One Reason to Kill (Escaping the Mafia Book 1)

by Evelyn Kiss

  Favors. Obligations. Loyalty.

  I joined the society to stay in Hannah’s life. I never thought I’d be in it without her. Love and revenge made me stupid, and now I can’t leave. Ever.

  They’ve left me alone for a year because Teagan convinced the Council I needed time to deal with losing Hannah, but it’s only a matter of time before they come calling. The music with my brother has kept them at bay, I’m sure of it. I wouldn’t be surprised if the meeting the band has today is blessed by the Council.

  My brother thinks he managed the deal with Phoenix Records all on his own, but I have my suspicions. Not that I would ever voice them. The less my brother knows about my society ties, the better.

  It’s enough he knows I am one; I don’t need him questioning things and suddenly becoming dispensable, or worse, welcomed as a novice. Norths don’t enjoy outsiders sniffing around their business. They prefer to remain elusive, keeping people guessing on how to define them.

  Just the thought of returning back into that world keeps me up at night. I barely sleep, and if I do, it’s an alcohol-induced slumber or with medical assistance. I didn’t take my sleeping pills last night because I was otherwise entertained with the girl who is softly breathing next to me.

  The tips of her blonde hair are spread over the pillow while the rest of her is buried under the covers. I try to remember what her name is, but to be honest, I don’t even think I asked for it. She was there, ready and wanting to sleep with me. I just took her up on her offer.

  Why I didn’t kick her out right away, I have no clue. I have this thing where I give the girls prompts on things Hannah would do or say while I fuck them, and blonde girl of the night here, failed miserably. She tried though, I give her that much. Maybe that’s why I didn’t kick her out. Or maybe it was the fact she moved so perfectly in tune with me. It’s been a year since I felt the thrill of sex and not just go through the motions to find a release. I even wrapped my arm around her and let her snuggle close to me. Not even Hannah did that; she wasn’t into intimacies.

  We weren’t that couple that cuddled in bed. Hannah slept on her side, and I slept on mine. If she was really feeling vulnerable, which was extremely rare, her toes would reach for mine, and she’d fall asleep with her foot cozied near mine. So, when tonight’s conquest nestled into me, I didn’t pull her away, which surprised me.

  Now, the sun is peeking through the blinds of my window, and she needs to go.

  She’s hidden under the covers. I only see the tips of her hair scattered all over the pillow. I nudge her with my leg and she stirs. I do it again, just to make sure she wakes up. “You can go now.”

  She peeks her head out from under the covers. “What?”

  I ignore how seductive her morning voice sounds and shuffle out of bed. I glance over at her. She keeps the sheet tucked tight against her naked body, but it does little to hide the sultry outline of her curves. I shift my gaze toward the window, attempting to appear unbothered by the way she’s eyeing me hungrily.

  I busy myself by searching for the green shirt she passed off as a dress and throw it onto the bed. I rummage through the room and collect the rest of her belongings and hand them to her before I escape into the closet to dress myself. I have no intention of giving her a callback.

  I open the drawer and pick out a fresh pair of boxers. As I slide them on, she joins me. Her eyes drink me in, thinking she’ll get a repeat. I shut her ideas down immediately because I’d be down for another round, and that isn’t something I do. I harden my expression and narrow my eyes at her. “I said you could go.”

  The offense plastered on her face nearly makes me regret my harsh tone. Then I remember I don’t owe her anything and dismiss her. “I have places to be, and you can’t stay here. Get dressed and get the hell out.”

  “I heard you were an asshole and into some weird kinky shit.”

  She means that to be demeaning, but it backfires on her. “Yet, you were the one hanging all over me, darling. If you weren’t into that kind of shit, you should have stayed away.”

  She smacks her lips together and sucks in air through her front teeth. I pay her pouting no mind and throw on a pair of clean jeans and a nice dress shirt. I had a meeting to attend, and I couldn’t waste time with some chick I won’t ever see again.

  Priorities, I remind myself. I ignore her staring and busy myself with getting ready. At some point, she disappears into the other room, hopefully, to get dressed and get the hell out of my space. I wait a few minutes, listening for her movements. When I hear drawers closing, I rush out and find her fiddling with her undergarments.

  “Why the fuck are you still here?” I lean against my wall, far away from her.

  Either she doesn’t hear my abrasiveness, or she doesn’t care because she ignores me. She is having trouble fastening her bra, and I remember why.

  Shit. Remembering stirs the need and puts a smile on my face. She was a whole lot of fun to fuck. “I broke the clasp when I ripped it off of you last night.”

  “No shit!” She rolls her eyes at me.

  I notice a stapler on my bed. “Are you planning on stapling yourself into that?” I don’t know why that makes me laugh, but the way my lips curl feels strange.

  “I’m glad you find this amusing. You know how much bras cost?”

  Is she scolding me? The wall provides a safe enough distance to watch her. She’s super hot, and her moth really does it for me. It’s been way too long since I screwed someone with a face like hers and a hell of a tongue.

  “I can only imagine how many pricey undergarments you’ve damaged.”

  “You should feel lucky.” To annoy her, I shrug my shoulder before crossing my arms. “Some girls walk out of here with torn dresses and nothing but shirts beneath their jackets… well, if they have a jacket.” I chuckle softly at the thought of how many girls have given my next-door neighbors an eyeful.

  She releases a frustrated growl and sharpens her tone. “Are you serious?”

  “Does that surprise you?”

  She lifts a single eyebrow in my direction and fixes me with a disapproving glare. “You aren’t even decent enough to give them a shirt?”

  “Never occurred to me,” I answer, even though I owe her no explanation.

  “That’s disappointing,” she says as she takes a few steps back so she can see herself in the mirror. Holding both strands of her bra with one hand, she uses the other to try and staple them together. After her fourth attempt, she brings the stapler down and huffs out an adorably cute mumble that sounds like, “Fucking great.”

  Against my better judgement and at the risk of actually coming across like I care, I ask, “Do you need help with that?”

  She gives me a hesitant nod and draws in a breath as I approach. Avoiding eye contact, she hands me the stapler. I take both strands from her and punch a few metal stitches through the fabric. My fingers brush against the curve of her spine, and she breathes in heavily. In the mirror, I can see her tongue slowly sliding over her bottom lip.

  She swivels her head to peek at my reflection and catches me watching her. We don’t avert our gaze. The fact that she doesn’t shy away surprises me. I’m not exactly an inviting kind of person, most girls don’t dare to see past the rough exterior. A deep emotional tie isn’t exactly what they seek me out for. I’m a rough lover, who doesn’t like repeats. Yet here I am, staring down a girl whose name I don’t even know.

  I take in the shape of her body, the defined cheekbones, the button nose, and the heart-shaped face. Her hair is messy, tussled from our night in the sheets, and the mascara she had on is smudged enough to make her eyes look deep and seductively smoky. My eyes travel down her body, landing on the outline of her perfectly sized breasts and her sexy round bottom. Her black thong accentuates the curves, and my fingers suddenly ache to touch her delicate skin again.

  I lean toward her, so my chest is almost pressed against her back, but stop myself when I notice the two small back dimples. Hannah ha
d those too.

  Fuck. Moving on is impossible when I want nothing more than to stay in a place where Hannah still existed. I missed her. It’s been months, and the memory of her still slices through me like a sharp knife. I wish I could bleed her out of me, but she runs deeper than blood. She’s crawled beneath my veins, seeped into my nerve endings, and corroded them so that all I feel is loss.

  The longer she isn’t physically in my life, the more I realize she wasn’t a good person. Actually, the only redeeming qualities Hannah had was her love for me and for the society. My brother keeps telling me she would want me to move on, to find another love, but she wouldn’t. She’s vicious even in death. I’m sure she’ll give the Devil hell right before she takes the throne from him.

  “You should stop staring at me.” My recent Hannah hangover’s voice cuts through my thoughts. I wasn’t staring at her exactly, but my eyes were still fixed on her backside. She takes a step forward and reaches for the hunter green dress before pulling it over her head. “I guess I should say thanks for the staple and for the umm… sex, Chains.”

  I keep my mouth shut because my heart bursts with a familiar pain that dulls all my senses.

  At my silence, her mouth draws into a straight line, and she juts her chin forward. “Well, okay then.”

  She side-steps me and heads for the door. I let her go because I only want the flock of girls to remind me of Hannah when I’m in an alcoholic daze. Remembering her sober is a whole different story.

  When she gets to the door, she stops abruptly and swivels on her heels to face me. She uses her hand to gesticulate her disappointment. “I don’t know who Hannah is, but you really need some therapy. Asking me to do things she did, or calling me her name while you came inside me, could be fun once, but I doubt any girl will put up with it repeatedly.”

  I tilt my head to the side and stare at the girl who is calling me out on my shit. Not a wise choice on her part. “Well, let’s just say, I don’t usually double dip.”

  “Of course you don’t. Commitment isn’t your thing, right?”

  “Not anymore.”

  She nods her head and exits. That’s how I prefer my women these days: distant and always ready to leave.

  Alpha-holes

  Lexi

  Why the hell did I sleep with that asshole? Ugh. That’s all my life has been lately, a string of bad decisions that usually lead me to even more bad decisions, usually involving penises.

  It’s not that I don’t try to make good decisions. Every day I wake up thinking, ‘today I am going to be better, make smarter choices,’ and it lasts for all of twenty minutes. Then I check my social media, and my ex’s stupid face shows up on my news feed, reminding me how much fun he is having now that he isn’t tied down to me.

  The fucker was never tied down to me.

  That’s what I get for thinking a long-distance relationship could work. We made it until junior year, then I went home for a weekend and found Steve dick-deep in a cheerleader. We dated for almost seven years, and apparently, he’s been cheating on me the whole time while stupid me remained faithful and only his.

  Well, fuck that.

  And fuck Santiago and his own issues.

  I have my fair share of relationship phobias, and I don’t go around asking guys to screw me like Steve did. The last thing I want to think of when I am orgasming is that shithead. But I guess to each his own.

  I have to give Santiago props though, despite that being the weirdest sexual experience, it was amazing. It’s girth. It’s stamina. It’s knowledge. And a whole lot of freaky.

  Well, I knew it would be. Screwing Chains is on every Vonwest girl’s to-do list. He’s racked up a certain kind of reputation, and there’s a ton of rumors about him being dangerous.

  Honestly, I just think he’s damaged. I kind of feel sorry for him, actually. Whoever Hannah was, she messed with his head and heart.

  And I can’t let him get in mine. But his emotional damage is appealing to the psychologist in me, and I am really struggling not to march back in there and give him my professor’s card. I stand in the hall, debating the situation for a little too long.

  Some guy with long dirty blond hair, blue eyes, and a beard emerges from the apartment next to Santiago’s and fixates on me. Moments later, a more clean-cut, excessively cut man joins him.

  I tap on the elevator button repeatedly.

  “You know that doesn’t make it move faster.” The bearded guy stands beside me. He’s intense, like his presence overwhelms me and invades my personal bubble even though he isn’t that close.

  “Did Chains just kick you out?” The bearded dude asks when I don’t bother to answer his first comment. “Don’t take it personally. He’s unique, and he has a particular taste for pretty young blondes.”

  I raise my brow in question and tilt my body in his direction. Behind all that hair is actually a very handsome face. He looks a little older, but it might just be the facial hair that makes him appear that way. His muscled arms have tattoos for sleeves, their color stands bright against the simple white T-shirt with the expensive logo on it. His jeans are snug around his massive thighs. If I were easily intimidated, I might feel threatened by his persona. Instead, I look him directly in the eyes and ask, “Are you a friend of his?”

  He smirks and glances toward the slightly taller man on his other side. They exchange some sort of psychic dialogue, and he without looking at me, replies, “You can say that.”

  I roll my eyes. Elusiveness is always an evasion tactic. He’s either not his neighbor’s friend or he’s hiding something. Either way, it’s none of my business. Though the thought of asking who Hannah is crosses my mind a couple times, I block those thoughts out.

  Tall guy looks at his cell phone and grunts. Leaning over, he hits the elevator button again… and again. “Fucking twat on fifth is probably holding the elevator.”

  Twat? Guys are such assholes.

  I can’t control the snicker that escapes my lips.

  Both of them turn in my direction, and this time, it’s the tall guy who asks, “Do you have a problem with my vocabulary?” By the way he’s crossing his arms in front of his chest and his pinched expression, I am guessing he doesn’t find my contempt amusing.

  This is the time where my no-filtered, no-lie, mouth should shut up and keep me out of trouble because these two don’t exactly instill a sense of security. Unfortunately, my filtering process only works after I’ve had my coffee. “Yeah, actually, I do.”

  The elevator finally opens and the bearded guy leans inside and presses the close button. He waits for the doors to shut then rotates, placing his back to the elevator and blocking it.

  Well, okay then. Stepping back, I scan the hall for the stairwell door and find it behind the tall boy. I fix them with a hard stare because I refuse to be bullied by two pricks who have nothing better to do than irritate me.

  “So, what? You plan on keeping me up here because you two successfully fail at having manners?” I slyly reach into my purse and feel around for the can of protection, just in case. “I have no problem pepper-spraying dipshits.”

  “You have a mouth on you,” the bearded guy says. I am not sure if he is slightly amused by said mouth, or if he’s threatening me. “If you were smart, you’d keep it shut.”

  Guess we are going with threats. “I also have eyes and ears… and a nose too.”

  The tall guy shakes his head, but I manage to make him chuckle with my sarcasm, and he steps away from the door. But I am on the twenty-fifth floor, and that’s a lot of freaking stairs in these heels. So, I tempt my luck and hit the elevator button.

  Bearded guy stares at my hand intensely as I perform the action, and then tilts his head to the side, studying me as I wait for the elevator. He, however, does not budge from his place.

  My stomach churns with unease and hunger as the taller guy repositions himself. I glance back. He is behind me now, leaning against the wall, using his leg as leverage to prop himself up.r />
  Their silence makes me anxious, and when anxiety takes over, my tongue doesn’t stop moving. “Look…”

  “Maddox,” Santiago’s assertive voice reverberates through the hall, interrupting my potentially dangerous babbling. Bearded guy stiffens up, standing straighter as Santiago approaches. “What the fuck are you doing?”

  Maddox, I presume, answers him with a coy smile. “Entertaining your guest until you got out here.”

  I scrunch my lips together, forcing them to stay shut.

  “Unnecessary.” Santiago glances over at me, pensively. After a moment, he finishes his statement. “Veronica was just leaving.”

  “Seriously?” I shut my eyes for a split second when they all stare at me with awe. It’s as if they aren’t used to girls talking back. I don’t know what kind of girls they meet because all my friends aren’t into the whole ‘roll over and take it thing’ these three have going on.

  “Are you going to finish that statement, darling?” Santiago’s words are meant to demean, but they sound way too sexy for it to actually work. There was a hint of a drawl and a whole lot of enticing in that one statement.

  “You don’t even know my name.”

  Tall guy steps in now. “You have to excuse Chains. With all the girls coming in and out of his room, I am surprised he even tried to guess at your name.”

  That’s disgusting. “You know?” They hang on my words. “I don’t think that’s his problem at all.”

  “My problem?” Santiago’s voice elevates, but when he continues, his voice is deep and full of anger. “And who the hell are you to tell me my problems? You are just a girl I fucked, wishing it was someone else.”

  I cross my arms in front of me, shielding the rapid rise and fall of my chest. “And you’re just an asshole I screwed, to get back at someone else.”

  He steps forward, invading my personal space. I don’t give him the pleasure of knowing how much it affects me. Santiago, as menacing as he is right now, is steaming hot, and there is no denying the allure he exudes.