Ghostface Killer ~ M. Never

by Never, M.

  “Oh, no, Baz.” That’s a recipe for disaster. Why didn’t Benny just wave a fucking sign You’re Walking into a Trap.

  “I guess I was blind. Blindly hopeful that he had changed. But I was wrong. Dead fucking wrong. As soon as I walked into the room, I knew it was a set up. No one was there. There were no lights, no staff. No nothing. Just Benny holding a gun. I’m his fucking son!” Baz erupts furiously. “And he invited me to my death with a pretty package full of lies.”

  “So, what happened?” I keep running through that night in my head. Benny told me he had a job. He wanted me there, but I had plans with Claudia. I was rebelling. I was pissed at him for forcing me out on my own and then resenting me for it. That was so Benny. Asshole with a capital A-S-S. Regina called me later that night with the devastating news. Gianni had made a move, and Benny was the target. The family had been in turbulence ever since Pasquale got sick. He had to name a successor, and Gianni apparently wanted to be it.

  I blamed myself for Benny’s death. I should have been there. That’s what I kept telling myself. If I was there, I could have saved him. At least that’s what I thought all those months. That’s what I thought when I believed Benny was killed by Gianni, but Baz is telling me a completely different story. A story that doesn’t align with Regina’s at all.

  “I tried to reason with him. Tried to appeal to his human side. As much as he hated me and I hated him, he was still my father, and some stupid boyish part of me held out hope that one day he’d look past all my issues”—he spits out the word like it’s disgusting—“and just see me. See the man I’d become. See a man who loved him unconditionally and was desperate for his attention. For his approval, for his love.” I picture Baz as a child, all tousled brown hair and big green, beautiful eyes, just begging for affection. God, how I can relate. I was starved for affection my entire childhood. Just passed around like a ratty doll from foster home to foster home until I had enough. Ironically, Benny was the first one to ever give me the attention I craved. To ever really care, even if it was in his own perverse way.

  “I wasn’t going to just let him shoot me. I couldn’t. He’d already taken so much. I wasn’t going to hand over my life. Not without a fight. So, I grabbed for the gun. We struggled, and it went off. Benny dropped to the floor. I barely registered what just happened when Regina popped out from nowhere, screaming that I killed him. She saw the whole thing. She fell next to Benny’s body, covering her hands over the wound. She was crying and yelling, and I was completely in shock. I had just killed my own father, and I felt . . . relieved.” He looks back at me distraught. “What kind of monster can I possibly be? I killed him, and I had no remorse. I still don’t. I’m’ glad he’s dead.” His eyes glisten with the remorse he believes he doesn’t have. I place my hands on his cheeks, torn in so many pieces I don’t think I’ll ever truly be whole again. I tighten my legs around Baz’s waist, our bodies still joined. He never pulled out, just stayed planted in place as he confessed his sins. To me, of all people. The most contradictory of confidants.

  “I ran, Stevie. Like a coward, I ran, and I’ve been running ever since.”

  “And Regina’s been the one hunting you?” I can barely believe I’m asking the question. Not because she isn’t a vindictive bitch, she totally is, but because she always seemed so aloof to violence and revenge. Cared less about the family business. But I guess, as I think about it, witnessing your brother’s death could have severe ramifications. Could change a person. Murder definitely changed me.

  Baz answers my question with a stern nod. “It’s why we went after her that night. Gianni wanted a face-to-face. Wanted her to put an end to her manhunt. But she refused to see or speak to him. So, he ordered a stronghold. We weren’t going to hurt her.”

  “And then I showed up.”

  “And then you showed up.”

  “And ruined everything,” I add.

  “You definitely threw a kink in the plan.” Baz sniffs, breaking free from my hold. He runs a hand over his face, then scratches, trying to pull himself together.

  “I thought—”

  “I know what you thought,” he cuts me off. “I also know what it looked like.”

  “Did you know it was me when you got out of the car?”

  Baz shakes his head regretfully. “I had been off my meds for a while, Stevie. I wasn’t myself. I was on a warpath. I was hurt, my ego was bruised, and I was tired of hiding out. A perfect storm of pissed off was churning inside me. All I saw was red and someone in my way. Then I got closer to you. Stalked you up against the wall, and when I realized who you were, all my emotions just imploded.” He cups my face and presses his forehead firmly against mine. “I’m sorry,” he breathes dejectedly. “I’m so sorry I hurt you.”

  “You have a serious power punch,” I try to make light. He doesn’t need to apologize. Not to me. I know this business. I know the risks, the danger, and the consequences. I also know self-preservation is the responsibility of you and you alone.

  Baz winces at the reminder. “I hit a fucking woman. I hit my woman.” He sounds disgusted with himself.

  “Comes with the job.” I run my lips along his jaw. “I don’t hold it against you. You’re not the first man to hit me. I’m sure you won’t be the last.”

  “Don’t say shit like that, Stevie.” Baz boils with anger. “I will kill anyone who comes near you. Threatens you. Both of you.” He splays his hand over my naked stomach.

  “I’m flattered.” I place my hand over his. “But I’m capable of taking care of myself. And him, and you, too.” I playfully kiss the tip of his nose.

  Baz’s eyes narrow. “We’ll take care of each other. And him.” It’s not a request or even a suggestion. It’s a blood oath.

  “I can live with that.” I lean in to kiss him.

  “And me?” Baz asks apprehensively right before our lips touch. It amazes me how he can go from lion to lamb in the blink of an eye.

  “And you. Definitely you.” I close the gap, wrapping my arms around his neck as I explore his mouth with my tongue. He moans long and deep as our bodies re-fuse. His erection growing hard again at an alarming rate.

  “Baz?” I ask between hot, steamy kisses.

  “Mmmmm?” He doesn’t open his eyes, just moves his hips in the same circular motion of his tongue.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “Anything, baby.” He leans forward, locking his arm around my waist as he inflates inside me. My eyes roll back. God, so full. And so fucking good. I clench around him as his thick cock massages the walls of my pussy.

  “Where the hell are we?”

  Baz halts all movement, drops his head back slightly, and peers at me. Then he laughs.

  “Not the question you were expecting?” My mouth twitches.

  “Not in the least.”

  “I’ll keep you on your toes.” I smile.

  “I’m already aware. I discovered that tidbit of information when you stripped down to nothing at the spring.”

  I giggle from the memory. “Your face was priceless.”

  “I almost came in my pants like a damn teenager.” Baz lifts me off the countertop and walks us into the living room. He takes a seat on the couch, straddling me on top of him. “If we’re gonna talk, we might as well get comfortable.”

  “I’m good with that.” I rock my hips, and Baz nearly loses his mind.

  “Fuck, baby.” He slides his hands up my rib cage and palms my breasts. “What was the question again?”

  “Where the hell are we?” I begin to ride him, slowly. Up and down, impaling myself onto his cock over and over.

  “Upstate New York.” He groans as he slides in deep. So fucking deep. “About eight hours from the city.”

  He starts to unravel beneath me, pinching my nipples and thrusting his pelvis.

  And just like that, Q&A is done for now.

  BAZ AND I have been playing house for nearly two months. Getting to know one another in the most intimate ways. And
I don’t just mean sexually, although we do spend plenty of time exploring that way, but also emotionally and personally. I’ve never taken the time to actually get to know the person I roll around in the sheets with, but to be fair, no one has ever been Baz.

  I said it before and I’ll say it again, he’s my exception. My choice. And he is more amazing than I could have ever imagined. I dreamed about him all the months we were apart. Trying to piece together the precious tidbits of his personality I came to know. Clinging to the even more precious memories we created. He was the star in every single one of my sexual fantasies. But being with him, in real life, is so much better, in every way.

  Baz has attended to my every need. Starting with my thirst for information, patiently explaining what his “issues” truly entail. According to him, he is plagued with an adult form of ADHD, a sprinkle of obsessive-compulsive disorder, and a healthy dose of depression. I witnessed the obsessive-compulsive disorder first-hand when I caught him scrubbing the kitchen sink until it bled, and well, the depression, we were all there for that. His ADHD comes in waves and bursts of energy. Hence the amount of firewood outside. He needs to expend it, a lot, so he’s constantly coming up with ways to tire himself out. And his newest outlet is me. The man can fuck for days. Days. It’s a good thing, too, cause my sex drive is as insatiable as my appetite lately.

  And Baz has no issue abating it either. A few weeks ago, he trekked ten miles to the nearest town, at ten o’clock at night, in three feet of snow, just so he could buy all the ingredients for burritos because I was craving them. I found out after the fact he keeps a truck parked a quarter of a mile away. It prevents anyone from following the tire tracks directly to the house.

  We ate at nearly one in the morning, and it may have been the best meal of my life. And not because Baz is an amazing cook, but because there was so much love in that food that I could taste it in every bite. He surprises me in new ways every day. With his kindness, his generosity, his wit’s, his infectious tenacity for life despite all his challenges.

  Sometimes I don’t think I deserve him. But even if I don’t, I would never give anyone else the chance to figure out if they do.

  He’s shared stories of his childhood, how his mother and Benny tried to make it work, but in the end Benny’s rejection of him forced her to leave. Gianni took him and his mother in. He raised Baz like the son he never had and took care of Audrina, his mother, until she moved to Florida when Baz turned eighteen. He speaks so highly of his uncle. A man I’ve only seen from afar. Whom I only know from the stories Benny and Regina told me.

  In turn, I share my own stories with Baz. How Benny homeschooled me, academics in the morning and physical education in the afternoon. I trained with the most lethal killers, the best marksmen, and studied with Rhodes scholars. Nothing was too good for me, and Benny spared no expense. But it was a lonely, sheltered existence. I had no friends. Only Benny and Regina and my given tutors at the time. I was Benny’s biggest secret, or so I thought all these years. Until I found out about Baz. I don’t particularly think he likes hearing about my upbringing with Benny. He gave me all the things he deprived his own son. And who was I? A stray he plucked off the street one random night. I was nothing, no one, but Benny felt compelled to give me everything someone of value deserved.

  I try not to bring up Benny if I can help it. I hate seeing Baz upset, but he seems hungry to get to know the man who rejected him his whole life, so I indulge him when he asks. They are the most basic questions, too, like what was his favorite food or favorite movie. Pasta bolognese and Rocky, the original and number three. And number four because Apollo Creed died. Benny said he went soft. He had a big hang up about being soft and being weak. It was his biggest pet peeve.

  It just goes to show how little Baz knew about his father, and how thirsty for information the young boy inside is.

  I twist my ring around my index finger, inwardly fretting, as Baz traces the lilies tattooed across my back. We just finished a huge dinner. Baz went all out, recreating our first meal. Venison steaks, potatoes, green beans, the works. He even managed to track down some non-alcoholic red wine when he went into town the other day. He provides us with all the necessities.

  Now we’re just lying in front of the fire, digesting, watching the flames dance in the hearth, naked on the bearskin rug. This has sort of become our place. Our refuge. But worry is never far away, at least not for me. I try to keep my dark thoughts to myself, but I know Regina is looking for us. There is just this black feeling in the pit of my stomach. And I know, even though we don’t discuss it, Baz feels it, too. He refuses to let me leave the house, won’t take me into town, and insists I need to rest. But I know all of that is an excuse. We both know what the family is capable of, the people they associate with, and the actions they execute on a daily basis. Execute being the operative word. He’s scared. He’s scared for me and the child I’m carrying. I’m scared, too, but not in the same way. I’m scared of losing everything. Of being alone again. Of being a ghost. Because that’s what I’ve been my whole life. My street name is fitting. Baz and Claudia were the first people to ever see me. The real me, not just the hair or the eyes or the body. The person. It makes me feel real. They make me feel real. So does this baby. I want to be its mother. I want it to be happy. I want to give it the life I never had.

  Poor kid is so screwed. An assassin for a mother and mafia prince for a father. A golden retriever and white picket fence is nowhere in its future. But a bodyguard and bulletproof crib are possible.

  “Stevie, your thoughts are so loud I can hear them.” Baz kisses my neck as his finger continues to graze over my skin. How does he know? How does he always know?

  “Oh, yeah? What I am I thinking about then?”

  He rolls me onto my back so he can look me in the eyes. “You’re thinking about me fucking all the worry out of your pretty head.” He trails his hand down the center of my bare body.

  I wish it was that easy.

  “She’s going to find us eventually.”

  “No, she won’t. Not here. Not again.”

  “She found you once already. I just wish I knew how.” I stare up at the ceiling as the fire pops loudly, startling me. Fuck, I never startle, but I just spooked like a damn cat. I feel too exposed. Like a defense with no offense. I regret not beating more information out of Regina when I had the chance.

  “This is one of Gianni’s safe houses. It’s not on any map. No one knows it exists.”

  “That doesn’t mean it can’t be found. If she’s adamant about revenge. She won’t stop. I know her. She’s a vindictive bitch when she wants to be. And she loved Benny. Was as loyal to him as I was.”

  Baz’s lip curls at the mere mention of his father’s name. He loathes when I include myself in the same sentence as him.

  But it is what it is. Benny is a huge part of my past, and Baz will just have to get over that one day.

  “Let her come then.” He shrugs.

  “Baz, you’re inviting a fight we can’t win. Not here. We have nothing protecting us.”

  “I’ll protect you.” You have to admire the man’s grit.

  “I have no doubt you’ll protect me. But G has an army at her fingertips.”

  “So does Gianni,” he argues.

  “You’re talking about war, Baz. Is that what you want? Your family to go to war? Over us?”

  Baz sit’s up, his face stone cold. “Stevie, I would launch a nuclear attack if it meant keeping my family safe. If it means keeping you and our child safe.”

  “Baz, I believe you, but we don’t have that kind of ammo on hand.”

  “If I told you there was an entire arsenal under the house, would it make you feel better?”

  I sit up, covering my body with the blanket. “Are you telling me there are weapons here?”

  “There’s an underground armory, fully stocked and loaded.”

  “And you’re just telling me about this now?”

  “Need to know.”


  “Baz!” I shove him so hard he falls over.

  “Whoa!” He puts his hands up as I attack him.

  “I have been freaking out for weeks about being exposed, and you were withholding information.” I sneak in a light but firm side hit.

  “Oh!” He grabs his side as he laughs. “I didn’t realize it was so important!” He blocks his face as I swipe at him. “You’re so aggressive!” he accuses.

  “I’m hormonal!”

  “Obviously.” He catches my wrists, the two of us winded. “We’re going to have to spar once the baby’s born.” There’s an excited twinkle in his eye.

  “You’re on,” I rise to the challenge. “I’m going to need to kick someone’s ass to get back into shape.”

  “Don’t worry, baby, I’m going to keep that ass in great shape.” He reaches down and squeezes one of my butt cheeks.

  “I think you’re doing a pretty good job already.” I lean in to kiss him.

  “Mmm,” he agrees as he parts his lips and spears his tongue into my mouth. “It’s easy to do when your girlfriend is a gorgeous, smart, badass killer carrying your baby.”

  “Those are your favorite trait’s, huh?” We roll around on the rug.

  “Tight, wet, willing pussy is on top of the list, too,” he cracks, echoing a similar statement I made once.

  “Touché.” I giggle.

  “Feeling better?” He tucks some of my wild hair behind my ear.

  “Much, now that I know there’s a depository underneath us.”

  “Have a little faith in me.”

  “I have plenty of faith in you. It’s everyone else I question. I have seen a lot of bad things, Baz. Lived through worse. I just don’t want to be blindsided.”

  “Blindsided is bad, huh?” Baz frowns.

  “Is that a serious question?” I look at him like he’s nuts.