Kissing the Killer: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (Barone Crime Family)

by Hamel, B. B.

  Frustrated, I went downstairs and into the kitchen. Susan was sitting at the table, which surprised me. She was rarely at home, always so busy with her job and her city council seat.

  “Good morning, Laney,” she said.

  “Morning.” I poured myself a cup of coffee and leaned against the counter. “You’re not normally home around now.”

  She smiled. “I’ve been working too hard. Decided to take the morning off.”

  “Lucky you.” I paused, sipping my coffee. “You know Easton is staying here now, right?”

  “I sure do. I suggested it, actually.”

  I cocked my head at her. “Why?”

  “Well, you’ve heard about what’s happening.”

  “Sure. The murders.”

  “Sheriff Sloan thinks Easton can help. And I want to offer as much support to him as possible. I figure he can get more work done here than he can in that little office of his.”

  “Maybe,” I muttered. “Or maybe he’s better off alone there.”

  Susan laughed. “Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah, of course.”

  “You seem a little annoyed.”

  I sighed, sitting down across from her. “Your son is a real asshole, that’s all.”

  My eyes widened. I couldn’t believe I had just said that, but Susan only laughed harder.

  “He is a stubborn boy, that’s for sure. What happened?”

  “He closed the office and is finished working with me.”

  “Really?” She seemed mildly surprised. “He had said you’ve been a huge asset to him.”

  I nodded. “I thought so. We were going over the case together one second, and the next he’s telling me we’re done working together and to just forget it.”

  Susan made a small sound and nodded her head thoughtfully. “I can’t say that I’m surprised.”

  “You can’t? I sure was.”

  “You know,” she said slowly, “when Easton was a little boy, he had this friend named Michael. Mike came from a bad home—parents were drunks, he moved around a lot. For whatever reason, Easton figured all this out.”

  “How old was he?”

  “Nine or ten.”

  “That’s really young to see something like that.”

  “I know. He’s always had an incredible read on people, even well beyond his years when he was young.”

  “So what did he do?”

  “Well,” she said, continuing, “one day he came home and begged me to let Michael sleep over. I said okay, sure. The next night Easton came to me and begged me to let Michael stay over again. I said okay one more time since it wasn’t unusual for kids to stay over twice in a row.”

  “I can see where this is going,” I said softly.

  Susan smiled. “I knew something was up when he asked the third time. I sat him down and said, ‘Easton, why are you trying to get Michael to stay over so much?’ I’ll never forget what he said.”

  I sipped my coffee. “What?”

  “He said, ‘Because, Mom, Mike’s house is awful and he doesn’t want to live there anymore. Maybe he won’t say so, but he’s happier here. I thought maybe he could live with us.’”

  “Wow.” I was genuinely surprised.

  She nodded, smiling fondly at the memory. “I asked him, ‘Where is Mike going to stay?’ He said, ‘My room.’ I asked, ‘What will he eat?’ He said, ‘My food.’ I was completely astounded.”

  “So what happened?”

  “Mike went home that night, and his mom ended up beating him severely for not telling her where he was. After that, his mom got arrested and his dad got sober.”

  I let that story sink in for a second. It did seem like Easton, to some degree. He had been very willing to help Mrs. Suarez, and although he put on a show of being a jaded private eye most of the time, I did get glimpses of someone more generous underneath that exterior.

  “Wow,” I said softly. “That must have been hard for a kid to take.”

  “It really was. I remember him finally understanding what had happened to Mike, and although he never said it out loud, I could tell that he blamed himself.”

  “That wasn’t his fault. He even tried, as best a little kid could at least.”

  She smiled sadly. “I know. But you have to understand something about Easton.” She sipped her coffee and looked out across the kitchen. “He wants to help save everyone, and every failure is personal. At a certain point, he learned that it was easier to make very few connections than it was to constantly fail to fix absolutely everything.”

  “But how could he make everyone perfect?”

  She looked back at me, smiling. “He can’t. He’s stubborn as hell, though. That all has a lot to do with why he and I don’t get along.”

  “Why is that?”

  She shook her head. “A long, stupid story. We’re both as stubborn as the other one in the end.”

  “I understand,” I said, although I wished she would go on.

  “Anyway,” she said, sipping her coffee again and stretching, “I think that’s enough about him.”

  I wanted to press her. What did that whole story have to do with me and him? Did she think that he was trying to protect me by not letting me get involved with his investigation? I wanted to know so much more, to get her perspective on him when he was a little kid, but I knew more questions would seem suspicious.

  After all, he and I were just stepsiblings.

  “Thanks for telling me that,” I said. “Makes me feel a little better, I think.”

  “Don’t worry, hun. He’ll come around eventually.” She paused and laughed softly. “Or he won’t. You never know.”

  I sipped my coffee. “I think I’m going to head upstairs and get myself together.”

  “Sounds good.”

  I smiled and left the kitchen. I needed to get out of there before my curiosity got the best of me.

  Maybe her story had raised more questions than answers, but I was totally sure about one thing: Easton was trying to push me away because he thought it was best for me. But he wasn’t allowed to choose what was best for me.

  I stopped outside his door. It was open a bit, so I softly nudged it open.

  The room was empty.

  I walked inside quickly, not overthinking it. I did a quick scan of the room and spotted what I was looking for: the case file. I grabbed it from the side table and quickly brought it into my room.

  Once inside, I sat down on my floor and spread the file out in front of me.

  There was so much stuff. Police reports, crime scene photos, handwritten notes, and more. It all stretched far back in time, back to the original murder that had opened the file. Easton’s contributions were significant, but they were only a small part of what was in there.

  I didn’t know what Easton was thinking or what he wanted. Part of me didn’t care. If he wanted to be stubborn, then fine. But he couldn’t control my actions, and I was going to help him catch this murderer.

  He wasn’t the only person that had met Mrs. Suarez. I had been inside her house; I knew her. I felt as responsible for Luisa as he did.

  I took another big sip of coffee and dove in head first, starting from the beginning. I had a long morning ahead of me.

  18

  Easton

  I was covered in sweat as I started the second set. I stripped off my sopping shirt and tossed it aside, dropping down to my knees to start. I pushed, my arms bulging, working my body hard, past the point of exhaustion.

  I’d been neglecting my workouts. Fortunately, Susan’s basement was finished and quiet, and so I was able to escape down there early to get my workout in. There was only a treadmill and some simple weights, but that was fine.

  I put the television on the local news and pushed myself. It honed my mind, made me concentrate better. I’d been too busy medicating myself with alcohol to really push it, but it felt good to finally get off my ass.

  Plus, working out helped me think.

  There were so ma
ny possibilities in the case. They all swirled around my mind constantly, flitting this way and that. I wanted to be clear, totally clear, and I needed to be if I was going to figure anything out.

  Unfortunately, Laney kept jutting into my mind.

  The way she had looked when I’d told her that we weren’t working together anymore kept jabbing me in the chest. I hated that I hurt her, that I had to push her away, but I hoped she’d understand it one day. I hoped she’d understand that at the moment, I was the most dangerous person in all of Mishawaka. Just being around me could mean death.

  Maybe I should have run away, moved to a different state, but that wouldn’t have stopped the killings. Frankly, I figured Susan and Alan were both in danger, and Laney would be too. The best thing I could do for them was to solve the case, and solve it fast.

  But fucking Laney. Remembering the way she moaned as she slid down my cock just made me rock hard. I finished my set and sat back against the couch, breathing deeply. I could feel my cock begin to stir as everything about that afternoon in the car came back to me.

  The way she whispered in my ear. The way she begged for it. Her lips sucking me off. It was impossible not to think about her, not when she drove me so completely fucking crazy.

  I clenched my jaw and went back to work. I had nothing to do that day except clear my mind. Later, once I felt like I could finally concentrate on my work, I’d throw myself into the case. First, though, I needed to do my little ritual.

  Tire out the body so the mind could take over.

  Hours slipped past that way. I would work out, take a short rest to watch the news, and then go back to it. Over and over again.

  By the end, the sun had dipped down below the horizon and I was completely exhausted. It felt pretty good to be totally and absolutely wiped.

  I stood up and stretched, looking up at the basement window. Shadows stretched across the yard and the sky was a deep, blood red.

  “Easton.”

  I looked up at the steps. Laney was standing there, looking down at me.

  “What can I do for you?”

  She bit her lip at my tone. I felt a short stab of regret but shoved it aside. I had to keep my mind right.

  “I think I found something.”

  I raised my eyebrow. “I thought I told you we weren’t working together anymore.”

  “I know what you said,” she snapped, “but I don’t always listen.”

  I sighed, sitting down and running a towel over my body. I caught her staring, but I refused to let myself understand what that meant.

  “I don’t have time for this, Laney.”

  She made a face. “Look, I get it. You’re this big asshole who is going to save everyone. But I think I noticed something important.”

  She came down the steps, holding the case file. I stood up, suddenly annoyed. “Did you take that from my room?”

  “Yeah, I did.”

  “That’s not yours to touch.”

  “Too bad.” She sat down on the couch and flipped open the cover. “Look at this.”

  She began to take out crime scene pictures. Each photo was of a hand, the fingers missing in the usual way. She spread them all out on the ground in front of her.

  “Hands,” I said.

  “Be quiet for a second,” she said. I tried not to smile, but I didn’t say anything. “These are all of the original murders,” she went on. “I saw that the police never released this one small detail, that the pinky on the left hand was only ever clipped down to the second knuckle while the other fingers were all removed completely.”

  I nodded. “Yeah, I remember that. They wanted to be able to verify it if we ever caught the guy.”

  “You also said that you weren’t sure if we were dealing with someone who had actually worked with Seed or if we were dealing with a copycat, right?”

  “That’s what I’m trying to figure out now.”

  She stared at me for a second. “Don’t you see? Only the people most intimate with the killings would know this: the killer himself, plus the four other agents that worked on this file, including yourself.

  I cocked my head at her, frowning. Her large eyes stared back at me, her face serious, her breath coming deeply. I felt my cock getting hard as I remembered those tits in my face, her body slamming down onto me.

  And then it hit me. Of course. If the new murders had hands just like the old murders, then we could conclude that someone with inside information was doing the killings.

  I looked at her for a long time. I knew I had reason to be impressed with her, but she had seen something so obvious that I had overlooked.

  “You’re right,” I said simply.

  Her face broke out into a proud grin. “Really? This is important?”

  I nodded. “I need to call the sheriff.”

  “Holy shit, Easton!”

  I couldn’t help but smile back. She stood up, scattering the pictures across the floor, and threw her arms around me. She crushed her body against mine, hugging me tightly.

  I felt a rush of excitement run through me as she pressed herself close, and I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her close. In that moment, I realized how close to everything I had become. I was so willing to push every single person away, but for what? Laney wanted to help, and she was good at it. Plus, she was in danger no matter what I did.

  I pulled back and looked at her. “About earlier—”

  “Unless you’re about to apologize, I don’t want to hear it.”

  I grinned at her. “I don’t apologize.”

  “That seems like a bad rule.”

  I reached behind her and cupped her ass, pressing my crotch harder against her. “We work pretty good together.”

  “That doesn’t sound like ‘I’m sorry, Laney; you were right, Laney.’”

  “I said you were right.”

  “True. You’re so close then.”

  That teasing smile on her face was only driving me crazier. Despite having worked my body to exhaustion all day long, I was still rock hard for her, my cock straining against my workout shorts. I knew what I wanted: the only thing that could possibly clear my head.

  I kissed her, pressing my mouth against hers. She let out a soft moan as my hands grabbed her ass, pulling her against me tighter. She returned my kiss, wrapping her arms around me.

  I’d fucked up when I’d pushed her away. I’d fucked up when I’d thought I could take everything on myself.

  But I wasn’t going to fuck up now.

  19

  Laney

  Easton kissed me rough and hard, a hunger in him that surprised me.

  I let out a soft moan as I felt his hard cock through his shorts, and that surprised me too.

  “This is a weird way to apologize,” I whispered to him as he lifted my shirt over my head.

  “I’m not apologizing,” he responded, pulling his own shirt off. “But I am going to get your fucking pussy off.”

  “Easton,” I said, but he was already kissing my neck.

  I couldn’t help myself. I reached down and grasped his hard dick, stroking him through his thin shorts, working his shaft. He unhooked my bra and I let it drop to the floor. He began to gently feel my breasts, my back, my skin. I loved the feeling of his hard cock in my hands and the soft grunts he made as I worked him.

  He reached down and unzipped my pants, dropping down to his knees. I giggled as he pulled them off me, tossing them aside. He grabbed my ass and pulled me against his mouth as he kissed and licked my pussy over my panties.

  “Careful,” I said, biting my lip. “You’ll ruin them.”

  “They taste ruined already.”

  He pulled them down off my ass and I ran my fingers through his hair. He began to nibble at my clit again, gently licking and sucking. He spread my legs a bit wider and grabbed my ass, pressing me harder against his mouth.

  “Oh shit, Easton,” I moaned. “Holy shit that feels good.”

  “Knowing how to work a pussy means I never hav
e to say sorry,” he grunted.

  I couldn’t help but laugh. I pulled his hair gently, and he responded by licking me harder and slipping a finger deep inside me.

  My legs were shaking as he worked me. Suddenly he hooked his arms under my legs and stood up, lifting me into the air.

  “Easton!” I gasped, surprised and a little afraid.

  He laughed as he gently placed me back down on the couch. I bit my lip, surprised by how easily he could lift me, and a little more than turned on. He resumed licking my clit and sliding a finger in and out of me, pressing against me hard. I spread my legs wider, trying not to moan too loudly.

  I looked down at him. His fingers pressed deep inside me and he grinned up at me. “Do you want me to fuck you again, Laney?”

  “Yes,” I said immediately.

  His did something with his fingers that sent my body into convulsive pleasure. “Are you going to let me come inside that tight pussy?”

  “Please,” I moaned, unable to think, unable to move.

  He pulled his fingers back and stood. He dropped his shorts and underwear, and I looked up at his hard cock. He walked over to his gym bag and pulled out his wallet, slipping a condom into his hand.

  He held it out to me. “Go ahead.”

  I got to my knees in front of him and ripped it open. I slowly slid his cock between my lips, taking as much as I could, and then began to roll the condom down his length.

  “Ah shit. That’s what I like,” he said.

  When I finished, he grabbed my hips and lifted me, turning me around. He pressed me down, putting my knees on the couch and standing behind me. I felt his fingers and mouth begins to eat my pussy out from behind, and I pressed my face into the cushion, moaning loudly.

  I felt his fingers move back, and he leaned forward, speaking into my ear. “I love how soaked you are. I love how you show me your pussy, begging me for it.”

  I felt him press his hands against my hips and slowly push his cock deep between my legs.