Page 30 of Reaper & Ruin
“Die, you bitch.” I hissed between my teeth as I pulled the trigger three more times and flipped my hair over my shoulder. “You know you deserve it.”
Giovanni De Luca was now dead. Not with a knife. Rope. Bomb. Not with gangster smarts or badassery that I hadn’t earned, but had been gifted plot armor. But with mymind. Sheer willpower. The power of HeavenMotherfuckingKane. Yes, that was my legal middle name now. Fuck having something as basic as Elizabeth. I was a blue-haired bad bitch ex-stripper with a heart made of gold and candy, and I needed a moniker that suited it.
And HeatherMotherfuckingKane had just slaughtered the mafia boss of her dreams because she was a great fucking hitwoman.
Thebesthitwoman.
“Amore mio,” Gio’s deep, rough voice cut through my thoughts, dragging me back to the present. His smirk grew as he leaned back against the couch, looking too damn comfortable for a man who’d just been metaphorically executed. “You can’t give me four headshots. One would be enough to kill me. The rest are a waste of bullets you might need later.”
I blinked, my hand still poised, fingers shaped like a gun. It took a second for reality to catch up with my little fantasy. My fingers, not a real gun, were aimed straight at his forehead.
Shame. He was still breathing.
For now.
As the birds cawed through the open windows, and Gio’s dark eyes bore into mine, the illusion snapped entirely. With only the smallest pout, I let out an exaggerated sigh, dropping my arm as he slid a bookmark into his crossword book and put it down. He opened his arms, silently demanding that I come to sit with him.
On him.
Whatever. Both were pleasant options.
“You could at least pretend to die,” I grumbled as I climbed onto his lap, nose twitching with the scent of his stupid, expensive, but delightful aftershave. “Give me something. A little dramatic death scene? Maybe some choking, gasping—roll your eyes back like you do when you cum.” I sighed louder. “You could have faked it like most straight women do in bed and made me happy. Do you not want me to be happy, Gio?”
I tucked my head against his shoulder, biting into his skin for fun. He was only wearing a pair of dark shorts that hung way too low on his waist, so there was plenty of pretty, tanned flesh for me to nibble. Plus, he tasted like chocolate from the fancy moisturizer he used, and I was always a fan of chocolate.
He chuckled like he was truly enjoying himself as he wrapped his strong, tattooed arms around my waist. “If I pretend to die with this, what will you do next? Hit me with a frying pan and expect me to collapse? I want you trained for realistic reactions from someone who is not me or Atlas.”
“Don’t tempt me. I might go all Rapunzel on your ass.” The kitchen had been fully stocked with every pan imaginable because Gio refused to be a non-captive here unless he couldmake decent food. And sure, I thought it was stupid that my victim needed baking sheets and a wok, but he made nice food, so it was worth the money spent on renovating our little cabin hideaway into something resembling more of a home.
Okay, itwasa home. Even if it wasn’t our forever place, it was clean and warm when it was cold out. It wassafe.That was the most important thing. It kept us away from Gio’s piece of shit, best friend murdering, honest to God douchebag daddy. It stopped Giorgio De Luca from knowing where we were and coming after me or his son for the last few months. I would have lived in a trash bag in a puddle if it had done all of that. So a slightly murdery cabin in the woods? Yeah, it was paradise. I would have stayed here forever and ever until I died at the ripe old age of sixty-nine. Probably when a time traveler came back to execute me, because I was accidentally the key to something terrible occurring.
“Have you seen the time?” Gio asked as I pulled back to put a few extra bullets into his brain. “That makes nine now—you’re being thorough, at least.”
“You’ve got a big head,” I shot back, unable to resist as he checked his fancy watch, then showed it to me. “Just being practical about how many bullets it needs to explode.”
“It’s eight.” He ignored my comments. “Time for your meds. They don’t work if you miss one.”
“Good for you. You can tell the time.” I huffed as a way to alleviate my boredom.
He snorted as he got to his feet, carrying me with him into the kitchen so he could gently deposit me on our new kitchen island. Gio had built it himself. Out of wood and nails and stuff. Turned out he was really good at putting things together and being a useful hostage. He’d been the one to do most of the renovations in our cabin, even taking down the wall between thebedroom and his dungeon room. Just so we would have extra space for activities.
The best kind of activities—naps.
“Are you implying I need medicating?” My brows rose as he handed me a pink glass of cold water. With two ice cubes in, because that was how many I liked. More than that, and it made my brain scream. No idea why.
“Youasked to start the meds.Youwanted to speak to the doctor and get some help to make your mind even better than it is after Caro’s friend said taking the same things helped him.” He headed to one of the new wooden cupboards on the wall, searching through it for an appropriate sweet treat to bribe me with.
“I thought she would tell me I was perfect.” Sighing, I swung my feet out, trying to kick his shins a little and failing. “Instead, she told me I had absolutely disgustingly hot disease. Then she gave me pills. And I tell you this, Reaper, I don’t need pills. Drugs are for losers, and the only thing I lose at is poker because you cheat.”
“Giovanni.” He corrected me. “And you said two days ago that your ADHD feels calmer with the medication, and that a formal diagnosis made you feel like you finally understood yourself more.” He grabbed a packet of sour candy and then my rainbow box of pills off the counter. “You also cheat way more than I ever could, Heather. You tried to hide chips in your underwear and expected us not to notice them falling out, as though they weren’t crotchless panties.”
I sighed harder, boredom making me childish. “Yes. Meds do help a bit. Because my brain is often filled with butterflies and sometimes, I want it to just be filled with brains. That might help me beat you at poker one day.”
He came to a stop in front of me, and I wrapped my legs around his waist, forcing him closer still. I would not admit it outloud, but I loved having him close to me. He made me feel safe and all squishy inside.
“Open your mouth.” He ordered, and when I listened, he placed my pills on my tongue. “Now swallow.”
I sipped the water, swallowing my pills down with only the smallest of huffs before showing him my empty mouth. It wasn’t like he checked whether I actually took the pills. I just liked being told how great I was when he got to watch me swallow. My ears were whores for compliments on all the days of the week that ended with a Y.
