Kissing the Killer: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (Barone Crime Family) (3 page)

I
was
in that closet for an hour before I finally heard the apartment door open. I slowly stood up, weakness, exhaustion, and anger all warring inside me.

I heard footsteps come toward me. “You awake?” he asked.

I didn’t answer. I just got myself ready.

“Hey,” he said, “listen to me. Are you awake?”

My whole body felt tensed.

“Shit,” he said, and I heard him unlock the door.

He opened it up, and I threw myself at him.

It was like running right into a brick wall. He grabbed my wrists, holding them back as I tried to punch and kick him.

“Fuck, girl,” he grunted, pushing me over toward a couch. “Stop it, god damn it.”

“Fuck you,” I yelled and kept struggling.

He was strong, so damn strong, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t going to be his fucking toy to play with. He wasn’t going to use me up and then throw me aside when he was done with me.

He dragged me over to the couch and then pressed me down onto it, pinning me down with his overwhelming size and strength. I kept struggling, trying to get away, but he just grinned at me and held me there.

Finally, I felt myself getting tired. I wanted to fight more, but it was no use. He was just too strong and could hold me down so easily.

“You done?” he asked as I slowly gave up.

“Fuck you,” I said, looking into his deep green eyes.

He couldn’t help but smirk at me. “I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you, girl?”

“Never. You’ll never have me.”

He laughed. “Fine by me.”

“What?”

“I’m not going to force you into anything,” he said. “Do you understand me? I’m not here to do anything you don’t want.”

“Then why the fuck did you take me?”

He stared at me for a second, like he was seriously considering the question.

“If I let you go, are you going to come at me again?”

I frowned. “Probably.”

“Look, I don’t feel like doing this all night. How about this. We’ll talk, you won’t try to scratch out my fucking eyes, and if you don’t like what I have to say, then I’ll let you walk.”

I blinked at him. “You’ll let me leave?”

“You’re not going to want to, but I will.”

“Fine. Let me go and open that door.”

He moved back, releasing me.

“First, what’s your name?”

I sat up, rubbing my wrists. “Emma.”

“Emma, I’m Brooks.”

“Talk fast, Brooks. As far as I’m concerned, you’re a murderer and a kidnapper.”

He clenched his jaw. “Did you want to die back there?”

“No.”

“Okay. The only way for me to save you once my partner saw you was to bring you home like this.”

“Should I thank you?”

“Maybe,” he said, smirking, “but I’m guessing you won’t.”

“No, Brooks, I won’t. I’ve been around men like you my whole life. You only want one thing from me.”

He raised his eyebrow. “What’s that?”

“You want to take from me. Whether that’s money or my body or whatever, you want to take it.”

I watched his expressive eyes take me in slowly, raking down along my skin. I felt exposed sitting there in nothing but my panties and my T-shirt, but I wasn’t giving in.

“If I get you clothes, are you going to run?”

“Yes,” I said honestly.

“Thanks.” He grabbed me by the arms again and hauled me up off the couch after him. I struggled a bit, but that didn’t help. He pulled me after him and pushed me into his bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

I should have felt afraid in that moment. I’d never been with a man before, never actually had sex. I’d been sexual, kissed boys, touched them, but I’d never had sex. It just never felt right; I’d never found a guy who wanted to be with me for me, and not just to control me.

It was funny. All those years and my father was convinced that I was some whorish tramp, but that was so far from the truth. Now, standing in front of Brooks, I felt incredibly exposed and naïve, like I knew nothing.

This man was a killer. He had experience and knew how to do things I could only guess at. And I couldn’t stop fighting him like the idiot I was.

He opened a drawer and my heart started hammering. I didn’t know what it would feel like, if I should scream or try to run. I flinched as he pulled something from the dresser.

“Here,” he said, tossing it at me. It was a pair of black sweatpants and a gray hoodie. “It’ll be big, but it’s probably better than what you have on.”

I stared at the clothes and then back at him. “Thanks,” I said.

“Don’t mention it.”

“You going to leave, or am I getting changed in front of you?”

He grinned. “I was hoping you’d just take off your clothes, but you can have some privacy.” He turned his back to me.

Was he flirting with me? I shook my head, totally unsure. This guy had kidnapped me, and now he was turning his back while I put on clothes.

I quickly yanked the sweatpants on, cinching the tie as tight as it would go. I pulled the sweatshirt on over my head.

“Okay,” I said.

He turned back at me and frowned. “I liked you better without the clothes on.”

“I bet you did.” I sat down on his bed and crossed my legs. “You said you wanted to talk, so talk.”

“In my line of work, we’re allowed to take home a little something extra from time to time. Usually it’s in the form of a woman. Men like me use her up and then kill her when they’re done with her.”

“Is that what you’re going to do to me?”

“No,” he said, “I’m not. But I’m supposed to. See, you can’t walk away from this apartment. If someone spots you, we’re both dead. Not only will my people come after you, but the Russians will want your head as well. They aren’t too happy about your dad double-dealing on them.”

“So let me leave town,” I said.

“That’s one solution, but do you know how many guys the Italians and the Russians have all over this country?”

I shook my head, genuinely ignorant. I’d never been outside Chicago, let alone in another state.

“A lot,” he said. “A lot more than you think. Besides, I need to present your dead body as proof to my boss that I killed you.”

“That’s disgusting.”

“Yeah,” he said, nodding, “it is. But I don’t hurt women. It’s just not my thing.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re a killer and you don’t hurt women?”

“I’ll kill men whenever and however my bosses want me to, and I love to fuck a wet, willing pussy, but I don’t hurt them.”

I couldn’t help but shake my head. “Mister Hit Man with a conscience. How noble.”

He sighed. “You don’t get it, do you? I’m supposed to kill you soon, and I very much don’t want to do that. I also can’t let you leave, because that’ll only make things worse.”

“So you want me to, what, hang around here until you eventually decide you have to kill me to save yourself?” I stood up. “No, thanks.”

He stared at me with that intense gaze again, his green eyes flashing and expressive. “That isn’t going to happen,” he said firmly. “I’m not going to kill you, Emma.”

“Why should I believe you?”

“Because you don’t have another choice.”

“You said you’d let me leave.”

“I will. But if you leave, we’re both dead.”

I sighed and sat back down, frustrated. “I don’t get you. What kind of killer are you?”

He grinned at me. “A pretty fucked-up one.”

I watched as he turned and left the bedroom. “Where are you going?” I called out.

“Sleep,” he said. “You can have the bed.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“I kid you not,” he said, and he stripped his shirt off. I couldn’t help but gape at his strong chest covered in tattoos, at the ripped muscles corded along his length. I felt my heart beat hard in my chest, and my pussy was dripping wet.

I’d never experienced this sort of reaction to a man before in my life, but Brooks was unlike anyone I’d ever met. His confidence, his intensity, and, damn it, his body all made me so incredible intrigued.

“Got something to say?” he asked, grinning.

I stuttered, clearly caught staring. “You’re not great at this kidnapping thing.”

“We’re in this together now, Emma,” he said. “Like it or not, we have to figure this shit out together.”

“Why are you doing this?” I asked again.

He just shrugged. “Good night. If you get lonely, come join me out here.” He smirked and then lay down on the couch.

I retreated back into his bedroom, shutting the door behind me. I got into his unfamiliar bed, my head spinning, totally unsure about what was going on.

He could have killed me at any moment, but he didn’t. He could have taken me any time he wanted, but he put clothes on my back instead. He could have kept me locked in that closet, but instead he was letting me sleep in his own bed.

Brooks was a killer. He’d murdered my father and countless other men. But he was being kind to me, even if he was a little cocky.

I didn’t know what I was feeling. I couldn’t decide if he was lying to me or if he was telling the truth. Part of me believed him, and I knew that a lot of what he was saying was pretty logical.

Still, I’d promised myself that I’d never let myself get owned by another man. I’d spent too long acting as a slave for my father.

I had to get away. Even if Brooks was telling the truth, I had to run. I’d rather take a chance and die out on my own, a free woman, than let him control me.

I
n my dream
, my mother was alive. I was a kid again, and she was smiling down at me. She took me by the hand and led me outside, into the park.

As we walked toward the jungle gym, she talked. I couldn’t understand her, but she sounded happy. Slowly though, her face began to morph. The skin around her face became bruised and beaten, black and blue, old and decaying.

I woke up with a start just as my mother turned into a skeleton before my eyes.

My apartment was empty and quiet. I was on the couch and the early morning sun was streaming in through the window. I’d gotten maybe three or four hours of sleep at most, and I probably wasn’t getting much more tonight.

I sat back and sighed. I had a small television set up against the wall, a coffee table, a little kitchen table, and that was about it. The place felt bare because it was. I spent most of my time out on jobs, at clubs, and occasionally at the Barone mansion. I just didn’t have time to decorate or any of that shit.

As I scanned the room, I felt like something was off. Something was wrong. I slowly got off the couch and walked toward the bedroom door. I eased it open gently and peered inside.

The bed was empty.

“Shit,” I said.

I went through the whole place, which took about thirty seconds. Emma was gone, absolutely gone.

I quickly got dressed and slipped my gun into my jeans. I had to find her before anyone else did, or else she was dead and I wasn’t too far behind her.

Damn girl. She was a lot more difficult than I had imagined. Strong willed and with a big fucking temper to boot. I never would have guessed that she was going to come at me like she did. She was like a fucking wild animal when I let her out of the closet, a beautiful fucking wild animal.

I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted to see her strip. The girl had a body like nothing I’d ever seen before, and my cock was hard just thinking about her. Those lips and that fierce expression on her face, angry and resentful, hatred etched across her eyes, it just made me more fucking excited.

I wanted to slide my thick cock between her legs, feel that dripping pussy. I was willing to bet I could tame her wild streak with my fingers and my tongue, get her begging for my big cock to make her come again and again.

But I could worry about that another time. Right now I needed to find her.

I pushed out of my apartment and hit the stairs, taking them two at a time. I had no clue when she left or where she was going, but I had to try to find her.

I stopped in my tracks as I got to the bottom of the stairs. Emma was curled in the corner next to the front door of the apartment building. I walked toward her cautiously until I realized that she was fast asleep.

Did she get down here and forget how to use a door? It wasn’t locked, so she could have easily just opened it and left.

“Emma,” I said, standing over her.

She didn’t stir.

“Emma,” I said again, more loudly, and nudged her with my toe.

She jolted awake, sitting up and looking around wildly.

“It’s okay,” I said. “You’re safe.”

She stared up at me defiantly for a second before looking down at the ground. “I wanted to leave,” she said.

“Door’s right there.”

“I don’t have money, or anywhere to go.” She looked back up at me. “I’ve never been out of Chicago.”

I frowned. “Really?”

She nodded and sighed. “Dad never let me. Plus, I don’t know anybody outside the city.”

“Come on,” I said, holding my hand out to her. “Let’s get some breakfast.”

She stared up at me with those fucking beautiful eyes. “You don’t own me,” she said. “Just because I didn’t run away doesn’t mean you own me.”

“Okay,” I said. “How about we have this discussion somewhere less public?”

She pushed herself up from the floor, ignoring my outstretched hand. She looked even smaller in the daylight, her thick figure, full ass, and perfect tits still gorgeous even covered by my oversized clothes.

“Lead the way, killer,” she said.

I laughed and climbed the steps. I heard her following close behind.

Once we were in the apartment, I shut the door and locked it. “Sit,” I said, nodding at the kitchen table.

She sat down. “Dismal place,” she said. “I didn’t notice last night, but did you just move in or something?”

I laughed. “Nah. Been here for a while.”

“Why’s it so empty?”

“I don’t spend much time in here.” I went into the kitchen and began to root around for some food. “You’re probably used to that disgusting mess your dad made in your old house.”

“I hated that,” she said, “but he just kept bringing shit home. I couldn’t stop it, so I mostly stayed in my own room when I was home.”

“How does someone get like that?”

She was silent for a minute as I put some coffee on and then began making eggs. It was pretty much all I had, anyway. I was going to have to get some more food if Emma was going to stay here.

“Happened slowly,” she said. “After my mom died, he just fell apart.”

“Sounds like what happened with my mom,” I commented, not thinking about it, “except my dad ran out on her, and she decided a slow suicide by drinking was the way to go.”

“My mom died from cigarettes.”

“Looks like we have a lot in common, a tragic fucking past and a fucked-up present.”

“At least you’re not a prisoner.”

I grinned at her. “Do prisoners get fucking eggs cooked for them plus free coffee?”

“Yeah,” she said. “They feed you in prison.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, this will be better than prison food.”

“I doubt it.”

She dropped back into a sullen silence, and I couldn’t help but glance at her as I cooked. She was looking out the window, a frown on her face. I couldn’t blame the girl for being upset, what with everything going down the fucking way it did.

I finished cooking, poured two mugs of coffee, and sat down across from her, putting the plates down. “Dig in,” I said.

She picked at the eggs, but she drank the coffee.

“What do we do from here?” she asked finally.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, aren’t you supposed to show them my corpse or something?”

I nodded. “Yeah, I am.”

“Seeing as how you say you won’t kill me, that sounds like a problem.”

“We have time,” I said.

“How long?”

I shrugged. “A few days.”

“Not much time.”

“I’ll work it out. Trust me, girl, I’ve been in worse situations.”

“Have you?” She leaned back in her chair. “I haven’t. Actually, this is the most fucked-up situation I’ve ever been in.”

“Fair point.” I sipped my coffee. “You always this pissed off?”

“Only when I’m stuck eating breakfast with my father’s killer.”

“Don’t act like you miss that abusive fucking bastard.”

“I don’t,” she said. “If I could walk away from this right now, I’d thank you. Unfortunately, I’m stuck with you.”

“I saw the way you looked at me,” I said, smirking at her. “Last night when I took my shirt off. It’s not so bad, being stuck with me.”

“You cocky asshole.”

“Step down off your pedestal, girl. I saved your damn life, and I’m trying to figure out a way to keep us both alive.”

She was silent for a second, chewing her lip. Finally, she sighed and seemed to relax. “Okay,” she said. “I get it. You saved my life.”

“I didn’t put you in that house. I just didn’t pull the fucking trigger like I was supposed to.”

“I’m not going to thank you.”

“I’m not asking you to. Just quit looking at me like you want to stab a knife in my throat.”

A small smile softened her hard expression. “I’m not looking at you like that.”

“Maybe not. Maybe you’d rather I sank my thick cock between those legs of yours.”

“Now you’re even further from the truth.”

I finished eating and then took my plate to the sink. I grabbed my mug of coffee and sipped it as she folded her legs underneath her.

“Look, I need to get you some clothes if you’re going to stay here.”

“That’d be nice,” she said, “so I don’t have to wear your ratty stuff.”

I ignored that. “Make a list of what you want. I’ll go to your house once and only once, so don’t forget anything. And only stuff I can carry in one trip.”

“Any other rules?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I prefer thongs. I love to see that ass move when I slap it.”

“Got it. I’ll leave the thongs behind.”

I grinned at her. “Go make your list. I’ll leave soon. I want to get there and get back before people realize your dad is dead.”

“Fine.” She stood up. “Pen and paper?”

“In my bedroom on the bureau.”

She disappeared and I heard the bedroom door shut.

My fucking cock was rock hard as I stood there. She was so angry, so fucking gorgeous, and it only made me that much more into it. I was making her smile, making her laugh a little bit, and she was warming up to me.

She’d figure out that I just meant to save her life eventually. She had to. Otherwise it was going to be pretty fucking hard keeping us both alive.

I had to take this shit one step at a time. Get her clothes first, and then maybe I could get her out of them.