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

by Candace Wondrak

  “The DeLucas, right?” Lola asked. “Why don’t you just send me after them? I could probably take a few of them out. It ain’t like you care for me at all, so—”

  “That,” Sylvester spoke, stepping towards her, his voice low and deadly, “would be an act of war if they knew we sent you.”

  “How would they find out?” she shot back, cocking her head. Her hands were speckled in blood from her bludgeoning, and she didn’t seem to care one bit. “I won’t tell. I can keep a secret better than anyone around, just ask my parents.”

  Sylvester’s blue eyes dropped to her feet, slowly trailing upward, taking in her stance and, lastly, her expression. Eager to march off to her death and kill a few DeLucas while she was at it. Admirable, I supposed, but that wasn’t why they’d kept her alive, not to start a war. I doubted that’s what they’d use her for; instead of tossing a grenade and hoping it blew apart a few of our enemies, why not keep her, hone her into a laser-focused point?

  “Take her to the car,” Sylvester spoke, his voice darker, huskier than it was mere moments ago, telling me the thoughts that had popped into his head while he checked her out had toed the line. It was a line only Maddox had crossed so far, but after tonight’s performance, I knew it was only a matter of time.

  One by one, mark my words, they’d fall to her. Including me.

  That was, of course, provided Richie didn’t kill her before then, which he just might, especially when he realized how affected his sons were by her. How we all were.

  I locked eyes with her, and though Lola wanted to pout and stay, see what Sylvester was going to do to Jimmy, she followed me into the living room, giving me a wide smile as she handed me the bloodied bat. Once it was tucked back into the duffel bag, I swung it around my shoulders and we headed out.

  Inside the car, we sat in silence for a while. Maddox had taken the other vehicle in his brooding session, so Sylvester would have to ride with us.

  Ah, well. It wasn’t the first time Maddox had run off. He was probably running to avoid the truth of tonight: Lola would be staying. Her nickname as the Night Slayer was well-earned, apparently, but he didn’t like that. If I had to place a bet as to where he’d run off to, it was probably wherever his favorite girl was. He had a few, but Mina was his favorite, always willing to bend over backward to make him and his dick happy.

  Some girls were eager, and then there was Mina. When you were a part of the biggest crime family in the city, you couldn’t just date anyone you wanted. Fucking, on the other hand? Fucking was something that could be done in the back room of a club, or in a bathroom; he didn’t need to take her home to fuck her. Richie didn’t like strangers in his house, anyway.

  Another reason why his acceptance of Sylvester’s suggestion to keep Lola around had come as a surprise.

  Lola sat in the front seat beside me, eyes on the house we’d just left. The neighborhood was still quiet, even after everything we’d done. Go figure. “How’d I do?” she asked, slow to drag those eyes to me, no longer grinning like a madwoman.

  And she was mad. She was totally, irrefutably mad, and that made her perfect for us in every way.

  One hand sat on my lap, the other lightly ran down the steering wheel. I hadn’t started the car; made the conscious decision not to when I’d seen that Maddox had left. I had to touch something, otherwise I was liable to reach over the center console and touch her.

  But I couldn’t. I was to watch her, to make sure she didn’t do anything stupid. Earlier, when I’d gotten close to her… I shouldn’t have. I shouldn’t have touched her or let her touch me. It had been a mistake—a mistake I would not repeat any time soon.

  “You’re at home with a weapon in your hands,” I remarked, my throat suddenly dry as I looked at her. Lola was affecting me a bit too much, I think, but I couldn’t help it. Especially after witnessing her go to town on that guy… it was fucking hot, and I would argue with anyone who would dare claim otherwise.

  She leaned her head back on the headrest, sighing out, “Would you believe it was my first time?” Lola let out a soft giggle. “Using a bat, I mean. When I would go home with guys, I’d just use whatever I could find. Usually a knife from their kitchen. Strange how most people don’t keep baseball bats at their bedside, huh?”

  That was how she got Mario. I didn’t need to picture it, but I did. I knew, based on what she’d said earlier, that she had a thing against guys taking advantage of drunk girls, but was that really enough reason to kill them?

  And then that scar on her abdomen, the long, thick line of white, risen skin between her belly button and her pelvis… what did it mean? What was it from? I shouldn’t be so curious, but I was, because, the more time I spent with this girl, the more I realized there was so much more to her than what met the eye. So much more to Lola than the Night Slayer, the girl who happened to kill Mario Luciano.

  I was quiet, and I was thankful for the darkness of the night around us. I hoped she couldn’t see the concern, the way I gazed at her so intently. Her hands, I noticed, still had blood on them. “I don’t know what to make of you,” I told her, honest. I hated her for what she’d done to Mario, but I also didn’t.

  Death was a part of life. Death came with being close to the Lucianos. They were not strangers to it, and to think just because someone had the Luciano last name meant they were above the rules of life and death, well, that was fucking stupid. Mario would’ve died sooner or later, so why not die and bring in someone new to the fold?

  “That’s the beauty of me, I guess,” Lola whispered. “No one knows what to make of me, so usually, you know what they end up doing?” She waited a moment before adding, “They just don’t. They don’t make anything of me. They write me off.”

  Every now and then, Lola was vulnerable; now was one of those times, and I couldn’t think of anything to say in response. Suddenly words felt so inadequate. Who were we to judge this girl and what she’d done? None of us knew her past, what she’d been through to get here. It almost felt ridiculous to judge her based on a single act.

  Granted, that act had been killing the youngest Luciano—that was certainly as huge as something could get—but still.

  “My parents definitely did,” Lola muttered, frowning slightly. “Oh, don’t me wrong, you know, they acted like they cared. They put on a really good show, but in the end, they had their favorite child, and I was not it.”

  Did Lola have some mommy and daddy issues? Fuck, didn’t we all, in some way? Still, there was a weight behind her words I couldn’t deny, and I didn’t like thinking about her parents choosing anyone over her, even a sibling.

  “But that’s all water under the bridge now,” she said, lifting a hand and studying the blood splatter on it. In the darkness, the blood looked black, not red. Red, though, was a good color on her. I wouldn’t mind seeing her in more of it. “I’m here and they’re not.”

  “Did you kill them?” I questioned, somehow already knowing the answer before I finished asking. Looking at her, after seeing how batshit crazy she’d gone at the realtor inside… of course she’d killed them. She had to have. If, by some miracle, her parents were still alive out there, I would be shocked to hell.

  Lola stared at me, darkness passing over her features as the glib smile she wore fell away completely. A serious Lola was not one I was used to, and every time she made a rare appearance, I was caught off-guard and drawn in all the same. What could I say? I guess I was a glutton for punishment, and even though I knew I couldn’t start to like this girl, I was, anyway.

  “I don’t remember when I signed up to tell you my whole life’s story, Vinny,” she said, making it clear she did not wish to discuss her parents or her childhood, did not want to talk about what made her the crazy, unpredictable Lola she was today.

  That was fine, I’d drop it. You didn’t need to know someone’s entire past to understand who they were today, and I was starting to learn just how much of a conundrum this girl was. I did know one thing, though.
r />   I was utterly, completely, totally fucked when it came to her.

  In the house, Sylvester must’ve done what he had to, for the lights in the house turned off, and he appeared shortly, closing the front door behind him. If I had to guess, I’d say he left our realtor laying in his own pain and misery. He’d have to crawl to a phone or hope to God someone found him. When we made house calls, we weren’t exactly too friendly.

  A part of me didn’t want Sylvester to come into the car, because it meant Lola and mine’s alone time would be over.

  Before he reached the sidewalk, I told her, “Call me Viper.” Viper, not Vinny. I was Viper to the Lucianos, and by God, I would be Viper to her, too.

  Chapter Eight – Lola

  Viper. I didn’t know why, but him telling me to call him Viper, like, going out of his way to specifically tell me that, made me feel good. It made me feel like I was weaseling my way into their family, somehow.

  Granted, I was only here because of a little murder, but eh. Semantics.

  My heart raced, even now. Even after sitting in the car with Vinny—Viper, whatever the fuck I’d decide to call him from here on out—it still pounded in my chest, reminding me of the adrenaline that had pumped throughout my system inside the house.

  Poor Jimmy. Poor Jimmy indeed. I highly doubted he’d ever walk again, but honestly, that wasn’t my problem. My only problem was whether or not my performance had been good enough to let me continue my eternal servitude to this family.

  Which, ironically, might not be too bad. It might just be the time of my life. I might belong here with them, amongst their psychotic family and crime sprees, but that was assuming I’d proved myself tonight. That I could be more use to them alive than dead. Hey, I thought suggesting sending me after the DeLucas was a fine compromise. I’d end up dead, and a few of their enemies would bite the dust with me.

  It hadn’t gone over well with Sylvester, though.

  And Maddox, well, he was gone, off to who knew where, all because… I wasn’t sure why. I would never pretend to know what any of these guys thought.

  I was too busy thinking over whether or not I should start calling Vinny Viper from now on to see that Sylvester had made it to the car and now stood beside my door. He grabbed the handle, yanking the door open, and it was then I realized he probably would rather have the front seat and relegate me to the back.

  It was a good thing I didn’t put on my seatbelt, for he grabbed my arm and pulled me out—a bit rough, but who was I to talk? Violent as his movements were now, he was still an angel compared to Maddox.

  I thought he was going to shove me in the back and take over my seat, but then, with his fingers still curled around my arm, he used his other hand to shut the front door and open the back. Words escaped me as he pushed me in, following me and sitting next to me in the back.

  “Oh,” I murmured, knowing that eyes were on us in the rearview mirror, “I wasn’t aware it was going to be that kind of ride—” A joke, because I never knew when to quit it, when to keep my mouth shut and accept whatever was to come.

  I mean, I would’ve expected this from Maddox, but Sylvester? Color me stunned.

  And curious as to what he had in store.

  Sylvester held a finger to my lips, finally releasing my arm as he reached back and pulled the door shut. “Drive,” he told Viper. Guess I was just going to call him that, then, since he’d told me to. How could I deny a guy with a dozen snake tattoos all over his body?

  “Where to?” Viper questioned.

  “Anywhere” was what Sylvester said, which piqued my curiosity, frankly.

  Anywhere did not mean home, so I did wonder what he planned on doing. I’d thought I’d done okay. Maybe not as well as I could’ve, but come on. It was my first time beating a guy up and trying to be all threatening. I liked to think I would only get better at it; you know what they say with how practice makes perfect and all that. I’d like to think that applied here as well.

  But maybe not.

  Maybe Sylvester had decided to have Viper drive us somewhere more private, somewhere away from the residential district of town and silence me for good.

  It was all well and dandy, of course. I wasn’t stupid; I prided myself on being very down to earth when it came to certain things, and matters of life and death were just that. Kind of important, and though I’d never cared about anyone in my family, I could imagine how much it had hurt all of these guys to hear Mario was killed, that it pained them every time they looked upon me and saw nothing more than the face of his killer.

  Viper started the car and drove us away, heading to a destination neither I nor Sylvester knew. Did it matter? Any place made a good grave, as long as you had the right shovel.

  When Sylvester’s finger fell off my lips, I whispered, “Well, I guess it was fun while it lasted.” Perhaps fun wasn’t the right word; I hadn’t had true fun in… well, maybe ever, but that was through no fault of anyone here. I blamed my parents for that, one hundred percent.

  Sylvester turned those blue eyes back onto me, his teeth grinding as he looked at me. We turned onto a road with streetlights, and as we passed under them, I was able to see the shadows dancing across his face, along his smooth jaw and the curve of his chest beneath his suit. He was a devastatingly handsome man. He might not wear his crazy face as often as Maddox, but he had it in him all the same.

  And it was hot, not going to lie.

  Was it wrong of me to be turned on that he was going to kill me? I would die with a wet va-jay-jay. Not many girls could say that, I bet. I would tell my pretty kitty to settle the fuck down, but we all knew by now she played by her own rules.

  Sylvester took his time in saying, “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  I blinked. If anything, I would’ve expected him to be unapologetic when it came to what he was about to do to me, but this? Acting like he wasn’t going to put a bullet in my head and dump my body somewhere? Come on. We were both adults here—psychotic and out of our minds, but adults all the same.

  “You,” I started, putting somewhat of an awkward pause in my explanation as I stared at him, “you’re going to kill me, right? You’re having Viper drive us somewhere private where you can dump my body.”

  “My father said if you did less than well, to kill you at the house and leave you there with the realtor,” he said, eyebrows creasing.

  Oh. So… he wasn’t going to kill me? Why did my heart feel a little let down at that? Like, if anything, I should be happy to have more life ahead of me. Still, the crazy part of me was disappointed nonetheless.

  “Then where are we going?” I couldn’t stop a lump from forming in the back of my throat; I was as spontaneous as the next gal, but being stuck in the backseat with Sylvester while Viper drove us wherever, it just wasn’t where I’d expected the night to go at all.

  “I don’t know,” he answered, honest. “And I don’t care. I need…” Sylvester stopped himself from saying anything more, but the same finger that had graced my lips earlier now trailed along my hands, on my knuckles, smearing the blood there.

  What did he need? I didn’t know. I wasn’t good at reading people or caring enough to try. Here and now, however, I wanted so desperately to know what he was thinking, why he touched me so softly; the very opposite of how violently he’d pulled me out of the front seat and shoved me back here with him.

  He was hot and cold. Both sides would burn if left too long on your skin.

  But that was the thing about me: I didn’t care about the pain. Not anymore.

  Because I needed to know, because I couldn’t just let the silence overtake the car—since fucking Viper refused to put on the radio—I asked, “What do you need?” It was like Sylvester and I were alone in the car, like Viper wasn’t a few feet away, driving.

  “I need,” he leaned in closer to me, his words hardly audible, nothing more than a whisper. He brought a hand up to my face, the same one that had smeared the blood on my knuckles, and he tangled that h
and in my hair. Not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough to tell me he meant business. Some of the blood might’ve smeared on my face, but I didn’t care. Anything that was fun had a bit of blood involved. “I need to hate you.”

  His answer was sincere, and it made sense. Of course he needed to hate me; I’d killed his brother, but by telling me this, he was also telling me the opposite. Sylvester didn’t hate me, or he was starting not to, and that posed a problem for him and his loyalty to his family.

  I understood. I wasn’t that foolish. None of these guys would ever choose me over their family, but you know what? I would never ask them to. I didn’t care about having their loyalty or anything like that.

  What did I care about right now? I… I didn’t know, and that was odd for me. So many confusing feelings lately, I hated it. I wanted to die, I wanted to live; I wanted to choose who I was with, yet I wanted Maddox to fuck me like he owned me? Come on, pick a side, already. Some things you could not be wishy-washy about; you had to choose one or the other. Not both.

  “Then hate me,” I whispered, tasting his breath as I spoke, resisting my urge to run my hands all over that body and tug on his suit to pull him closer. I wouldn’t mind feeling those lips on mine, hearing his ragged breathing while we got down to business as Viper drove us wherever. “I never asked for anything more.” And that was the truth, wasn’t it? I’d never ask for anything more than their hatred.

  Besides, hatred was so much more fun to deal with than love. Love was nothing more than a game fools played at. Hatred? You didn’t get purer than that, you couldn’t find a more real emotion than that.

  The hand in my hair tightened, causing me to breathe in sharply. “I know,” Sylvester whispered back, the tip of his nose grazing mine. He held my head steady; even though I kind of wanted to kiss him, I couldn’t. My head was held hostage by that hand. “You were amazing tonight.”

  My eyelids fluttered closed; he was too close. Staring at him, all I could see was his blurry face, and what good was that? If I was going to stare at Sylvester Luciano, I’d rather see him in his entirety, out of that suit and everything.