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

He kissed me hard, deep and probing, and I returned that kiss with a shocking hunger.

I didn’t know when something shifted in me, but I wasn’t the same girl I’d been before my father’s death. I was different, altered, grownup. The world wasn’t clear anymore—it was clouded over and stained by violence and death and fear. But through it all, I kept seeing something in Ewan, something maybe not pure, maybe not good, but righteous and solid. He knew what he was and what he wanted, and even if the world didn’t live up to his expectations, he still pressed forward.

I wanted to be like that, and I thought maybe taking what I wanted was the first step toward being more myself. I could keep on trying to deny my attraction to Ewan all I wanted, but it was so clear that I couldn’t hide from it, not really. I knew it was wrong, that it was fucked up to want to be with the man that murdered my father, and at least I understood why he did it, and almost was glad it happened. My father was a monster, and he deserved to die.

I wanted to live though, and Ewan was the only way I really, truly felt alive.

“All right then,” he said softly, breaking off the kiss, his hand still twined through my hair. “I’ll have to get a ring.”

“How much money do you make, anyway?” I asked. “Three months’ salary doesn’t mean all that much in this situation.”

“Don’t worry,” he said, and kissed my lips softly. “You’ll be taken care of.”

I believed him.

He released my hair and I sat back against the seat, buzzing. He watched me carefully before putting the car in drive.

“I won’t rush you into this,” he said as he rolled away from Colm’s house, back toward the city. “When you’re ready, we’ll make plans.”

I nodded, and leaned toward him, and put my hand on his leg as he drove, and for the first time in a long time, I suddenly felt like I had a reason to keep going.

19

Ewan

When I was young, I told myself I’d never get married.

I saw what life was like for my father and my mother. They weren’t married, but their relationship was twisted and broken from the start. I thought any relationship would end up like that, and I should avoid them all to avoid getting hurt. I thought I could keep myself aloof from the rest of the world.

Until Tara came into my life. And now suddenly I wanted a wife, wanted to make her my bride. I wanted to make it real.

The Don’s house was quiet as I parked out front. It was a bright afternoon and birdsong rang from the trees lining the long driveway. Tara didn’t move as I took off my seatbelt, and she stared up at the front door, frowning a little bit. She wore a white sweater and tight black jeans, and her hair seemed to glow in the sunlight. I didn’t know how I got so lucky, to be so close to a woman like her.

“What’s the matter?” I asked.

“I’m worried about what he’ll say,” she admitted.

“He wants us to get married, remember?” I reached out and took her hand. The ring glittered on her finger. It cost more than the car, and she tried to give it back, insisted it was too much, but she had no clue that I had more money than I knew what to do with from years and years of hard service.

“I know, but he also wants something from me that I can’t give him.” She shook her head, hair spilling all over her shoulders. “I’m just worried, is all.”

“Don’t be.” I squeezed her hand. “I got you.”

She smiled a little, nodded once, and I kissed her. We got out and headed up to the door, which was opened by Bea as soon as I stepped up onto the porch like she’d been waiting by the window—which she probably was.

“How’s he doing?” I asked her quietly as we stepped into the front hall.

“Well enough,” she said with a sigh. “Dean’s been hovering around him since he got home, but otherwise I think being back is good.”

“I’m sure it is,” I said. “Has he been working?”

“Oh, you know, he’s always working.” She smiled slightly as she led the way toward the back study. “But I do my best to keep it to a minimum.”

I glanced back at Tara and smirked slightly, raising my eyebrows. I wasn’t sure if she caught that, but Bea more or less admitted to doing some work for the Don, or at least to managing things without him. I always knew the old bat was deeply involved in the family’s affairs, but never could prove it. Tara didn’t seem to understand though, and only gave me a weird look in return.

Bea took us to the same office as last time, and left us standing outside the door. I knocked once then stepped inside, and found the Don sitting in the same spot behind his desk, this time propped up with pillows, and looked notably worse for wear.

His face was gaunt and sunken, ad his eyes looked tired. He wore a simple button-down shirt, and I could see bandages beneath. Dean hovered next to him, and both men looked over as I stood in front of the desk with Tara at my side.

“Hello, Ewan,” Don Valentino said and managed to smile. Dean stayed next to his father and leaned up against the bookshelf behind him.

“Don,” I said. “I’m glad you’re home and feeling better.”

“Hard to take me out,” the Don said. “I have some years left, you see.”

“I hope you have many,” I said, and glanced back at Tara. She looked nervous, and shifted foot to foot. “We came with news.”

“About Colm?” Dean asked, sounding eager.

I glanced at him. “About that, too.”

“Start with Colm,” the Don said.

I nodded and took a breath, steadying myself. I wanted to talk about the marriage