The Killer's Fake Bride (Possessive Dark Mafia)

I wanted to kill him. It’d be easy to pull the trigger. Then he’d be gone and he’d never be able to bother Sam again, never be able to hurt her or take things from her or bother her.

But killing him would be almost as bad as hitting her, and I had to be better. I had to learn to be a good man, or at least to fake it.

I shoved the gun away and kicked him one last time. I wasn’t killing him, but at least I could hurt him.

“Touch her again, and I won’t listen to her next time,” I said, took Sam by the wrist, and pulled her along with me.

We hurried down the steps as he father groaned in pain.

“Will he be okay?” she asked as we stepped through the front door.

I left it standing open. “He’ll be fine, but are you?”

“I’m okay. He hit me only that one time.”

“What happened when he brought you home?” We reached my truck and got in, but I wouldn’t feel safe until we were far away. I started the engine and pulled out as fast as I could. There was no doubt that her dad was calling his goons in already.

“Yelled at me,” she said, looking out the window as I drove fast. “Said some nasty things. Threatened to take me to an abortion clinic.”

My hands tightened on the steering wheel. “I’d kill him.”

“I know,” she said. “I told him that. He didn’t seem to care, but he didn’t do it, obviously.”

“He didn’t hurt you though?”

“No,” she said. “He didn’t hurt me.”

I released a breath and reached out. I took her hand and held it as I drove fast. “I shouldn’t have left,” I said. “It’s my fault this happened.”

“I sent you away, remember?” She smiled tightly. “At least you respect my wishes.”

“That’s the last time I’ll make that mistake.”

She laughed, but it sounded hollow.

“I can’t go back now, you know,” she said, pulling her hand from mine. She looked out the window. “He’ll try to get me back.”

“He can try,” I said.

“I don’t think they’ll ever negotiate,” she said. “Did you know that Colm’s been going around telling everyone that the Valentino family won’t even talk to us?”

I snorted. “That shit’s not true,” I said. “But it doesn’t surprise me.”

“He says you’re all bloodthirsty and you want to murder everyone. He says you’re just a bunch of killers and you don’t take care of your people.”

“We’re not perfect,” I said. “But we don’t do shit like what your father pulled today.”

“I believe that,” she said, staring out the window.

“We’ll figure out what to do tomorrow. For right now, let’s get you back to my place and get some sleep, all right?”

“Yeah, all right.” She leaned her head back against the seat and squeezed her eyes shut. “I can’t believe Nessa did that. But at least I have some clothes now.”

I smiled a little, even if I didn’t feel it, and drove through the night.

I wished I pulled that trigger and ended her dad right there, but I made my decision, and now I’d have to deal with the consequences.

8

Sam

I slept restlessly that night, and in the morning I had an ugly bruise on my chin. I tried to cover it with makeup, but that didn’t do much.

Matteo had coffee and breakfast waiting for me. He stared at the bruise and looked like he wanted to break something, but he didn’t say a word as he served me eggs and toast.

“We’re heading to Don Valentino’s soon, so eat up,” Matteo said, though he was the one ignoring his food. He sipped the coffee and watched me.

I had my flaws. I wasn’t a perfect person. But I never suffered from lack of appetite, so I shoveled down what I could then sipped my own coffee.

“Why do you think she did it?” I asked suddenly.

He took a second to answer. “I don’t know your friend.”

“Take a guess then.”

“She might’ve thought she was doing you a favor. She knew you were pregnant and staying with some stranger. She was probably trying to protect you.”

“Crazy way of showing it,” I said, tapping my fingers on the table.

“Does she know about him?” he asked, leaning forward. “Has he ever hit you before?”

“When he’s mad,” I said, staring at my nails. “But no, she didn’t know.”

“Then she probably didn’t think it would go down that way.”

“If you were me, would you forgive her?”

“No,” he said, standing up. “I would kill her and move on.” He walked past me and put a hand on my shoulder. “But you could try to be a better person than me.”

I sipped my coffee as he got ready. When he came back out in jeans and a long-sleeve Henley, we headed out to his truck and drove to the suburbs. I watched the city turn to the spread-out sprawl of small single family homes with their big green lawns and large leafy trees.