by Hamel, B. B.
I stepped forward and nodded. “Tell me,” I said.
“He knew,” Uncle Roy said. “He knew from the start.”
Dean pressed his gun against Uncle Roy’s head and pulled the trigger.
Brains splattered on the wall in a wild blood-splatter pattern. It was almost pretty.
The room was dead quiet. My ears rang from the explosive shots and I felt sick to my stomach.
I knew my father sold me out already. I knew he was fine with me getting murdered. But hearing it confirmed by Uncle Roy finally broke whatever was left in me. I collapsed onto the floor and sat there, staring off into the middle distance, and felt like my world crumbled around me.
My mother’s face, pale and drawn, blood splattered on the sidewalk. The memory still burned as I squeezed my eyes closed. Screaming from somewhere, from my own throat. Car alarms blaring and my father, running into the street, chasing after the car.
All this blood around me, all this death, and it always came back to my mother, how when I lost her all those years ago, I really lost a part of myself.
I lost a possible future, a life I’d never have back.
Several feet from where I sat, Gian and Trent executed three of Uncle Roy’s men. The rest were allowed to rejoin the family.
The dead men’s blood leaked across the floor and pressed up against my sneakers.
Dean crouched down next to me. “It’s okay,” he whispered through the ringing in my ears. “It’s going to be okay. We’re all finished now.”
“Yeah, we’re finished,” I said, and he helped me to my feet.
The room smelled like copper and death. My footprints were red and sticky as Dean guided me to the door.
“Torch it all,” Dean said, and his men started smashing alcohol bottles. Trent poured a red cannister on the ground, and the reek of gas fumes hit me in the face.
Dean helped me out onto the sidewalk. The light felt blinding. He kept an arm around me as he led me back down toward the car.
“Is he really dead?” I asked.
“Dead and gone,” Dean said. “We’ll loot his office before we burn the place.”
“What are you going to do now?”
He stopped me before I reached the car and pulled me against him. He touched my cheek, brushing my hair from my face.
“Whatever I want,” he said, and kissed my neck, then my lips.
I let him help me down into the car. He left me there for a while, and I stared up at the blue sky.
My uncle was dead. My father was gone. I was alone in the world now, truly all alone.
And it felt good. I felt untethered and free, like the final chains holding me to that old existence were broken for good.
I could walk. I could run. I could fly, if I wanted.
And all because Dean took a chance on me.
How I’d survive what was to come, how I’d figure out what it meant to be me in this new world, I couldn’t begin to guess.
But I wanted to find out.
21
Dean
I rolled through West Philly at a creeping pace. People were out in crowds, wearing shorts and tank tops. A few young guys skated in the street and I didn’t mind going slow for them.
Roy was dead. Half his crew went with him. But the other half stuck around, and we got a big influx of cash from Roy’s safes upstairs, along with the deeds to multiple different properties all over the city. His lawyer wouldn’t be a problem, since his lawyer happened to be Hector.
The bar burned fast. All that wood. It was fun to watch, but we didn’t stick around. Mags seemed sleepy, like she was only half there. She slept for the rest of the day and into the next morning when I dragged her ass out of bed and made her get into the car with me.
She didn’t argue. I was surprised. Part of me figured she’d get away as soon as her uncle was gone. No reason to stick around anymore, though I’d still pay her, if that was what she wanted.
“The place is right up here,” I said, nodding toward a house a little further up. Big white awning, bars on the windows.
“Who lives there?” she asked.
I parked the car and killed the engine. “Your uncle was just the start,” I said softly. “I’m still at war, you know.”
Mags stared at me, then looked at the house. “Dean, what are we doing here?”
“Just watch.” I reached out and grabbed her hand.
I wanted her to see this. I needed her to understand, after all this, what sort of man I am and what sort of life she’d have if she decided to stay.
Because I wanted her to stay more than anything else.
Two cars pulled up, both black vans. The doors rolled open and guys jumped out wearing black masks and bulletproof vests. They used a small, military-grade battering ram to bash open the door and piled into the house like a fucking SWAT team.
Gunfire popped off. The windows flashed like a photographer was going nuts. The shots sounded like fireworks, except fireworks didn’t make men scream in agony.
Silence followed. Mags looked at me with terror in her eyes then stared back at the house.
I leaned toward her, lips close to her ear. “The Healy family’s got to pay,” I whispered. “I won’t let them hurt you. I won’t let them get anywhere near you.”
Another gunshot, then more silence. Mags reached over and took my hand. She squeezed it hard but she couldn’t seem to stop staring at that house.
I knew what was happening inside. I’d gone on raids like that before. Fast and dirty and bloody. Leave nobody behind and nobody alive.
The first guys came out, my guys, splattered in blood, duffel bags filled with whatever they could grab thrown over their shoulders. I guessed drugs and cash. Maybe laptops and phones. More guys followed, more full bags. I grinned and felt a thrill run down my spine.
Everyone accounted for.
Mattias gave me a thumbs-up before he hopped into the back and the vans drove away. They left the damn front door open. I guessed it didn’t matter.
“What the hell was that?” Mags whispered.
I put the car in drive and pulled out again. I turned left, going the opposite direction as the vans, heading back out to the house.
“That was the first of many attacks,” I said. “Now that I have the family in line, it’s time to finish off the Healys once and for all.”
She sucked in a breath and slowly let it out. “Sometimes I forget you’re still at war.”
“I needed you to see that,” I said. “Things are going to be chaotic for a while, and I wanted you to know what it would be like if you stayed.”
She was quiet for a few minutes. I drove slowly, winding my way past the Philly row homes, out of the city and into a sleepier, quieter suburban setting. Big, leafy trees cast flickering shadows on the dash. I had a sudden image in my head—little kids running around my house, laughing in the pool, climbing trees, but not to hide. I wanted laughter, I wanted happiness. I wanted a family that wasn’t fucking terrified of me, because I didn’t force them to learn how to be killers at a young age.
And Mags there through it all, my wife and my best friend.
“I’ve been thinking about it,” she said. “For a while now. Since before yesterday.”
“Yeah? And what do you think?”
“I want to stay,” she said, and looked at me.
I slowed down and pulled over at the curb across from a park. Kids swung on swings and ran along the slide. Moms and nannies and some dads lingered on the periphery, talking to each other, watching the kids.
“I want that too,” I said. “I love you, Mags. I think I’ve loved you for a while now.”
She leaned forward and kissed me. She nearly climbed across the car and into my lap. I held her there, my body ringing with her, with the need of her and the taste of her.
“I love you too,” she whispered, blinking away tears. “Is that insane? Are we making some horrible mistake?”
“Not at all,” I said, wiping her cheek gently.
“This is what we need, me and you.”
“What’ll happen now?” she asked.
“We’re already married,” I said. “So I expect we’ll stay married.”
“We’ll have to sleep in the same room,” she said, and grinned a little. “I want to redecorate.”
“God, I wish you would,” I said and laughed. “Look at you, already thinking about your future.”
“I guess so,” she said and leaned her head back. “I haven’t thought further than a couple weeks in such a long time. It feels almost weird, you know?”
“I do know,” I said softly and put my hand on her knee. “I promise you’re okay now. Dream as much as you want.”
She laughed and leaned her head against my shoulder. “You’re one weird mafia Don, you know that, right?”
“A man can have more than one side of him,” I said softly. “There’s the man that wants to cut the throats of my enemies, and the man that wants to love you. I’m both those things and more.” I tilted her chin toward me and kissed her.
“And which if those men are going to take me home and drag me into his bed?” she whispered, grinning.
“All of them,” I said. “As many times as you want.”
“Perfect.” She touched my cheek gingerly, then sat back in her seat. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
I put the car in drive and pulled out into traffic. I drove my wife back to our house, back to our home. It was all so new, and the heady rush of it still lingered on my skin, but this was right. This was what I needed.
And now finally, it felt as if my life were snapping into place, falling together with one great crash.
I’d lead my family. I’d keep my wife.
And I’d kill my enemies.
A man couldn’t ask for more.
22
Mags
Two Years Later
Sunlight reflected off the pool. I stretched my legs with a sigh and my feet slipped out from the shade of the big umbrella for a moment. The sun felt good on my bare skin.
“You look comfortable,” Ash said, grinning at me.
I smiled back at her and put one hand on my big, swollen belly. “I’m never comfortable, unfortunately,” I said. “Seven months pregnant and I’m ready to be done.”
“You’ve got a little more cooking to do.” She laughed and put her arms up above her head.
“Should I be scared?” I asked her. “Of giving birth, I mean. I haven’t really thought about it, if I’m being honest. Which is crazy, right?”
“It’s not crazy,” she said. “I mean, I obsessed about it, but still. Everyone’s different.”
“I’m just worried for the baby,” I said.
“You’ll be totally fine,” she said. “Dean’s paying for the best doctors, right?”
“I know,” I said, shaking my head and smiling despite my anxiety. “It’s just becoming real, you know?”
She rolled slightly toward me and sat up on an elbow. Her hair fell down around her face and she put a hand on mine. “I promise, you’ll be okay. I’m here for you, right?”
“Right,” I said. “Ditto.”
“Now come on, we have some relaxing to do.” She sighed and shifted onto her back again.
I grinned a little and watched the inflatable gorilla glide along the water. I didn’t know what I would do without Ash. There weren’t many women I was close with, especially any women around the mafia, and very few of them completely understood what it was like to be married to a man like Dean.
Every day was heaven.
But I worried. The war was over, but that didn’t mean Dean was safe. He was the Don of the Valentino family, which meant he’d always have a target right between his eyes. I was afraid for him, and being super pregnant didn’t exactly make that any easier.
At least I had Ash and Bea. They understood and were patient with my semi-regular freak-outs.
“Well, look at that,” Ash said, shading her eyes. “Seems like your man’s home.”
I sat up and spotted Dean coming toward us. I felt a little flutter in my chest like I always did, and climbed to my feet with some embarrassing difficulty. Ash winked at me as I went to greet my husband.
He kissed me then kissed my belly. “You look amazing,” he said.
“You tell me that every day,” I said. “At some point it’ll lose its meaning.”
“Has it yet?”
I hesitated, considering. “Not yet,” I said. “So keep it up.”
He laughed and kissed me. “How are you ladies doing?”
“We’re good. Lounging. Relaxing. Enjoying my last days before the baby comes.”
“Speaking of the baby, I have a surprise for you.” He took my hand and looked over at Ash. “Do you mind if I borrow her?” he called out.
“Go ahead,” Ash said. “So long as I can stay here.”
“Stay as long as you like,” Dean said and pulled me along back to the house.
“You didn’t get another car, did you?” I asked, frowning. “You know I don’t care about cars as much as you do.”
“No, this is about the baby.” He pushed open the door and led me upstairs. The house was like a maze, and even though I’d lived in it for the past two years and spent considerable sums of money renovating and redecorating, it still felt a little strange and foreign to me.
There were traces of his father all of the place, even though I painted, got rid of most of the creepy old art, ripped out the tacky wood paneling, and basically modernized the whole place.
Bea said she liked it, although I had a feeling she missed the way it used to be. Dean seemed ambivalent and really only cared that I liked it, which worked for me.
He took me down the hall, past our room, and stopped in front of the nursery. The door was shut and I smelled paint fumes in the air.
“What did you do?” I asked, eyes wide.
He laughed and pushed open the door.
The floor was covered in a drop cloth. There was painter’s tape around the edges. The walls were pained sky-blue, and on the far wall, right where the crib would be, was an incredible mural. I gasped and covered my mouth with both hands.
It was a hot air balloon floating over a little forest. There was so much detail: deer stood drinking from a river, birds chirped in the trees, squirrels ran around in the grass. The balloon’s basket was empty, but the colors were incredible, a dazzling rainbow array.
“What do you think?” he asked. “We can cover it up if you don’t like it, but I wanted to surprise you.”
“It’s amazing,” I whispered.
“The guy who did it is a local artist,” he said. “He’ll come back and add the kids into the basket.”
I stepped inside then turned to him. “Kids? You mean we’re doing this more than once?”
He came in after me and kissed my lips gently. “If I have my way, you’ll be pregnant for the next ten years straight.”
I groaned. “Please, god, no. I’ll give you four, but reserve the right to have way fewer.”
“There will be nannies,” he said. “Lots and lots of nannies.”
I touched his cheek. “Maybe five then. If you’re lucky.”
He laughed and kissed me again, then we stood there holding hands, staring at the mural on the nursery wall.
My man, my Dean, my Don. He was a ruthless killer and would soon be the father of my child. Sometimes I thought about what life would be like if I had taken him up on his offer and run away from all this. I’d be rich, but I’d be alone.
This was perfect. Right here in this room, with my man, my monster, my love, this was more than I ever dreamed of.
“Come on,” I said and kissed his cheek. “You just earned a whole lot of good will from me.”
“Oh, yeah?” he asked. “And how do I cash that in?”
“By sitting down at the pool and rubbing my feet,” I said.
He laughed and hugged me close. “Sounds like you’re getting the better end of this deal.”
“I’m carrying your baby. Less talking, more foot rubbing.”
“All right then,” he said and took my hand. “Let’s get to work, shall we?”
I took one last look at the mural and pictured my babies in that basket—and followed him back outside with a smile on my face.
* * *
If you want more steamy suspense, read the mafia books that started it all! Obsessed with His Bride begins the story of the Leone Crime Family. Dante meets his match in Aida, though she resists his intense charms at first. But when a war breaks out, Aida must give in to her desire or end up dead. I’ll kill to keep her. I’ll do much worse to make her my bride. >> Click Here to read it!
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BONUS: Dean
The sound of the plane was deafening. I leaned back against the cold metal seat and strained against the belt to look out the glass window as the runway disappeared below. The plane climbed up toward the clouds above, buzzing and thumping in the choppy turbulence, surrounded by blue and cut across by sharp sunlight, my stomach a feather jostling around, my heart a stone about to tear down through my guts.
Mags looked pale but her face was stricken in a huge grin.
“You look like you’re about to scream!” I shouted over the noise, leaning closer to speak right into her ear.
Her hand scrambled for more and grabbed it. “I’m fine!”
“You’re definitely not fine.” Still yelling. Still close to my beautiful wife.
“Look, this was your idea, okay?” she said. “I’m only here because you said it would be fun. And you know what? It’s not fun!”
I laughed and squeezed her hand. “Come on, darling. We’re not even at the fun part yet.”
“Ten minutes!” the instructor shouted. He was a young guy in his twenties, scraggly beard, lean build of a long-distance runner, Adam’s apple the size of a howitzer.
“Oh, god,” Mags groaned. “I’m having some serious second thoughts.”