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

wildfire, like lightning striking the ground all around us. I pinned her to the concrete and covered her as the bullets sprayed. I growled in pain as one hit me in the shoulder, and shrapnel pinged off the wall nearby. Ash screamed below me, but I knew she was okay— she had to be okay— when the door to Maud’s bar burst open, and the old lady appeared with a shotgun in her hands.

She blasted the SUV twice. Huge dents appeared in its side as she screamed incoherently. The gunshots ceased and the SUV peeled off as it drove away, flying wildly down the street.

I rolled to the side, sucked in short breaths of air, then grabbed at Ash. “Aer you okay?” I asked.

She sat up, staring around her like she didn’t know where she was—but there was no blood. “I think I’m fine,” she said. “I can’t hear anything.”

“Ah, shit,” Maud said, kneeling down next to me. “You’re hit. Don’t move.”

I touched my shoulder and gasped in pain. The bullet went clean through and it felt like my arm might fall off. It tingled, numb and worthless, and I struggled to my feet.

“What are you doing?” Ash asked. “Gian, don’t move.”

I took a few staggering steps toward the street, my other hand over the wound. I looked back at the bar and realized that we’d fallen back into the short vestibule that led to the doorway. If I hadn’t reacted so fast, or if Maud hadn’t come out with her shotgun, we would’ve been dead.

As it was, we got lucky. I got lucky.

That fucking bastard Stuart.

“I’m calling an ambulance,” Maud said.

“No,” I said. “Call Stefano. We have a doctor.”

Maud glared at me, but went back inside. Ash came to me and ducked under my arm, letting me lean some of my weight against her.

“Sit down,” she said. “Goddamn it, Gian, you’re hurt.”

I didn’t move. “Stuart,” I said.

She sucked in a breath. “You can’t be sure.”

“Stuart,” I said again. “He’s gone too far now.”

“Gian,” she whispered. “What are you going to do?”

“Hurt him,” I said, then let her lead me back inside the bar, where she used an old rag to stem the bleeding wound until Stefano could show up with the doctor.

13

Ash

Gian stood by the back window in the kitchen staring out toward his small yard and the fence beyond. He drank a whiskey and looked like he wanted to rip his house into pieces.

The doctor was a heavyset young guy in jeans and a Metallica t-shirt. He stitched Gian up like it was nothing. I could barely watch, and Gian took the whole thing with surprising grace, like it was no big deal that he got shot.

“Doctor said you were lucky,” I said, leaning against a counter. “Since it went through, you’ll probably heal fine.”

“Lucky,” Gian repeated. “I don’t like luck.”

I nodded a little and stared down at my feet. “What are we going to do?”

Gian turned to face me. His shoulder was bandaged, but he could move his arm. He didn’t wear a shirt, and I let my eyes move down his muscular chest, down to the cut of his abs that led down into his jeans. I looked up and met his eyes again, and chewed on my lip.

He saved my life. He threw himself on top of me and tackled us both into a little corner. If it weren’t for him reacting so fast, we would’ve both ended up dead.

“That shouldn’t have happened,” he said, coming toward me. I didn’t move. I stayed there, pinned up against the kitchen counter. “They never should’ve gotten that close to me.”

“But who were they?” I asked.

“Men Stuart hired,” he said, “or maybe men from the Healy family. It doesn’t matter though, does it? They tried to kill us, and they almost succeeded. We got lucky, and I don’t like luck.”

I shook my head and he stopped inches away from me, eyes burning down into mine. I felt exhausted, disheveled and scared, so scared, and yet my body pulsed when he came so near.

He saved my life. He saved me, and I kept thinking about that. He covered my body with his own, and was completely prepared to die for me. He didn’t even hesitate to act as a human shield.

This man wanted to keep me alive so badly, but I didn’t understand why. I didn’t know why he’d want a baby, or why he’d want me, a woman that didn’t know the first thing about his world or his business. I was scared, so scared I could barely breathe—and yet I reached out and touched his chest, right at the edge of the bandages.

He tilted his head.

“They’re going to keep coming,” I said softly.

“So I’ll have to go on the offensive.” He reached out and tilted my chin up, making me look into his eyes. “I won’t bring you into danger like that again. From now on, we’ll have more guys around.”

“I don’t want more guys around,” I whispered. “I want you.”

“Are you sure about that?” he asked, coming close, so deliciously close, his lips brushing against mine then across my cheek, back to my ear. “You stay alone with me for much longer, and I don’t think I’ll be able to control myself.”

“Then don’t,” I said.

He gripped my hair and kissed me.

I groaned into that kiss and pressed myself against him. He gasped slightly in pain as I moved against his shoulder, but when I tried to pull away in surprise, he pinned my wrist down against the counter and kissed me again. He bit my lip and his tongue slid against mine, his taste in my mouth, his body hard against my own, and I moaned into that moment.

He tugged at my tank top and got it off. The yoga pants came next, and I shimmied out of them while he watched, his eyes burning. I felt my cheeks turn red as his hands moved up my hips then gripped my ass, and he