The Killer's New Wife

I couldn’t imagine leaving the Valentino family, not when I was finally coming into my own. But maybe I should have.

“Yeah, well, you’re deep in it now, my friend. If you want my advice, I think you should marry the girl.” He leaned forward, turning the sunglasses by the arm between his fingers. “You seem like you like her for some reason, and she hasn’t tried to kill you yet, so you’re like the perfect match. Marry her, make my dad happy, and let’s finish this stupid war with the Healys so we can go back to getting rich.”

“Tempting,” I said sincerely. “But I won’t force her.”

“Yeah, I know, your code.” He stretched his back and neck. “Don’t worry about that body, that’s been taken care of. Just keep your eyes open for a while, all right?”

“All right. If that dead soldier causes trouble, I’ll clean up the mess.”

“I know you will.” Dean stood up and looked around. “I like this park. I never come out here, but it’s nice. It’s like a fucking family place and shit.”

“Exactly,” I said, and nodded as he waved and walked off. I waited for him to be gone, out of sight around the corner, before I got back up and strolled slowly to my apartment.

Tara stood in the kitchen staring off into space. She was drinking more coffee, and wore a burgundy crop top and a pair of high-waisted yoga pants. Her hair spilled down around her shoulders and I fought the urge to walk up and kiss her on the neck, to put my hands on her breasts, to slip my fingers between her legs. What happened last night was good, but I didn’t think we were ready for more, not yet at least.

“How were your errands?” she asked, frowning at me as I wandered to the balcony and looked outside.

“Talked with Dean,” I said. “Everything last night was taken care of. So we’re in the clear.”

“I didn’t know that was up in the air.”

“It’s always in the air until it’s not.” I looked back at her and she glanced down at the counter, unable to meet my gaze. “How are you holding up today?”

“Fine,” she said, and hesitated. “Sore, a little bit.”

I smirked and tilted my head. “Sorry about that. I can be gentler, but you seemed to enjoy it.”

She shook her head, eyes wide. “I meant from the guy that jumped me.” She touched her cheek and the cut there. “Not from—you know, the other thing.”

“Right, the other thing. Are we talking about that?”

She hesitated, and I could read complex emotions in her eyes. Confusion, desire, some hurt, some self-loathing. I understood all that—hell, I felt it all myself.

“No,” she said, “I don’t think we are.”

“All right.” I looked back out the window. “I said this to Dean, and I’ll say it to you. I don’t think the Healys are going to stop, not yet at least.”

“So I guess I’ll see you kill more people then.”

“Ideally, you won’t have to, but I can’t make promises.”

She shivered a little bit. I could see her expression reflected in the glass: fear and disgust and a strange bit of excitement.

“Is this where you tell me that I can leave whenever I want again?”

“No,” I said, and looked over the city, at the light reflecting off the glass buildings. “This is the part where I tell you that we should get married.”

She coughed and almost choked on her coffee. I turned around and crossed my arms, waiting for her to finish. “What the hell?” she asked.

“We should get married,” I said. “The Don wants it and the Healys don’t. I think you’d like being married to me. I could fuck you like I did last night whenever you wanted, and you could stop feeling so damn conflicted about all this.”

“Ewan,” she said, blinking rapidly.

I held up a hand. “I won’t force you, but I think it’s a good idea. We should get married. You should be my wife.”

She was quiet for a few long seconds. My heart thumped hard and I was surprised at how nervous I felt. I couldn’t believe that my throat felt tight, like I was afraid of what she’d say, when I’d only made up my mind on the walk back here from the park.

It was the obvious solution. We could get married, wait for all this blow over, then she could go on with her life. We’d get a divorce, and I’d still pay for her college, if that’s what she wanted, or we could go our separate ways and never speak of all this again. Marriage was nothing, it was a piece of paper, it was some laws on the book. We could marry and divorce, and survive.

And have some fun in the meantime.

“This is the most fucked-up proposal ever,” she said finally. “I mean, I watched you murder a guy last night in a toilet. And then I fucked you—” Her cheeks turned pink and she seemed annoyed with herself for it. “—a lot and it was really good, but god, now you think getting married is a smart idea? I think you’re insane.”