Mind Games - A Bad Boy Romance With A Twist

by Gabi Moore

“Well, I haven’t. But I’ll take that as a compliment,” I said, and couldn’t help but lift my eyes to his. Our gazes locked together. My heart was kicking violently in my chest but I didn’t move. He could do anything he wanted to me. Not because I was alone and couldn’t defend myself. But because I wasn’t sure at that moment that I would even want to stop him.

  “I was sent here to kill you. Joseph Valenti is on to you and he knows what you did. He was going to kill me, Evie. And fuck, maybe he still will. He seems to think you’re a threat because of some intel you have about the company. That you know some things that could bring down the entire organization….”

  “Oh, I could do more than that,” I said quickly. I didn’t know how true that was. I didn’t quite yet know if I could defend myself if pushed, and I had never wanted to hurt the organization, just escape it. But if I could convince Jack that it was stupid to kill me, even just for the moment, then yes, I wanted him to believe that I had vital secret information that could completely change the game.

  I could tell it piqued his interest. I held my head a little higher. I was carrying his baby, that was true, but knowing what I know about men, that might not have been enough to save my hide.

  “I don’t believe you. But I don’t kill pregnant women,” he said quietly. Though he seemed that he was saddened by this conclusion, I couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief and clutch instinctively at my belly. And though I hated to think about what would happen to him when he returned to Joey and told him that I was still alive, it was hard to care at that moment. I had to think about the little one now.

  He knitted his brows as he saw me cradling my midriff.

  “You’ve put me in a difficult fucking position, you know that? Again.”

  I started to realize that he wasn’t quite the thug I had thought he was only a few months ago. In fact, every time we met I had the feeling that I was discovering some new and surprising aspect of him.

  “So what are you going to do?” I asked.

  It wasn’t my style, to be a timid damsel, but I was on a role and didn’t want to push my luck and give him a reason to make good on his revenge plans.

  “I don’t know. I need to think.”

  “I don’t …you don’t have to do anything, about the baby I mean, I have a new life here, I’ll be OK, you can just tell them--”

  “Just stop! I’ve heard enough. Just, get out of my sight before I change my mind,” he said and looked at the ground.

  “But Jack, please, you have to believe me, I’m sorry…” But he had already turned to leave.

  I ran after him but he had flown out the apartment and slammed the door. I opened it again and stood in the doorway, watching him leave. Tears burnt my eyes. I was alone again. Alive, but with two freshly dead strangers slowly bleeding into my brand new carpet. I pressed my shaking hand to the doorknob, shut the door, closed my eyes and tried to gather myself. Tried to think. I couldn’t lose my shit, not now. I couldn’t let the stress affect the baby. I was alive, and that was better than the alternative, and now I just had to calm down and think of what to do next.

  They knew it was me. Fine. It was a risk I took. And they knew where to find me. Fine. I ran before, I could run again. Jack was alive. I hadn’t decided what I felt about that just yet. But he’d be on his way right now to …I didn’t even know what. I had no intention of using what I knew about the organization to bring down anyone, but I sure as hell would if they were planning to snuff me out because of it.

  I walked slowly back into the living room and looked down at the bodies. All at once, a deep wave of nausea washed over me and I felt myself gag. I ran to the bathroom, dropped to my knees in front of the toilet and instantly threw up. Tears streamed down my face as another wave lurched deep in my gut and came rolling over me. I retched and threw up again, then again. My whole body was repulsed. Morning sickness. But also sickness at the thought that I hadn’t run far away enough. That I was back at square one again.

  I flushed the toilet, stood and examined my red face in the mirror. I rinsed my mouth, fixed my hair and told myself to get a grip. And then I went back to the living room and looked it over. I’d have to move, preferably at the crack of dawn tomorrow. I had packing to do. I had enough money. I’d go east, leave behind the daffodils I had planted in the window box, and I’d just vanish. I’d need clean clothes, and to do something different with my hair maybe.

  They say pregnant women can have incredible nesting instincts, when required. Well, it was required now. It was time for some serious housekeeping. I’d start with the two bodies spread out on my living room floor.

  Chapter 10 - Mickey

  Every man needs his vices. Not big ones, of course, just little ones that make it easier to avoid the big ones in the long run. For some men, it’s having a mistress. Playing cards, I don’t know. For me?

  Espresso.

  There’s nothing in this fucked up world that a proper shot of espresso won’t fix, and I swear it on my mother’s grave. Maybe coffee’s bad for you, maybe not, I don’t care, but fuck if it doesn’t make life go down just a little more smoothly.

  I looked around at the other customers in the café, took a sip of my espresso, and crossed over my other leg. The trouble with this country is people don’t stop to enjoy the little things. They just blow in, buy their XL bucket of peppermint sugar frappe double whatever-the-fuck and then leave, guzzling it while they’re still on their phones. In Italy, people actually give a fuck. They sit down. They drink the fucking coffee. One thing at a time. Civilized.

  My phone rang. I scowled down at the hidden number and answered, fingers still on the warm cup.

  “Mickey.”

  I listened, my eyes scanning the shop’s customers. I looked at the overcooked croissants. The kids in buggies. It was a voice I recognized but did not want to hear from right now.

  “You’re sure?” I said in reply, keeping my voice down.

  “I’m positive. I saw them both leaving the building. She went back inside though,” said the voice into my ear. I sighed loudly.

  “And the two that went in with him?”

  “No sign of ‘em.”

  We both knew what that meant.

  “Yeah, OK,” I said, and hung up.

  My eyes were still scanning over the customers. They were just people oblivious to all the shit that goes on every day right under their noses. I’d need another espresso.

  In my hometown in Sicily, shit doesn’t go down like this. When Angelo was alive, God rest his soul, I told him again and again, you need to drop that bitch. You can’t have a woman knowing what she knows… not a woman like her, at least. Back home, we would never let some broad get tangled up this bad, and I told his punk ass son that it was a dumb idea to send the hitman – the very same guy she’s been screwing if the rumors are to be believed – to do the job. Of course he chickened out. That’s why you can’t have woman in the fucking mix. They make competent men make mistakes.

  I told Joey that he should send someone else, and just take care of that bitch once and for all. But I knew he’d do just exactly what he wanted anyway. So, I sent one of my special associates over to watch and, lo and behold, just like I said, buddy goes over there and backs out of putting a bullet in her. No problem. Where assclowns lose the plot, old Mickey will be right behind them, cashing in on their dumbfuck mistakes. I was going to relish telling Little Joey that his stupid plan didn’t work. But I wouldn’t tell him until I knew I could follow up with proof that I went ahead and did the job myself. Now that would be sweet.

  I calmly took another sip.

  I took my phone and dialed another number.

  “It’s just like I said. Go find her. And kill her,” I said matter-of-factly.

  “And what about the guy?” came the reply.

  “Don’t worry about him. I’ll take care of him myself,” I said. I hung up.

  I checked my watch. He’d be here any minute now. I had to admit, I was curious about the ma
n that had managed to melt that ice queen’s heart. From what I knew, he was just a nobody, a hired hitman who didn’t have too much going on upstairs but who had been pretty loyal. Until now that is.

  Then I saw him.

  He walked in, looked around, and I waved him over. He came to sit opposite me, cracked his neck and then laced his fingers together on the table in front of us. I made sure to take a long, luxurious sip to finish my espresso, placed it gently back down on the saucer and took a hard look at him. He sure didn’t look like a schemer.

  “Mickey?” he asked, without making eye contact.

  I nodded.

  “You want some coffee? The espresso here’s the best in town.”

  He shot me a tense look. Always the same with these kids, just like I said. Just because you’re in a… shall we say alternative line of work, doesn’t mean you can just throw your manners out the window. Why not have a fucking espresso? What’s so wrong with that?

  “Nah, I’m good, thanks,” he said and cast shifty eyes all around the café.

  I shrugged.

  “You get it done?” I said.

  His shifty eyes landed on me.

  “Yeah.”

  Fucking liar. I said nothing. There was something kind of entertaining in watching him come out with it all on his own.

  “But I lost the other two.”

  I raised my eyebrows, pretending this was the first time I’d heard this information. I turned the espresso cup around the grooves on the saucer, making the china grind and grate.

  “Well, ain’t that a shame. Care to explain what the fuck happened?”

  He nervously adjusted his weight in the seat, looking a little flustered. Nobody else would be able to spot it, maybe, but I could see it clear as day. It wasn’t reasonable to expect the hired muscle to have some fucking brains, I guess.

  “Mickey, fuck, I don’t know what to say. You know who she is. Or was. You know what she’s capable of. She knows how to handle herself.”

  I could see why someone like her went for someone like him. While Evie’s reputation as a spitfire was certainly not in question, I knew he was lying about this too. It made sense. The fool was in love with her, and did all the dirty work so she wouldn’t even have to kill them. I felt a little bad for the guy, actually.

  “Yeah, you don’t have to tell me. She’s something special isn’t she?” I said, casting him a knowing smile.

  He shot his gaze up to me.

  “A real Femme Fatale, right?” I said in a mocking voice. He narrowed his eyes.

  “Well, honestly, I admire that you pulled it off, Jacky boy, she’s a viper. A lesser man might have gotten, well, you know, distracted…” I said and smirked at him. His expression hardened. He knew I was fucking with him, but he wasn’t sure what that meant yet. No problem. He soon would.

  “You know what they say about her is true right? The rumors?”

  “What rumors?” he said through clenched teeth.

  I laughed cynically.

  “You been living under a rock buddy? There’s not a guy in upper management who hasn’t screwed her, pal. Or should I say, she screwed them. Takes what she wants, doesn’t she? I like when women are feisty like that. But shit. She’s cold. She had half the men working above her wrapped round her little finger…”

  “Shut up!” he hissed at me. I smiled.

  “Forget it,” I said and stood to leave. I had been planning to get another cup, to maybe read the paper, watch the world go by and have a little think about life. But giving this fucker what he deserved as soon as possible was too tempting. I held out my hand, shook his and nodded.

  “No hard feelings, pal.”

  I could see the muscles in his jaw twitching. He turned to leave. I got my coat, took my time putting it on and then walked out after him, thrusting both hands into my pockets. It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining and some kids were playing with chalk on the sidewalk outside the café.

  I was feeling pretty good.

  And I was going to enjoy destroying him.

  Chapter 11 - Jack

  I left the coffee shop in a daze. Some kids were playing outside the café, a handful of them, none older than five or six. Man, did it mess me up to see them there. They were like an omen. Like a warning.

  What if she was telling the truth? What if she really was pregnant and I really was the father? I’d spent my time on the hard side of life. I’d made money working for the more powerful, taking out the less powerful. How in god’s name could I possibly be a father?

  Part of me was repulsed. I didn’t want to be a part of that story. She was a liar and a manipulator, she had clearly used me, and she had fully planned to never tell me about her pregnancy anyway. Mickey was right, of course. She was a fucking viper. Maybe I had made a big mistake sparing her life, letting her free to do god knows what. I had wanted less involvement with this fucked up organization, not more…

  And yet. A small part of me was …excited. Now that I was alone, walking the streets with my thoughts, it felt safe to feel almost happy. She was sorry. She hadn’t meant it. She had kept the baby, for fuck’s sake. She said she had seen something in me, that night in the warehouse. It wasn’t just me getting high and seeing what wasn’t there …maybe something special actually had happened.

  I walked quickly. It was hot outside and I felt exposed. Mickey had bought the lie for now but there was no way around it: I’d be screwed if they found out she was still alive. And really, it was a matter of when they found out rather than if. I needed time to think. I had to make my own escape plan, and quickly.

  I passed by a narrow alleyway and instantly felt a blunt, heavy object collide with my lower back. I cried out. I spun around just in time for a fist to smash into my face and drag me off. I kicked and thrashed, trying to claw at the hands that had gone to my throat, but in a second I was pulled into the alleyway and pinned hard against the brick wall of the building. It was Mickey.

  “What the…” I tried to wriggle free but he had me pinned, his meaty hand jabbing sharply into my throat.

  “How stupid do you think I am, huh?” he growled. His face was pressed up so close to mine I could smell stale coffee and cigarettes on his breath. I twisted my head to the side and tried to free my left hand to defend myself, but the guy was massive. I was getting really sick of this shit.

  “Go on, tell me again how you followed orders and how you killed her. It’s hilarious. You’re even worse at lying than you are at carrying out your fucking duties,” he said and leaned into me.

  Pain radiated out from the tender spot he was pressing into. I could have easily taken him, but not like this, not when he was threatening to choke me out in a second.

  “Those were two of my best men, you think I’m gonna just let you waltz away, just like that?” he said. It felt as though my blood, unable to rush into my head, was pooling painfully at my feet instead. I had to break free.

  “Fuck you,” I said and spat in his face.

  The reaction was swift. His other hand came violently down onto my side ribs and pummeled out the last of the air I had in my lungs with a hard, vicious blow. I bit down and winced, unable to defend myself. I felt dizzy. He was cutting of my air supply. But I instantly jumped to attention when I felt the sharp, cold end of a knife poking into the place I had just been hit. I was still bruised from the beating I’d taken at the funeral.

  He lowered all his weight further onto my poor neck and smiled darkly at me. Her face flashed into my mind.

  “She’s not a threat. She just wants to live her life, she’s gone,” I spluttered, struggling to breathe.

  “Oh, well, isn’t that fucking sweet?” he said and dug the knife tip in a little further.

  “Don’t hurt her.” I was surprised to hear myself begging for her like that, but it was true. Whatever had happened, Evie had suffered enough.

  He eased up a little with the knife.

  “Buddy, it’s too late for that anyway. My guys are already on
their way to her now, to finish what you couldn’t…”

  I twisted and moaned. I couldn’t let it end like this. Not when she was in danger and needed me.

  “She’ll run. She’s already gone. You won’t catch her,” I hissed.

  “Won’t we? How do you think we found out where she was the first time, you idiot? Here’s a clue – maybe being pregnant has taken that crazy Evie edge off her, huh?”

  I snapped to attention.

  “What did you say?”

  “It’s not a secret pal. She was so desperate, running around trying to figure out whom the father of her child was, and, what can I say, she got sloppy. We got a hold of her medical records and tracked her down. Boom.”

  I felt like the world in front of me was getting dimmer and dimmer, folding into a small circle before my eyes like the end of an old cartoon.

  “She really is pregnant?”

  “Oh yes she is …congratulations, by the way. Too bad it’s a short-lived thing, huh? C’est la vie, pal,” he said and laughed to himself.

  She was pregnant.

  I was the father.

  “She was hard to track, make no mistake. That woman was one of my earliest teachers, so I knew every trick to look for. We’ll get her again in the end though.”

  My mind went into hyper drive. All at once, as though I was watching sixteen movies at a time, all layered on top of one another and played on fast forward, I saw her. Evie. In all her glory. Those painted red-pink lips. Those narrow hips and even narrower eyes. The way she had stared into my soul when we were alone with one another, our bodies knotted together, fucking like it was the end of the world and we were last two people alive in it…

  This was it.

  The life-flashing-before-your-eyes thing that people always talk about. And it was …beautiful. I was the father of Evie’s child – and what else did we do that night but create something brilliant and strange and new? – and no way in fucking hell was I going to leave her now. I couldn’t die. There was just no way. I was mad as hell at her. But I wasn’t going to let her die either.