Possessed by the Killer

by Hamel, B. B.

  Instead, I stepped out onto the beautiful patio, and stared down at the big oak tree where three men stood. There was the priest, Father Giovanni, wearing his priestly robes and holding a Bible. Next to him was Dean, in a slick black suit looking incredible. And to Dean’s other side was Uncle Roy, also in a suit, grinning like he won the lottery.

  “Careful, dear,” Bea said, offering me her arm, and we walked down the path together to where the men stood.

  Dean stared at me the whole time, and I looked back, smiling a little. His eyes burned like red hot coals and they raked up and down my body. I felt a little shiver, and I hoped he liked what he saw—because he was going to be stuck with me for a while.

  I stopped across from him, on the other side of the priest, and Bea stood behind me. Dean turned to face me and the whole world disappeared, except for him. We held hands and the priest cleared his throat, then started to read a shortened version of the wedding ceremony.

  Dean couldn’t tear his eyes away. He stared at me, let his gaze linger down my body, then back to my face, and he seemed as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. It made me blush and a flutter of butterflies assaulted my stomach—until I saw Uncle Roy grinning at me like a bastard.

  That brought me back down to reality. This wasn’t about being with Dean or about me at all. This was about Uncle Roy and cementing the Paganini family with the Valentino family. Uncle Roy wasn’t going to want me to walk away from this marriage, and I was willing to bet that he didn’t know about my deal with Dean. In fact, Uncle Roy would probably torch the whole thing if he knew that I planned on running away in a few years, and that there was a zero chance he’d see a dime of my money. I’d rather burn it all than let that slime get a single penny.

  So much for cementing our families together. So much for making Uncle Roy proud.

  I looked back at Dean and he was still smiling. The thing I didn’t understand was what he thought would happen when I left. Uncle Roy would rebel, and there’d be a civil war within the Valentino family. I didn’t know what Dean was thinking, but maybe he hoped the situation would be different in five years, and that he’d have the family under his total control at that point. Maybe he hoped Uncle Roy would be dead before any of this mattered.

  I wasn’t going to ask him right now, in the middle of our wedding ceremony. The priest droned on and I tried to keep myself from freaking out. Birds chirped high in the trees and the breeze tugged at my dress and my hair, and Dean tilted his head, meeting and holding my gaze, his hands rough on mine, his gorgeous lips turned up.

  “Dean Valentino, do you take—”

  “I do,” Dean said before the priest could finish. He grinned at me and winked.

  The priest chuckled. “All right then. And Maggie Paganini, do you—”

  “I do,” I said quickly.

  Dean laughed and the priest shook his head in exasperation.

  “Then by the power vested in me by the State of Pennsylvania and by our Lord God himself, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Dean, you may kiss the bride.”

  He stepped toward me and I opened my mouth to protest—we never talked about kissing, this was supposed to be a formality—but he took me into his strong arms and pulled me close and pressed his lips against mine and kissed me, right there beneath the big oak tree in front of my uncle, and Bea, and the priest, and all of them disappeared.

  There was only Dean and his lips and, god, his arms.

  The kiss finally broke off, leaving me breathless and dizzy with wanting.

  “Congratulations,” Uncle Roy said loudly, laughing like he won the lottery. Dean turned and shook his hand, and I stepped away from the men. Bea put a hand on my shoulder and smiled, but her smile was almost sad, almost a little broke.

  “Are you okay?” she asked quietly while the men laughed with each other.

  “I’m fine,” I said. “Just a little lightheaded, is all.”

  “Why don’t you go up to the house, dear?” she asked.

  “I’ll go with you,” Dean said, detaching himself from my uncle and the priest.

  “That’s okay,” I said quickly. “Bea will go with me. I’m sure you’re busy.”

  “Not too busy for my new wife.” He put an arm around my waist and steered me back to the house. Bea gave me a chagrined smile and joined the priest and my uncle in polite conversation. “Mags Valentino,” Dean said softly. “Has a nice ring to it.”

  “I thought I might keep my name,” I said, blinking rapidly. This wasn’t how I was supposed to feel on my wedding day. Dizzy and nervous, yes, but terrified, and a little sick, probably not.

  “Really?” he asked, and grunted once. “I don’t think so. I’m not against it, but that’s not how things work in this family.”

  I wanted to protest, but my mantra flitted through my mind. Ten million.

  “Fine,” I said. “I guess I can handle it.”

  “Good.” We reached the back door and he let me back inside. He followed me and snatched my hand before I could get too far away from him. “Have I told you how good you look yet?”

  “We haven’t talked much,” I said as he tugged me toward him. “Except for saying I do, and kissing, obviously.”

  “That’s right,” he said softly, fingers trailing down my cheek toward my neck. God, what the hell was he doing? “You look incredible. Seriously, Mags. You look beautiful.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “I never imagined myself getting married, but I couldn’t have chosen a better bride.”

  “I’m sure you could have if you tried,” I said.

  He shook his head and took my hand again. “Come on,” he said.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I want to give you a wedding present.”

  I let him tug me across the vast living room, down a side hall and out another door, across the driveway, and over to the huge detached garage. He flipped on a light and gestured to a compact black convertible sitting in the center of the space with a huge white bow on the hood.

  “What the hell is that?” I asked, staring at it.

  “That’s for you,” he said. “Keys are in the glovebox. I figured you’d need something, if you’re going to get around.”

  “I thought I needed protection.” I drifted over to the car and touched it. I guessed it was worth more than I’d ever owned in my entire life. The seats were light brown leather and there were gold-trimmed details all around the dash. I didn’t even recognize the brand symbol—some sort of snake.

  “You do,” he said. “My guys have their own cars. But I’m serious about making you happy.” He came closer. “Do you like it?”

  I turned to face him, leaning up against the hood. “I love it.”

  “Good.” He stopped inches in front of me and touched my hips right where my dress flared out. “God, you do look good,” he whispered, and lifted me up. He sat me down on the car and I sucked in a breath as I wrapped my legs around him, my dress bunching up.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “I know we won’t have a traditional wedding night,” he said, touching my cheek again, down to my bare shoulders and my collarbone. I felt a quiver on my spine and my lips hung open, still tingling from that kiss. “I’ll give you that, if you want it. But I have a feeling that you don’t.”

  “This isn’t real,” I whispered. “You know why I did this.”

  “For the money.” His fingers continued to trail down my chest, over my breasts, down my hips. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy our marriage.”

  “Dean,” I said.

  His hand moved up my dress, inside the layers of lace and silk, until he found the pale white panties I wore. He touched me gently at first, teasing me and, god, it felt good, and I hated him for it, hated the way he effortlessly moved around me, touched me like he was allowed to, gave me things like this absurd car, talked like he really cared about how I felt.

  I knew what he wanted. And I knew what I wanted.

/>   “We won’t have a typical marriage,” he whispered as his fingers rolled along my slit and, shit, I was so wet, I was soaking through already. I felt embarrassed and excited, my heart racing wildly, my vision going almost fuzzy. “I will want to make you come.”

  “I don’t know,” I whispered, but he didn’t care. He pushed me back and I leaned onto my elbows as he lifted my dress up, and disappeared down between my legs.

  For one second, I wasn’t sure if he would—until I felt his fingers push aside my panties, and his tongue and lips kissed my inner thigh, and god, I knew what he wanted as he got closer and closer.

  There was something about not being able to see him as he licked my clit with the tip of his tongue. Hidden down there beneath the folds of my dress, I could picture any man at all touching me, imagine any guy licking the wet details of my pussy, rolling his tongue up and down, sucking my clit and teasing me with his fingers, but all I pictured was Dean, god, that man, that disgusting, perfect man.

  He licked me faster and I spread my legs wider as pleasure blossomed all around my spine. I arched me back, fingers digging into the hood of the car, and I gasped as he slid his fingers inside and his tongue licked me faster, sucking with his gorgeous lips.

  “You made a hard decision today,” he purred as he fucked me with those fingers and teased me with that tongue. “I respect you for it, my Mags. I want to give you something as a reward.”

  “The car’s not enough?” I asked, then gasped as he did something delicious that I couldn’t see. “Oh my god. Do that again.”

  And he did, and I let out an incredible low moan as my eyes rolled back.

  He chuckled softly. “The car’s just the start,” he said, and kept going, sucking my clit harder and faster, tongue rolling around in perfect circles like he owned me and knew every inch of my skin already.

  I felt a shudder, my arms shaking, my legs trembling, and I stared up at the peak of the ceiling, the spotlights shining down on me in a wedding dress, my new fake husband between my legs licking my pussy and, god, it was wrong, and it felt so good, and I squeezed my eyes shut as he went faster, faster, taking me, tasting me, and didn’t stop as I came on his tongue in a rush of pleasure so sharp that I said his name. My skin flushed and I panted, over and over, Dean, oh, god, Dean, and I came in a massive, explosive, skull-blackening tidal wave of pleasure.

  He kept me going until it was too much. I pushed him back then collapsed onto the hood of the car, gasping for air. He appeared from beneath my dress with a smile on his lips, that gorgeous face, and licked his fingers clean.

  “That’s my girl,” he said. “Now I need to go entertain your uncle and Father Giovanni for a while. You’re free to do whatever you want, Mrs. Valentino.”

  “Right,” I whispered, and he left me there on the car, staring at the ceiling.

  Mrs. Valentino.

  Wife of the Don.

  I didn’t know how I felt. I tried to squeeze my eyes shut and disassociate myself from the buzzing pleasure that still lingered, but I couldn’t quite separate my feelings for Dean from my feelings for that absolutely mind-numbing orgasm. This wasn’t what I wanted, wasn’t what I wanted at all.

  I tried to keep my distance, I really did.

  But the way he looked at me made me make very stupid decisions.

  I opened my eyes again and sat up. The car shook beneath me as I slid back down then got behind the wheel. I opened the glove box and the keys were there, just like he promised.

  I could drive anywhere right now. Nobody could stop me. A lonely girl in a convertible wearing a wedding dress probably wouldn’t get far, but I could try anyway. I could sell the car, buy new clothes, start a new life.

  I never would and I knew it. Philly was my home.

  Dean was my husband.

  Ten million dollars was my goal.

  I leaned the seat back and squeezed my eyes shut and tried not to cry.

  7

  Dean

  Mags looked nervous as I parked outside of the dark club nestled in the heart of South Philly. The windows were blacked over with paper and the only light outside was the street lamp buzzing softly. Two guys stood out front, both of them packing.

  “You’ll be great,” I said, touching her knee. I thought back to three days ago, to the moment after our wedding, to the taste of her pussy and the sound of her moans echoing off the metal walls of the garage. I wished I could’ve stripped her bare and slid myself deep between her legs but I got what I needed—and gave her a taste of what she could have.

  He pulled her leg away. “I’m not worried about me,” she said.

  “It’s all been arranged already,” I said, waving a hand. “They’ll proclaim me Don. Don’t worry.”

  She shrugged a little. Her dark hair fell around her shoulders in waves. She wore a tight, low-cut top and black jeans that made her look like a model. I wanted to run my hands along her hips, but ever since I got her off, she hadn’t been very keen on letting me tease her.

  Probably afraid, and I couldn’t be upset about it.

  This was business, after all.

  “My Uncle’s not a straightforward man,” she said softly. “I know we’re married, but I’m worried that won’t be the end of it.”

  “It won’t,” I agreed. “But he’s satisfied for now.” I touched her arm, gently caressed it, then stepped out of the car.

  She followed. I loved the way her hips swayed. She caught me looking and frowned, but said nothing.

  The guards out front saluted and opened the door. “Don Valentino,” the guy on the left said, a stocky bald man named Trent.

  I nodded back to them and stepped into the club.

  It was packed with the most important men in the Valentino family. A somewhat plain-looking girl was up on the stage, dancing around the pole, her tits out. A couple guys threw twenties at her like they were singles. More men sat at the bar—Hector was there in the corner with Roy, talking quietly over whiskey. I spotted Lorenzo, a young Capo with a lot of potential, and Matteo, another up-and-coming soldier that loved to get his hands dirty. Gian was in the back with his feet up on a table, his hands behind his head.

  He nodded as I approached with Mags in tow. He sat forward, grinning up at me. “Heard you got hitched,” he said, glancing back at her. “Congrats.”

  We shook hands. Gian was probably my closest ally in the family, and he’d been helping me wrangle the other Capos since my father died.

  “I appreciate that,” I said. “Ash, this is Gian. He’s one of the decent guys.”

  “I wouldn’t say I’m decent,” Gian said, standing to shake her hand. “More like I’m not a bloodthirsty psychopath like everyone else. So by comparison, I’m a fucking saint.”

  “It’s nice to meet you,” Maggie said, laughing softly.

  “Gian’s got a kid,” I said. “Can you imagine that? Mafia Capo with a kid?”

  Gian shrugged and sat back down. “Soon enough you will too,” he said.

  Maggie paled at that. “I’m not sure that’s in the cards for us.”

  “Maybe, maybe not,” Gian said. “Never thought it would be for me, but you find the right partner and things get easier.”

  I sat down next to Gian, and Mags sat on my other side. “Enough about kids,” I said, cutting him off before he made her even more uncomfortable. “What’s the deal with tonight?”

  He sipped his drink and gestured. “Look at them,” he said. “Does this seem like a group that’s about to turn down their new Don?”

  I looked out at the strip club. He had a good point—the men were in good spirits, laughing loudly, shouting over the thumping music, watching the girl dance, drinking too much. It was a party atmosphere.

  “I need to know this is going down okay,” I said, staring at Gian.

  “Trust me,” Gian said. “It’s settled. Even Roy’s on board now that you married his niece.”

  I sucked in a breath and reached back for Maggie’s hand on instinct. She let me sq
ueeze her fingers, but seemed surprised. I let her go quickly, realizing what I was doing, and stood up. “I should get this started. Mags, stay here with Gian. He’ll take care of you.”

  “Careful with that,” Gian said. “You leave a pretty girl around me, I’m liable to scoop her up.”

  “Good luck with that,” Maggie said. “Aren’t you married? And got a baby?”

  “Fair enough,” Gian said with a sigh. “It’s sad, but I’m loyal as they come.”

  “Then stay that way,” I said, and strode up toward the stage.

  Eyes followed me. Half the club stared. I wished I knew what they were thinking. These were the most powerful men in the family, the Capos that ran all the individual crews spread throughout our territory. There were twelve in all, though I planned on adding more in the coming months. More Capos, more crews, more guys, more power. I wanted to grow the family, not leave it stagnant.

  I climbed up onto the stage next to the DJ booth. A few guys hooted and laughed, and I grinned and flipped them off. I told the DJ to cut the music, and he passed a mic over. The stripper grabbed her top, piled a stack of twenties into her arms, and got the hell out of there.

  I didn’t walk out near the pole, but I stepped forward next to the booth and surveyed my crew.

  Some of the men in this group were killers. Some of them enjoyed it, got off on it. Some were thieves, some were con artists, some gambled and drank and fucked. They were all dangerous. These were my people, the men I grew up with, my family.

  “You know why we’re here today,” I said and my voice filled the room over the PA.

  “You gonna take that top off or what, sweetie?” Matteo shouted out. He got a few laughs and I smiled at him as his Capo made sure he shut up.

  “My father ruled over his family for a very long time,” I said, continuing on as if Matteo hadn’t spoken. He looked properly chagrined. “Cesare Valentino was a good Don, a fair Don. He was difficult, yes, and sometimes went too far in his punishments, absolutely. But he made this family the power it is today, and to that we owe him a great debt. So raise your fucking glass and toast my passed father.”