Shadowed Heart: A Dark Reverse Harem Romance (A Death So Sweet Book 1)

by Candace Wondrak

  She was… well, I didn’t quite know how to describe her. To say she was unlike anyone I’d ever met sounded almost like a compliment, but that was the last thing I wanted to do: give her any sort of praise. She might be gorgeous, she might have a way with that body and not care who she showed it to, but I had to remember who she was.

  The one who killed Mario. It was as unforgivable as a crime could be.

  Right now, she was silent. As I drove, following the car in front of me, the streetlights passed over us, illuminating her profile for a few seconds before becoming dim again. The night air was thick, so the windows were rolled up and the air conditioning in the car was on low. I wouldn’t say she was nervous about tonight; she’d made it clear to me earlier she didn’t fear death.

  Still, something was off about her, and I couldn’t put my finger on what that was.

  I didn’t have the radio on; I was used to silence, having spent a lot of my time with my brother, Mike. Mike hardly ever talked; I didn’t know why, but he always preferred to stick to his silence. It made for a boring childhood, let me tell you.

  Although, how boring could a childhood be when Mike and I were learning the ins and outs of being part of the Luciano family? My family had owed theirs a great debt for generations, and ever since we’ve been trying to pay it back. Richie said it was fine, of course, but it was easy to shrug off what Richie said and keep doing what we did best.

  And what was that?

  Protecting them. Dying for them. Doing whatever we could to make their lives easier. Right now, that involved taking shifts watching Lola; not something I ever thought I’d be doing—babysitting a girl who was definitely too old for it—but I did it without question, as did my brother.

  I was more than surprised by how it all turned out. I never thought someone who’d lay a hand on a Luciano would live under the same roof, let alone breathe afterward, but here she was. And she had a job to do tonight. If she performed less than well, we’d have to take care of her.

  And if she was outstanding in her performance? I honestly didn’t know. I didn’t know whether or not anyone was expecting her to pass this so-called test. I’d looked up what the Night Slayer did, knew roughly how many victims she had, and I had to say—anyone who doubted what she could do clearly did not know anything about her.

  Lola was wild, she was rough around the edges in every single way. She knew how to use what God gave her, how to flaunt it. I’d heard all about what she’d done to Tony, how she’d tried to seduce him and Maddox interrupted…

  …I also heard how much she liked it rough, and if that continued to prove true, she’d enjoy belonging to the family. No one liked it soft and gentle here.

  The realtor who was stepping onto Luciano turf with his client, the DeLucas, lived a good fifteen minutes away, in another part of town. It was truly something else, how you could drive and watch the scenery change, morphing from high-class mansions to streets with alleys you would never want to be caught dead in after dark. This town had country clubs and gambling rings, clubs for the teenagers wanting to live life on the edge and clubs for the more discerning type. Really, there was a bit of everything here, and the best part was, you could do almost anything and not have the police knocking down your door.

  Why? Because they were in the Lucianos’ pocket.

  Well, either Richie’s pocket or in league with the DeLucas, but we weren’t going there right now.

  The realtor lived on a quiet-looking street. A road that had no street lamps, I immediately saw as we pulled up and parked on the side of the road. Maddox and Sylvester got out of their car, quietly shutting their doors before fixing their clothes. Sylvester wore a suit, taking after their father, while Maddox preferred wearing a tight black shirt with matching pants, the sleeves rolled up to show off his countless tattoos.

  I had a lot of ink, but Maddox had me beat, definitely. How could he not, with half his head shaved and tattooed?

  I turned the car off, glancing over at Lola. She had her hands on her legs, running her palms across her torn fishnets. Honestly, when she’d modeled the outfit for me earlier, I might’ve stared a little too hard. With her blonde hair and blue eyes, she was a beauty, through and through, and tonight she looked like she belonged with a gang of motorcycles.

  She looked fucking hot, and a part of me hated the fact I had to take her into that house and probably kill her.

  A selfish part of me wondered how she was, what she felt like underneath all those clothes. She had a scar on her belly, but beyond that, not another blemish I could see—and I’d seen her change. Her ass was perfect for grabbing, but I’d held back.

  Kind of wished I didn’t, now, since I’d probably have to kill her tonight. Or watch Maddox do it. Such a waste of a perfect body.

  “Ready?” I asked, watching as she turned that wide-eyed gaze to me. Mike had been a little jealous that I’d gotten to go with them; it was still my turn to watch her, so I would see her in action. Mike would never, not if she died tonight.

  She was in the process of nodding when Maddox stormed over to her side of the car and flung the door open. I could only glare at him, for he’d practically torn the door off its hinges, for fuck’s sake. I knew he was on-edge, eager to both see her in action and put her down like a rabid dog, but was damaging the car really necessary?

  “Time to play, little mouse,” Maddox spoke, grabbing her shoulder and pulling her out. He had a Glock tucked in the back of his pants, and I knew Sylvester had one, too. Neither left the house without a weapon; to do so would be unhealthy.

  I could only roll my eyes at him; sometimes he was a little much. Don’t get me wrong, I loved him as I loved my own blood brother, but that wasn’t to say I couldn’t find him over-the-top. As I got out of the car, I glanced at the house. All the lights were off; that would change soon enough.

  Saying nothing, I went into the backseat of the car and pulled out a duffel bag. It wasn’t too heavy, but it was full of things Lola could use. Couldn’t have a Night Slayer without a weapon of her own, could we?

  I threw the bag’s strap around my shoulders, moving to the sidewalk. Maddox had finally let her go, and to Lola’s credit, she said nothing. She’d been so bold, so defiant earlier, so eager to tell me she was ready to die for what she believed in, but now, as I stared at her through the darkness, I couldn’t help but wonder if she’d lied.

  Maybe she really was scared of it all, of the unknown.

  The world around us was quiet as we headed to the house’s front door. Whether or not it had an alarm system wouldn’t matter. Maddox ended up breaking a window to get inside, crawling in to unlock the front door. Tony was our pickpocket and lockpicker, and he wasn’t here right now. Just like Mike, he’d miss out on watching Lola work.

  I admit, I was curious. She was used to going off and doing her own thing, choosing her own victims and how she killed them, but here, she’d play by our rules.

  It was as we stepped into the house, turning on the lights downstairs, that a groggy man stumbled out of his bedroom upstairs, clamoring, “What the fuck—” And then, even though he’d just been woken up by the sound of glass shattering, his eyes spotted us as he stood at the top of the stairs.

  He recognized us, he did. Of course he did. And he also saw the duffel bag wrapped around my shoulders. Lola was hidden from his view behind me, but that was okay. Right now, the focus wasn’t on our serial killer.

  It was on the big, shiny Glock Maddox held, pointing it directly up the stairs at him. “Why don’t you come downstairs and have a conversation with us?” The way he spoke it, like a suggestion and not an order, made Sylvester chuckle. Sylvester did not pull out his gun, but he was poised to, ready should the man upstairs make any sudden moves.

  The man, wearing nothing but a robe haphazardly tied around his body, gulped. He knew enough to realize running would never work, nor would trying to find a weapon to use against us. We outnumbered him; even if he took one of us down, another would make him
regret it.

  Within a few minutes, we had him tied to a chair in his own kitchen. He didn’t struggle, because he knew if we wanted him dead, he’d already have met his maker.

  Pity for him, he was about to meet the Night Slayer, and I had the feeling that would be so much worse.

  I’d deposited the duffel bag in the living room around the corner. Sylvester was with the realtor, ignoring any question the realtor threw at him—like what we were doing here, and that he didn’t do anything to us—while Maddox was with me, watching as Lola perused the black bag.

  “Fuck that,” he said, pushing her aside, as if she weighed nothing. He dug in the bag, pulling out one of the simpler weapons stashed inside; a classic, if a little overused. “Use this. If you can’t do the job with this, you’re worthless to us.” He shoved it at her chest, and Lola snatched it out of his hand, glaring.

  Finally, back to herself, attitude and all.

  What did Maddox give her? A wooden baseball bat, a weapon that was almost too stereotypical, but it would do, provided she used it correctly. You could do a lot of damage with a bat, with enough blunt force; I didn’t doubt she’d be able to do it.

  Did I want her to do it? Did I want her to impress us with her threatening skills? The answer to that was too murky, too grey of an area to say a simple yes or no.

  Maddox was the first to storm back to the kitchen, practically growling out the words to the realtor, who was tied to one of his own kitchen chairs, “You know why we’re here, don’t you?”

  Sylvester hadn’t pulled out his gun, but his suit jacket was unbuttoned, so the man was able to see its black metal glinting in his waistband. He was silent, though he fiddled with the cufflinks on his sleeves; a habit he’d picked up from Richie. Like father, like son. Truly, it was a pity Mario had never taken after him as much.

  The realtor made the mistake of shaking his head no, which made Maddox grunt. “Well,” he said, “let’s just say we don’t take kindly to DeLucas sniffing around our territory.”

  The man’s eyes widened when he saw me and Lola, or rather, when he saw the baseball bat in her hands, something which hadn’t been there before. It was just a simple bat: wooden, its length lacquered and shiny. No spikes or nails sticking out of it, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t pack one hell of a punch.

  “Boys,” Lola spoke, breaking her silence. Every single pair of eyes fell on her then, even the realtor’s. Especially his. “I got this.” She rolled her shoulders, swinging the bat behind her back as she sauntered to the front of our group, now standing between the realtor and us.

  Maddox looked like he wanted to say something, but he shut up and let her take the lead.

  Lola turned all of her attention onto the man in the chair, and he responded by squirming, though he couldn’t exactly go anywhere. A great, big smile plastered on her face as she walked up to him, acting far too girly and innocent, but I supposed it was all a part of her act. With the baseball bat in one hand, she went to sit on his lap.

  Yes, she actually sat on the man’s lap, draping her other arm over his shoulder and her legs off his. The only thing still on the ground where Lola was concerned was her baseball bat.

  “Hi, handsome,” Lola purred out, the hand around his shoulder moving to touch the base of his neck, toy with the bottom tufts of hair at the top of his spine. “I’m sorry about barging in and interrupting your quiet night, but business is business, right?” She paused, letting out a girly sigh as she leaned her head on his shoulder. “What’s your name, hmm?”

  The man gulped, swallowing hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing before he muttered, “Jimmy.”

  “Jimmy,” Lola repeated, speaking his name as if it was a foreign word, something she’d never heard before. As if his name truly mattered to her, so she wanted to get it right. “My friends here say you’ve put yourself in a bit of a… well, let’s just call it a bad situation. Getting involved with the wrong people—what were you thinking, Jimmy?” The way she talked, like she knew him, made me smirk.

  She was good, but I reserved judgment until I saw her swing that bat.

  Sylvester and Maddox watched in silence; they would not step in. This was her time to prove she could indeed be the Luciano’s newest addition, that she could hold her own and instill fear in her enemies simply by being who she was.

  Jimmy said nothing, probably because he knew it was too late to make any excuses. He’d fucked up, and now he had to pay the price. When we were in the picture… let’s just say the price was never pretty. It was always an ugly, hideous thing, but it was why the Lucianos had endured in this city even as the decades wore on and society changed.

  “It doesn’t matter though, huh?” She scrunched up her lips and wrinkled her nose, giving him a wry look. “But, because you’re so cute, I’m going to give you a choice. Left or right.” Spoken simply, so easily, and maybe it was the timbre of her smooth, velvety voice, but Jimmy could only stare at her.

  He wasn’t the only one that stared, though. Lola had an entire audience right now, a life’s amount of pressure on those thin shoulders.

  She giggled, lifting her head off his shoulder and taking her free hand and trailing it along his cheek. The man flinched, but she wasn’t hurting him. Yet. “Don’t do me like this, Jimmy. You need to make a choice.” Lola lowered her voice, whispering, “You see, I did tell a bit of a lie, just now. These guys ain’t really my friends. Tonight I have to impress them, and sadly for you, handsome, that means hurting you.”

  Again with the gulping, and Lola slid off his lap, swinging the bat around so effortlessly, the air around it swooshing with the movement.

  “Right,” Lola said again, pointing the bat to his right kneecap, “or left?” She moved the bat to point at his left, and Jimmy paled even more so than he already had. All color drained from his face, his eyes widening.

  “No,” he started, “please—”

  “You’re right,” Lola spoke with a feminine chuckle, waving her free hand in the air as if she’d been silly to even give him the choice. “Better be safe and do both, huh? Tsk, Jimmy, you’re smart.” And then, without saying another word, without any warning other than hoisting the bat in the air, she hit him.

  She hit him right in the left kneecap, and she did it so hard there was an instant crack of bone. Jimmy cried out, his cheeks turning a deep red as he shouted, “Fuck!” His eyes teared up and everything, and though he tried to jerk away, he was still very much tied up and unable to go anywhere.

  Lola gave him a sympathetic expression, though I knew it was fake. “Oh, handsome. You think that’s bad? Wait till I give it another hit—and then, if you think that’s bad, wait until I go Rambo on that other knee of yours.” She cocked her blonde head then, suddenly curious. “Tell me, Jimmy, do you think you’ll ever walk again after this?”

  Wow. What a cruel question, spoken so innocently, too. She was good at taunting, that’s for sure.

  She was also good at following up her words, because in the next five minutes, we all watched her go to literal town on his knees. His cries of pain rose in the air like a symphony, and the more he screamed and begged her to stop, the more he swore up and down he would never have another DeLuca client ever again, the harder she went at him.

  Lola was an angel of death and destruction right then. She was completely at home, swinging that bat, giggling and smiling all the while as she destroyed the man’s legs. Not just his knees, but also his shins. His robe fell open after a while, revealing to us all how disfigured he already was, his knee sockets completely obliterated by that bat and Lola’s hard hits, bruised and bleeding.

  Jimmy eventually stopped crying out, his eyes glazed over in what must’ve been acceptance. That, or he was close to passing out. Either one, really. I couldn’t blame him for shutting down at her assault; she was…

  There were truly no words to describe how Lola looked right then. Her shoulders rose and fell with big, deep breaths, her hips cocked and the bat resting over her shoulde
r, temporarily still. Her other hand was placed on her hip as she admired her work, and then she glanced over her shoulder at us, grinning wickedly, not an ounce of remorse anywhere on her face.

  God, she was either batshit crazy or perfect for us. Maybe both.

  Right then, it didn’t matter that she was Mario’s killer. Right then, she was nothing but beautiful, an angel ready to wreak havoc and chaos wherever the Lucianos told her to.

  I couldn’t take my eyes off her. I wanted to go to her, tear that bat out of her hand, and throw her over my shoulder, take her upstairs, even though this wasn’t my place, and deposit her on the nearest bed. I’d take off that leather jacket, give her fishnets a few more tears. I would ravish her until the sun came up and forced us to remember our responsibilities.

  Jimmy’s head lobbed forward, the man passing out and losing consciousness due to the pain coursing through his system. Lola turned away from him, lowering the bat’s tip to the floor and leaning on it as if it was a cane.

  “Well?” she asked, looking between Maddox and Sylvester. She did throw a quick glimpse in my direction, but she remained mainly focused on the brothers. They were the ones who would make her case to Richie; my opinion of her didn’t matter. “Are you sure I can’t kill him? Bats are kind of fun.” She giggled. “Who knew?”

  Maddox shook his head, letting out a swearword under his breath before storming out of the kitchen. And out of the house, apparently, for in the next moment, the front door slammed shut. Whatever he was thinking was up to anyone’s guess; he was not as stable as Sylvester was, or even Mario. On the spectrum of crazy, he was pretty far gone.

  Sylvester shrugged his exit off, saying, “Let him go.” To Lola, he said, “No. My father’s orders were clear. We were to remind him who we are, and why he should not involve himself with the enemy of our family.”