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

The lights flashed on. Stuart stood next to the bed with a gun in his hand. I threw myself sideways and bashed against the wall as he pulled the trigger. It sounded like an explosion, and Stuart let out a shocked scream.

Gian returned fire. I dropped to the floor, hands over my head, and stared as Stuart took a bullet to the leg. He groaned and staggered, and the gun fell from his hands. It was a small pistol, silver with gold inlays. Even the man’s home defense weapon looked like it was trying too hard to be fancy.

Gian walked over and kicked the gun away from his reach. Stuart wore a flannel pajama set with his initials embroidered on the chest. Blood spouted from a wound as he writhed and moaned, hands pressing against the red-bubbling hole.

I slowly got to my knees, then stood and walked to join Gian.

“Oh, god,” Stuart said, groaning. “You shot me. You stupid fuck, you shot me. What the hell are you doing here?”

“What the hell are you doing, shooting first?” Gian asked, sounding genuinely surprised.

“I heard someone downstairs,” Stuart said. “Oh, fuck. I’m bleeding a lot. I need a hospital.” His eyes were wild with fright as they stared into mine. “Please, Ashleigh. I need help.”

I looked at Gian and he looked at me. His eyebrows raised slowly, like he wanted to know if we should show him mercy.

“We’ve come too far,” I said softly, and kicked Stuart in the injured leg as hard as I could.

Maybe it was petty. He was already suffering and I didn’t need to make that worse.

But god, it felt good. He gasped in shock and let out a low animalistic whine as he curled in around himself like a creature hiding in its shell.

“What are you doing?” he sobbed. “Oh, god, please. I need a hospital. Please.”

“You tried to kill us,” I said, crouching down. I reached out and grabbed his hair and pulled, and marveled at how easily he bent to my will. I was afraid of this man for so long, afraid that he’d break me and hurt me and abuse me until my dying day, and now I saw how pathetic he was, how empty and vain and worthless. He was like that gun on the floor, a lot of noise, but no substance.

Nothing worthwhile inside.

“No, I didn’t,” Stuart sobbed. “I swear, Ashleigh, I never.”

“You hired those Healy men,” I said. “You sent them to gun us down. When that didn’t work, you had them try to kidnap me. You made that all happen, and now we’re going to make sure you never do it again.”

“No,” he gasped. “Please.”

I released his hair and stood. “Say you’re sorry,” I said.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, staring up at me.

I looked at Gian and put a hand on his shoulder. “Do it,” I said.

“Ash, please—”

Gian pulled the trigger. Stuart’s head snapped to the side and he fell limp as blood pooled and oozed around him, sinking into the floorboards, sliding under the bed.

I stared at Stuart’s dead body and wanted to feel something, anything, other than the insane and sudden elation that came over me like a sickness. I wanted to feel sadness or anger or repulsion, but instead I only smiled, and felt a flood of relief.

Gian turned and took me into his arms and kissed me as the blood flowed.

We broke off the kiss and he took my hand. “Come on,” he said, and walked to the dresser. He ripped out the drawer and threw the clothes onto the floor. “Make it look like a home invasion.”

I understood and together we fell into a frenzy. We tore the room apart, threw things on the floor, smashed a TV, ripped his clothes, broke his pictures, shattered his mirrors. I stole cash and rings and watches. Gian moved on to the other room, a wave of destruction, until we meet in the hall and held hands on the way down the steps. We left through the back door and got back into his truck.

He started the engine, but didn’t leave right away. “How do you feel?” he asked, looking at me closely.

I decided not to lie. “I feel good,” I said. “I feel like I’m free for the first time in my life.”

He leaned toward me and pulled my hair toward him. I kissed him in a wild rush of emotions, in a crazy, dizzy wave of lust and need. When he broke it off, he stared into my eyes.

“I love you, Ash,” he said. “You’re the most fucked-up girl I’ve ever met, and you’re perfect.”

“I love you too,” I said, grinning at him, a lump in my throat and a stone in my gut.

I had a future now. For so long, everything felt like it was happening to me, and I was simply drifting through my days. Decisions were made for me and I chose to drift past my own life, smiling sadly as it wafted away.

But now I had agency. I made choices, and I suffered the consequences. I didn’t have my family to protect me anymore, and I didn’t have them to control me, either.

I was with Gian. I found love.

And soon, I’d have a baby.

“Come on,” I said. “Take me home. I’m exhausted. Too many late nights.”

“Better get used to it,” he said, pulling away from the curb. “That baby’s coming soon.”

I laughed and stared out the window as the rich houses flitted by and we angled back toward the city and home.

22

Ash

Two Years Later

“Danny, hold on.” I hurried to scoop baby Danny up into my arms before he could grab my water glass from the coffee table. He laughed and banged his hands against my chest. “Okay, buddy, don’t hit.” I put him back down and he teetered off, his chubby little legs kicking up behind him and his arms still stiff down at his side like Frankenstein.

For a long time, I