The Killer's New Obsession: A Possessive Mafia Romance

by Hamel, B. B.

  Apparently not.

  “Bitch turned us in to the Healy family,” Cam growled. “She made her choice. It didn’t work out for her.”

  “You asshole,” Kira said. “Fuck you, Cam. I didn’t put you in touch with her to murder her, you asshole.”

  “She did this.” He took a step toward Kira, his hands balled into fists.

  “Cam,” I said sharply.

  He looked at me while Kira sobbed. We stared at each other and I hoped he could see what I felt in my expression: rage, sorrow, confusion. I wanted Cam to be better than this, but he had a girl killed, and I didn’t know how to rectify my growing desire for him with that fact.

  He didn’t pull the trigger himself. Linc went ahead and did that. But he still could’ve stopped it if he really wanted to.

  Slowly, Cam began to pace again. “I want more names,” Cam said softly.

  “Why?” Kira asked angrily. “So you can get more of them killed? The Healy family put them through enough already. They don’t need you fucking them up even more.”

  “More names,” Cam said through his teeth. “You owe me that.”

  “I don’t owe you shit.”

  He turned on her. “You got Omar killed,” Cam said. “I was trying to help you, and you send us to some back-stabbing bitch.”

  “Go to hell.” Her face was defiant as tears rolled down her cheeks.

  “Okay,” I said, stepping into the room. “Enough, okay?”

  Cam glared at me again but said nothing.

  “Why are you even here?” Kira asked, looking at me. “Why are you still with this guy?”

  “Because he watched his friend die yesterday. You can understand why he’s angry, can’t you?”

  She sucked in a breath and released it. “I didn’t have anything to do with that.”

  “No, you didn’t,” I said, glancing at Cam to make sure he kept his mouth shut. “But Luiza did. I was there, and I know you find it hard to believe, but she was involved. I’m positive she was.”

  “Goddamn it,” Kira whispered and looked down at her hands. “I told her to leave those people alone.”

  “She couldn’t, could she?” I moved closer to her. “Luiza couldn’t get away. What’d they have on her?”

  Kira smiled ruefully. “Drugs probably. I don’t really know.”

  “We need more names,” I said. “If you want revenge on the Healy family for making her go down this road, then we need more names.”

  She looked at me and I saw the deep hurt, the cracked and broken girl beneath that tough exterior. I recognized myself in her. Hell, I recognized Cam in her.

  We weren’t so different, the three of us. Cam was angry, and so was Kira.

  I was angry too.

  “All right,” Kira said and looked at Cam. “I’ll give you more. But that’s it.”

  “When I leave here, I don’t want to see you ever again,” he said, his tone barely controlled.

  “Good. Then we can agree about that.”

  “You don’t understand.” He stepped closer. “I want you out of my city.”

  Kira’s eyes widened. “You can’t—”

  “Cam,” I said.

  He ignored both of us. “You will leave Philadelphia and never come back,” he said, staring death at Kira. “If you don’t, Linc will find you, and he will kill you. I can’t stop him even if I wanted to, which I don’t. This is your only chance. Give me names, then pack up and go.”

  Kira let out a strangled laugh. “I guess it can’t get any worse,” she said. “Fine. Get me something to write with, asshole.” She waved a hand at a desk in the corner of the room. “Pen and paper, top right drawer.”

  I walked over and got it for her. She scribbled names and numbers and addresses down, then shoved it into my hands.

  “Keep an eye on him,” she said softly. “Don’t end up like me. Get the hell away from them while you can.”

  “Thank you,” I said, taking the notepad from her.

  I walked to the front door, but Cam lingered. “You have until tomorrow,” he said. “I didn’t want it to go down like this.”

  “Nobody did,” she said.

  He followed me back out into the hall, down the stairs, and onto the street. The new car smell made me almost sick as I sat slumped back in the passenger seat.

  “It wasn’t my choice, you know,” he said, staring at the steering wheel.

  “You run the crew,” I said. “It’s your call.”

  He shook his head. “I could’ve ordered Linc not to do it, but he would’ve killed her anyway. That would’ve been a real problem. And if he did listen, he would’ve resented me for it, and the guys would’ve thought I was going soft.” He looked at me then and his eyes were hard. “I had no choice.”

  “I guess you’re in a bad line of work,” I said and turned away.

  He started the car and pulled out.

  12

  Cam

  The night was heavy with humidity. Cam looked like a panther sitting in the front seat of the sedan parked across the street from a small park, barely more than some swings and some grass.

  “What are we doing here?” I asked.

  “Getting revenge,” he said and didn’t take his eyes off the night. I tried to follow his gaze, but I couldn’t tell which building he was watching.

  I knew his whole crew was out there. We met at a bar after talking with Kira and went over the names she gave us. They started making calls, talking to the girls, but Cam kept me away from it. I sat alone in a booth and drank a beer and tried to think about what I was going to do with all of this.

  I hated that Luiza was dead. I understood Cam’s position in the crew and knew he likely couldn’t have stopped it even if he wanted to, but the way he talked about the girl’s death made my spine tingle. I had a sick lump in my throat and in my gut, and I wished I could do something, anything, to make that whole day not happen.

  If I could bring back Omar, I would. And he probably wasn’t a great guy. But I knew how much his death hurt Cam, and maybe then Luiza wouldn’t have been killed, either.

  So much death already, and everything had barely begun.

  “There it is,” Cam said, nodding up ahead.

  I saw a car park at the far end of the block and flash its light twice.

  “What is that?”

  “The signal,” he said. “Watch.”

  Figures converged on the car. Five of them, all dressed in black. It was late, ten past two in the morning, and the streetlights were all out. The block was pitch black, and we were deep in the heart of West Philly. This was Healy territory, and whatever was about to happen would be very, very bad.

  The figures approached a bar tucked into the corner of the block. It had big glass windows out front and a bright green door. Above it, apartments peered out like insects.

  One of the figures took out a gun and started shooting.

  The glass shattered. I leaned forward, breathing hard, staring as flames suddenly lit up.

  “What is that?” I hissed.

  “Molotov cocktails,” Cam said simply. “Crude, but effective.”

  The men threw the flaming bottles of gasoline in through the shattered windows. More fire spouted as they exploded inside the building. The men lit another round and threw more fire inside before they turned and scattered again.

  The flames caught and thick black smoke plumed from the front of the bar.

  Cam started the car and put it in gear. Around them, figures scattered into the night. I thought I caught one of their faces: Linc’s scars, grinning wide.

  “It’s not enough,” Cam said, pulling out into the street. He slowly rolled past the burning building. People were pouring out of the apartments all around it wearing their nightclothes and pajamas. “Not nearly enough.”

  “Are those people Healy?” I asked.

  “Some might be,” he said, shrugging. “Doesn’t matter. They’ll live.”

  The flames roared inside the bar, eating the furn
iture, the alcohol, whatever else was back in there, hidden away.

  “Who owned that place?” I asked.

  “Ronan,” Cam said. “That was just a warning though. A little message for him.”

  He pulled around the block as the sirens started up in the distance. We didn’t speak as he parked a few blocks away. We could see the smoke twisting up into the dark night sky, blocking out the moon and the stars, and Cam watched with a strange, satisfied smile.

  “What now?” I asked. “You burned one of his bars. So what? Do you start killing them?”

  “I’ve been killing them,” he said, not looking at me. “Now I start destroying them.”

  I leaned back into my seat. I was so frustrated and angry, and all I wanted to do was scream at him or run away, but I was trying to be better, trying to ignore my worse impulses. I spent two years hiding out and avoiding my problems, and now I wanted to try to do better—even if that meant staying in this car with Cam when really what I wanted was to bite off his ear or scream down his throat.

  He turned his heard toward me, smirking slightly, and reached across the space between us. I didn’t shy away from his touch. His fingers were rough on my cheek as they slipped past and into my hair. I sucked in a breath as he pulled me closer to him.

  “You can’t hurt any more of them,” I whispered, staring into his eyes. I tilted my head toward his palm. “Do you hear me? You can’t kill any more girls.”

  “I won’t,” he said. “I never wanted that to begin with.” His grip tightened and I hissed between my teeth. “You think I like killing girls?”

  “I think you do what you have to do,” I said. “Or at least what you think you have to do.”

  He leaned forward, lips brushing against mine in a soft kiss. “I’m what the family made me,” he whispered. “You know that better than anyone else. You want me to promise to spare more lives? I can promise I’ll try, but that’s the best I’ll do.”

  “Fine,” I said, and buried my mouth against his.

  I wanted to forget. I kept seeing Omar, bleeding on the ground, and Cam holding his hand. Those final moments, so tender in the middle of all that horror and violence.

  I wanted to forget the people I lost on the streets. I wanted to forget the pieces of me I left behind, and all the scabbed-over parts that have hardened into some impenetrable armor that I was afraid would never soften again.

  I wanted Cam to make me feel something for once, something that wasn’t fear and rage.

  Smoke billowed into the sky and the sirens screamed so close as he pushed his seat back and dragged me over into his lap.

  I moved my hips against him and his hands roamed my body, cupped my ass hard, pulled my hair, tugged my top up and off. He kissed my neck, unhooked my bra, licked my nipples. I didn’t care that we were parked on a public street in the middle of the night with a fire burning a couple blocks away. I didn’t care someone might walk past and see what Cam was doing to me.

  I wanted it, and I couldn’t stop myself, not as all the emotions I’d been holding back began to pour out.

  He shimmied out of his pants, his cock hard against my hands as I stroked him. He bit my lip hard and pulled my hair, then pushed a hand down my jeans and teased my soaking wet slit. He rolled a finger along my clit and I moaned into my mouth, stroking him faster, my back pushing up against the steering wheel until he managed to get my jeans off, my panties shoved to the side, and his thick tip against my dripping desire.

  Slowly, I sank down along his shaft and threw back my head with a low gasp.

  He filled me like heaven. All the pleasure I’d wanted for so long rushed through me in waves as I rode him. He cupped my ass and fucked me and growled softly as he took my skin, every inch of my tight body. I bore down on his cock and moved faster, faster, biting his tongue, his shoulder, moaning into his ear as he whispered all the filthy truths I wanted to hear.

  “You delicious girl,” he growled. “You’ve been thinking about fucking me like this since you came back into my life. I know you can’t help yourself, sliding up and down my cock with that wet little pussy. God damn, you feel good, you filthy girl.”

  I moaned in response, riding him, the car shaking, the windows fogging with humidity. He slapped my ass harder and I gasped, trembling, and I wanted to come for him, wanted to come on his thick cock and feel the pleasure I’d been denied for so long, that pleasure I knew only he could give me, despite all the death and the blood and the violence, despite how broken I was.

  For once, I could just let myself be with someone.

  With him, with Cam, who understood me better than anyone, who accepted me no matter what.

  I stared into his eyes and he stared back, and I knew he never lied to me, that he meant it when he said he didn’t want any of this, that he didn’t want anyone to die.

  I believed him, god, I believed him, and it felt so good.

  I came in a shivering crash of pleasure, my back arched, my head thrown back. He groaned along with me, hands on my hips, and I felt him come in response to my pleasure, heightening my desire, sending me into a dizzying spin of incredible ecstasy as I whispered his name over and over, oh, god, Cam, over and over.

  Slowly I came back to myself. I blinked rapidly and collapsed forward onto his chest. He was still inside of me, deep between my legs, and the throbbing warmth of him was strange comfort I’d never experienced before.

  We stayed like that for a while. I turned my head and could see the smoke still. I heard the fire department spraying water into that bar, and I hoped nobody got hurt.

  Or at least nobody innocent.

  After a while, he kissed me gently, and helped me get dressed again. Then we drove back to his place, and I slept deeper than I had in years.

  13

  Irene

  I had to get out of that apartment before I did something stupid, like jump his bones while he was in the shower, or walk out into the living room naked and beg for him to touch me.

  So that morning, after he left to meet up with his guys to do whatever the hell gangsters did all day, probably drink whiskey and talk in really deep voices and get in fistfights with each other, I headed downstairs, called an Uber, and had it take me out to Don Valentino’s house.

  It was probably stupid. Bea’s offer was probably empty, but it was the only safe place I knew, and I really wanted to get away from Cam and everything that reminded me of him. The Uber dropped me off and sped away, and I walked up those stairs to the big door and hesitated before ringing the bell.

  If Bea was surprised to see me, she didn’t let it show. “I’m so happy you took me up on my offer,” she said. “Come inside. Want some tea?”

  “Please,” I said, following her along that dark and opulent hallway and into the kitchen. Several men worked chopping and preparing a meal.

  “Don’t mind them,” Bea said. “Chef Jorge’s a kitten in a lion’s body.”

  “All I heard was I’m a lion,” a man in black and white striped pants and a white jacket said, brandishing a big knife.

  Bea set the kettle to boil. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” she asked.

  I hesitated, not sure what to tell her. I could say that I was trying to escape Cam’s place because all I kept thinking about was how badly I wanted to sleep with him, but I knew the cooks would only make some joke about that, and besides, I didn’t know Bea well enough yet to say anything. Then again, she worked for the mafia, so she’d probably seen and heard some pretty crazy things in her time.

  “Just wanted to get away from the apartment for a little while and I didn’t think anywhere else was safe,” I said, which was truth enough.

  “You made the right choice then,” Bea said, beaming, but before she could say more, an intercom on the wall buzzed. She frowned at it and struggled to her feet. “Sorry, dear, but the Don’s calling,” she said.

  My eyes went wide. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know he was home,” I said.

  “Don’t worry, he has a lunch
meeting.” She gestured vaguely toward Chef Jorge. “Feel free to wait here and pour the tea for yourself, or head down to the pool if you like. It’s a nice day out.”

  “Thanks,” I said, cheeks red. I felt really awkward and like I was imposing.

  “Honestly, go make yourself at home,” she said, waving a hand. “It’s a big house and someone might as well use it.” She left with a smile and disappeared from the kitchen.

  I waited for the water to boil, poured myself some in a mug, and dipped in the teabag. I got out of that kitchen before Chef Jorge or the other young cooks could draw me into a conversation and slipped down a short hall that ended in an enormous living room. The floor was covered in rich, heavy, expensive rugs, and the walls were covered in paintings and photographs. A life-size set of real plate armor stood in a corner, and enormous fern plants dotted the space, like it was some rich man’s idea of the jungle. I hurried through it and to the back door then marched down to the pool.

  Bea was right, it was gorgeous outside. An inflatable giraffe floated on the water as I took a chair beneath a big umbrella. The shade was perfect, and the water made tiny waves every time the breeze came through. I sipped the tea and stared across the grounds at the sea of grass, how it was perfectly manicured and rolled down to the forest beyond, and I felt like I was the last person on Earth and utterly alone.

  Which wasn’t true, of course. The house had a bunch of mafia guys inside it, but I could pretend anyway.

  At least I wasn’t in Cam’s apartment. I stretched my legs and leaned my head back, resting my tea in my lap. It was warm, in contrast to the cool breeze, and I smelled lilies and pollen on the air. Somehow it reminded me of Cam, even if it had nothing to do with him—his strong arms, his full lips, and body taking mine, again and again, making me sweat, making me—

  I sighed and rubbed my face. I came out here to get away from him, not to sit around daydreaming about getting fucked by him.

  The pool, the lounge chair, the grounds, it was like an entirely different world. For the last two years, I lived on concrete, in broken houses with missing windows and partial walls, where the elements were a constant problem, and keeping warm in the winter was a constant worry. I lived near trash fires with men that hadn’t seen a warm meal in months, if not years, where screams at night were common, where bodies appeared then went away again. I knew what it felt like to be so hungry my head felt disconnected from my body and so scared that I couldn’t move a single muscle.