The Killer's New Wife

by Hamel, B. B.

  “His driver was good,” I said, shrugging. “But I kept on him. I haven’t had time to stake it out yet, but I have a good idea of how I’ll handle this.”

  “Then handle it,” the Don said with some force. “I want him dead, Ewan. This is your most important job yet.”

  “Yes, sir,” I said, and took a step forward. “But I have other important news.”

  The Don tilted his head. “What’s so urgent then?”

  “She agreed to marry me,” I said, and gestured back to Tara, who hung back awkwardly.

  “I see,” the Don said, and a smile spread across his face. “That is good news. I should congratulate you both then.”

  “It’s only for her protection,” I said. “She’s not joining the family, and when this is all over, I’ll let her leave if she wants.”

  “I’m sure,” the Don murmured. “Come here, girl. Step over here.”

  Tara came forward almost reluctantly. I caught Dean’s eye and he winked at me, grinning mercilessly.

  “You two make a fine couple,” the Don said. “And now that you’re marrying into the family, Tara, I hope that you’ll be as helpful as you can.”

  I felt her stiffen, and I spoke up before she could say anything. “Sir, I know you want information about her father’s business, but she doesn’t know anything.”

  If he was disappointed, he didn’t show it. “I’m sure that’s not the only thing she can bring to the table.”

  “I mean it, sir,” I said insistently.

  “Let the girl speak,” he said, tone getting sharp. “Is this true?”

  “It’s true,” she said softly. “I didn’t know what my father did for a living until Ewan came into my life. Now I realize that I was stupid and naive, but it’s the truth.”

  The Don pursed his lips. I could see him calculating already, trying to decide if he believed her or not. “I checked up on her story,” I said, which was only half true. “She wasn’t involved at all.”

  “It’s interesting you say so,” the Don said. “Since you’re so against the business to begin with.”

  “It’s no secret that I dislike trafficking,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady, though I felt a touch of anger at the way the Don looked at Tara, and the way he spoke to me. “And it’s no secret that you’re trying to expand into that market.”

  Nobody moved. The silence hung thick. Dean looked like I’d punched him in the face as he sat back and stared up at the ceiling, then squeezed his eyes shut. I met the Don’s gaze and held it, unflinching and unable to look away. I respected this man and gave him my everything, and yet he was so willing to get involved in something I found so reprehensible. I had to wonder if he would be in his position if it weren’t for all the men I killed for him and all the power I brought to the family.

  He leaned forward and steepled his fingers. “Are you questioning my decisions, Ewan?” he asked slowly.

  “Yes, sir,” I said. “I’m wondering why you’re doing this, when you know how I feel.”

  “There’s only so much money to be made,” the Don said. “New markets are necessary if we’re going to keep growing.”

  “Then maybe we shouldn’t grow,” I said sharper than I’d intended.

  “Careful,” Dean said.

  The Don held up a hand. “It’s all right, Dean,” he said. “Ewan is passionate about this topic. Everyone knows it. And yet it’s strange that you’d be willing to marry the daughter of the most notorious sex trafficker in the city.”

  I took a deep breath and let it out. Tara looked at me with big, round eyes, and I smiled at her slightly and nodded.

  “Nobody chooses their parents,” I said. “I know I didn’t. I can’t hold the sins of her father against her, just as much as I won’t hold the sins of my father against myself.”

  “Well said,” the Don replied. “But it doesn’t change a thing. I plan on entering into the business, Ewan, and I expect you to support me.”

  I clenched my jaw tight. “I won’t do that,” I said.

  “Ewan,” Dean said. “Not now. We’ll talk about this.”

  “No,” I said, shaking my head. “If it’s a choice between being involved in an expanding sex trade, and leaving the family, then I’ll leave. That’s the choice you’ll have to make, Don Valentino. I’ve made up my mind.”

  “I raised you like a son,” the Don said, hissing with rage. “And you think you can give me an ultimatum about my own business?”

  I turned my back on him, on the man I used to look up to, now old and frail and half dead, and walked to the door. Tara followed quickly.

  “Think about what you’re doing,” the Don said. “Think about it, Ewan.”

  I didn’t reply. I hung my head and left, with Tara on my heels.

  We didn’t speak as we walked back into the foyer, then out to the car. I sat behind the wheel and didn’t move.

  “Are you okay?” she asked quietly, and touched my wrist with her fingertips.

  “I’m fine,” I said. “I’ll be okay.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  I started the car and sucked in some air. “I’m going to kill Colm Healy,” I said. “And then I’ll figure everything else out later.”

  She stared at me with surprise, but it slowly melted away as she leaned against my shoulder. I drove away from the Don, my mind already made up. I’ll kill the bastard Colm, and that might be my last act as a member of the Valentino family.

  But at least I’d go out on top.

  20

  Tara

  Night hung like a noose around the neighborhood. The streetlights were out and we sat in heavy dark in Ewan’s car with the windows rolled down. Humidity leaked in with each gust of warm air, and Ewan stared down the block at the house with the green shutters, sitting as still as a rock in a river.

  “You don’t have to come with me,” he said quietly. “Might be better if you stayed here.”

  “I don’t want to be left behind,” I said. “And I feel like I need to see this through.”

  Ewan nodded slightly. I could barely see him in the dark. He was a shadow sitting across from me wearing black from head to toe. He took a gun from his waistband and checked it over, making sure it was loaded, before he pushed the door open.

  “Stick close and be quiet,” he said, and began to walk down the street.

  I hurried to follow. The neighborhood was still and dead. Half the houses had no lights on, and we walked past bushes and hedges, sticking to the shadows. Ewan motioned for a stop when we got close to Colm’s house, and pointed out a set of motion detecting lights on the side of the house. He nodded at me, and we went the long way, along the neighborhood’s driveway, then shimmied through the bushes and came out in Colm’s back yard.

  The grass was manicured. A grill sat on a small patio with several metal chairs and a big, oval table. I tried to picture people sitting out there, grilling and laughing, but couldn’t. Ewan approached the back door, tried it, but it was locked. He slipped a pick set out from his pocket and set to work on the doorknob.

  It took longer than I expected and every sound set my heart racing. I felt almost dizzy when a neighbor’s dog barked and a car rolled along with its high beams on. Eventually he finished and began on the bolt, which took another few minutes. When it was done, he slipped the picks away, and quietly pulled open the door.

  The kitchen was spotless if a little empty. There wasn’t much in terms of decoration or personality, but it was sparkling clean. The drainboard had dishes drying, and a single empty glass sat on the table. The floors were tile, and the countertops granite, and I guessed this was the nicest kitchen on the block. He’d clearly redone it recently.

  Shame he wouldn’t enjoy it for long.

  I followed close to Ewan, who crept along like a panther, lithe and ready and gorgeous. His eyes were sharp as he gestured ahead, and he stepped into the living room with the gun ready.

  It was empty. A couch was against the wall on the right
and a TV was mounted on the wall opposite. A fireplace looked well used, and several photos lined the mantel. I took a look and recognize some of the faces—they were guys that came around my dad sometimes. I figured they were clients. Now I realized they were, but not in the way I thought.

  Ewan moved to the back hallway and I followed. I felt shaky and dizzy and I was afraid that I’d make too much noise at some point and ruin the whole thig. Ewan went first, and I followed, staying as close to him as I could without stepping on his heels. I was so sure that Colm could hear my pulse rocketing through my veins, but the house remained hushed.

  The back hall led past a few doors. The first was open, and Ewan looked inside. There was a desk, a computer, and some filing cabinets. Ewan continued on, and I was tempted to go into that room to steal some of the files, or at least the computer, but I held off. We weren’t here for stealing, only for killing.

  It was strange, how this all began with Ewan creeping into a house to murder someone, and now it felt like it was ending with the same thing.

  We passed another door, but this one was shut. Ewan stared at me and pressed a finger to his lips. I nodded and stepped back. I put my hands over my mouth to keep myself from screaming with fear as he turned the doorknob and slowly opened the bedroom door.

  It was black beyond. Curtains covered the windows. I saw vague shapes: bed, dresser, TV. Someone snored. Ewan reached for the light switch and hit it.

  Two shapes resolved beneath a tangle of sheets. One was a big man going bald, hairy shoulders, squinting eyes. The other was a girl, maybe in her late twenties, skinny and naked, curled up next to the big guy. Ewan walked to the end of the bed and cursed softly.

  It was Fergal and some girl.

  Ewan nudged Fergal’s foot with his gun. The big guy snorted once, tried to roll over, and nearly crushed his date. The girl groaned, then blinked awake. She stared at Ewan, mouth open, like a scream was locked in her throat before she started smacking Fergal on the chest.

  “What?” Fergal grunted, coming awake. “What the fuck are you doing, bitch? What the fuck—” He stopped when he saw Ewan calmly holding the gun. I remained hovering behind him, watching the whole scene with horrible fascination. The girl was naked, and her fake breasts were like metal cans on her chest. She didn’t move, couldn’t move, and Fergal scrambled to sit up. He was in nothing but boxers.

  “Hello, Fergal,” Ewan said. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

  Fergal squinted and held up his hands. “Is that Ewan?” he asked. “I can’t see well without my glasses these days.”

  “Where’s your brother?” Ewan asked. “Is he home?”

  “Colm?” Fergal barked a laugh. “Colm doesn’t fucking live here.”

  “This is Colm’s place,” Ewan said with an edge of angry panic. “I followed you here, after breakfast at that diner—”

  “He doesn’t live here,” the girl said, “this is Fergal’s house. Colm don’t live here. He just stops in sometimes. Please don’t kill me.”

  Ewan didn’t even glance at her. Fergal shrugged a little, smiling. “Guess you got the wrong address,” he said.

  “Fuck,” Ewan said softly.

  “All right then,” Fergal said. “We can make a deal. I’ve got cash here and some drugs. You can have the girl too, if you like, we can—”

  Ewan pulled the trigger. Fergal’s head exploded back in a shower of gore and blood. It sprayed out his skull and covered the headboard, splattering the girl beside him. She tried to scream, but couldn’t and fell sideways onto the floor. Ewan stepped closer and shot Fergal again twice in the chest before shoving the gun back into his waistband.

  “I’d run, if I were you,” he said to the girl on the floor. “Get dressed, take all the cash Fergal’s got, and run. Leave the drugs though. You’ll get yourself killed.” He glanced back at me and shook his head slowly.

  I stood staring at Fergal’s body. Blood seeped from the wounds and soaked the sheets and mattress. There was so much blood, like that night Ewan killed my father. I’d been shocked at how much had come out of him, and I didn’t think another human could have so much in them.

  Fergal had that much blood. Maybe we all did.

  Ewan took my hand. “Tara,” he said softly. “Tara, we have to go. Can you move?”

  I blinked twice and nodded. I hadn’t realized he’d gotten so close to me. I wanted to run, but his handsome face came into my field of vision and I touched him gently on the cheek. He smiled at me, and it was Ewan, my Ewan, my killer.

  “Let’s go,” I said.

  We retraced our steps and left the girl behind. Ewan went first, out through the kitchen, though he paused to make sure the other rooms were empty. Sure enough, Colm wasn’t there.

  The car felt tiny and cold when I climbed into the passenger side seat. Ewan sat behind the wheel and didn’t move for a few long seconds. I wanted him to drive, to drive as fast as he could and as far as the gas could get us. I wanted to leave all this shit behind, the war, the Healys, the girls and the drugs, but Ewan pulled out and slowly rolled in the direction of home.

  We didn’t speak until he found a spot near his apartment. “What do we do now?” I asked finally, unable to take the silence anymore. It felt too oppressive.

  “I’ll tell the Don about Fergal,” he said. “See if he thinks that was good enough. It’ll hurt the Healy family, that’s for sure, and they might escalate things now.”

  “The war might get worse?” I couldn’t imagine how it would, but I had to trust him.

  “The war’s barely begun,” he said and got out.

  I followed him into the night, my killer.

  21

  Ewan

  I watched Tara walk up the aisle toward me, and the rest of the room disappeared.

  She wanted an outdoor wedding, so she got an outdoor wedding. The chairs were set up beneath a gorgeous pavilion in Fairmount Park and the Valentino family’s priest stood up near the altar. Dean was my best man, and Tara’s friends from her diner job were her bridesmaids. The seats were packed with Capos and made men, soldiers and anyone else related to the family. The Don himself sat up front in a position of honor, though he still looked pale and drawn. He’d never quite recovered from the attack.

  None of that mattered. It all drifted away as Tara came toward me, draped in white, her hair shining in the sunlight, the auburn shifting into shimmering rays of color. For once in my life, I had no words, and I let her come closer as the wedding march played. I thought I wouldn’t care much about this, since we were marrying for the sake of the Don—but seeing her there, my bride in white, my girl, I realized that this was much more than a fake wedding.

  For me, this was real.

  Tara stood across from me and I held her hands. She looked into my eyes, smiling huge, and a single tear rolled down her cheek. I wanted to wipe it away, but her veil stopped me.

  The priest did his thing. We exchanged some vows. The women in the seats were crying, and I thought I saw a couple of the guys discreetly wipe at their eyes. They’d probably say it was allergies.

  But finally, she said the words I’d been waiting for since the day I met her.

  “I do.”

  And then the priest said the words I’d been waiting for this morning.

  “I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

  She tasted like lilacs and grass, and the tent went wild. I held her hand as we faced the crowd, then we walked down the aisle together toward the photographer. We were supposed to stop and get our pictures taken, but I steered her further away, toward a copse of pine trees on the edge of the field. The guests dispersed toward the drink stations and the table and the food, and only the photographer seemed a little confused.

  I turned toward her and held her hands. She blinked up at me, then glanced nervously back toward the party. “They’re going to think you’re stealing me away,” she said with a little laugh.

  “Let them,” I said, not smiling. “I need to
get this off my chest before we keep going.”

  “What’s wrong?” she whispered, but she knew what I was going to say already. It’d been obvious for a long time, ever since we first met. She knew what I wanted, and where this was going.

  “I love you, Tara,” I said. “I don’t know when it happened, but by the time I figured it out, it was too late to turn back. This wedding’s not some bullshit to make the Don happy, and it’s not some game to keep you safe from the Healys. For me, this is very real, and I need you to know that.”

  She stared at me in silence. I’d never been so vulnerable to another person before, and my hands were shaking as she took a second to get herself together. Her veil was swept back, and the breeze made her hair flutter around her face.

  “I love you too,” she whispered. “God, I don’t know when that happened, either. I know what you are and what you’ve done, but I can’t help myself. After everything… is it wrong that I want this?”

  “No,” I take, squeezing her hands tight in mine. “It’s not wrong at all.”

  “What are we going to do?”

  “Nothing,” I said, and kissed her.

  There was nothing to do. We loved each other, and my heart felt like it might burst free, and maybe it should. Maybe that would be a fitting end to me, and to all this.

  Except I wanted more time with her. I felt like we were only just now realizing how important everything was, and I didn’t want to let it go. I heard the flicker of a shutter, and opened my eyes to see the photographer capturing this moment.

  “You go back to the party,” Tara said sternly, glaring at the photographer as he snapped a few more shots. “We’ll call you over when we need you.”

  He shrugged, grinning, and walked off.

  “They’ll be good pictures,” I said.

  “Should we tell the Don?” she asked.

  “Fuck the Don,” I said, and meant it. “He’s got nothing to do with this.”

  “He thinks our marriage is for politics.”