Possessed by the Killer (Dark Possessive Mafia)

Big, massive, terrifying Dean. I walked out the back door, mug steaming in the crisp evening air. I saw him pull the trigger again—and saw his soft lips near mine, his sharp, tangy, musky smell, his wicked smile, his gorgeous muscles and playful eyes, and it scared me, scared me to hell how much I liked it.

13

Dean

Mags made herself scarce for the next few days. I got consumed with the fallout from those hits and couldn’t make time for her, but her absence started to nag at me.

The look on her face after I pulled the trigger was pure terror and loathing. It haunted me, that vacant stare, that blank way she shuffled around the house and took the drink in her hand.

The halls were quiet without her sneaking around. She went for long walks in the woods, and Bea said she spent a lot of time holed up in my father’s library, which was mostly packed with crime novels and spy thrillers. I wanted to go in there and talk to her, but Bea said I should give her time to figure things out—and so I threw myself into work.

We killed four Healy guys over the next five days. Two were dealing on our turf, and three were caught on the border. The Healys tried to hit back, but only managed to wound one of my guys bad enough to put him in the hospital, and he’d probably pull through. Gian took over front-line fighting, but I kept showing my face around the streets to make sure the guys knew that I was in control and ultimately all decisions came from me.

My hits became a thing of legend. It was strange, watching the story warp and weave its way through the family. At first it was straightforward, but soon guys were saying I killed an entire Healy safe house packed with fifteen soldiers and did it all with my bare hands. The story elongated and stretched to the point where I barely recognized myself in it, but that was how myths were formed, and I needed a little myth-making.

The streets thrived on stories. And I needed the streets more than anything.

After six days of quiet, I decided to break the truce. It was a nice Sunday afternoon, and Mags was hidden away in her room. I knocked gently, waited for her to answer, then cracked it open.

“You okay in here?” I asked.

She looked at me from the bed, her feet up on pillows, her nose buried in a faded, yellowed book. “Fine until now,” she said.

I smiled and held out a box. It was pure white with the Apple logo on top. “Got this for you.”

“What’s that?”

“Laptop,” I said, and placed it down at the foot of her bed. “I thought you might like it.”

Her expression did change as she shrugged and looked back at the book. “Thanks, I guess.”

I hesitated, wanted to say more, but Bea’s advice resonated in me: give her some time.

So I left, but a day later, I went back.

This time, I found her in the library. Same yellowed book, or maybe a different one, I couldn’t tell. She sat on a recliner near the window with an iced tea on the side table. I knocked and entered.

“What’s that?” she said, staring at the bag in my hands.

“Present for you,” I said, and put it down at her feet. “Thought you’d like it.”

“Are you trying to buy my good will?” she asked, nudging the bag and craning her neck to look inside.

“Yes,” I said. “Is it working?”

“Not yet,” she said, but she put the book aside and pushed past the tissue paper. She brought out a sweatshirt, some shorts, and a small box with a simple gold and diamond necklace. She sucked in a breath as she held it up to her neck.

“Do you like it?” I asked.

“This is really pretty,” she said. “And it must’ve cost a fortune.”

“A small fortune,” I said, smiling.

“I can’t take this.” She put it away and dropped it into the bag.

“Consider it an advance on what I’ll owe you when we’re through if you want,” I said, walking back to the door. “By the way, what are you reading?”

“The Big Sleep,” she said, head tilted. “Ever heard of it?”

“No,” I said.

“You should give it a try.” Her eyes flashed down to the bag again then back up to me. “Presents aren’t going to get you very far, you know.”

I laughed softly, but I left her there. I liked that she pushed back against me and didn’t take my shit so easily. I wanted her forgiveness, wanted her company, but most of all, I wanted to earn it.

Another day, and another present. She lounged out back near the pool wearing shorts and a tank top, still reading that book. She shaded her eyes as I approached.