Tricks & Treats: A Wild Bunch Halloween Novella

by London Miller

  She laughed softly as she wrapped her legs around his waist, not in the least bit ashamed by how eager she seemed.

  “I’m glad you came,” she whispered against the strong column of his throat, her arms tightening around him as he carried her inside.

  The sound of him closing the door and flipping the lock was like music to her ears.

  It didn't matter that it hadn't been terribly long since the last time she saw him or when they'd been together, her heart still raced like it was the first time all over again.

  She felt alive when she was with him—like she could breathe again when he touched her.

  And when he all but tossed her onto the king-sized bed, quickly following her down, a breathless laugh escaped her. These were the moments she loved the most with him, when nothing else in the world mattered but the two of them.

  Christophe broke away from her for a moment, his dark gaze darting over her face and she couldn't help but think he felt it too—that draw. That desire to be together and the hunger that was simmering beneath her skin.

  What was understood didn't need to be said.

  He shrugged out of his jacket, tossing it aside without care for where it would land. No, he was too focused on getting himself undressed, even as his gaze was focused on where her dress had ridden up.

  That was the thing about Christophe—his unwavering focus could be scary when he was working, but in moments like these, she felt lucky to be the object of his desire.

  And everything about the way he was staring said he wanted her.

  Unable to help herself, she reached up and started working on the buttons of his shirt, popping them open one by one until she revealed the defined ridges of his chest and the scattered tattoos that decorated his skin.

  She traced her fingers over each and every one of them, smiling at the way he all but shuddered beneath her touch.

  Go, she fucking loved this man.

  Chapter 4

  It couldn’t be wrong to admit his motivations were entirely selfish when he’d mounted his bike and took off for Chicago without thinking it through, right?

  But even if they were, Christophe didn’t care. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t been thinking about Mariya at all when he’d made the decision—hell, she was all he could think about from the moment she’d left.

  He knew the feeling was irrational—he’d been the one to suggest she go in the first place—and he knew, considering who her family was, that she would be safe with them.

  The rational side of him knew this, but that hadn’t stopped his paranoia from running rampant.

  And from that very first call when he’d heard the worry in her voice, it was exactly the excuse he needed to ride to her.

  Which was why, especially after the night before when she’d lit up the moment she saw him, he knew he’d made the right decision. Now more than ever, he was glad he came.

  Nothing had ever felt as good as the way she’d looked at him last night.

  Stepping out of the shower, he quickly dried off before hunting through his duffle for something to wear, leaving the towel around his neck.

  Mariya was still fast asleep, buried beneath the mound of covers, the long tendrils of her dark hair the only thing visible in the sea of white fabric. He considered waking her momentarily, or even climbing back into the bed beside her, but figured it was better to let her sleep.

  They’d had a long night, after all.

  Easing out of the room, careful not to make too much noise, he started for the stairs, years of training making it nearly impossible for him not to scout every entry point and potential exit.

  The mansion near the water was massive and was nice, if one was into this sort of thing, but it was hard for him to see anything at face value.

  He didn’t see a home, but rather all its weakest points.

  Down on the main floor, his guard went up as he heard the unmistakable sound of voices chattering and dishes being moved. Despite the number of guests in attendance the night before, he knew less than half had actually resides under this roof.

  In the wee hours of the night, he’d counted how many doors he heard open and close, and that was before he’d checked for vehicles out in the driveway.

  They might have been Mariya’s people, but Christophe didn’t trust easily—especially if he hadn’t been given a reason.

  He didn’t miss the way gazes cut to him as he entered the room. He might have gotten the pakhan’s approval the night before—something he hadn’t been expecting—they were still mistrusting, not sure what to make of him.

  But he’d suffered under the hands of worse, and he’d learned from a very young age that to show fear was to show weakness.

  And the last thing he intended to do was roll over and show his belly to a room full of killers.

  After all, he was one too.

  Christophe contemplated heading back upstairs, but before he could go, the sound of the tablecloth rustling grabbed his attention.

  He glanced down, catching only a hint of pigtails as the little girl farted back under the table before he could get a good look at her. But he knew, even before he crouched down and moved the cloth aside who he would find there.

  Ana, Mariya said her name was. Her niece.

  She stared up at him with big, baleful eyes and for just a moment, he was reminded of Mariya.

  Of what their daughter might look like. If she would have her mother’s eyes and his hair. Maybe the opposite.

  He had never given much thought to having children. For the longest time, it didn’t seem likely.

  He was an assassin by trade, a thief by choice, with enough baggage it was a miracle he’d remained sane through it all.

  And while they might not have had a formal conversation about it, he knew the way Mariya felt about her niece—the way her face would light up any time she saw a child. At some point, he knew this was something she wanted.

  It was time to talk about it.

  “Are you hiding under here?” he asked gently, careful not to spook her.

  Her head canted to one side as she regarded him. “You talk funny.”

  He smiled before he could help himself. “You ever think maybe you talk funny?”

  She seemed to think about it a moment before shrugging dainty shoulders. “Maybe.”

  He thought of asking her to come out but thought better of it at the last moment and instead, moved his considerable height beneath the table with her—something she seemed to find greatly amusing considering the growing smile on her face.

  There was hardly any room and his long legs stuck out from beneath the tablecloth, but Christophe didn’t mind, because Ana seemed quite content to have him there.

  “Mama says you’re Yaya’s husband.”

  He smiled, unable to help himself. “I am.”

  Her face scrunched up as she regarded him. “Are you being nice to her? Because papa says that’s most important.”

  Christophe tried not to laugh as he thought of the disgruntled man who seemed to hate his existence because of his repeated breaking and entering.

  “He isn’t wrong. And yes,” he added at the end, remembering her question. “I’m always nice to Yaya.”

  For whatever reason, he found the nickname cute, but then again, he also found Anastasia ridiculously adorable.

  In his life, he had never considered having children—he couldn’t imagine bringing anything so innocent into this world of his.

  But there were moments … few, precious moments very much like this one that made him wonder what if.

  His life wasn’t nearly as chaotic as it used to be. Not to mention, he had a number of bank accounts that would ensure he wouldn’t have to do any work anytime soon.

  He could retire and maybe—maybe—actually start living the way his handler, Nix, always said he could.

  Maybe …

  When she came downstairs, the last thing Mariya expected to find was a pair of booted feet sticking out from beneath the table.<
br />
  Klara, who didn’t at all seem phased by the sight, continued around the room setting the table, even going so far as to step over Christophe without a word when it called for it.

  But it wasn’t until she heard soft giggling coming from that direction that she understood. And was there anything more precious than that?

  “How long have they been under there?” she asked once she was near enough to Klara so the two under the table wouldn’t overhear.

  “For the last ten minutes at least,” she answered with an amused smile. “The fact that he can hold her attention for that long is something in itself.”

  Mariya couldn’t have wiped the smile off her face if she tried.

  “He’s pretty good with her,” Klara added as she finished setting down the last spoon and fork.

  It was something about the way she’d said that that made Mariya look in her direction.

  “What?” she asked, trying to appear innocent. “It’s just a thought.”

  Mariya tucked her hair behind her ear. “It’s not something we’ve really talked about.”

  But she’d had thoughts … a few she hadn’t wanted to admit out loud just yet, but maybe one day.

  “Anastasia would love a cousin,” Klara stage-whispered with a wink. “But you know … take your time and all.”

  Meaning she would be hearing more about this in the future and this was her warning.

  Once they were seated at the table—though Christophe and Ana had yet to come out—Klara seemed to have a sudden thought.

  “You know, they’re having the Halloween attractions down at the pier. We should go!”

  Mariya didn’t have to think about it much as she picked up her glass of orange juice. “Yeah, that could be fun.”

  “And, they have a fun house too.”

  She paused with the glass nearly to her lips, those words bringing back memories she really didn’t want to remember.

  Already, she was remembering the weird mirrors, the never-ending loops—the clowns.

  “Not now, not ever.”

  “You can’t still be afraid of them,” Klara said with a laugh, and only laughed harder when she realized that she certainly was.

  “They’re just not natural.”

  “Fun houses, really?”

  Of course, that had to be the one thing he heard. Never mind that he and Ana had been lost in their own little world beneath the table, as soon as he heard her last remark, Christophe was lifting the tablecloth out of the way to grin up at her.

  And she knew, without even being able to read his thoughts, that whatever he was thinking wouldn’t mean anything good for her.

  “Oh yeah,” Klara said, all too eager to throw her under the bus. “Since we were children, she’s avoided them after that one incident.”

  “It only takes one time to scar someone,” Mariya muttered to herself, trying not to think about that night.

  Why anyone thought it would be a good idea to combine a fun house and a horror maze for children was a good idea, she would never know. But really, the blame was on Klara since she had been the one who wanted to go in the first place.

  “What happened?” Christophe asked, not bothering to hide his amusement.

  “They tried to kill me,” Mariya deadpanned.

  “It was a fake chainsaw,” Klara corrected, still laughing.

  “How was I supposed to know that? It looked real at the time!”

  Even now, she could still see the sharp teeth—remembered the sounds it made as the man chased her to the exit of the fun house as she screamed.

  “She’s refused to step in one ever since.”

  Christophe looked in her direction and he didn’t have to say a word before she was shaking her head. “Not a chance.”

  But he wasn’t moved even slightly. “Dregă moya, for me?”

  He could call her his treasure all he wanted … “It’s not happening.”

  “We’ll be together.”

  “Eh. You know what’s better than those odds? Not going in there at all.”

  He walked up behind her, tilting her chin up so she was forced to look at him. “We’ll be together,” he repeated.

  And all too quickly, she remembered she had never been good at denying him … and she was probably going to regret that.

  Chapter 5

  Her last minute costume seemed to have Christophe’s stamp of approval because from the moment she stepped out wearing it, he hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her.

  All men could appreciate a leotard and bunny ears, but she’d gone a step further and painted a face as well.

  She clung to his back as they rode toward the pier, her hands clenched around his middle.

  As they rolled to a stop at a red light, a truck rolled up beside them, the kids in the backseat staring at them in wonder.

  And when she made a funny face, the little boy laughed and clapped his hands.

  Halloween really was a fun time.

  Surprisingly, they found decent parking near the pier and the line, though long, wasn’t nearly as bad as she’d expected. And once they were in, she really started to feel the Halloween spirit.

  Michael Jackson’s Thriller played over the loud speakers, a group of men dancing the choreography as they passed.

  It took everything in her not to look around in wonder. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been down here. And even when she had, she couldn’t remember when the lights had been as bright or the atmosphere so energetic and thriving with life.

  But Christophe was determined, she could tell from the expression on his face and the way his gaze moved over everything until he found what he was looking for.

  “Funnel cake,” he suddenly announced, releasing her hand. “I’ll be right back.”

  He didn’t give her a chance to say anything before he was taking off, leaving her standing there staring after him.

  She had a feeling he was up to something—she knew him well enough to know it wasn’t as simple as a desire for dessert—but if he thought he was going to convince her to do that fun house alone … he was sorely mistaken.

  Not even a full minute had passed before her phone rang, Christophe’s name flashing on the screen. “Where did—”

  “I’ve got the funnel cake. Meet me at the fun house.”

  And again, before she could respond, the call disconnected.

  Already, he was enjoying this too much.

  Drawing in a calming breath, she followed the flashing lights in the direction of the last place she wanted to be, trying to think happy thoughts.

  At first, she had enjoyed seeing all the people in different costumes, but as her anxiety rose, the more her heart started to race at the very sight of them.

  Fine.

  It was all fine.

  Besides, the chainsaws weren’t real.

  It became much harder to put on a brave face as she stood alone outside the fun house.

  It didn’t matter that lights backlit the smiling clown’s face up top, or that teenagers were rushing toward the entrance with little fear of what those four walls could be hiding.

  One of the last horror movies she’d seen at the theater also didn’t help matters because the last thing she wanted to encounter inside the fun house was a demented clone of herself ready to take her place in this world.

  Christophe couldn’t actually expect her to do this, could he? He had to know she wasn’t nearly as fearless as he was.

  She jumped when her phone rang again.

  “You’re not just going to stand there all night, are you?” he asked, his voice sounding loud through the air pods in her ears.

  Though she couldn’t see him in the scores of people that had come to the carnival, he could clearly see her.

  “Most guys try to impress a girl with a stuffed animal,” she reminded him, wondering if it was too late to back out now.

  “That’ll come after.”

  And just like that, her worst fears were confirmed. “Chr
istophe, no.”

  “Only thing to fear is fear itself.”

  “And clowns!” she shouted back. “Especially clowns with chainsaws.”

  But she also knew it was impossible to convince a man that feared nothing to understand. Lucky bastard.

  “If you make it to the end, I’ll buy you anything you want.”

  “Mm, don’t make promises your bank account won’t appreciate.”

  His laugh was loud, but she could also tell he wouldn’t bend. “Humor me.”

  “I didn’t think you were a sadist,” she mumbled, forcing herself to walk up to the entrance. “This is just cruel.”

  “Risk the danger for the reward.”

  Oh, was she going to make him pay up for this …

  Mariya dragged in a breath and held it, handing over the appropriate number of tickets to the waiting attendant, a teenager who didn’t look remotely fazed by where they were.

  He’d probably been here long enough that he no longer reacted to whatever was inside.

  Then it couldn’t be too bad, she reasoned.

  And she knew, even before she slipped inside and the door closed behind her that if she really needed him, Christophe would be there. She would make him pay for the hell she’d been put through, but all would be well all the same.

  The front hallway was eerily quiet, muted lights providing very little illumination as she followed the path through the front room, doing her best to ignore the bloody memorabilia hanging on the walls.

  Mind over matter.

  Mind over matter.

  Mind over matter.

  Mariya had never been more painfully aware of her own heartbeat until the moment she took her first step into the fun house.

  The rational side of her brain told her there was nothing in this building that could hurt her—not really. The monsters inside were paid to be there and probably had a stipulation in their contract that stated they couldn’t actually touch the guests.

  The rest was clever lighting and special effects equipment.

  She knew this, but that didn’t stop her mind from painting a wild picture of what could be, and that was enough.