Page 25 of The Mafia Assassin’s Redemption (Mafia Obsession #2)

EIGHTEEN

harry

Clawzilla is soft and purring on my lap while Arnold rests his paws on my thighs.

My head is spinning as I try to reconcile the monster with his family. The fact that the animals are sweet and Lucie the kind of person I’ve always wished I could be friends with are things that don’t fit with what I know about Torin.

What I knew.

Thought I knew.

He’s not a picture-book hero in any way, shape, or form. He’s soaked in blood, something I could maybe understand if he hadn’t killed my family. He said he didn’t but this is me, not believing him for a second.

I close my eyes as Arnold rises up to lick my cheek, resting his face near my shoulder like he knows I need the uncomplicated caress and doggy hug.

They both warm the cold that’s chilling me from the inside out.

The rug is thick beneath my feet as I sit slouched on the sofa with the family pets .

The Murphy family pets.

“He’ll be back,” Lucie says as I flick open my eyes to take in her slightly drawn face.

All the guys are out. And the fact that Torin told me not to leave the house already clued me into the fact that they were doing something dangerous.

“I was forced into this,” I mutter.

“Things change,” she says. “And… things get complicated on the surface, but underneath, you might find they’re much simpler.”

“You’ve got that wrong. Surface is way simpler than what’s happening inside.”

Lucie smiles as she stands, tidying and putting away the card game we started. She’s nervous, worried. It’s in her quick movements as she pours water for herself and picks up the whiskey to top off my glass, which to be fair to me, I’ve only had a couple of sips from.

“No, I meant it the way I said it,” she says.

I curl my hand around my glass, taking a swallow as she continues.

“I… I don’t know what happened and why you think you hate him, but you also like him.”

“I don’t like him.”

“You want him.” Her voice drops. “You look at him like he’s a forbidden dessert and you’re on a no-carb diet.”

Do I? “Maybe, but he did things. My family’s dead because of him.”

She just looks at me, but I’m saved from explaining further as the front door opens and voices fill the place. Clawzilla abandons me and races to the door of the living room and then saunters away. Even Arnold makes a soft sound and pads out of the room .

“Walkies?” That’s Declan. “Not you, Lucie, I’m talking to Clawzilla and Arnold.”

I tune them out because my stomach is twisting and my thoughts rolling like wild waves through me.

I told Lucie Torin’s the reason my family’s dead.

I stopped short of stating he killed them. And the thing is, I know he did. Right?

“You think I killed them?” Torin had said in the car on the way to his boat.

“I put the bullet in your father.” He said this, too, but it was more like a question to me and he stopped himself from finishing the sentence.

But he was there. He came in. Shots were fired. My dad, dead, and Mom… I know she’s dead. In my head, I know that. But my heart won’t let go of a tiny part of hope that she got away.

But the bleakness, the flatness of his other words hit me. Sealing the fate of my parents. Me. Torin.

“I was meant to save you all and I didn’t.”

There was no one else there, no one but him for me to blame.

And now I’ve made it so much worse by wanting him.

Craving him. Craving the part he’s opened in me.

I know I don’t have a choice, I’m mafia born, and a blood marriage, though rare, is more than a regular marriage, more than most mafia marriages.

It represents a transfer of ownership and canceling of debts.

I’m alive because of him.

He’s the demon in my life and, while I know he told me twelve years ago that he’d take care of me in the morning, he turns out to be my savior now.

Complicated. On every level.

Lucie is wrong.

My awareness starts to prick and sing, and I tune back in. The conversation’s low, and while I can’t make out the words, I know Torin’s back. Then a door slams.

Seamus comes in. He eyes me with blue-green eyes, wild ocean eyes, ones that spark with devious, devilish things.

“You’re actually pretty,” he says, the backhanded compliment from out of nowhere as he helps himself to a glass of whiskey.

“And you’re not as good-looking as you think,” I snap back, and he laughs.

He takes a swallow. “I see why Torin stepped in and married you.”

“Leave her alone, Seamus.” My heart thumps wildly as Torin speaks from the doorway, casually leaning against the wall.

Torin looks at me, his heated gaze burning holes through to my skin. I’m still in his T-shirt, boxers, and sweats. It’s all too big for me and I should’ve changed but…

I didn’t want to.

My skin warms and his brother glances at him. “I’m interested to know why someone tried to rub you both out.”

“That hit on me…” I stroke my hands down the front of the sweats. “The work I do at the church?”

“Seamus, there are things we’ll discuss later.” Even I hear the warning in Torin’s low voice. “But I don’t think someone is upset about Harry’s network that helps women escape the life. If someone was doing that, they’d be far more organized.”

His brother snickers and stands. “Your little mouse has teeth and balls, Tor.” He looks at me. “He’s right. If someone thought it was you, Hazel, you’d be dead, and I’m not sure even the blood marriage, or Torin, could save you.”

Then Seamus looks at his brother .

“Or maybe he could.”

“Finished?” Torin asks.

“For now. Going to talk with Cal about what happened. If he has any ideas about that body.”

As Seamus leaves, the air gets thicker, the space in the room seemingly tighter, and I have a hard time swallowing. I reach for the whiskey to take a sip, but Torin beats me to it, and our fingers touch, the spark racing right through me and straight to my clit.

He only meets my gaze and downs half my drink. Then he heads out through the dining area without looking back. He just stops at the stairs. Waiting.

I narrow my eyes, but though I want to stay still, excitement swirls in my veins.

He wants me to follow, and I involuntarily move toward him, unable to help myself.

The moment I’m near him he continues walking until he hits the kitchen. There, he sets the glass in the sink and leans his hands on the island.

Once more his eyes slowly skim over me.

But all he does is straighten up. He takes off his hoodie and sets down a gun, his gaze hard on me as he removes the clip and pockets it. Then he slaps down a white card covered in dirt on the counter and slides it to me. “Recognize this number?”

I stare at the business card. “No.”

He sighs. “A thug had it, claimed some little punk from Greenpoint gave him the card with the number to call. The thug took the shots at Salvatore.”

“And us?”

He shrugs. “I’m at a loss for who’s doing this. Maybe Salvatore’s double bluffing. Maybe it’s someone we haven’t thought of, someone up-and-coming. Or someone closer to home. ”

Me. He means me.

“I don’t know anyone. I’m not important in the grand scheme of things. And with the women, it’s not a lot of them, and I’m just one of many points of first contact, I imagine.”

He closes his eyes a moment. “You are important. But you’re right. If someone was coming after the railroad, they’d want the top.” Then those intense eyes hit mine. “I need to speak to my brother. Wait here.”

“I’m your prisoner, where am I going to go?”

“Not a prisoner, Harry,” he says, “unless you want to be.”

Torin leaves the room and I stand in that kitchen, a sense of foreboding clawing at my heart and stomach. The card is sitting there, and I look at it. The curve on the logo almost looks like the shape of a petal.

God, what would Mom think of any of this? Dad?

In a different world, this is where Torin would tell me he’ll keep me safe.

I almost laugh. Torin? He’s the man who…

Who complicates everything. And my heart hurts because of him.

I take the glass with the whiskey and top it off, then I go into the bedroom, sink onto the sofa, and let the fire of the booze work its magic, warming my tummy and limbs, softening my mind.

As a substitute for the warmth of Torin, it’s not even close. But it manages to make up for that in the fact it doesn’t twist me into knots.

Like forgetting that Torin killed Dad and was going to kill me and Mom.

Even if he wasn’t there to kill us, he was there for a reason, and he only came in at the end, which says to me maybe he had a change of heart or maybe he needed to deliver me alive.

It’s just… I’m having a hard time reconciling the cold-blooded killing of my family with the man I’m getting to know .

“He shot Bernardo. He shot those men in the street, Harry.”

I swallow hard as I say those words out loud.

But he killed all those people for me.

I drink some more.

Something snags my attention, a sixth sense, and I turn. Torin is there, in the doorway. He steps into the room and closes the door.

“What am I supposed to do with you?”

“Get me more whiskey?” I shake my empty glass at him.

But he plucks the glass from my fingers and puts it on the coffee table. Then he scoops me up in his strong arms, carries me to the bed, and lays me down. Slowly, his fingers grip the hem of the T-shirt and he slides it over my head.

“Shit.” His fingers brush against my naked breasts as he removes the sweats and his boxers. “You’re drunk. C’mon.”

And he does something strange. Jeans and belt hit the floor. The light flicks off and he climbs in next to me on the bed.

I feel myself getting wet. I think I’ll let him have me. I think?—

He just wraps his arms around me. “Go to fucking sleep, Harry. We’ll talk in the morning.”

And the world curls into the cocoon of his arms, the furnace heat of him. So I melt into him and go to sleep.

The next morning when I wake up, my head hurts and the animals are surrounding me on the mattress. I sit up to see the door slightly ajar. Fighting the headache, I stagger into the shower, dress, and then pad down the hall, looking for signs of life.

Both animals follow me as I curiously look around. But I don’t see anyone. It’s not until I return to the room that I see the pill and glass of water and note from Torin on the nightstand.

Swallow me.

A shiver runs through me as I take the pill with a sip of water. The cat and dog both make themselves at home near me.

I finish the water and put my glass down when I notice the laptop open on his desk. My finger hovers over the keyboard, and with a sharp breath in, I push a key. The thing wakes, but it’s password protected.

“Of course it is,” I mutter, my eyes falling to the notepad next to it. I stare at the writing.

It’s about different gunshot locations in execution and organized crime killings. I flip the page. I don’t want to know about gunshots to the head. Too many flashbacks of Dad. Same placement of the hole I saw?—

I frown. Just one word on this page.

I still, feeling slightly better and slightly worse at the same time. Why does he have Luigi’s name written on the notepad?

No one’s in the hallway near the door, so I grab my coat and phone and slide out the front door.

Father Luigi? Why’s Father Luigi’s name on a piece of paper?

He doesn’t think he’s to blame. He can’t possibly, right?

I dial the priest but it goes straight to voicemail. Panic suddenly consumes me. I rush back upstairs, the cat and dog racing after me. I glance around the brownstone. Oddly, there’s no guard here today, so I risk it.

I run outside and dart in the direction of the church.

It’s early, but the rectory is open even if the door’s locked.

I hurry up the steps of the church and pull open the heavy door, sliding inside when someone slams into me. I stumble forward as whoever it is pushes me inside. Then I’m tackled to the floor, held in place with my cheek pressed to the cold tile.

A gun muzzle pushes into my temple. “Don’t make a fucking sound or I’ll blow your brains out.”