His Brother's Baby (Bad Boy Ballers) Read online

  His Brother’s Baby

  Bad Boy Ballers

  Imani King

  Imani King

  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

  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

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Also by Imani King

  At one time, nothing was out of my reach: women, fame, money. After my father’s death, I left the world of professional football to rediscover my purpose in life, but something was missing. I didn’t know what that something was until my brother abandoned his daughter on my doorstep.

  I look down at the baby’s sparkling eyes and know that I am all she has. I will fight for and love and protect her. Nothing and no one will stop me, not even my brother.

  I ran to save my life and my daughter’s. However, I didn’t run far or fast enough. When my ex finds me, he takes everything…including my baby.

  Now, I have to save my daughter before it’s too late. When I discover she’s at the Double Mountain Ranch, I pose as a nanny so I can care for her and plan our escape. But I didn’t expect to fall in love with my employer…my ex’s brother.

  How can one brother be so different from the other? This wounded cowboy loves my baby as much as I do. He can give her the life I never could. He wants to put a ring on my finger and has already branded my heart.

  I want to give in, but I can’t. Will telling him who I am set us both free, or will my secret ruin us both?

  1

  Shawna

  The sound of the judge clearing his throat has as much finality as a banging gavel. Beneath the table, I gather the loose fabric of my borrowed taupe pantsuit in my fists.

  Please let this go my way. I know I’ve made mistakes, but I won’t make one this time. I can’t. I don’t know what I’ll do if I lose her.

  A heavy hand pats my shoulder. I look up to see Mr. Murdock’s tight smile. “Hang in there,” he whispers. He doesn’t say: Don’t worry, everything will be okay. Even though it’s a lie, I wish he’d say it. Right now I want to hear those words more than anything. But from day one, my lawyer made it clear that there’d be no empty promises.

  This is part of the reason why I’m so anxious. I’m painfully aware of what my odds are in this case.

  The judge’s glasses slide down his nose as he leans forward. “It is never easy to make decisions like these. A child is better off when he or she has two parents, but that can’t always be.”

  I glance across the aisle at Brad. It looks like he had a good night’s sleep last night. In fact, it looks like he’s never had a sleepless night in his entire life. His navy blue Armani suit accentuates his broad, powerful shoulders and trim hips. Dressed like that while lounging next to his $1,000 an hour lawyer, the gulf between us couldn’t be more obvious. He slides his thumb across his jawline as if it were a razor as he turns his steel gaze towards me.

  I glance down, but not fast enough. He catches me looking. And because he’s Brad Reeves, he’s not going to let me forget it. Out of the corner of my eye, I see his lips curl with devilish satisfaction. My entire future rests on this verdict, and the worst part is he knows it. He gets off on it. This is all a cruel game to him. Whatever of the outcome, I know he’ll try to find a way to use it to control me.

  I force myself to sit up straight. I’m not going to let him know how much he’s getting to me. He’s already taken so much, and it still wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. Now he’s after the thing I love most in this world: my daughter.

  The judge clears his throat again and every hair on my body stands on end. “I award full custody of the minor child, Tamara Davis, to her father, Brad Reeves.”

  What?

  The courtroom sways. I grab the table in front of me to keep me steady, but I still feel like the world is spinning. Even Mr. Murdock’s hand, which has found its way back to my shoulder, does nothing to anchor me.

  No. This can’t be happening. There must be some mistake.

  “I’m sorry,” Mr. Murdock whispers, giving me the same expression he had when I burst into his office two short weeks ago.

  I can’t respond. I can’t even breathe. I wasn’t expecting full custody of my daughter, but this?

  I wonder how Brad’s reacting. I know it’s stupid. I know it will do nothing but fuel my rage, but I can’t help it. Once again, I look across the aisle.

  Brad is already staring at me, eyes gleaming with triumph. That man lied as naturally as he breathed. He’d accused me of prostitution, drug use, and being unable to care for my daughter.

  Only that last accusation has any shred of truth in it. Every time she smiles up at me with her big, bright eyes I want to give her the world instead of the tiny bedroom we share in Destiny’s apartment. I love my baby girl more than my own life. I’ll do whatever I need to in order to make ends meet. I’ll sacrifice anything to give her the best life I can. That had to mean something.

  I push my seat back. Mr. Murdock grips my shoulder, but there’s too much force behind my movement for him to stop me. Seconds later, I’m on my feet.

  “You can’t give her to him! He—he—” I stutter as an image of Brad’s snarl flashes in my mind. Adrenaline courses through my body. It had taken so much strength to admit how Brad had treated me. Now, I had to find that strength again. I had to make them understand.

  “Control yourself, Ms. Reece.” The judge’s shout carries throughout the courtroom.

  I ball my hands into fists. I can’t stop. I have to fight for my baby girl. “Did you even listen to what I said? He beat me. He threw me down the stairs. I had to leave to save my life. You can’t hand an infant over to him. What if he takes his anger out on her? Please, for my daughter’s safety, reconsider—”

  The banging gavel echoes in my ears. “I should hold you in contempt for this outburst. The best interest of the child is served by placing her with her father. You aren’t stable enough to raise a child.”

  I can’t give up that easily. “Please. I’m her mother. Brad doesn’t love her like I do.”

  “Ms. Reece, sit down,” the judge continues. “We all heard your testimony. Again, why didn’t you go to the police? Or a women’s shelter? There aren’t even any hospital records for any of these incidents. The alleged abuse went on for months, yes? And it was severe enough to warrant medical attention, correct? So why is there no record of anything? It is your word against his, and unfortunately I have reason to believe that your words cannot be trusted.”

  I bite m
y tongue. My word against his? More like my wallet against his!

  “Shawna, do as he says. He doesn’t even have to give you this much,” Mr. Murdock warns.

  Tears build in my eyes, threatening to spill over my cheeks. Did they all really expect me to stay silent while the judge signed away my daughter’s wellbeing to a man I could never trust to keep her safe? I fall back into my chair.

  The judge continues once he’s satisfied I’ll stay in my place. “As I was saying, full custody is awarded to Mr. Reeves. Ms. Davis will be allowed three weekly supervised visitations.”

  Three weekly supervised visitations? That was it? I look desperately at Mr. Murdock, but he’s avoiding my gaze.

  “The order stands for six months while Ms. Davis undergoes counseling and parenting classes. Until Ms. Davis’ living and work situations change, I won’t allow her to be responsible for the child.” The judge turns his attention back to the courtroom. “Reevaluation in six months.”

  Brad’s lawyer stands. “Excuse me, your honor.”

  The judge sighs. “Yes?”

  “Mr. Reeves will be traveling in and out of the country for the next several months, overseeing a business project in Lisbon. Naturally, he’ll want Tamara to accompany him.”

  “And?”

  “There will be some weeks where Mr. Reeves won’t be in the US at all. The visitations will pose a problem.”

  The judge glares at both of them. “You didn’t think to mention this sooner?”

  My stomach flutters with hope. Was I finally catching a break? Surely the judge wouldn’t think that global trotting with a newborn was an ideal situation, especially if it would interfere with the mother’s right to visit her baby.

  The judge considers this. “Order is so amended: Ms. Davis is to have not less than twelve hours of supervised visitation with her daughter per month,” he proclaims, dismissing us.

  My jaw drops. Twelve hours a month? And whenever Brad felt like giving them to me? Some months I might see Tamara every week, and sometimes once a month, if I was lucky. And if there’s one thing I know I’m not, it’s lucky.

  Mr. Murdock leans over. “Shawna, I know this wasn’t what you were looking for, but trust me when I say it’s not as bad as it could have been.”

  “How could it have been worse exactly?”

  He shrugs. “You could have no visitation rights.”

  My stomach drops. “Please. You have to do something. I can’t live like this.”

  “It’s over and done. Time to move on.”

  Easy for him to say. He already has his next case file under his arm. Mr. Murdock is a nice guy, but he was too overworked and underpaid to give more than two hoots about any of his cases—his words, not mine.

  “Remember when I said no empty promises?” he continues. “Six months will breeze by, I promise. Keep your head down and your nose clean, and maybe you can work some magic next time.”

  Every day with an infant was important and precious. Six months would not breeze by, and preparing for another chance in court certainly wouldn’t. I might miss her first words, and I could almost guarantee that they wouldn’t be mama.

  “Good luck,” he tells me. As he leaves, I can’t help but wonder if he’ll even remember my name one week from now.

  Still, it’s stupid to be upset with him. He hadn’t promised anything more than he delivered. It’s my own fault that I’m in this situation. Maybe Brad was right—I was so stupid to think I could do anything on my own.

  I hug my chest. Time to show everyone how good I was at keeping my nose down and staying out of trouble. Right now, the best way to that was to avoid Brad. Before I can do something I know I’ll regret, I rush past him and out of the courtroom.

  Footsteps clack behind me. “Shawna! Wait up!”

  I slow down and turn to see Destiny, my roommate, right behind me. She came to support me. I think we both knew things wouldn’t go well…but neither of us could have predicted how bad it would be. “One day, you’re gonna have to finally teach me how to walk in those,” I sniffle, pointing at her feet. “I swear, you could run a marathon in heels.”

  She pulls me into a hug. “It will be okay, Shawna.”

  “How?” I whisper.

  “We’ll appeal.”

  “We have no money,” I remind her.

  “We’ll figure something out,” she says, voice full of emotion. “I won’t let him take Tamara.”

  I wrap my arms around her, hugging her tight. This is also killing her. Destiny loves Tamara as if she were her own baby.

  The doors swing open and chatter fills the hall. I look over Tamara’s shoulder to see Brad and his lawyer leaving the courtroom.

  Destiny sees them, too. “Come on. Let’s go.”

  I can’t.

  I want to, but something stops me. A woman in a pinstripe skirt calls out to Brad and he turns. She has paperwork on a clipboard. She hands it to him and he takes it, looking bored. He flips through the pages. After, he holds out his hand for something--a pen, maybe? The woman in the pinstripe skirt digs around in her oversized purse, pulls one out, and gives it to him.

  He scribbles something on the first page, then flips to the second. It takes almost no time. He must be initialing something…

  ...Which means he hasn’t signed yet.

  My breath catches. I step forward.

  “Shawna,” Destiny warns, grabbing my arm.

  “I can’t.” My voice sounds raspy, almost inhuman. “I can’t let him sign that. I can’t let him--”

  “Shawna, we have to go.”

  Her soothing voice makes me shiver. I know she’s being reasonable, but damnit I can’t be reasonable. My daughter’s safety is at risk. This isn’t right.

  I try to dart forward, but I can’t break free of Destiny’s grip. She yanks on my arm and I stumble back into her.

  “We won’t let him get away with this,” she vows, “but we can’t do anything right now.”

  I know she’s right.

  I want to grab the paperwork from his hands and tear it up. I want to scream that he can never have our daughter--that he’ll never have a chance to treat her the way he treated me--but if I did that, I’d only be playing into his hand. He wants me to appear too unstable to care for my daughter; no doubt he’d claim this was an unprovoked assault.

  He signs the last page and hands the clipboard and pen back to the woman in the pinstripe skirt.

  It’s over.

  Destiny puts her arm around me. To my mortification, I whimper. Brad’s head whips up and our gazes lock. Against the brick and concrete interior, his blue eyes look electric. The woman in the pinstripe skirt starts talking to him, but he obviously isn’t interested. He’s completely and utterly focused on one thing: me.

  Tamara isn’t the endgame. At one point, Brad said he’d force me to have an abortion if I ever had a child. He didn’t want anything to ever come between us. There’s no way he’s suddenly had a change of heart in the past year. No, he doesn’t want our daughter. He’s just using her to get to me.

  My hands curl into fists as Destiny pulls me out of the hall and away from him. Brad is right about one thing. This isn’t over. Not even close. I won’t let my daughter be used as a pawn.

  2

  Jackson

  It takes me a moment to realize the ringing in my ears is the doorbell. Leaning back in my leather chair, I glance at the clock. 12:08 glows in large red numerals. Sighing, I remove my reading glasses and drop them on the file I’d been studying. There’s only one person who has the balls to interrupt me at this hour.

  Guess what, it’s not someone I want to see.

  “Coming,” I murmur to myself as I stretch out the kink in my back. It’s from an old injury that normally doesn’t bother me, but every once in awhile it reminds me of its existence at the most inconvenient moment possible…sort of like the asshole stabbing my doorbell.

  I do my best to step quietly down the hall. Not that it matters, I suppose, with all this
racket. Brad knows I moved in with mom because she needed medical assistance, right? So why can’t he show a little restraint?

  Oh, why am I asking this? Brad’s never shown restraint. And really, whenever dealing with him, I shouldn’t either. But he’s my brother. I can’t abandon him.

  Which is why I open the door for him and politely inquire, “What do you want?”

  Brad pushes his way inside. “I need your help.” He then proceeds to squat and set a pile of blankets on the floor.

  I glare at him. Really? I’m tired of cleaning up his messes—I’m not going to start doing his laundry, too. I’m about to tell him to get his laundry out of here before mom wakes up and, in a moment of misguided compassion, decides to wash it for him, the pile of blankets moves.

  I freeze.

  The blankets start to meow.

  “Is that a cat?” I glare at him. “You didn’t hurt it, did you?” If he did, I swear to god I’ll throw him out on his ass—but not before giving him the beating of his life. I don’t care if mother is under my roof. I won’t tolerate cruelty from anybody, even my own flesh and blood.

  “Cat? No,” Brad says, grimacing. “It’s a baby.”

  “A baby?” I ask in disbelief and horror, but mostly horror. How did my brother get a baby and why is he showing up with one on my doorstep in the middle of the night?

  “Yeah.” He closes his eyes and rubs his temples. “I’m in way over my head, Jackson.”

  I look back down at the baby hidden inside the bundle of blankets.

  The bundle of blankets he’d just dumped on the floor a few seconds ago.

  No, correction—the baby he’d just dumped on the floor a few seconds ago…

  Oh God. Was the baby hurt? I kneel and pull back the blankets slowly. A small hand darts out and grabs my index finger. I go completely still. A little foot peeks out from under the blankets and starts to kick. Slowly, I move the top blanket to the side. Pretty dark eyes stare up at me. She sticks out her tongue, scrunches up her face, and starts to cry.