by B. B. Hamel
I was lost before her. I could see it now. I was adrift, moving from day to day like there was nothing worth looking forward to, like my job was my entire life and I was nothing beyond a killer and a thief.
Cara made me into something more, and for that I had to cherish her.
I kissed her gently as she blinked up at me, big wet tears rolling down her cheeks. I wiped them away.
“Don’t be sad.”
“These are happy tears, you idiot.”
“Good. I was worried you were already mourning your single days.”
“Fuck my single days. I have you now.”
I held her for a long while until we finally broke apart and walked back to the truck. She leaned her head on my shoulder, and as we drove back to the house, we talked about where we wanted to make our future home, and I promised I’d give her anything she wanted, anything at all.
And I meant it.
24
Cara
Two Years Later
I lounged back on the chair and basked in the sun.
For a few minutes, anyway. I quickly got too hot and was on the verge of getting sunburnt, so I put the umbrella up and retreated into the shade.
Still, it was gorgeous outside. A sunny, balmy August day in Philadelphia, and our roof deck was the perfect place to stare out across the buildings toward City Hall. I sipped a Coke and savored the caffeine and sugar jolt I felt, and leaned back with a sigh. Just one more sip, and I’d be done, but it tasted so good.
I stretched my legs and turned on my side as the door opened. Luke stepped out wearing a pair of gym shorts, still damp and sweaty from his workout. Scars from his gunshot wounds were puckered on his chest and abdomen, and I thought it made him look sexy and terrifying—just how I liked him.
“There you are,” he said, walking over. He knelt down next to me. “God, you know how much I love that bikini, right?”
I grinned. “I wore the red one just for you.” He kissed my lips, then my neck, then my breasts. “Easy there,” I said, laughing.
“Sorry. Sometimes you drive me wild.”
I grinned as he sat in the chair next to mine, just inside of the shade. Even after two years, he was still insatiable—every time I walked into the room wearing something even remotely revealing, he was all over me. I loved it, couldn’t get enough of it, and he found new ways to make me moan and sweat and beg almost nightly. I didn’t know a man could be so inventive when it came to sex, but Luke never got tired of trying new ways to get me off.
And I never got tired of letting him.
“How’s Park doing?” I asked.
“Oh, you know him. High roller now.” Luke sighed and leaned his head back. He and Park went for a run together most days, even though Park was the nominal Don of the Lionetti family, and Luke still ran the same crew.
Not that Luke minded—Evgeni tried to give him more responsibility multiple times, but he wasn’t interested and I couldn’t blame him.
“At least he loves to act like one.”
Luke laughed. “Park’s that kind of guy, you know? Shows it off. I understand, he’s a single man, likes to get out there. I’m much more understated.”
“That’s not how I’d describe you, but okay, sure.”
He grinned at me and bit my lower lip.
We were happy. He made a lot of money on his side deals, mostly with Park, and we didn’t need the added risk of more Morozov oversight. Business was humming along, and Luke seemed like he couldn’t be happier.
Except there was one thing missing.
“Can we talk for a second?”
He arched an eyebrow. “I thought we were.”
“No, I mean, about something serious.”
“What’s wrong?” He sat up straight, frowning at me. “Is it the cleaning people again? They steal something?”
“Stop, they never stole anything.” I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You’ll still love me when I don’t look like this anymore, right?”
He cocked his head. “I don’t know what the hell that’s supposed to mean.”
“I’m just saying, I’m going to get old. I won’t be young and perky and whatever forever, right?”
“If you think I’m only in this for your body then I haven’t done my duty as your husband.”
I suppressed my smile. “No, you have, it’s just… I just want to make sure you’ll still love me, no matter what I look like.”
“What’s this about, princess?”
I took a deep breath and let it out.
“I’m pregnant.”
He sat up like someone kicked him in the ass.
“What?”
“Pregnant,” I said, grinning. “Found out a little while ago. I’ve been sitting up here thinking about how I’m going to get fat, you know? My body won’t ever be the same, the baby’s going to ruin it, and—”
“Fuck all that, you’re pregnant!” He shouted with joy and grabbed me, yanked me up from the chair, and hugged me like I was an overstuffed teddy bear. I groaned and tried to push him off, but he wasn’t having any of that. “You’re pregnant with my child! Everyone, my wife’s pregnant, this is the best day of my life!”
I laughed and finally wriggled out of his grip. “Okay, okay, I’m glad you’re happy.” I leaned up against his chest and he hugged me a little less intensely.
“God, so happy. That body stuff? Forget all that. I’ll love you no matter what, my princess, you and our little baby. I swear it now and forever.”
“You can be a little much sometimes.”
“I only speak the truth.” He kissed me nice and slow. “Now, why don’t we celebrate? I really do love that bikini.”
I laughed as he pulled me into the house and toward the bedroom, and not long later, he had his favorite bikini on the floor, and I was sweating and panting his name, and when we finished in a tangle of happy body parts and floating pleasure, I nestled up against him and let his arms wrap around me.
I felt safe, protected, at home. I felt like I could raise a baby here, with this man.
“My perfect wife,” he murmured, so close to sleep. “I can’t wait to see our baby.”
“I can’t wait until you’re hard again.”
He grinned, arching his back slightly. “Why don’t you spread your legs and tease yourself? I think I’ll be ready shortly.”
So I shimmied back and let him stare into my eyes—
“I love you,” I whispered.
“I love you too, darling.”
And I gave him everything he wanted.
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Preview: The Killer’s New Wife
Chapter One: Ewan
Ash from the burning building drifted down and landed on my tongue like a snowflake. I swallowed and felt burnt wood stick in my throat.
The girl knelt in the dirt in front of me as the Philly row home blazed at my back. I could feel the heat melting away layers of insulation and metal, licking up all her lost memories, all her family photos, and her father’s corpse lying in a pool of its own blood in the living room. Soon enough it would all be gone, her father included, only a memory for her.
It was a comfortable summer night and the moon shone along her skin. Her eyes were dark blue in the flickering orange firelight. She had long, thick auburn hair, gone wild. Her full pink lips pulled back into a snarl and she wore a simple pair of tight black jeans and a black The Shins t-shirt. She was pretty, and pissed off, and I couldn’t blame her. I had just murdered her father, after all.
That usually made people mad.
Dean stood off toward the fence and peered out to the street. He was the son of the Valentino Don and should’ve been a spoiled little prick, but he actually wasn’t so bad. Came with me on the hit which was more than I could say for the other Valentino Capos. They hid behind their soldiers whenever the real shooting started.
Not me, they sent me in first to make the blood fall like rain.
“We need to get moving,” Dean said, frowning back toward me. “That house is going to drop soon and the cops are on their way.”
I nodded slightly and didn’t take my eyes from the girl. I knew she was dangerous and liable to spring up at any moment. I could see it in her face, despite the gun I held at my side. She was angry, and no amount of pain would make that go away.
I knew something about pain and anger and dulling it all, except I had a very specific sort of outlet and I doubted she’d be interested in all that.
“Got to do something with the girl,” I said. “Can’t just leave her here.”
“We’re not,” Dean said and walked over. He was about my height, with an athletic build and an arrogant smile. “You’re taking her home.”
I frowned and looked at him. “The hell I am.”
She made her move then. Smart girl. She leapt at me like a tiger, hands flying out, fingers in claws. She tried to jam her nails into my face and might’ve pulled it off if I hadn’t been ready. I caught her by the wrists and wrestled her down to the ground with ease. I had sixty pounds of muscle on her at least, and years and years of experience fighting on the streets. She was some twenty-three-year-old girl that lived at home with her rich sex trafficking father.
Fucking girl had no chance. I put her down on the dirt, face in the grass, hands wrenched behind her. She gasped but I didn’t put enough pressure on her wrists or her elbows to break anything—only enough to keep her immobile. I got a nice view of her ass and her lower back as her shirt was pulled up from the struggle.
“That’s a wild one,” Dean said with some amusement. Easy for him to think it was funny considering it hadn’t been his eyes the girl wanted to tear out.
“I’m not taking her home with me,” I said and glared back at Dean. “Absolutely not. She’s your problem.”
“Kill her then,” Dean said, waving a hand.
I grimaced. He knew me well enough to know I never would. I had very few rules in my life, except for two: no kids and no women.
I’d kill, mar, torture, steal, fight, hurt, or do just about anything the Valentinos asked me, but I wouldn’t hurt a woman or a kid.
I was just principled like that. A man’s got to have a code, and I’d known women all my life, women that suffered quietly under the hands of shit-stain men. I wasn’t going to be like one of them.
“You know I’m not going to,” I said, and the girl stopped struggling and started to listen like she was curious.
“Then take her home.” Dean looked over his shoulder as a siren blared in the distance. “Better hurry. Firefighters or the cops are almost here.”
More ash fell around us as the breeze picked up. I hated this goddamn decision. Normally, I would’ve let the girl go, but she was too connected to the Healy family and now she knew both our faces. She was a witness, and I didn’t leave witnesses behind, at least not witnesses that could talk.
I hauled her up to her feet. She struggled but I held her by the arms and showed her my teeth. “You keep fighting, and I’m going to use your shirt to tie your wrists together. You want that?”
Her lip curled up but she shook her head and spit on the ground. “Let me go,” she said. “I’m dead weight. You need to run, right?”
“You need to shut your mouth,” I said and she stared at me defiantly, but didn’t speak again.
“Make up your mind,” Dean said, the sirens coming closer. “You’ve got ten seconds.”
“Come on,” I said, dragging the girl to the back fence. “We can talk about this in the car.”
Dean laughed and unlatched the gate. We slipped out into an alley, pinned by the fence line on the left and the stone walls of the houses on the next block to our right. The ground was littered with bottles, cans, syringes, rotting plant matter, and tree roots. The girl stumbled more than once, but I kept her on her feet as we hurried to the far end. Dean reached it first, made sure it was all clear, then motioned me forward.
The girl tried to run as soon as we hit the sidewalk. I gripped her harder and she screamed. I covered her mouth with my hand and she bit me hard enough to draw blood, but I didn’t pull away. She cursed, her voice muffled, and I bled freely against her lips.
I knew pain. I could handle pain.
I kept my other arm around her shoulders and dragged her along. From a casual observer, she’d probably look drunk, or at least I hoped so. Dean was parked up ahead at the end of the block. His black hardtop Jeep was dinged and marred from countless accidents, but he insisted the thing drove like a tank.
I got in the back with the girl and he got behind the wheel. It smelled like stale beer and diesel fuel. He started the engine and we pulled out into traffic.
I dabbed at my bleeding palm with my shirt. “I should strip you down for that,” I said, keeping my voice steady.
She curled up in the corner, getting as far away from me as she could. “You touch me and I’ll rip your dick off.”
I ignored her. “Why the fuck do you want me to take her home?” I asked Dean, leaning forward between the seats.
He drove fast but not out of control. He didn’t want to draw unnecessary attention. “Have I ever asked you about your mother?” he said softly.
I pulled back and stared at his eyes in the rearview mirror. He watched my reaction carefully, and I kept my face as neutral as I could. The motherfucker had never mentioned her before, and as far as I knew, he had no clue who she was. But clearly, if he was bringing her up now, then the Valentino family had learned something about my past, something I hoped would stay buried for a very long time.
“I don’t know what she has to do with this,” I said and was unable to keep the anger from my tone.
“She’s got everything to do with it,” he said. “Now that things with the Healy family’s heating up, my father’s a little worried about your loyalty.” He paused and glanced back at me when he stopped at a stop sign. “I’m not so worried, but you know how my old man is.”
He drove forward and I leaned back, arms crossed. “So, what, this girl is some kind of test?” I glanced at her and she stared out the window like she wasn’t listening, but she hung on every word.
“That’s right, she’s a test,” Dean said. “She’s Tara Donnelly, distant cousin to the Healys, and you know how those fuckers are about family. The Don wants you to keep her and make sure she’s safe until we can figure out what the fuck to do with her.”
Tara looked at me and shook her head quickly. “I’m nobody,” she said. “I barely know the Healys, they don’t—”
“Shut up,” I said softly. “You’ll only make it worse.”
She bit down on her lip but stopped talking.
I felt sorry for her. She was angry and she was scared and she was nobody. Her father was hardly a blip on my radar. He was an easy kill and I’d only done it because the Don ordered him dead. Otherwise I never would’ve bothered with a lowlife piece of trash like Jermain Donnelly.
Dean took the long way through South Philly in case we were being followed, crossed over into West Philly, then looped back around through the north. He came down Broad Street, driving slowly, and angled back through Old City toward Passyunk Avenue. I had an apartment above a Mexican food place and it smelled like fried food and cheap beer all night long. Most people would hate it, but I loved the noise—it drowned out all the swirling thoughts that ran through my mind when I tried to get to sleep at night.
I tapped my fingers on the window and considered my position. I could refuse to take the girl and fail this test. I resented being tested at
all and my long service to the Don should’ve been proof enough of my loyalty. But I understood how the family worked, and I knew that they had to be sure, even when there was no reason to doubt.
Loyalty was the most important thing to the Valentino family, loyalty above all else. Loyalty above self, above love, above life.
I was a loyal killer, but I had the wrong kind of mother, and not that we were getting into a war with the Irish—they had to be careful.
If I accepted, the girl would be mine to keep safe. I didn’t know how that would go. She’d already given me trouble, and I had no reason to think she’d sit around my apartment looking docile and taking commands. She’d be trouble, and I didn’t want or need it.
I had enough trouble without some girl to make things worse.
But I knew there was no turning this down. If the Don ordered something, then it was my duty to obey, no matter how distasteful.
Dean found a spot a block away from my place. He shifted in his seat and looked back at me. “What do you think?” he asked.
“I think it’s a shitty thing for your father to do,” I said, glancing at Tara. “But I can’t exactly turn him down.”
“No, you can’t,” Dean said. “Lucky for her, too, since if you refused, I had orders to kill her and toss the body in the Schuylkill.” He laughed and shook his head. “God damn, that would’ve been such a pain in the ass. And I just got this car cleaned.”
“Smells like puke,” I said, and reached out to grab Tara’s wrist.
She struggled for a second, then glared at me. “I don’t get a say in this?” she asked.
“You heard him,” I said. “You can stay here and die, or you can come with me to my apartment, and maybe you’ll survive all this if you’re smart. I guess it’s your call, but I’m tired, and I’ve got your dad’s fucking blood on my shoes. So get out and come on if you want to keep on breathing.” I kicked Dean’s door open with a curse.
Dean laughed and leaned across the passenger side seat. I stood on the sidewalk as he rolled down the window.