The Hitman's Possession (A Bad Boy Mafia Romance Book 1)

by Tia Lewis

  “I don’t give a shit. Besides that, it’s even more reason why you’re at risk. Hawk knows you, now.” I didn’t want to tell him that I had a funny feeling he’d already known me. I couldn’t put my finger on it, still, but the feeling was there nonetheless.

  “I know, but—”

  “No buts about it. You wanna go out, take Richie with you. I want him guarding you. Understood?”

  “Okay, okay.” I wished he hadn’t picked Richie, but I couldn’t be choosy when he was in that domineering mood. I needed to go home, to be me again for a little while. I needed a break to refresh. I needed to be in my kitchen, my bedroom, my shower. My own home. The one I’d grown up in and been happy in. The Clubhouse was nice, and it was very comfortable, but it would never mean anything to me.

  We dragged ourselves out of bed then, stretching and groaning. “I don’t suppose you would be interested in a shower before you got your day started?” I asked.

  “Well, yeah, I’m gonna take a shower.” He looked over at me, and I stood with my hands on my hips. Staring at him. “Ooh. A ‘shower.’ Yeah, I think we can manage that.”

  “Took you long enough,” I said.

  After our rather long shower, once the bathroom was good and filled with steam, we managed to get back to the “real” world, aka the rest of the Club. People had a funny way of looking at us like they always knew what we were up to even though we tried to be quiet. I guessed we were the honeymoon couple. People would just assume we were having sex all the time. And they would be right.

  “Guys! Is Jack here?” Drake asked nobody in particular, just throwing the question out to the lounge at large. A few heads nodded.

  “Yeah, he’s in his office,” Ace said. “As always.”

  “Good. We can get the meeting started soon. I just need to eat something real quick.” I went to the kitchen with him and grabbed a bagel and cream cheese, while he had cereal. He looked adorable to me, sitting on a stool with his ankles wrapped around the legs, barefoot, eating some sugary kids’ cereal. He was a kid at heart, still, even though he had to play the big, badass for the rest of the world.

  “Okay. Time for the meeting.” He gave me a quick kiss. The rest of the Club got up from where they were lounging around to sit in their spots at the big, long wooden table in the meeting room. I never went in there, only glancing in once. The table was massive, like something ancient nobility would eat at in their cavernous dining halls with fifty or sixty people around. I wondered what they talked about in there. I would never know—as Tamara had pointed out, they didn’t share that kind of information with the womenfolk. I felt as though I should tie an apron around my waist and scrub the floor while the menfolk were in their meeting. So ridiculous.

  Richie wouldn’t have been part of the meeting since he was a Prospect and not a patched member. I looked around, wondering if he would buy the excuse about needing to get some things from my aunt’s house. He wouldn’t be able to go inside under any circumstances, naturally. Was it worth the risk? I thought it was, if only because I needed to remind myself of who I was. It was terrifying, feeling bits of myself slipping away.

  “Hey! Has anybody seen Richie today?” I saw a few heads shaking back and forth. None of the girls knew where he was. I looked outside—his bike wasn’t there. I remembered the red flames along the sides from the day we met. He wanted so much to be cool, like the older guys.

  I heard a buzzing noise as I walked back into the bar area and realized it was my cell phone. Shit. I couldn’t have any of the girls seeing who would text me—I wasn’t thinking when I left it there. I had to be more careful and attentive. Picking it up, I turned around to have a little privacy.

  An unknown number. Who the hell would text me from an unknown number? A call, sure, but a text? I unlocked the phone, opening my messages. What I saw made my brain shut down for the slightest of moments. I couldn’t think, couldn’t speak. Frozen. It was all I could do to stay on my feet.

  The girls didn’t notice, all of them chatting about some reality show they kept up with. I used their distraction to my advantage, sneaking away to Drake’s bedroom and closing the door before I dared open the message again.

  I couldn’t understand it at first. Why would Richie’s photo be sent to my cell phone? And not just any old photo of him. He was bruised, bleeding, sitting up in a chair with blood running down both sides of his face. And that was it. No message, no nothing. Just Richie. My heart raced, panic flooding me. What was the message? Where was he?

  I stared at the picture, trying to make sense of it even as my eyes tried to avoid looking at Richie’s beaten face. What kind of monster would do something like that to him? He was practically a kid, and innocent of the kinds of things the Club did.

  Then, as I watched, the ellipsis bubble appeared. The sender of the message was typing something. I waited with my heart in my throat, my clammy hands shaking. I thought I might throw up before the message came through.

  “Guess where we are?”

  “What?” I murmured to myself. What kind of game were they playing with me? I looked at the picture again, really looking at it to see what I’d missed. Where were they? I had no idea. Richie was sitting in a chair—

  My legs gave out—luckily, I was standing by the bed and landed on it rather than the floor. I knew that chair. I had sat in one just like it every night as I ate dinner with my father.

  I dropped the phone, the world swirling around in front of me. My house. They’re at my house. What are they doing at my house? How do they know me?

  What do they want!

  Richie. My heart ached. I didn’t know what to do, horror building and building inside me, growing larger with every passing moment. My house. They knew where I lived, who I was. They were taunting me. But who were they? My phone buzzed once, telling me I had a new text message. I took a deep breath before daring to look at it.

  Come and get him. But come alone. Tell your boyfriend or anybody else, and I’ll kill both of them in front you. Understood?

  I felt sick to my stomach, hands clasped over my mouth. My bagel threatened to come up at the thought of Richie and Drake dying. In front of me. My God. Who is this?

  I typed those words, my sweaty fingers shaking so hard I could barely get the phrase out.

  Who are you?

  The ellipsis bubble again. I breathed deeply, slowly, willing myself to stay conscious and keep from getting sick. If I were going to help Richie, I would need to keep my wits about me.

  You know who it is. Think about it on the way. I mean it—just you. Or else…

  With that, a smiley face with its eyes crossed out. I knew what that meant.

  I stood on shaky legs, wondering if I would manage to escape the Clubhouse without anybody knowing. Without Drake knowing. Some instinct told me it was a huge mistake to go to the house alone, but I couldn’t let Richie die by disobeying what the person on the phone instructed. I didn’t have a choice. I got myself into this mess, and I had to fix this. I had to save Richie.

  I splashed my face with cold water in the bathroom, coaching myself again to stay calm. There had to be some answer to all of it. Meanwhile, my brain screamed and shrieked in panic. I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs. I didn’t know if I was doing the right thing at all, but I had to try for Richie’s sake.

  “Hey, guys.” I cleared my throat. “Richie’s gonna escort me to my aunt’s house. Drake already knows I’m going—I talked to him about it before the meeting.” I hoped I came off breezily enough.

  Tamara looked up at the bar. She and the girls were looking through pictures on her cell phone. “Oh, okay. Cool. See you later.” That was it. It was just that easy. Meanwhile, I’d already requested an Uber, and it was waiting outside. I forced myself to walk slowly rather than running out the door. I’m coming, Richie. I’m coming for you. I only hoped that whoever was on the other end of the phone would let him leave. After all, this whole mess is my fault.

  They wanted me. That was t
he end game. Whoever it was wanted me. Fine. They could have me if that were what it came to. I wouldn’t sacrifice his life to save my own, and I wouldn’t put Drake in danger, either. I couldn’t live with myself if he died because of me.

  It wouldn’t be because of you! The little reason left in my brain shouted at me as I rode in the back of the car. It would be because of something he got into a long time ago. You’re only a pawn, damn it! Don’t do this! Let the Club handle it! You’re no match against whoever is in the house with Richie.

  I couldn’t do that. I didn’t know why, but something inside wouldn’t let me. I felt a sort of responsibility to the kid. If somebody held him because of something I did—namely using him to get into the Club—then it was my fault. I had dragged him into whatever web I was in without knowing it. I had to try to make it right on my own.

  The car just couldn’t get there fast enough for me. I found myself pressing my right foot on the floor, pushing down on an invisible gas pedal. Richie. I thought about his sweet little kid face, the goatee he was trying to grow with no success, the big, trusting brown eyes. He wasn’t meant for that world, but he was in it. I couldn’t stand the thought of somebody hurting him, and I hardly knew him.

  Finally, the car had reached the house—and I was more terrified than ever. Had I really been in a hurry to get there? All that stood between me and God only knew what was behind my front door. It had been left conveniently cracked open. I got out of the car and thanked the driver. My legs were barely strong enough to carry me across the sidewalk and up the steps.

  I stepped inside. “Hello?” I looked around. “Hello? I’m here. Where are you?” I tried my best to sound strong, capable, and confident. I failed miserably.

  “The kitchen.” That voice. I knew that voice, and my skin crawled at the sound of it. Every single instinct left in my mind told me to turn and run. Run fast and never look back. I would call the police and Tommy, and the NYPD would have them come out to the house, and all of this would be over. I would tell them exactly who was inside, or who had been inside before I ran since I didn’t think Hawk was stupid enough to stick around if I ran away.

  I didn’t. I walked through the living room, the dining room, into the kitchen. And there he was. Poor Richie, tied to a chair, both eyes swollen and bruised a purplish-black and bloodied along with his swollen nose and a gash on his head. A sob, or something like it, came out of his mouth along with blood when he realized I’d come.

  “Now that you’re here, we can talk,” Hawk smiled his blood-curdling smile, and I willed myself to stay conscious and on my feet.

  18

  Drake

  “So, boys. That’s what I found. The police know it’s sketchy that they didn’t recover a gun from Lance’s body, and they know the bullet in the warehouse wall must have come from it. They don’t think we would have gone back to get the gun, but they’re not ruling it out. One of us could have been there, not gotten shot, and taken the gun from Lance’s hand. But what are the odds of that happening? I don’t think a decent, smart cop would make that mistake.” I explained.

  “Is there such a thing as a decent cop?” Phil asked, and everybody laughed. Even I did.

  “Yeah,” Ace said, “but the same thing could be said about us. Right?” We all nodded. “So that’s what I found. They think somebody else could have something to do with it—but they don’t know it was the Cobras who were there that day. They don’t know about the war we’ve got going on, which is funny since I thought everybody did. They don’t even know it was us who killed the Cobras.”

  “Huh.” I looked at Jack. “Why do you think that is?”

  “Because they’re blind right now. They lost one of their own, and they can’t stand it. So they’re not seeing the big picture. They wanna believe it was us because it’s neat and tidy.”

  I nodded, looking out over the rest of the Club. “Okay, so at least we know what we’re up against here. They think it’s us, but there’s doubt. We can play on that doubt. Meanwhile, it’s a matter of getting something going with the Cobras. Any thoughts?”

  “I say we bomb the shit outta them,” Diesel growled. More than a few of the guys agreed with that idea.

  “Yeah, that sounds great, but we need something we can actually do. Trust me, I wanna burn them to the ground just like everybody else. I want all of ‘em wiped off the face of the Earth. You don’t have to tell me how much you hate them because I can promise I hate them ten times more.” I didn’t want the Cobras screwing things up for me when it came time for me to take over the Club. It sounded selfish even as I thought it, but that was the truth. I couldn’t have them in my way.

  “Okay, now that we’re all on the same page, I think we should keep an eye out at all times for them. The girls already know they’re not to leave alone. When they go home, whoever goes with them checks the house or apartment to be sure they’re safe. I mean that. No chances, okay?” Jack looked across the table at all his men. Even though he was sick, his voice carried a lot of power. Thank God he’s having a good day, I thought.

  The meeting broke up not long after that. I pulled Ace aside to thank him for all the work he did in hacking the police network—and in almost no time. He looked exhausted, so I knew without him telling me that he’d been up all night to get it done. I felt better, knowing the police weren’t stupid enough to think it was us without giving it a little more investigation. I could only hope that streak of clear thinking would carry us through until we found Detective Bluth’s killer.

  I got a bottle of water out of the cooler behind the bar, taking a long drink. Something about being with Bree made me feel seriously dehydrated. I smiled to myself.

  “Hey, where’s Bree?” I asked Tamara as she came in from the kitchen with a rack of glasses.

  “She went to her aunt’s. She told me to tell you. She said Richie was gonna take her.”

  I nodded. “That was, what, an hour ago? Or later?”

  “Yeah, it was almost right after you went into the meeting, so maybe an hour.”

  “Oh. Okay. Thanks.” I didn’t like the sound of it, but I knew she would do what she wanted. I pulled out my cell phone to call Richie and see what the hell was taking so long. No answer.

  “You said about an hour ago, Tamara?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  I figured he was riding his motorcycle and couldn’t pick up. I wouldn’t feel secure until Bree was back with me, where I could keep an eye on her. I knew she would roll her eyes if she heard me say it, but it was the truth. I would feel better when she was with me.

  When another twenty minutes passed, I looked around for her again. “Where the fuck is she?”

  “Calm down. Maybe they stopped off somewhere. You know Richie would do anything she asked him to.” Creed chuckled.

  “Yeah. That’s what I’m afraid of.” I was starting to seriously worry, even if nobody else understood why. Something felt off about the whole situation. Like why didn’t Richie check in with me before they left? I would have a talk with him about that later.

  “What did Richie say when he came in?” I asked Tamara. She looked up at whatever she was doing behind the bar and shrugged.

  “I don’t remember him coming in,” she said. I could tell from the look on her face she knew she was saying something I wouldn’t like hearing.

  “What? You never saw him?” That was all I needed to hear. Leave it to Bree to do something crazy. I called Richie again. When I listened to the other line pick up, I breathed a sigh of relief.

  Then, a heartbeat later, I heard the sound of crying. “Drake?”

  I closed my eyes, leaning against the bar for a second. “Bree? Where are you?”

  “At—at my aunt’s house. You remember how to get here, right?”

  “What happened? What’s going on? Who’s with you?” I didn’t notice I was shouting. The rest of the clubhouse went silent, guys coming in from all over the place. I looked up, and my eyes met Jack’s.

  “Pl
ease, just hurry,” she whimpered.

  “Are you okay? Bree! Bree!”

  I heard a muffled noise. Then, “Stop asking so many fucking questions.” My heart stopped for a second when it all came together.

  “I swear to God I’ll fucking kill you! You hear me? I’ll fucking kill you!” I heard Tamara and Darcy sobbing together when I finished screaming. They knew something was wrong. Everybody did.

  “You have to get here, first. And if you think I’m playing around, let this convince you.” A moment later, I heard a gunshot. Bree’s screaming. Richie, Richie! The phone went dead.

  “I’ll kill you!” I roared, foaming at the mouth and veins popping out the sides of my neck. I dropped the phone on the floor.

  “That’s my woman! If he lay a hand on her—”

  “Drake! Calm down! What did he say! Tell us!” Creed interrupted.

  “Fuck!” I rumbled. “He killed Richie! I think he killed Richie!”

  Voices started overlapping each other. What? Who? Where? What’s going on? Where’s Bree?

  That was the question that got to me the most. “It’s Hawk. He’s got her. He killed Richie!” I said, pacing back and forth as I sweated profusely.

  “Shit!” I thought Jack might collapse, but he stayed strong. “We’ve gotta go, Drake. We’ve got to go now!”

  “No! Hawk just wants me.”

  “What?” Again with the overlapping voices.

  “You can’t go alone!” Creed insisted. “What if he’s waiting for you and he kills you as soon as you get there? What if his whole crew is there, man? This whole thing could be a setup. A trap.”

  Think, think. I had to think. I had to be clear-headed for Bree. “I don’t think so, man. Her neighbors would notice. It’s the middle of the morning, but there are still people around. All those bikes in Murray Hill, in front of one house? I don’t think so.”