Kissing the Killer: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (Barone Crime Family) by B. B. Hamel Page B

and I felt drowsy as I reclined on the couch. It was nice not having to worry about someone coming home and beating me up later.
    And it was nice thinking about Brooks, about his body. I liked thinking about his lips against mine. His ripped muscles could easily press me down against the couch as he pushed himself deep inside me.
    I shivered and knew I wanted it, but I couldn’t admit to it.
    He was still a killer, still a dangerous man. But he was my dangerous killer. He was out there right now, putting himself in danger, just because I wanted a photo album.
    I never asked for any of this.
    I felt myself smiling as I pictured him stripping his shirt off. I thought about his hard face as he showed me the bruises along his body, his big cocky grin as he talked dirty to me.
    I didn’t hear the door unlock. I should have, but I was too distracted daydreaming. I felt safe for the first time in a long time, and I was letting my guard down.
    The door opened slowly. I didn’t notice until it was too late.
    By the time I looked up, he had already shut and locked the door.
    The other man from that night grinned at me. “Well, look at you. Much prettier when you’re all cleaned up.”
    I sat up straight, terror lancing through me chest. “Where’s Brooks?”
    “He’s out.” The man advanced toward me. “I’m Abram, in case you didn’t know. Do you remember me?”
    I nodded, too afraid to speak.
    “I was the man who helped kill your daddy. Remember your daddy? Me and Brooks put bullets in his body and watched him die on that filthy mattress.”
    “I don’t care about that,” I said.
    “No?” Abram stopped near me, looming over me with this strange smile. “You should care. He was your father.”
    “He was a piece of shit who abused me.”
    “Yeah. I can still see the shiner. Looks a lot better now, though.”
    “What do you want?”
    “I thought I’d check up on you. How’s Brooks treating you?”
    I knew this was a trap. I knew he wasn’t here to check up on me. Abram was here to kill me, and then he was going to kill Brooks.
    I couldn’t let that happen. I didn’t know when Brooks was getting home, but I had to stall Abram for as long as possible.
    “Help me,” I said suddenly, leaning toward him. “Please, you have to help me. That man said he’s going to murder me. He’s been doing horrible things to me.”
    Abram looked surprised. “Has he now?”
    “Please, please get me out of here,” I said, trying to lay it on thick.
    He grunted. “He said he’s going to kill you?”
    “Slowly. He’s sick. He likes hurting me.”
    Abram slowly sat down on the couch next to me. “Okay, okay. It’s okay. I’m here now.”
    “Please! We have to get out of here.”
    He sighed, and then his hand shot out, slapping me hard across the face. “You stupid bitch,” he said as I recoiled from him. “Don’t fucking lie to me again.”
    His face was twisted into a disgusting sneer. He’d gone from creepy but not unpleasant to terrifying in only a few seconds. My face stung where he slapped me.
    “What do you want?” I asked him again.
    He laughed. “You keep asking me that. I want Brooks to follow the rules. I want you to be dead and gone.” He stood up again. “But it doesn’t look like I’m getting what I want.”
    “Why do you care what Brooks does?”
    “Because we work for an organization,” he hissed, suddenly angry. “Because that organization exists only because we all follow the fucking rules. Brooks isn’t above that.”
    He came at me again, and I tried to run. I got up and tried to dash past him, but he laughed and shoved my side, sending me careening against the couch. I rebounded and got back to my feet, but he was on me already.
    He grabbed me by the arm and flung me down to the ground. I hit with a thud and gasped as he kicked me in the side. I curled up into a ball, knowing that if I fought, it would only be worse.
    This was what my father used to do to me. I’d thought I was