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

Colm chuckled then pulled on his cigar. Smoke wafted around his face like a halo. “If that weren’t bad enough, you killed a few of my boys.”

“Only because they tried to kill me first,” I said. “And tried to kidnap Ash.”

“Ah, well, that.” Colm gestured with his cigar. “You’re quite in demand, young lady.”

“So I’m told,” she said and I could tell she was struggling to keep herself under control.

Colm had a presence. I hated to admit it but the man had a weight to him, almost an outsized glow. Being around him was like sitting at the base of a massive cliff, or at the edge of the Grand Canyon: the threat of violence or something terrible was always there, hovering in the air like fireflies, winking on and off.

“What can I do for you, Gian?” Colm asked. “I assume you didn’t come here to share a cigar, although they are quite good. Not Cuban, I’m afraid. Those are illegal.” He grinned, showing teeth.

“I want to discuss a truce,” I said. “A lasting peace.”

“Interesting.” Colm flicked his cigar. The ash dropped beside his shoes. “Why would you want that? I haven’t had much luck taking your territory. Although, let’s be honest, I haven’t tried too hard yet.”

I held his gaze for a few seconds and composed myself. I’d thought about what I’d say to that question ever since asking the Don for this meeting, and it wasn’t until this moment that I decided. I looked at Ash then and took her hand suddenly, holding it tight in both of mine. Colm’s eyebrows raised slightly, but he still said nothing.

“Ash is pregnant with my child,” I said.

Her eyes went wide with shock. I held her hands tight, trying to make her feel that I had this under control, that I was making a calculated decision. I could lie to Colm, but that wouldn’t get me what I wanted. I needed him to understand that this was about more than pride, more than the streets.

This was about family and revenge.

Two things he understood well.

“Congratulations then,” Colm said. “There’s nothing more important than a man and his children.”

“I agree,” I said. “Which is why I’m here. I want to kill Stuart Plight, and I want your help doing it.”

Ash pulled away from me. I hadn’t told her this part of the conversation because I knew how she’d react. I refused to look at her, refused to give Colm the satisfaction of seeing that little drama play out, but amusement sketched across his face as he smoked his cigar, puffing on it thoughtfully.

“That isn’t a simple request,” Colm said. “Stuart’s been quite good to the family.”

“I’m sure he has,” I said. “But I’m here to negotiate for his life.”

“And what would that get you?” Colm asked, leaning toward me. “You kill the Plight boy, and then what? You have a second rich family that hates you guts.”

It was my turn to smirk at him. I leaned in, staring into his eyes.

“I want the bastards to know that money can’t save them,” I said and let that hang in the air between us.

Colm laughed. He seemed genuinely delighted as he puffed away. “You think you kill Plight and that’ll scare the Adamson family, is that your play?”

“That’s the idea,” I said. “I want your backing on this. I know he’s involved with your family. I suspect he’s bankrolling what you’ve been up to lately.”

“You mean, trying to kill you and your pregnant girl here?” Colm shrugged and gestured with the cigar. “It’s no secret.”

“What do you want, in exchange for his life?”

“What could you possibly give me that would be worth a man’s immortal soul?” Colm’s teeth shone in the moonlight. “I’m not a religious man, Gian, but I do believe in sin. I grew up too Catholic to ignore the idea, you see. It’s been beaten into me over the years. And I do believe that when you take a man’s life, you commit a terrible sin, and a piece of you withers and dies like old fruit on the vine. Do you want that, Gian?”

I smiled and waved a hand. “Funny, coming from a man of your reputation.”

“Ah,” Colm said. “But I’ve only ever killed to defend myself. You’re talking about murder.”

“I’m talking about killing a man that won’t ever leave me and Ash alone.” I put my hand on her leg, and she didn’t pull away. Her breathing was fast and quiet, short little gasps.

Colm looked thoughtful. “I’ll help you,” he said. “I have no particular loyalty to Plight. His money’s as good as any other.”

“I can buy him out,” I said. “Whatever he’s been paying, I’ll match it. In exchange, you look away when I kill him, and we agree to a ceasefire.”

“I don’t want money,” Colm said. “I want territory.”

I clenched my jaw. Paying him off was bad enough—but ceding control of my streets was almost impossible. If I did that, I’d look terrible to my soldiers and all the other Capos in the family. There’d be hell to pay and I wasn’t sure the Don would have my back, not if I went that far.

But I had one goal, and only one goal. Everything else was a sideshow.

“Two blocks,” I said. “Right over the river. You can have two blocks north and south at the edge of the South Street bridge.”

“That’s a good spot,” Colm mused, and blew smoke into the air.

“It’s the best I’ll do,” I said, sucking the cool night air into my lungs. “I’d rather go to war than give up more.”

Colm nodded slowly. “It’s a fair offer. You give me that territory, I let you kill Stuart, and we both agree to a ceasefire.”

“That’s right,” I said. “And if I catch your men encroaching beyond what we agreed, then the ceasefire is over.”

“Understood,” Colm said and shoved a hand out into the night. It hovered there, and Colm showed his teeth in a