The Killer's New Wife by Hamel, B. (different e readers .TXT) 📕

had dark hair and blue eyes, pale skin, wore jeans and a black long-sleeve t-shirt. I didn’t recognize him, and didn’t take the time to try to rummage through my memory. I slammed my fist into his face once, then twice, and I felt his nose crack. He groaned, and tried to shove me off, but I kneed him hard in the mouth. I grabbed his hair and pulled him to the toilet, and he tried to struggle, but I slammed his head against the wall twice until blood smeared along the stall.

Tara said something, but I didn’t hear. I shoved his face into the water of the toilet and held him there. He struggled like a motherfucker, but I knelt on his legs and used all my weight. I was bigger than him, stronger than him, and he hurt Tara, he touched my Tara, this motherfucker. He went for her in the women’s room like some goddamn creep, and was trying to pull her through the window.

“Ewan,” Tara gasped at my shoulder, her hand on my arm. I kept holding the bastard in the toilet, and he struggled wildly, dying, running out of air in some disgusting piss-filled water, and I didn’t give a fuck, didn’t care about anything but making sure this man never, ever came after Tara again.

She tried to pull me back but I shrugged her off. His struggling became weaker and weaker as he tried to shove his fingers into my eyes. I leaned back as his hand smacked at my cheek, getting weaker and weaker, until it slowly slid down, and his body went still.

I held him there a little bit longer. I had to be sure he was dead.

Tara’s sob finally made me let him go.

I stood up, drenched in blood and toilet water. I was breathing hard and hadn’t realized. The guy’s body stayed there, limp and motionless. He couldn’t have been older than twenty, I guessed.

“You killed him,” Tara said. “You killed him. Oh my god, you killed him.”

I turned to her, jaw clenched, and advanced. She took a few steps back until she bumped up against the counter. I didn’t stop, and pinned her there, leaning my hands to either side of her.

“Are you okay?” I asked, my voice soft and calming, but I couldn’t suppress the rage that ran through me.

She looked back at me with fear in her eyes. “I’m okay,” she whispered.

Blood rolled down her cheek from a cut under her eye. Her clothes were ripped and disheveled, and her hair was a mess. “What happened?”

“What are we going to do?” she whispered. “You murdered him.”

I reached up and cupped her chin. I looked into her eyes. “What happened?” I repeated.

“I came into the bathroom,” she said, not pulling away. “I did my thing, and I was washing my hands when he came in behind me. I fought him as hard as I could, and he hit me. The mirror broke, I don’t know how, I think he pushed me into it, then he opened the window and was going to drag me through. That’s when you came in.”

“You fought him,” I said softly. “Did he talk?”

“He said he was with the Healy family.” She sucked in a breath. “He said his name was Jonathan.”

“Jonathan,” I repeated. “Forget that name. He doesn’t matter.”

“You killed him.”

My grip on her cheeks tightened. “I had to,” I said, and a growl from the back of my throat wrenched itself out. “I need you to get it together for me. Do you understand? Can you do that?”

She nodded once, still scared. I held her face and was tempted to kiss her, god damn. I wanted to bite her lower lip and finish ripping her clothes off. Lust and rage and adrenaline rushed through my body and all I could think of was having her, right here and now, like an animal in heat.

Her eyes met mine and she knew what I was thinking. She knew it, and her cheeks turned pink. My free hand moved to her ass and squeezed it tight, pulling her hips against mine. She sucked in a breath and let out a soft moan as I moved closer, her breasts pressed against my chest, her heart racing wildly.

“What are you doing?” she whispered. “You can’t do this. Not right here.”

“Tell me to stop,” I said, clenching my jaw. “And you know I’ll let you go.”

She didn’t say a word, so I kissed her.

Fuck, it was heaven. Her tongue in my mouth, my other hand moved back into her hair and gripped it. I took her, controlled her, and made her my own as we kissed. I tasted her blood as it rolled down her cheek, and I didn’t give a fuck, didn’t care about anything but her lips, and her body pressed to mine. She tasted like vodka and heaven, and she moaned into my mouth as I gripped her hair and her ass.

It took all my willpower to pull away. I left her lips swollen and her eyes blinking rapidly. I turned my back on her, half hard and on fire with need. I had to get myself together.

“Listen to me now,” I said, still not looking at her. “Get yourself together. When you’re ready, go back out into the main room. You’ll pay for our drinks at the bar, then you’ll leave.”

“What about him?” she asked, and her voice was choked.

“There are Valentino men out in the main room,” I said. “They know who I am. We’ll get this cleaned up.”

“You’re going to get rid of him? He’s got a family. He’s a person.” She took a shuddering breath. “Ewan, you killed him.”

I turned back to her then. “This is what I am,” I said, staring at her like I wanted her to see me, really see me for the monster I’ve become. “He’s dead, and we’re not, and if we want to stay out of prison, then I need you to do what I’m