Page 29 of Twisted Little Games (New York City Mafia #3)

Tristan

S o, maybe I pull my punches just a little when Kirsten is watching me pummel the thief.

He deserves more pain though for stealing from Emanuele and the Pesci family.

If I let him off too easy, he might be stupid enough to rob someone else.

If I inflict too much pain, Kirsten will run from me like her fine ass is on fire.

When the kid’s arms stop reaching up to try and swat me away from where he’s sprawled on the floor of his shitty little apartment in the Lower East Side, I finally stop beating him.

Rolling his limp body over, much like I did the dead man in Kirsten’s apartment, I pull out his wallet, which is empty, other than his license. When I check his pockets, I find a wad of cash in one front pocket, another wad in the other.

Standing up over him, I combine all the bills. Before I start counting, I nod toward Kelly and tell Kirsten, “You get to decide her punishment.”

“Me?” she whispers when she comes closer, and I have to restart my count, since she’s so pretty and so damn distracting.

I don’t respond until I have the final tally. “Four hundred is missing, but the rest is here. What did he already spend it on?” I ask the girl who stands pressed into the corner like she thinks she can hide in the shadows from me.

“It’s…it’s in my purse.” She nods her chin toward the bag on the kitchen counter.

“I’ve got it,” Kirsten offers as she goes over to dig through the girl’s things. A moment later, she holds up a baggie containing a colorful assortment of pills between the tips of her two fingers.

“Well?” I ask the prosecutor. “What do you want to do with her?”

Glancing at the unconscious man by my feet, Reggie, she says, “Let’s drop him off at the hospital and take her to a rehab facility.”

“Aw, you’re no fun, sweetheart.” Despite my complaint, I’m obviously still going to do whatever the woman wants.

Blowing out a huff of air, she digs back into the purse and pulls out a cell phone. “We could also call her parents…”

“Don’t you fucking dare!” the girl hisses.

“I think you’ve found the perfect punishment,” I laugh.

Kirsten not only goes over and uses the girl’s face to unlock her device, she also takes photos of the bag of drugs and wad of stolen cash to send to the “Mom” contact in her phone before we leave the apartment.

I haul the limp guy over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes while Kirsten strings the girl along with us on the promise that she’ll get her phone and things back as soon as she gets to the treatment facility.

Once we’ve completed both the hospital and rehab runs, I drive us back to the Pesci’s gelato shop.

“Do you think either of them will learn their lesson?” Kirsten asks from my passenger seat.

“Probably not. I should’ve hit him harder. Broken a few ribs or his nose.”

“Why didn’t you? Because I was there?” I shrug in response, and she goes on to say, “Tristan Ferraro, you helped me hide a dead man’s body. It’ll take more than a few broken bones to scare me away.”

I wish that were true, but I still think the DA is in shock or riding the waves of orgasmic bliss. It’s only a matter of time before she freaks out about…well, every fucking thing we’ve done this week.

When I decide to employ my right to remain silent, Kirsten says, “I don’t regret it, any of it. Only the inability to give the asshole’s family closure, since they’re probably good people. Nothing else, though.”

“Now who’s the one reading minds?” I tease her since she accused me of doing that to her the night she woke up with me in her apartment.

The woman is in denial, regardless of what she says. Right now, I’m what she needs — a criminal who’d do anything to protect her, even kill. Once she’s in the clear and Bowen is dead, no longer sending cops after her, she’ll kick my ass to the curb so damn fast…

Kirsten’s small palm reaches for my thigh, giving it a squeeze and drawing my attention to her rather than the red traffic light ahead of us. “Tristan, I don’t want you to kill Bowen.”

“Too bad. He’s got to go. He got Carmine killed…”

“I know, and he deserves to be punished for all the shit he’s done. But I don’t want you to do it for me. And part of the reason why I’m not in a rush for him to be…eliminated, despite the fact that he probably wants me dead, is because I like having a reason to spend time with you.”

Okay, maybe she is psychic.

Even though it’s cheesy, and I’ve never held hands with a woman, I cover Kirsten’s with mine. “You’re not getting rid of me that easy, sweetheart.”

“Good,” she says with a sigh that sounds like relief.

Kirsten

Emanuele was so happy when Tristan returned every missing dollar, that he actually threw his arms around him, hugging the mobster.

My heart melted a little more for Tristan because I knew four-hundred dollars was missing from the cash, which means he added it back from his own pocket. He also gave Emanuele the bag of various pills, which wasn’t as sweet.

Still, I’m quickly learning there’s more to the man than his mob ties and violent deeds.

Deep down, Tristan is a good guy. He cares about people, especially his family, since he was willing to stalk me for weeks to blackmail me and prevent them from going to prison.

I think he also cares about me. Why else would he go out of his way to help me when I was such a bitch to him?

I told him I hated him, and he sent me flowers.

Yes, he also made me get on my knees after hitting him in the face with his phone, but I like it when he’s a demanding jackass.

How did I get here, to the point where the only person I can count on, the only person who gives a shit about my safety, the only man who turns me on like no one ever has before, is a ruthless mob enforcer?

I think I’m falling in love with him, which is scary but also exhilarating. When I’m with Tristan, I feel like I can finally be myself for the first time in my life. There’s no need to fake anything or try to win every argument. He sees me, all of me, and still wants me.

And the mobster is not the least bit intimidated by my career. There’s no competition between us. We’re just…equals. Complete opposites but equals.

I can tell him anything, even when I disapprove of his decisions, and he won’t walk away.

Unable to hide my grin when we’re back in his truck and headed to his apartment, I tell him, “You should’ve thrown those drugs away.”

“The kid’s in his twenties, and he’s smart.

He’ll sell them, or him and his friends will use them wisely, you know, just to loosen up.

” Tristan reaches for my hand that’s resting in my lap.

He lifts it to his lips and kisses my knuckles, then places it on his thigh.

“You could do with some loosening up yourself, sweetheart.”

Every time he calls me that, I fall a little bit more for him. It makes me feel like I’m his. Which is probably the reason he uses the term of endearment so often. After only a few hours with him the first night, Tristan seemed to know me better than I knew myself.

“I don’t need pills to loosen up. I think you’ve already figured out how to do that pretty well all on your own.”

“True enough.” He grins. “You need more rest.”

“Huh?” I ask since his comment is so out of the blue.

“You wouldn’t pass out after two orgasms if you got more sleep. You work too damn much.”

“I enjoy what I do, even if the hours are long. And I’m going back to work tomorrow. It’s probably for the best, you know, to avoid raising any suspicion about the missing detective if someone saw him in or near my building.”

“Fine. But I’ll be outside the whole time if you need me.”

“I’m sure you have better things to do for Creed than babysitting me from afar.”

“Not until Bowen is taken care of. And while I wish I could go do it right now myself, I know Creed is right. It has to be done carefully to avoid causing problems.”

“Right,” I remark. “You don’t have to give me any details. It’s probably best if I don’t know.”

“Agreed.”

“What I would like to know right now is if your apartment will be empty when we get back?”

“Absolutely. I would’ve thrown them out last night if I knew how upset you would get,” Tristan grumbles.

“No, you wouldn’t have. But I appreciate you finding them alternative housing arrangements for tonight. You’re paying their rent wherever they are, aren’t you?”

He winces and tightens his grip on my hand. “Not because I want them.”

“I know. I get it.”

While the two of us may come from opposite worlds, we do have some things in common.

Both of us feel the need to help those who have been victimized by assholes. We just do it in very different ways. I’m stuck using the law and waiting on the wheels of justice to slowly turn, while Tristan prefers to roll up his sleeves and push the wheels all on his own.

I may not always approve of him using violence, but I must admit that he gets results a hell of a lot faster.