Possessed by the Killer (Dark Possessive Mafia)

A thousand scenarios ran through my mind, but I kept reminding myself, over and over, that she was probably fine. As I got closer, a block away, I tried her cell. But she didn’t answer.

She was probably fine. Maybe Colm hadn’t Googled her name yet. Maybe they didn’t find her Instagram, where she had multiple selfies posted. Maybe he wasn’t smart enough to show her image to every guy in his crew, even though that was exactly what I’d do in his position.

I reached Rittenhouse and looked around wildly. Most of the benches were taken, and a busker was out already, juggling away into the early morning sunlight. I hurried east, down the center of the park—

Then spotted her standing between two very large men.

“Fuck,” I whispered and reached back for the gun, but hesitated. There were too many bystanders. I relaxed my grip and walked fast.

Her face was screwed up in fear and anger. One of the guys reached out to grab her wrist. He was tall with a shock of red hair spouting out from beneath a backwards hat. The other guy was stocky, dark hair, button-down shirt tucked into slacks like he was going to a business casual meeting in a few minutes.

Hat Guy yanked at her harder. “Don’t make a fucking scene,” he said. “You don’t want to make this hard on yourself.”

“Our boss only wants to talk,” Business Casual said. “Colm’s a nice man, once you get to know him.”

“Let me go,” Mags said. “I don’t know who you are. I don’t care about who your boss is, just let me—”

“There a problem here?” I asked as I got closer, smiling my best, most disarming grin.

Hat Guy turned around, glaring hate at me, prepared to tell me to fuck off, but didn’t get the chance.

I smashed my fist as hard as I could into his mouth.

He released Mags and dropped. I turned to Business Casual as he reached for something in his waistband.

Stupid asshole. Too many witnesses for that. I went at him hard, lowering my shoulder and slamming it into his chest. I was bigger, and I was good at fighting, and fucking hell, did I enjoy it. Business Casual crumpled as I slammed my fist into his gut then socked him on the jaw, knocking him back. As he smashed onto the pavement, I jumped him and ripped he gun he was reaching for from his waistband. I kicked it away under a nearby bench.

People stared. One young mom out with her baby in a stroller held her phone up to her face. I grabbed Mags by the arm. “Come on,” I said.

“Dean,” she said, warning me just in time to dodge a knife from Hat Guy. He staggered to his feet and lunged at me a second time, and might’ve skewered me if Mags hadn’t alerted me. I shoved her away and managed to twist aside as Hat Guy came at me again. I ripped the gun from my waistband and held it by the barrel, but seeing a pistol was enough to make Hit Guy pause.

I slammed the butt of the gun down on his wrist then stepped forward and smashed my forehead into his nose. He grunted and tried to cut at me again, but I blocked it with my gun and kicked him hard in the knee. He dropped, gasping. I kicked him again in the chest, knocking him down to the ground.

I shoved the gun away and pushed Mags in the direction of my Mustang. “Go,” I said. “Go fast.”

We ran. Too many witnesses, too many phones. I didn’t know which ones were making calls, or if any of them were taking video. I didn’t need to see myself on social media beating the shit out of two goons. That wouldn’t be a good look for the family.

Mags was gasping for air when we reached the Mustang. She climbed inside and I got behind the wheel. “What about your car?” she asked.

“I’ll send someone for it.” The engine roared to life and I pulled out.

She stared at me without speaking for a while. I was breathing hard and buzzing from the fight. Adrenaline ripped through me like a drug and, fuck, I loved tangling with guys like that, loved riding that edge of danger and death and pain, loved hurting men that deserved to get hurt. I couldn’t suppress the giddy smile that split my face as I wove through traffic, going too fast.

“Why are you smiling?” she asked, and sounded almost sick.

“Because I can’t help it,” I said, glancing at her. I forced myself to slow down and my hands trembled slightly from the neurotransmitter overload that coursed through my brain. “Nothing’s better than hurting a man that deserves it.”

She sucked in a breath, but said nothing on the drive back to the mansion. By the time we got there, I was calmed down. She got out and stormed up the front steps and disappeared inside while I parked and follow.