Page 51 of The Mafia Assassin's Redemption
“Watch your back. I don’t feel good about this. If you’re still taking hits for money… stop.”
I take the bottle. “I hung up that hat the night of that shit show in Dublin, Cal. The only people I’ve killed”—mostly—“are for our family. For jobs when I have to. I do my part when asked, away from the computer. But the girl? She doesn’t know a fucking thing about what happened that night and why. She was ten.”
He nods. “Then we let the sleeping dogs lie and we protect her until this all blows over. She’s religious?”
“Pretendsto be.”
“Why?”
“I never thought about it, but I’ll find out. And when we’ve deemed it safe, I’m sending her far away from here.”
I turn on my heel and walk out, Clawzilla right behind me. Claws clack on the floorboards, and I don’t need to look back to know Arnold’s following me, too.
My suite’s on the ground floor at the back of the brownstone, past the kitchen.
Light gleams from under my door.
I hesitate and think about knocking, but in the end, I turn the handle.
A shoe hits the wall right next to my head.
Clawzilla hisses and Arnold barrels in, barking. But he stops, looking around for the threat. When he doesn’t see one, he walks up to Harry and starts sniffing.
And Clawzilla? He saunters by Arnold’s side, growling low, fur standing on end. Then he rubs against her and starts purring.
Fucking no good traitorous creatures. “If she moves, attack.”
Arnold wags his tail as she scratches his ear. Then she looks at me.
“Get out,” she hisses.
I look around, like there’s someone else she’s talking to. “It’s my room.”
She’s no longer in the magical dress that looked so pretty and perfect on her when we came up from the basement and returned to the church, when Dec started in on us and only Seamus’s foot on his toes stopped him mid-ballbusting.
It was fucking clear to everyone what happened between us. Fuck, I have no idea if they heard. Maybe they did. I don’t really care.
They didn’t see how she looked as she crawled to me. Howhot and tight and wet she was on my fingers, and when I pushed into her…
My cock starts to harden.
I force my thoughts away from one of the hottest sexual experiences in my catalog.
“Why are you still up?” I ask. “It’s past three.”
She sticks her hands on her hips. “In case you missed it, I was abused tonight, defiled. Beaten?—”
“For fuck’s sake.” I grab her arm and haul her into the bathroom where I hand her a shaving mirror. Then I lift the skirt of the drab dress she’s got on, pull down her cotton panties, and make her look at the lovely crisscrossing red marks I left. “You weren’t abused or beaten.”
She squeals. “Bruises. You really are a monster, aren’t you? Low-down, disgusting…”
“And you loved every fucking second. Begged for more if I remember right. More, more, more, right, Harry? The marks will fade, and those tiny bruises will, too. But get ready. Next time I’ll be biting your ass.” I snatch the mirror away and put it down before spinning her into my arms as Arnold growls and Clawzilla hisses.
“There won’t be a next time. I was weak. I didn’t know what I was doing.”
“You sure seemed to love it. And don’t worry, I’m not touching you again.” I let her go before I do something dumb like kiss her.
I had to cross a line, and I got more than a little carried away. But I won’t again. We’re married under fucking God and the mafia’s hand, and that’s all that matters. It won’t take much to get the legal piece of paper sorted.
