Possessed by the Killer

by Hamel, B. B.

  She stopped and watched it, hugging her arms around herself. “I was afraid, I guess,” she said.

  “Are you still afraid?” I stood next to her, watching the water. I’d been in these woods so many times growing up and everything felt so familiar, but also so much smaller than I remembered. Back then, this place was like a vast jungle, and now it was only a little wooded area, nothing special, nothing unique.

  The magic was gone. I mourned that, in a way.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “But I’m still here.”

  “You don’t have to marry me if you don’t want to. I can find some other way to get your uncle’s loyalty.”

  “But I can’t find another way to get rich,” she said, and glanced up at me. “You must be desperate if you’re willing to marry a stranger.”

  I looked back at her. “You must be too.”

  She chewed on her lip. “Maybe you’re right.”

  I wanted to touch her cheek again or place my hand on the small of her back. She seemed so tiny, and I felt the sudden urge to kiss her neck, her throat, pull her hair, make her gasp. She met my gaze and knew what I was thinking—I could see it in her eyes, the way they widened and her breathing got faster, and she hugged herself tighter.

  But now wasn’t the time. I couldn’t force her. I broke away and turned back to the house, leaving her near the stream.

  “Keep thinking about it,” I said as I walked back down the path. “The contract’s signed. All you need to do is say the word and we’ll make it official.”

  “Ten million,” she called after me. “You’re good for it, right?”

  “I better be,” I said, waving as I left her there.

  I liked that girl. Hell, I wanted that girl. I didn’t know if that made things easier, or if it made everything so much more complicated.

  4

  Mags

  Birds flitted between the branches and a woodpecker landed on the edge of the mansion’s gutters, its face clattering against the plastic with a loud rapping sound. I leaned my back against the trunk of an old oak tree with spreading branches and big fat leaves with thick veins and breathed the smell of pollen and grass clippings, and I felt for the first time maybe in my entire life that I could do anything I wanted.

  Close to freedom. Not quite, since the mansion still loomed there, and I knew what was inside—Dean, with his contract and the marriage and everything else. My uncle was out there in the world, my dad too, but in the mansion’s yard I could pretend for a little bit at least.

  Pretend that I didn’t want Dean. That I wasn’t interested.

  He was being fair. He was being disgustingly fair. I wanted to be pissed at him for it, but found I couldn’t quite manage the rage. He was willing to let me off the hook, even after having signed the contract that stipulated my pay. I guess it was technically a prenup, but whatever. Even still, he said I could walk whenever I wanted if I chose not to go through with this.

  It was so stupidly reasonable and I hated that.

  I was used to men being unreasonable. To men taking what they wanted without any thought to what they broke or what they hurt. Clumsy, stupid men, ham-fisted men.

  Dean wasn’t that. He was graceful and kind and smart, and dangerous. I could see the danger in him, lurking beneath that polished, handsome exterior.

  My uncle wouldn’t work for a man that wasn’t part killer. Even with a marriage proposal in hand.

  It pissed me off, how easily it would be to get away from here.

  I shaded my eyes as the back door opened. Bea stepped out wearing her usual jeans, button-down, and apron. She spotted me and waved, and I waved back. I didn’t know what to make of the housekeeper—she was kind, and tried her best to make me feel welcome and at home, but she was very much involved in Dean’s daily affairs. She sat in on the meetings and though she walked around with a charming smile, she had the same sort of aura about her that Dean did, like she had a secret, and that secret involved many, many dead bodies.

  She came toward me, wiping her hands off on the apron. I went to meet her halfway and she beamed like she was pleasantly surprised to see me.

  “You’ve been spending a lot of time outdoors,” she said. “It suits you.”

  I smiled al little. “What do you mean?”

  “Oh, you’re getting tan.” She pointed toward my arm. “Look at that.”

  I looked and laughed. “I’m not sure I’d call this tan,” I said. “Maybe slightly off-white at best. Cream-colored, maybe.”

  She chuckled and stretched her back. “I go for walks in the forest sometimes,” she said. “It’s nice to get away from the boys and their cigar smoke.”

  “They do love smoking cigars,” I said. The smell of it could choke a small child. Thick wafts of clouds rolled down the hallways when Dean had his Capos in his office.

  I’d been there for a week, and already it was beginning to feel like a place I could stay. That scared me more than Dean being reasonable about all this.

  Bea began to stroll down the grass, past the tree, and I walked with her. I didn’t know why—but I felt like I should make an effort.

  “Have you thought about what you’re going to do?” she asked, hands behind her back, head tilted so she could look up at me out the corner of her right eye.

  I didn’t meet her gaze, only looked up at the fluffy clouds. “I haven’t decided,” I said. “But it would be stupid of me to turn him down, right?”

  “Oh, stupid,” she said. “I don’t know about stupid. You know what he is, don’t you?”

  Of course I knew. I grew up with men like Dean, like my father, like my uncle. I was surrounded by men like that and there was a reason I hated them.

  “Yes, I know,” I said.

  “Then nobody would be shocked if you made a run for it.” She chuckled kindly and sighed. “I’ve seen a lot of men come and go through this family, and I will say that Dean is one of the best.”

  “Best in what way?” I asked.

  “He’s a good man at heart,” she said. “He grew up in the family, which means his sense of morality is skewed slightly, but he’s unceasingly loyal. If you decide to marry him, which I am not suggesting you do, he will follow through with his promises, that I am sure of.”

  I nodded a little. “I got that sense, honestly. He seems like the sort of man that does what he says.”

  “Very much so.” She looked off into the middle distance like she was remembering something. “I watched him grow up in this house, you know. Used to chase him into these woods sometimes, especially when his father was angry and he didn’t want to come home to face the consequences. Once he broke a lamp, a Tiffany piece from the twenties worth, oh, too much money. His father was furious, and poor Dean hid out in the woods for over a day. He eventually came home starving.”

  “What did his father do?” I asked, trying to picture a young Dean, and failing. In my mind, he was born a man, and always would be.

  “His father beat him then gave him dinner,” Bea said lightly. “But the beating wasn’t so bad. I think the Don was impressed that his son managed to spend the night in the wild.” She cleared her throat and shook her head. “Sorry, I mean, the former Don. I still haven’t gotten used to him being gone.”

  “It must be hard,” I said softly. “You’ve been working here for a long time.”

  “Ah, well, Cesare was old and ill at the end, and he lived the kind of life very few men ever dream of. I think he had it good.”

  Bea reached a gravel path that arced toward the pool and back to the house. She walked that way, climbing uphill, moving a bit slower. I couldn’t tell how old she was, but I guessed late sixties, maybe early seventies. She’d probably been in this house for most of her life, and losing the old Don must have been hard. But now she had the new Don to think of.

  “If I marry him, will it help?” I asked her.

  She shrugged slightly. “I suppose so. Dean needs your uncle’s support, and your marriage will earn it, though I
never was a fan of buying and selling girls for political favors.”

  I laughed and ran a hand through my hair. “You’re the first one to say it like that.”

  “Well, that’s what it is.” She nodded to herself. “But yes, if you marry Dean, it will help.”

  “Do you think I should?” I asked, suddenly desperate for a real answer. We reached the top of the hill and the base of the house, the patio several feet away, a long stretch of designer stone, a built-in fireplace and oven, expensive lounge chairs, and large umbrellas.

  She gave me a long, appraising look. I couldn’t read it, and felt suddenly lost. My mother died a long time ago and I didn’t have any other females in my life, so I couldn’t quite understand what Bea’s look meant, but I craved her support regardless for some reason I didn’t want to comprehend.

  “I think you should,” she said softly. “And it’s not normally my way to say so straight out like that, but I think that if you want a chance at escaping your life, this is going to be it. You’ll sacrifice for a few years, and maybe you’ll find you enjoy being with Dean in the end, but if you choose to leave then he will pay and you’ll never have to see your father or your uncle or anyone else in the Valentino family ever again. I would make that gamble, if I were in your position.”

  I nodded once and took a deep breath before slowly letting it out. “Thank you,” I said.

  “You’re welcome.” She looked at me kindly. “Now, your father’s inside.”

  I blinked rapidly and took a step back. “Sorry, what?”

  “I thought we could keep him waiting.” She gave me a cheeky grin and shrugged a bit. “I suppose it was mean, but he deserves it.”

  A laugh bubbled up. I liked her, liked her a lot. “I guess I should go see him then.”

  “He’s in the living room, right in through those doors.” She pointed toward a sliding glass door. “Go on, dear, talk to him.”

  I waved goodbye and walked to the door. When I looked back, she was already strolling back down the path, whistling to herself as she went.

  That woman had her fingers in all of this. I could tell it already. She made me too at ease, made me too comfortable and happy, and that was almost as dangerous as Dean’s charming smile and muscular physique. I’d have to be careful of her, but I didn’t want to be. I craved attention from a mother figure, and some stupid part of me thought maybe, just maybe, Bea could be it.

  I went inside. Dad sat on a large leather couch and looked like a little boy, swallowed by the massive, empty room. He struggled to his feet as I approached and I thought he might hug me, but he didn’t come closer as I stopped a few feet away.

  “Hey, Dad,” I said.

  “How are you?” he asked. “I keep meaning to visit, but your uncle told me not to.”

  “I’m fine,” I said. “Everyone’s nice here.”

  “I bet.” He looked around, eyebrows raised. “Lap of luxury, eh? Pretty nice, yeah?”

  “What do you want?” I asked, the old anger simmering again.

  “Ah, honesty, you know, just to see how you were doing.” He grinned at me, sheepish. His hair was thinning and the bags under his eyes were thick enough to blot out the sun. His clothes were rumpled, and he smelled like he came straight from the club.

  “I find that hard to believe.” I crossed my arms over my chest.

  “I’m your father,” he said softly, his smile fading. “I can’t come see how my daughter’s doing?”

  “You’re here to spy on me for Uncle Roy,” I said. “So forgive me if I’m skeptical.”

  His face darkened. “There’s no reason to talk to me like that.”

  Now there was the father I knew. That was the man I grew up with: mercurial, quick to rage, and not shy about taking it out on me with his bare hands. The asshole wasn’t always abusive, mostly when he drank, and as I got older, I got better about defending myself, but still.

  I didn’t have to put up with it anymore.

  “Why don’t you just go home?” I asked. “You can tell Uncle Roy that everything’s fine.”

  “I’m making sure you’re going to follow through with this deal,” he said sharply. “I need to know you’re going to do what’s best for the family.”

  “For your family,” I hissed, rage spilling over. “It’s not my family. Since when has this family ever done shit for me?”

  “It put a roof over your head, you ungrateful brat,” he said. “All those hours I spent working, what the fuck do you think it was all for, huh?”

  “Wasn’t for me,” I said. “I had to beg for you to buy me new school clothes, and remember when I asked you for money to apply to colleges? You remember what you said?”

  “Don’t be a bitch right now, Mags,” he said softly, almost a growl.

  I grinned at him, so sick of his shit. “You said, ‘don’t bother, Mags, you’re way too stupid. You can work at the club.’ You wanted your own daughter to work at a strip club instead of going to college.”

  “You tended bar,” he said. “I never made you dance.”

  “Oh, that’s so much better. You never gave a shit about me, Dad. It was always about the family. Well, you can go back home and kiss Uncle Roy’s ass.”

  He stepped up to me and grabbed my wrist before I could pull away. His grip was hard and he dug his fingers into the small bones, a growl in the back of his throat, his eyes wide with fury. I hissed with pain and tried to pull free but he grabbed me with his other hand, digging into my forearm.

  “You have no fucking respect,” he said.

  “Get off me,” I said, and screamed in pain when he elbowed me hard in the chest.

  A door at the far side of the room slammed open. Dean came running into the room, eyes wide with surprise, a gun in his hand. Dad dropped me right away and stepped back, hands going up in the air. I rubbed my wrist in shock as Dean walked toward us, gun down at his side, eyes darting from me back to my father.

  “What’s going on?” he asked.

  “Family disagreement that got out of hand,” Dad said. “I’m sorry, Don Valentino. I never meant—”

  Dean held the gun up at Dad casually. “Shut the fuck up,” he said and looked at me. “Are you okay, Mags?”

  I nodded a little. “I’m fine.”

  “You want me to kill him?” He tilted his head, and for a second I thought he was joking.

  But he didn’t smile and the gun didn’t waver. I met his gaze and realized that he’d do it if I asked him to. If I told him to murder my father, he’d pull that trigger, and be more annoyed that he had a mess to clean up than anything else. I was sure that Bea would help him get the blood out of the carpet, and she’d dig the grave herself down by the creek.

  “No,” I said. “Don’t kill him.”

  He shrugged and lowered the gun as my dad let out a groan. Dean turned, took a step to my dad, then bashed the butt of the gun down into his head. Dad crumpled to the floor, groaning in pain as he grabbed at his skull.

  “If you touch her again, I won’t ask next time,” Dean growled and kicked him in the stomach. “Now get up and get the fuck out.”

  Dad struggled to his feet. He staggered toward the door, not bothering to look in my direction. I stared in shock as Dad disappeared.

  Nobody had ever stood up to him before. Not in all the years at the club, not when I was younger and he’d yell at me in public. Not once did anyone ever try to stop him when he cursed at me and slapped me in the head.

  Dean would’ve killed him for me though.

  The thought sent a thrill up through my stomach, and I thought of what Bea said. Unflagging loyalty.

  “Thanks,” I said softly.

  “You sure you’re okay?” he asked, scowling toward the door. “I can make sure he never comes in here again.”

  “I’d appreciate that.”

  He nodded. “It’s done.”

  I sat down on the couch and put my hands between my knees to keep them from shaking. I felt like a jolt of adrenaline ripped
through my body then drained out again just as fast, leaving me a hungover husk. He sat next to me, knee touching mine.

  “You don’t need to protect me, you know,” I said softly. “I can handle myself.”

  “I believe you,” he said, then grinned. “Although what do you call that move, where you get beat up? Seemed really effective. I might want to try it.”

  I rolled my eyes at him. “Don’t be a dick.”

  “I’m just saying, I know this whole marriage thing isn’t for real, but you’ll still be my wife. That means nobody will ever touch you again.”

  I let out a long breath. It was tempting, so tempting.

  Protection. Safety. And when I was done with him, money, lots and lots of money.

  “I just don’t know,” I whispered.

  He put his hand on my knee and said nothing. We sat like that in silence for a few seconds while I tried to gather my thoughts. He was a killer, willing to murder a man right in front of me, willing to shoot my own father in the face if I asked him to. That sort of power, loyalty, and intensity was attractive and seductive, but it also scared the hell out of me.

  That was why I hated mafia guys. They walked that line between sane and insane, deadly and friendly. They could be your best friend, or they could put a bullet between your eyes without thinking twice. Dean seemed so kind and gentle, but I saw exactly what he was in that moment.

  He was a killer beneath that handsome veneer.

  Maybe he didn’t want to force me into marriage. But he sure as hell would buy me.

  “Take as much time as you want,” he said. “But don’t make me wait forever.” He squeezed my knee and stood. “I need your help, Mags.”

  I watched him go. Tall, powerful strides, like he owned the place.

  Which he did. Of course he did.

  I leaned back on the couch and sighed, squeezing my eyes shut, not sure what I was going to do.

  5

  Dean

  I woke up from a deliciously detailed sex dream involving me, Mags, and a hot tub to someone pounding on my bedroom door. I checked the clock and groaned: barely after eight in the morning. I was up late the night before doing rounds of the family’s turf with some Capos and I’d only gotten to bed a few hours earlier.