Falling for the Killer: A Dark Possessive Mafia Romance

by B. B. Hamel

  She blasted the SUV twice. Huge dents appeared in its side as she screamed incoherently. The gunshots ceased and the SUV peeled off as it drove away, flying wildly down the street.

  I rolled to the side, sucked in short breaths of air, then grabbed at Ash. “Aer you okay?” I asked.

  She sat up, staring around her like she didn’t know where she was—but there was no blood. “I think I’m fine,” she said. “I can’t hear anything.”

  “Ah, shit,” Maud said, kneeling down next to me. “You’re hit. Don’t move.”

  I touched my shoulder and gasped in pain. The bullet went clean through and it felt like my arm might fall off. It tingled, numb and worthless, and I struggled to my feet.

  “What are you doing?” Ash asked. “Gian, don’t move.”

  I took a few staggering steps toward the street, my other hand over the wound. I looked back at the bar and realized that we’d fallen back into the short vestibule that led to the doorway. If I hadn’t reacted so fast, or if Maud hadn’t come out with her shotgun, we would’ve been dead.

  As it was, we got lucky. I got lucky.

  That fucking bastard Stuart.

  “I’m calling an ambulance,” Maud said.

  “No,” I said. “Call Stefano. We have a doctor.”

  Maud glared at me, but went back inside. Ash came to me and ducked under my arm, letting me lean some of my weight against her.

  “Sit down,” she said. “Goddamn it, Gian, you’re hurt.”

  I didn’t move. “Stuart,” I said.

  She sucked in a breath. “You can’t be sure.”

  “Stuart,” I said again. “He’s gone too far now.”

  “Gian,” she whispered. “What are you going to do?”

  “Hurt him,” I said, then let her lead me back inside the bar, where she used an old rag to stem the bleeding wound until Stefano could show up with the doctor.

  13

  Ash

  Gian stood by the back window in the kitchen staring out toward his small yard and the fence beyond. He drank a whiskey and looked like he wanted to rip his house into pieces.

  The doctor was a heavyset young guy in jeans and a Metallica t-shirt. He stitched Gian up like it was nothing. I could barely watch, and Gian took the whole thing with surprising grace, like it was no big deal that he got shot.

  “Doctor said you were lucky,” I said, leaning against a counter. “Since it went through, you’ll probably heal fine.”

  “Lucky,” Gian repeated. “I don’t like luck.”

  I nodded a little and stared down at my feet. “What are we going to do?”

  Gian turned to face me. His shoulder was bandaged, but he could move his arm. He didn’t wear a shirt, and I let my eyes move down his muscular chest, down to the cut of his abs that led down into his jeans. I looked up and met his eyes again, and chewed on my lip.

  He saved my life. He threw himself on top of me and tackled us both into a little corner. If it weren’t for him reacting so fast, we would’ve both ended up dead.

  “That shouldn’t have happened,” he said, coming toward me. I didn’t move. I stayed there, pinned up against the kitchen counter. “They never should’ve gotten that close to me.”

  “But who were they?” I asked.

  “Men Stuart hired,” he said, “or maybe men from the Healy family. It doesn’t matter though, does it? They tried to kill us, and they almost succeeded. We got lucky, and I don’t like luck.”

  I shook my head and he stopped inches away from me, eyes burning down into mine. I felt exhausted, disheveled and scared, so scared, and yet my body pulsed when he came so near.

  He saved my life. He saved me, and I kept thinking about that. He covered my body with his own, and was completely prepared to die for me. He didn’t even hesitate to act as a human shield.

  This man wanted to keep me alive so badly, but I didn’t understand why. I didn’t know why he’d want a baby, or why he’d want me, a woman that didn’t know the first thing about his world or his business. I was scared, so scared I could barely breathe—and yet I reached out and touched his chest, right at the edge of the bandages.

  He tilted his head.

  “They’re going to keep coming,” I said softly.

  “So I’ll have to go on the offensive.” He reached out and tilted my chin up, making me look into his eyes. “I won’t bring you into danger like that again. From now on, we’ll have more guys around.”

  “I don’t want more guys around,” I whispered. “I want you.”

  “Are you sure about that?” he asked, coming close, so deliciously close, his lips brushing against mine then across my cheek, back to my ear. “You stay alone with me for much longer, and I don’t think I’ll be able to control myself.”

  “Then don’t,” I said.

  He gripped my hair and kissed me.

  I groaned into that kiss and pressed myself against him. He gasped slightly in pain as I moved against his shoulder, but when I tried to pull away in surprise, he pinned my wrist down against the counter and kissed me again. He bit my lip and his tongue slid against mine, his taste in my mouth, his body hard against my own, and I moaned into that moment.

  He tugged at my tank top and got it off. The yoga pants came next, and I shimmied out of them while he watched, his eyes burning. I felt my cheeks turn red as his hands moved up my hips then gripped my ass, and he kissed me again, before pulling my sports bra off, leaving me nearly naked, our bare chests touching, my stiff nipples pressed against his muscles.

  “Ever since that first night, I’ve thought about this,” he said, his good hand coming up to palm my breasts, to tease my nipples. He kissed my neck, then lifted me up, almost if he weren’t injured at all. I gasped and wrapped my legs around him, and arched my back as he licked a nipple roughly, and kissed me again.

  “I have too,” I moaned back. “I can’t stop thinking about it. What the hell are we doing, Gian?”

  “Complicating things,” he said, and his hand slipped down between my legs. I was soaking wet and I felt his fingers roll around, sliding along my clit, making bursts of pleasure rip through my body. I bit his uninjured shoulder and moaned, unable to help myself.

  “I keep wanting more,” I whispered, squeezing my eyes shut. “I know I’m losing everything, and I can’t stop. Why can’t I go home?”

  He leaned forward and tugged my panties off. I watched him drop them on the floor before spreading my legs wide. The granite countertop was freezing cold on my ass, but I didn’t care—his tongue was heaven as it licked up my inner thigh, then rolled around my swollen clit.

  “Because you want to see where this goes,” he whispered as he sucked and licked me, and I gripped his head tight. “You’ve been a princess trapped in a gilded tower your whole life, and now you want to live a little. You want to feel what the world can be like with a real man.”

  “Yes,” I panted. “God, yes.” I rolled my hips as more pleasure flooded me. He slid fingers inside of me and, fuck, I was dripping wet, and he kept going, sucking me, tongue and teeth and fingers, and I pulled his hair madly, back arching, breasts shaking with every gasping breath, nipples so hard I thought they might break.

  He growled, maybe in pain, I couldn’t tell, and pulled me down off the counter. I helped him get his jeans off, then his boxer briefs, and stroked his thick cock with both hands before he turned me around and pushed me against the counter. He slapped my ass hard and I looked over my shoulder as he pressed his cock against me. I kissed him, leaning back, and he slid deep inside.

  I gasped as he filled me, and it felt so familiar, that sensation I’d been dreaming about becoming real again. It was pleasure and pain and ecstasy and everything I wanted, as he fucked me slowly at first, hands on my breasts, on my hips, on my ass. He appreciated me, I could feel the way he looked at my body, at my lean back and long legs, and the way he kissed me, pulled my hair, whispered in my ear.

  “Every perfect inch of you is delicious,” he growled. �
�Every gorgeous stitch of skin drives me wild. Your tight cunt wrapped around me is heaven, my princess, this is my heaven.”

  I shuddered, groaning as he fucked me faster, and reached around to rub my clit with his fingers. It was perfect, and my fingers dug into the counter so hard my knuckles turned white. Each rough thrust made my body quiver and shake, and he teased me, took me right to that edge then pulled back, bringing me closer then taking me back with perfect syncopated rhythms, growls and grunts and moans.

  He kissed me again and pulled my hair and fucked me, god, he fucked me, rough and deep and unrelenting like he couldn’t help himself. I gasped his name, whispered it up to the ceiling, and felt the orgasm hovering on the edge of my body, in my mind and between my legs and all along my spine and I wanted it, god, yes, I wanted it. I begged him to keep going and he roared in response, fucking me faster and deeper, and I came in incredible bursts of pleasure that made my eyes roll back and the world went white and there was only Gian, Gian, and so much Gian.

  I felt him fill me then, grunting his own pleasure as we came together in a swirl of incredible physical pleasure that threatened to dislodge me from this world and send me spiraling out into the next.

  We ended up sitting on the floor together, my underwear somehow on again, and I leaned up against him. He grimaced and winced when I touched his shoulder too hard, and I kissed him, apologizing. He pulled me close and his hands moved along my back, down my skin, fingers teasing along the edge of my spine like he didn’t get enough of me already.

  I laughed, and he laughed, and I felt stupid and giddy and pleased. “That was unexpected,” I said.

  “Was it really?” He smirked and kissed my neck. “I don’t know, it felt obvious to me.”

  “I bet it did.” I shook my head and pulled away. “This complicates things, right? I mean, we almost got killed.”

  “Almost,” he said.

  I sighed and leaned my head back against the cabinets and tried to still my spinning thoughts. Gian’s body, his lips and smell, the pleasure that still buzzed like icicles at the edges of my limbs, the heady rush of pure happy joy, and the terror, the horrible conviction that we were going to die, we were really going to die. I knew in some deep and distant part of my mind that I was maybe in shock, or at least experiencing the effects of serious trauma, and yet I couldn’t bring myself to care, or to stop.

  It felt too good, to stay in his arms.

  “What do we do now?” I asked.

  “Right now, nothing,” he said. “I plan on sitting here and enjoying this view while it lasts.” He looked down at my body and my cheeks turned pink.

  “Easy there,” I said. “Or else I’m covering up.”

  “Don’t you dare.” His fingers dug into the skin on my back and I let out a surprised little yelp.

  “Come on,” I said, pushing him away slightly. I leaned forward, hands on the floor, and stared at him. His eyes pulsed down to my bare breasts and back up again like he couldn’t help himself, which I loved. “Focus. What do we do now? Do you really think we need to go on the offensive?”

  He clenched his jaw. “You really want to have this conversation?”

  “Really,” I said.

  “All right then,” he said. “You’re not going to like it, but I need to send a message to Stuart. Let him know that he can’t come at me like that without consequences.”

  I felt a little chilled and wrapped my arms around myself as I looked for my bra. “What are you going to do?”

  He sighed and rubbed his face as I got dressed. “This is why I wanted to wait,” he said. “You’re getting dressed.”

  “Gian,” I said, getting to my feet. “Talk. You can’t be sure that was Stuart, right?”

  “True,” he said, and stretched his long, muscular arms above his head. “But there’s no doubt in my mind that motherfucker had a hand in it. I plan on sending him a little message.”

  I watched Gian as he climbed to his feet. I was suddenly aware of his size and the potential violence behind those long, lean muscles.

  I was afraid he thought he could solve everything with his fists. But Stuart was from a whole different world, drenched in money and power. Gian might be able to intimidate Stuart, but I didn’t think he’d be scared away.

  Gian gave me one last look as I got myself together then left me alone in the kitchen, a little smile on his lips that left a strange knot in my stomach.

  14

  Gian

  Ash looked pale in the seat beside me. The moonlit night sky played off her long hair as she nervously tugged at it. “Are you sure about this?” she asked.

  “The girl sounds nervous,” Tomaso said from the back seat.

  “It’s almost like she’s never broken into an office before,” Stefano added.

  I glared back at them. Stefano grinned back innocently, decked out in dark jeans and a dark long-sleeve shirt, while Tomaso wore his usual basketball jersey and shorts.

  “Leave her alone,” I said. “She’s not a hardened criminal like you two animals.”

  Stefano rolled his eyes. “You know we’re just teasing, right, Ash?”

  “Right,” she said, and gave me a sharp look. “Gian’s a little too protective sometimes.”

  “More like all the time,” Tomaso said. “This guy would take a bullet for any one of us, and no, that’s not a good thing.”

  I laughed and grimaced slightly as the wound in my shoulder pulled. “I’d take one of anybody but you, Tomaso,” I said. “Now, can you all shut up so we can go over the plan?”

  “I thought the plan was simple,” Ash said, stretching her legs. “We break in and—”

  “No,” I said, cutting her off. “You’re staying here.”

  She glared at me. “Come on,” she said. “I’m the one that brought you here.”

  I shrugged a little and peered past her into the quiet Old City street. Stuart had an office in a row home right at the corner of the block up ahead, which was a classic rich asshole move. Instead of getting a skyscraper, he got prime real estate. When his hedge fund collapsed under the weight of his own ego, at least he could sell the building for a profit.

  “We need you back here,” I said. “Someone’s got to be lookout.”

  “Then make Stefano do it,” she said. “I’m not staying behind.” Her tone was hard, and I clenched my jaw. I didn’t like her pushing back in front of my guys, but she wasn’t mine to control. She had every right to speak her mind if she wanted.

  And I had every right to tell her to fuck off. “You’re not coming,” I said. “End of story.”

  “Boss,” Stefano said, but I glared at him, and he shut his mouth.

  “I’m coming,” Ash said softly, still looking at me. “Stuart’s doing this to me, not to you.”

  “Tell that to my bullet wound,” I said.

  “You know what I mean,” she said through clenched teeth. “He wants to get at me. And I want revenge.”

  I held her gaze for a second. The girl might’ve been a rich, spoiled princess, but she had bigger balls than some of my soldiers. She was a raging storm, all lightning and thunder and hail, liable to tear anything in her path to little pieces.

  The problem was, she didn’t know it yet. She was still stuck in her rich-girl paradigm. She grew up being told what to do and how to act, and now that she didn’t have her mommy and daddy around whispering in her ear and keeping in her check, she seemed cut adrift.

  This might be good for her then. Show her what she’s made up of.

  “Fine,” I said. “Nobody stays behind. We’re all in this.”

  “Great,” Tomaso said. “Now can we get in there? I’ve been looking forward to this all day.”

  I grinned at the young soldier and opened my door. It was late, a little past three in the morning, and the block was dead. Old City was the richest neighborhood in Philadelphia, with some truly ancient colonial houses and legitimate history tucked around every corner.

  I didn’t give a shit a
bout the dead though. I was here to terrorize the living.

  Stefano, Ash, and Tomaso hurried to keep up as I walked across the street and down the block. Stuart’s office had a door in the corner, recessed slightly back from the street. We walked up the stoop and I stood to the side, watching out for cops and drunks, as Stefano got to work.

  “I learned this when I was three years old,” Stefano said, taking a lock pick set out and slipping it into the door. “My daddy said, boy, you’re going to be real dumb, but at least you’ll be useful.”

  “He’s lying,” I said, squinting down the block. Everything was quiet. Not a single car in sight. “His father was a drunk.”

  “Still taught me,” Stefano said.

  “I wish I had real skills like that,” Ash said. “Maybe you can teach me.”

  I groaned. “Don’t give him the chance. He’ll never shut up about it.”

  “The boss is jealous of my touch,” Stefano said and I heard him jingling the picks around. “He’s too clumsy, you know? Smart as anyone, I’ll tell you what, but Gian’s more about the big picture, and not so much about—”

  The lock clicked open and Stefano sucked his teeth.

  “Ready?” I asked, looking back at the group.

  Stefano nodded and pushed the door open, gesturing into the dark foyer.

  “Ladies first,” Tomaso said.

  Ash sucked in a breath then stepped inside. Tomaso followed, grinning and cracking his knuckles, and Stefano went next. I lingered on the stoop, looking at the street, at the sidewalk, scanning the nearby windows for some old lady up late staring down, but there was nothing.

  All silent, all good.

  I went in after them and shut the door behind me.

  The short hallway ended in a small, comfortable lobby. Tomaso went behind the secretary’s desk and began rifling through it. He threw papers on the floor and smashed her keyboard in the desk. “I’ll take care of this,” he said.