loose.

  “I’m not a baby,” she shakes her head.

  “Right,” I nod. “Totally.” The kids I nannied for were, to be fair, usually still in diapers.