My Beautiful Killer
A Bad Boy Mafia Romance
Riley Rollins
Contents
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1. Dane
2. Abby
3. Dane
4. Abby
5. Dane
6. Abby
7. Dane
8. Abby
9. Dane
10. Abby
11. Dane
12. Abby
13. Dane
14. Abby
15. Dane
16. Abby
17. Dane
18. Abby
19. Dane
20. Dane
21. Abby
22. Dane
23. Dane
24. Abby
25. Dane
26. Abby
27. Dane
28. Abby
29. Abby
30. Dane
31. Dane
32. Abby
Epilogue: Abby
Thank You
Copyright © 2016 by Riley Rollins
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to real life is purely coincidental.
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Dane
I slip inside the bedroom and it’s dark as fuck but I don’t give a shit. I always could see everything I needed to in the darkness and this moment is no exception. Every sense is humming. Every nerve is on fire. I’m a man who knows what he wants, who gets what he wants and I want this. I am my truest self and have never felt more powerful. This is what I was made for.
I focus on the form in bed, sleeping without thought or care. Dark hair fringes a curve of throat. It’s that smooth, vulnerable skin that locks my gaze as I move to the bed. I’ve done this so many times before the movement is practiced, easy. What’s coming will be furious and violent. Two bodies locked in an intensity unexplainable to those who’ve never felt it for themselves. The anticipation is incredible. I feel my own heartbeat and suck in a cool lungful of air. For a fast second I close my eyes and savor. The next second the garrote is around his fucking throat and I’m smiling into bulging, dying eyes.
Fucking Arseny was meant to die like this and it’s my pleasure to do the honors. It’s just not going to be over as quickly as he thinks. Or as he would hope. I loosen the wire around his throat barely enough to allow him a breath. He’s always enjoyed shooting off his mouth at the wrong moment. Who am I to deny him the privilege now?
“Goddamn fuckin’ prick…shit fuck…kill…y…” he rasps out, his hands tearing uselessly at the wire. That’s more than I thought I’d given him air for. Impressive.
“Yes, yes Arseny,” I patronize softly. “But tonight it’s your turn. Lazar knows you’ve been fucking skimming and he knows how much. He’s wants you dead nearly as much as I do, you twisted fuck.” I can’t help pulling the wire a little tighter. Arseny arches and bucks, his face turning a different shade of purple. I move closer, speaking into his ear.
“I’m giving you a chance you don’t deserve, you useless prick. You get to confess your sins before you die and I’m going to absolve them. Take one more breath and tell me why I’m ending you now.”
Arseny sucks air through his swelling tissues and strains hard, the thick vessels in his forehead going blue, and makes a final try at throwing me off. It’s hopeless. I have a foot of height on him and am solid muscle. But he fights anyway like a man does at the end.
He really doesn’t need to tell me shit. I already know. So does Lazar. That’s why I’m here to kill him. Getting to fucking watch him squirm just makes it better for me. I rock back very slightly and notice the dark skin of my forearms in curious contrast to the sickly color of his pasty chest. I’m enjoying this.
“No...nothing to say after all?” I grind out the words as I bear down again on the wire encircling his neck. “No apologies to those women, to the family you fucked over? Nothing…before I turn you into less than nothing?”
He rolls sideways hard with a last burst of energy. I roll with him. We’re in this together now and I won’t let go until the last fucking twitch leaves him. I like an up close and personal kill when it’s an asshole like this guy.
“Time to be a man now, you sick fuck. Time to die for all those girls you ruined.”
I lean in taking an extra wrap of wire around my gloved hands. Arseny makes a gurgling sound in his chest, his legs thrashing hard in jerking rapid bursts. All I need to do is ride him out. He makes one more squirming roll, taking the tangle of sheets with him.
Uncovered in bed next to us is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. I drag my eyes from his bloodshot ones and look into hers. Wide, blue and completely terrified. She is utterly naked and looking at me like I am the beginning and the end of the world.
She is not wrong.
Abby
“You will be still and you will be silent.”
His command made its way through the rushing sound in my head and somehow I understood. Disobeying him was impossible. My arms were bound too tightly behind me for movement to be possible. Silent? If I could still scream, I’d have never stopped. And now his black eyes were on me. Me, his witness.
I’d seen his face and he’d seen mine. I knew it meant I would die next but I still couldn’t tear my eyes away. He was huge and darkly tanned. Powerful muscles showed beneath his form fitting black pullover. Sleek black hair was pulled back from his face in a short tail at the back of his corded neck. His arms were thick and solid with muscle. His black gloved hands strong and ready to kill the bastard who’d spent the last two days starving me and telling me all the twisted shit he planned to do to me. Is this my savior...or my killer? Can someone be both?
I squeezed my eyes shut and turned my head away hard. I felt a fast, sickening jolt of mattress beneath me and then nothing. In shock, I wondered if all that stillness wasn’t worse than the struggle had been. Now I was in bed with a killer and a corpse. Naked, tied up, exhausted and totally vulnerable, I felt large rough hands gather me up and lift me off the bed.
I had a strange floaty feeling then and the terror of the last few days seemed to roll away like a wave. What was wrong with me that I felt comforted by his hands? Or maybe everybody feels this way when they’re about to be killed…
The world began to slip away and the only real thing I could still feel was those warm, strong hands on me. They gave a steadiness to my thin, trembling body. I wasn’t thinking anymore about being naked, or even about being dead soon. I only felt a wash of gratefulness that the hands that would kill me felt strangely safe. As he carried me, off to wherever I would die, I curled closer and pressed my cold cheek against his hard, warm chest. I let out the breath I’d been holding forever and everything went black.
I awoke coughing, my body registering nothing but pain.
“Drink.” The voice seemed to be coming from
inside my own thick, aching head.
Strong familiar arms lifted my shoulders, cradling my head. I obeyed and swallowed, gasping air between gulps. Cold water broke hard through the dryness of my throat. I opened my eyes without focus and closed them again to the painful light. I tried sitting up only to fall back from the throbbing in my arm and head. I was on hard ground but I was wrapped in something soft and warm. And the rope that tied my arms was gone. I was still naked but I was still alive too and sensible enough to wonder why. Blinking and squinting, I opened my eyes to the most beautiful man I’d ever seen, kneeling on the ground beside me in old jeans and a black sweatshirt. The man who’d saved me from Arseny. The black eyed killer.
“Where am I…where is this…what…,” it came out quiet, raspy.
“It’s a forest I know well,” he said, running one large hand slowly around the back of his neck. “There’s a stream, some small game. I keep a kit in the Jeep with things I need out here. You’ve been sleeping for hours.” He looked at me. “We’re a long way from anywhere.”
My too-fast heartbeat shifted from my chest to my painful shoulder and I swallowed hard.
He lifted me again, letting me drink. “That’s enough for now,” he said. “You have to go slow at first. I’ll give you more in a little while.” He paused and rocked back on his heels. “How long have you gone without water?”
“A day or so I think, longer with no food. I think he…that…that he had me for days. He just kept talking about what he was going to do. He got off on telling me…,” I broke off, my head and stomach churning. He was sitting close, listening, black eyes growing blacker, his thick hair loose and skimming his jawline.
I wanted to ask why I was still alive, why he’d brought me here and what he was going to do with me, but I knew better. The more I knew, the more danger I was in and I was in deep already. I flashed to that awful scene, the killing in the bed, and panic rose thickly in the back of my throat. I shifted too fast and was hit by a rolling wave of heat and nausea. Shock, I thought in some lucid untouched part of my mind. Then the world tilted. Colors flashed alongside floating bits of memory...mixing together and coming apart until nothing seemed real… There was a smell of home and wood smoke and something cooking. Fear and black eyes and a warm hand that brushed the hair back from my forehead. I reached weakly for the hand and for the safety it seemed to promise. Thoughts began and wandered off without ever fully forming...
The sky had darkened and was changing color when my eyes opened again. Light came only from a campfire with something cooking over it on a spit. The smell of food made my mouth water and my stomach rumble.
My head felt clearer and my body not so painful, but sitting up was still more than I could manage. He stepped over to me from the fire, bringing water and a small piece of roasted meat. He was even taller than I remembered.
“Can you manage to eat something?” he asked, his voice deep and strangely melodic. “I’ve roasted a rabbit. You should get some protein in you if you can. And more water.”
“Yes, oh yes please…water.” I struggled to sit again.
He reached out one arm to me, lifting me easily and holding me while I drank, letting me eat slowly in tiny bites. It was rich and smoky and utterly delicious. My first food in…how long?
“That’s enough for tonight,” he said after a few minutes, lowering me back down. “Your body has to readjust to food again and it’s no good rushing it. There’s fish for in the morning and you’ll find you can eat quite a bit more. You’re too thin,” he said, running his eyes down me, “and I need to see how badly you’re hurt.” He reached for my blanket and slowly pulled it off me.
“No…stop, you can’t…!” With my strength returning, the adrenaline hit me fast and I struggled trying to cover myself.
“Easy, easy now,” he said, low and soft. “You’re safe enough. You’re injured and your body needs some tending is all.” He spoke to me like he was gentling a frightened animal. I took an uneven breath and stared into his dark velvety eyes, my pulse slowing. I didn’t have the strength to stop him from doing anything he wanted to me but when I looked into his eyes and listened to his voice, somehow my next breath was steadier.
“You’re bruised. Here…and here.” His long strong fingers lingered from one spot to the other, my shoulder to my hip, leaving a trail of too warm skin after his touch had moved on. “And your wrists are raw from the ropes.” My pulse thumped hard as his fingers explored.
He shifted toward the fire behind him and brought back a metal basin of fragrant, steaming water and some small towels. He wet a cloth and began to gently wash my face. My eyes never left his. The killer had fed me and now he was going to bathe me? Hysteria whispered in my ear.
The cloth moved down my neck and to my wrenched shoulder and I winced.
“Easy girl. I’ll be as gentle as I can,” he said. “This arm is worse than the rest.”
“I…I…it’s alright. It’ll be alright. He twisted it is all.”
His face darkened, “What else did he do to you?” His hands kept steady, working on me.
“I was walking home…I didn’t see him. Then I was in a car with something over my head. He tied me...he liked to tie me…and he kept talking about what he was going to do.” The words gained speed coming out. “He touched me but he never…he didn’t…”
“Good fucking thing he didn’t or I’d have to kill the asshole all over again,” he said so softly I wasn’t sure I’d heard right.
His hands moved steadily, my legs and feet and back. Washing me, drying me, kneading when his long fingers came to a sore spot. He was relaxing me in spite of myself. I couldn’t believe how good it felt. My mind flapped back and forth between crazy and cold sober as he touched me, but my body responded anyway beneath his hands. I flushed warmly and felt a strange and pleasant unsettling somewhere deep inside.
“You’re beautiful here,” he said exhaling hard, and I could feel his eyes on my breasts before he touched me. I held my breath as he worked in silence, moving my breasts with his bare hand, squeezing the cloth in his other so the water trickled down… “And you like my touch.” His look along with the feeling of his hands struck kindling in me and something nameless flamed.
I opened my mouth without response and time seemed to shift. I wouldn’t have stopped him then even if I’d had the strength, his hands both soothing and exciting me all at once. My eyes sank into the deep blackness of his and he watched my face like there was no other sight in the world. He looked at me like he wanted to devour me.
I never saw the warm sopping cloth travel down my belly. My only awareness was the look in his eyes and the feeling of his hand as it travelled the length of my body. When it reached my naked center he pressed the cloth against me, lightly at first and then harder so the water ran warm over me and into me, penetrating me as his black eyes did the same. He held my eyes, heating my body with his look while he dried me, the thin towel a fragile barrier between his hard fingers and my tender folds.
“My name is Abby,” I said softly, my breath catching, suddenly wanting nothing more than to reach up and pull this dangerous man even closer.
“The pleasure is all mine, Abby,” he said deep in his chest as his fingers lingered and then moved away from me. “My name is Dane.” A long moment passed as we held each other’s eyes. Then the fire between us somehow shifted, almost imperceptibly. He took a deep breath and dragged his eyes from mine.
“You’re not badly hurt, but you’re exhausted,” his voice not so gentle as before. “You’ll have your strength back by tomorrow, but now what you need most is sleep.” He pulled my blanket back up over my hips, my breasts.
This was a man who could have done anything. He could have raped me but he was taking care of me, encouraging me to sleep. He’d hunted and cooked for me. He’d held me in his arms to feed me and let me drink. I’d seen him kill, but he had not killed me. He had saved me. My thoughts spun in circles. The sheer intensity he exuded was the only
thing this man seemed to have in common with the brutal killer of last night.
Dane stood up still watching me, towering over me. His tight shirt revealed a hard broad chest of muscle. His eyes locked mine and I knew why I was not yet dead. He wanted me. And in spite of the confusion and fear I felt, I knew I wanted him too.
But everything I’d been through in the last few days was catching up with me and all my thoughts gave way to weariness. The bath and the food in my belly were working like a sedative. My eyelids fluttered and the starry sky above us started a lazy spin as he laid down gently next to me and pulled me, still wrapped in my blanket, against his chest.
“You’re sleeping with me…?” I asked in a fading voice, melting into exhaustion and the warmth of his touch.
“I don’t want to freeze to death,” he said dryly. “Go to sleep.”
But as I sank down, surrendering, thoughts rose up from a deeper place. He’d taken care of me and I could feel his desire, but I was still the only witness to the murder he’d committed. Would he have told me his name if he ever intended to let me leave this place alive?
Dane
Truth was I had no idea what the fuck I was going to do with this girl. I knew what I wanted to do. I wanted to strip that blanket off her again and finish what I’d started.
I imagined her underneath me straining those luscious breasts against my chest, her delicate ankles wrapped around my hips, moaning my name until everything she’d seen and everything she’d been through in the last few days was burned from her memory. Everything except for me and what I was doing to her. Bathing her had nearly killed me and I was fucking hard to kill. Shit, I was fucking hard. I had been since I’d first laid eyes on her. She was blonde with enormous blue eyes framed with thick long lashes. Her body was thin, almost waif like although she seemed about average height for a woman. Her breasts were round and so fucking ripe, far too full for such a delicate body. Even with everything she’d been through, she responded to my touch and I could see in her eyes that she needed me to fuck her into mindlessness. The memory of washing her made my cock ache...
My Beautiful Killer: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance Page 1
