Falling for the Killer: A Dark Possessive Mafia Romance by B.B Hamel (simple ebook reader TXT) 📕

Everything was quiet. Not a single car in sight. “His father was a drunk.”

“Still taught me,” Stefano said.

“I wish I had real skills like that,” Ash said. “Maybe you can teach me.”

I groaned. “Don’t give him the chance. He’ll never shut up about it.”

“The boss is jealous of my touch,” Stefano said and I heard him jingling the picks around. “He’s too clumsy, you know? Smart as anyone, I’ll tell you what, but Gian’s more about the big picture, and not so much about—”

The lock clicked open and Stefano sucked his teeth.

“Ready?” I asked, looking back at the group.

Stefano nodded and pushed the door open, gesturing into the dark foyer.

“Ladies first,” Tomaso said.

Ash sucked in a breath then stepped inside. Tomaso followed, grinning and cracking his knuckles, and Stefano went next. I lingered on the stoop, looking at the street, at the sidewalk, scanning the nearby windows for some old lady up late staring down, but there was nothing.

All silent, all good.

I went in after them and shut the door behind me.

The short hallway ended in a small, comfortable lobby. Tomaso went behind the secretary’s desk and began rifling through it. He threw papers on the floor and smashed her keyboard in the desk. “I’ll take care of this,” he said.

I walked past the desk and down a short hall. Offices lined either side. Stefano ducked into the first one and began to systematically destroy it: every paper, every book, every stick of furniture ripped out and broken.

I caught up with Ash and draped an arm across her shoulder. She flinched a little and looked up at me, her eyes wide with fear and excitement. I liked that excitement—it was a fucking turn-on. I felt a tinge of that adrenaline rush through me as we reached the last door at the end of the hall and read Stuart’s name on the gold plaque tacked in the middle.

“Be my guest,” I said, gesturing.

“What a gentleman,” Ash said, and opened Stuart’s office door.

Inside was the biggest room yet. Large bookshelves flanked a massive desk carved with pillars and snaking vines along the top. A small sitting area to the left had several couches and comfortable chairs, along with expensive-looking bottles of alcohol neatly lined up on a serving table. The whole room looked immaculate, like Stuart didn’t like disorder, and it brought a massive smile to my face.

I walked over to the alcohol, weighed a bottle of whiskey in my hand, and cracked it open. I took a long drink then threw it as hard as I could at the wall. It smashed into tiny pieces, the glass ricocheting all around, and Ash let out a shocked yelp before covering her mouth with both hands.

I grinned at her. “Go ahead, princess,” I said, as the sounds of smashing drifted in from down the hall. Stefano and Tomaso loved their jobs.

She walked over to the desk and tentatively picked up the monitor. “Are you sure about this?” she asked.

I picked up another bottle: fancy gin. The guy was such a goddamn cliché. I took a long pull, then smashed it. “I’m sure,” I said. “We need to send him a message.”

Ash raised the monitor up over her head then smashed it down. The screen popped and broke against the carpet and she laughed with shocked glee. “Holy shit,” she said. “That felt good.”

I picked up a bottle of vodka and gestured with it. “Go nuts,” I said. “Make sure nothing’s left standing.”

“You really think this’ll scare him?” she asked.

“Maybe not scare him,” I said. “But it’ll send the right message.”

“Which is what?” She walked around to the back of the desk and started ripping the drawers open. She threw pens, papers, folders, financial documents, an old calculator, a wad of condoms, several small alcohol bottles, tape, pocket knives, a screwdriver, a remote control, decks of cards, wireless computer mice, and more miscellaneous junk onto the floor. She stomped on what could be stomped, smashing it all into a pile.

I leaned over the desk toward her then brushed everything on top onto the floor. Books and pictures and small horse statues scattered along the rug.

“That we can come for him,” I said. “That his office isn’t safe. His house isn’t safe. His money doesn’t make him invincible.”

“I like that message,” she said, and turned to the bookshelves. She ripped things down, broke more pictures, tore pages from books, and threw everything onto the pile.

She beamed as she did it. She glowed like an angel, a huge smile on her lips, clearly loving every second as she ripped through the room, a whirlwind of mayhem, a destroying beast. I took another bottle of alcohol, this time scotch, and leaned against the wall sipping and watching her go to down. She was sweating from the work as she stomped, smashed, and ruined everything in sight, and laughed to herself as she did it.

After a few more minutes, there wasn’t as much to throw onto the floor. The formerly pristine office was a miasma of glass and paper. Ash stepped over the wreckage gingerly and came toward me, a sheen on her forehead, her eyes glistening. In the other room, Stefano hooted. Probably found some cash.

“How’d I do?” she asked, stopping right in front of me. She grabbed the bottle of scotch and took a hit.

I tilted my head and looked down at her—long legs in dark jeans, tight black tank top, hair up in a messy bun. She grinned back at me, a little uncertain, and I reached out unable to help myself.

I pulled her against me. She let out a soft gasp, pressed her hands on my chest—but didn’t fight me. I held her hips, feeling her body against mine, a pulse in my throat, my cock half-hard thinking about fucking her right there on the desk, leave another little gift for Stuart, but knew we didn’t have time for that, and besides, she was a lady.

I kissed her neck. “You’re perfect,” I said.

“You just