Falling for the Killer: A Dark Possessive Mafia Romance, B.B Hamel [good story books to read .TXT] 📗

a sociopath and knew what buttons to press and how to look at me. He’d had years to learn how to get under my skin.

I didn’t have to let him in anymore.

“Are you messing with Gian’s business?” I asked abruptly, the words tumbling out in a breathless convulsion.

“Excuse me?” His smile didn’t falter. He tilted his head. “His business? I don’t even know what your friend does for a living. Garbage collector, perhaps?”

I gave him a look. I was willing to bet Stuart had never seen a garbage collector in his entire life—but that said so much about the sort of person he was.

Proper men worked in finance. Anyone else was a peasant.

“You hired three men to work a corner on his territory,” I said, keeping the words low as a group of teenagers walked past in school uniforms.

“His territory?” Stuart shifted toward me. “Now what could that possibly mean?”

“Stop playing games,” I said through clenched teeth. “We know you did it.”

Stuart watched me carefully and his smile slowly faded. He rubbed his eyes then let out a tired breath. “Honestly, Ash, this would’ve been so much easier if you had just married me,” he said. “We all would’ve been happier.”

“I’d rather kill myself,” I said.

He laughed softly. “That can still be arranged.”

“Did you send the guys or not?”

He shrugged. “I sent them,” he said. “They were cheap and I thought it would be funny.”

I gaped at him and let that sink in. He thought it would be funny to hire three thugs to come work a drug corner on Gian’s turf. He thought it would be funny to start a little fight, to spark tensions in a war.

“You almost got someone killed,” I said, hands trembling. “And you think that’s funny?”

“They’re not people, Ash,” he said, waving a hand dismissively. “They’re drug dealers and criminals. So what if one of them dies? They die every day. Drug overdoses. Gunshot wounds. Stabbings. Whatever. One more cheap body’s no big deal.”

“You’re sick,” I said and stood up. “You disgusting piece of filth.”

“Sit back down,” he said sharply. “I’m not done with you.”

“I’m done, though,” I said. “If you come near Gian again, if you hire someone to come near Gian, I’m going to find you and I’m going to cut your goddamn balls off.”

He grinned and squinted. “Sounds like a blast. I didn’t know you were kinky.”

“You sick fuck.” I shook with anger as my fists clenched tightly. I wanted to kick him, hit him the way I saw Gian hit those guys. I wanted Sturt to hurt like they hurt, like I knew Gian hurt, though he wouldn’t admit it. I wanted to break Stuart’s nose, his ribs, and kill him.

God, I wanted to kill him.

“I’m going to keep coming for you, Ash,” he said, as if he were making a comment about the weather. “So long as you stay with that gangster asshole, I’m going to keep coming. The Healy family is shockingly accommodating, so long as you have money. And I do have a lot of money, don’t I?” He laughed and slipped his sunglasses back on.

“Good luck with that,” I said. “Gian’s going to kill you.”

“Darling, I want him to try.”

He stayed sitting as I walked away. I kept my eyes on the ground in front of me and was breathing hard by the time I left the park. Gian joined me when I moved past the tall, black fence, and onto the main sidewalk again. He put an arm around my waist and steered me away from the park, across the street, and into an alley next to a large apartment complex.

“How’d that go?” he asked. “I assume great, based on the way you’re glaring at me.”

“I hate him,” I snapped. “He says he sent the guys as a joke.”

“I guess that sounds about right,” Gian said and ran a hand through his hair. “What else did he say?”

“That he’d keeping coming. He’s working with the Healy family. He’s giving them money.” I felt dizzy and moved away from Gian. I leaned against the wall, breathing hard. Sweat trickled down my back and I thought I might be having a panic attack.

Gian stood next to me and rubbed slow circles along my shoulders. “You’ll be okay,” he said softly.

“No, I won’t.” I looked at him, desperate and scared. “You don’t understand. Stuart’s family has more money than a small country. They have connections. And Stuart’s a psycho. He’s not going to stop.”

“I’ll handle him,” Gian said, glancing back toward the park. “Let’s get you home for now.”

“You don’t get it.” I stepped right up to him and grabbed his shirt. He frowned at me, head tilted, but I pushed forward. “Stuart’s going to try to kill you and take me. He’s not going to stop, Gian.”

He gently took my hands off his shirt then pulled me close against his body. I gasped softly at the feeling of his well-defined chest and hard core muscles, and tilted my chin up toward him, my mouth falling open. I was scared and angry and desperate—and I felt that crazy, wild rush in my chest as he stared down into my eyes with those gorgeous long lashes and that perfect square jaw.

“I won’t let him anywhere near you, Ash,” he said. “I swear it. You’re safe with me.”

I wanted to believe him. But then I thought of that gun in his hand, and I wondered if I’d ever be safe again.

“Let’s go back,” I finally managed to say, and extracted myself from his arms. “We’ll figure out what to do. I’m just exhausted right now.”

He said nothing as we headed back to his truck. I sat in the passenger side and stared out the window, wondering how long I’d survive and what was going to get me first, my baby’s father, or the man I was supposed to marry, or the war that threatened to swallow them all.

12

Gian

I couldn’t leave Ash alone in the house, not after the