by Liz K. Lorde
Contents
Title Page
Newsletter
Other Works by Liz
Dedication
Copyright
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
More Books By Liz
Author Note
Special Thanks
Connect With Liz
Songs That Inspired This Book
Appendix
Services Used / Cover Creation
OUR CRAZY LITTLE THING CALLED LOVE
A Steamy Mafia Romance Novel
Liz K. Lorde
Liz K. Lorde Publishing
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To all the people that touched my life in one way or another, thank you. I won’t say this will be my best work, but it has been my best effort. If it wasn’t for the help, love, and understanding of my friends, old flames, almost lovers, and incredibly talented buddies… I probably wouldn’t have pushed for as long or as hard as I did.
I probably would have given up a long time ago.
Thanks to my family. My grandmother, my mother and the people I consider my god parents.
To memories past, and futures not yet written.
-Liz K. Lorde
Copyright © 2017 by Liz K. Lorde
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.
Liz K. Lorde
http://www.liz-k-lorde.com/
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
Book Layout © 2017 BookDesignTemplates.com
Our Crazy Little Thing Called Love. — 1st ed.
ISBN 978-0-0000000-0-0
CHAPTER ONE
TABITHA
One spray of blood and that was all it took to change this man’s life forever.
One look and mine changed right with his. Funny how things intertwine like that, one small stone against the pond leads to ripples that reach out further than one could ever see.
Guess that’s why hindsight is so important.
His cock penetrated me hard and deep, and suddenly I was thankful that my hymen had broken all those long years ago. Pain kissed between my legs, but fuck if it wasn’t a delightful kind of hurt. I had to clutch the sheets of the bed just to stay sane. Listening to the sound of his beautiful shaft stirring up my pussy was pure bliss, hearing the way that his balls would slap against me.
I didn’t know where things were heading, of course I never really did; life was a garden for most – but for me it was a hedgemaze that I couldn’t escape from. Sorrows touched me in ways that I thought they never would, and even though things couldn’t be more messed up right now, I felt bonded to his tragedy. To his tumultuous heart.
To his everything.
Some would call it Stockholm Syndrome, I wouldn’t blame them – but in that moment where his heart touched mine, well, if only for a night, I knew that I was his completely.
And damn did it feel good. So good to feel… I don’t know if loved was the right word, in the traditional sense. But to be wanted, or at least in that moment, absolutely necessary. What I didn’t know however, was that I couldn’t run from life anymore. That after that steamy, gripping night, nothing would ever be the same.
It would never be the same for either of us.
CHAPTER TWO
GAUNT MEMORIES
TABITHA
Six o’clock and a siren kicks me from a dream, one that I only half remember – and for that I’m actually thankful. His face was so gaunt and pale that it still rips at my chest, even in the fog of dreams, the memories were like smudged Polaroid’s. Still able to make them out, still able to cry.
But not today. Today I’ll be strong.
The alarm on my nightstand continued to blare, so I tossed and turned naked in my small single bed. I made a series of audible whines, knowing that there was nobody around to judge me for such things – but still fearing enough that perhaps the upstairs or downstairs neighbors might hear me. My large and sprawling blanket was one of the few things that I’d bothered to actually spend money on. It was one of the things that made me happy. It had lines from some of my favorite books, written in black italics against a milk white base, with blue swirls and stardust reminiscent of Van Gogh.
Picking myself up from bed, I wormed my way out of the blankets and scooted over towards my nightstand. I’d left the AC on all night, and the cold air bit against my pale, bare skin. Shivering, I threw my arms around myself and immediately regretted my decision of being an adult and getting up for work. This was, unfortunately, a common occurrence.
Blinking, I sighed to myself and grabbed my prescription glasses next to the ringing clock. After putting them on, and I was once more allowed to frickin’ see, I reached over to the plug of the alarm and unplugged it. It cut to a satisfying silence, and then I carried it by the cord with me, as I moved through my cluttered living room.
The carpet was simple and beige, and it only had a couple of noteworthy stains from sloppily pacing around and eating snacks in the middle of the night.
I know, much less exciting than having a romp during the evening hours. But… I guess I just never considered myself pretty enough to bother with that whole scene. Hell, I hadn’t even gotten laid yet - at least I had toys to pass the time.
Never thought much of myself as a whole, really. Hell the day hadn’t even started yet and I was already internally despairing over the fact my career path of Nerdy Librarian was hitting it’s financial ceiling. Frowning instinctively, I carried the alarm clock and went to my dresser, going for the bottom drawer and putting on a quick pair of Doctor Who panties and a plain bra.
11th Doctor, if you were wondering.
The cotton warmed my ass and I was so damn thankful to have something on – I briefly considered just racing for the AC unit, but dismissed it as requiring too much energy at far too early in the morning. I padded over to my desk chair, which was serving as an impromptu laundry basket, and plucked out yesterdays black slacks and a white top, which I brought my nose up to.
Seems fine.
Carrying all of that stuff, I padded my way to the kitchen, plugged in my alarm clock, turned on the radio and listened to it as I made a fresh pot of coffee. I truly believed with all of my heart that coffee was the only thing in this whole world that I couldn’t live without, and God help you if you try to take me from it. I knew that my morning ritual of carrying the alarm clock wasn’t practi
cal compared to just using my phone, but it was kind of a habit at this point.
FROM THE RADIO
Catalina ‘Duke’ Darabont: Video footage from the daring and frankly brazen raid on Wolfinger Bank was circulated last night. Laughs nervously w-what do you think, uh, what do you think about that, Rick?
‘Rabid’ Rick Rhymes: It’s disgusting, Cat. Absolutely disgusting.
Catalina: Twelve casualties and three confirmed dead that’s, that’s what, lower? Definitely on the lower… scale of things, for them.
Rick: It is, it is. But you can’t let a stat like that make you forget these are people, cat. And it’s not just them paying for it with blood. No. Cops getting run around like headless chickens, vehicles and buildings damaged – you give someone a machine gun like they did that night… this city thrives on violence.
Catalina: But not like that.
I reached to the top cupboard for my blue mug, went to the fridge for hazelnut cream, and shimmied my way into my slacks.
Rick: Exactly. These figures, and as far as anyone can tell, I mean I’ve done just, just hundreds… of reports on people like these three. They’re making a name for themselves. They want to be up there with Ligotti and Sckeppio and Brenaisse. They wanna be BIG.
Catalina: You mean bigger than they are.
Rick: Yeah, yeah. Oh yeah. This past year their notoriety has shot through the roof. You see the Amigos on InstaGram and Youtube and Christ, there’s people that worship these – pardon my French – motherfuckers on Tumblr! Now the whole world is out to hire these guys…
***
Hopping into my silver 2012 Nissan Ultima, I shut the door and stretched over to reach the glove box, popping it open and stuffing back inside a couple of papers. After a little bit of digging, I found my prescription bottle, and undid the lid, placing one green little pill on my tongue.
After starting my car and backing out, I called up my aunt Fiona; I silently thanked the skies above when she didn’t pick up.
Not because I didn’t like her or didn’t want to hear from her.
It was just… I was in one of my moods. She was the only real family I had left, the only real friend that I had left. I convinced myself that she wouldn’t have wanted my company before work today anyway, that I would have just brought her down.
I hated that. Bringing people down to my level.
I left Fee a voice mail saying that I was going to run to the store and get what I needed for the week, and then fall back asleep. I wasn’t lying completely, I was tired – and if there wasn’t anything interesting to read at my place of work, I’ll probably end up napping.
Everyone at work, it felt like they judged me for that. For sleeping.
Regardless, I wished her well and that I hoped to see her again soon. I told her that she should practice her sword skills, because I fully intended to win our next fencing match on her gaming console. Of course, she’d never need the damn practice, seeing as how she had authentic rapier’s in her home – whatever she worked before retirement, it was a hell of a lot more exciting than anything I or Mom or Dad had ever done.
But that was me… the boring one. I brushed away some of my brown hair and put my hand back to the wheel.
Trouble never found me, life was just too routine.
***
I was on my first break for the night, and I was telling the young Samantha about The Baroness of Isildur. Samantha was an eleven year old girl who made three trips to the library a week with her single father Jim Turl. She was always asking for me, and I could tell that she was a lonely girl. It hurt to see the kid like that, to be alone. It resonated with me. “See, the Baroness is a very brave woman.”
“How brave?” Sam asked.
“Brave enough to fight pirates in a one on one duel to the death with just a cutlass and her will to live.” This was a favorite of mine, and I had to admit, I wanted to get her to like it simply because I did. “That’s kind of her thing. To do the impossible, by trying the impossible.”
Before I could continue to sell the book to her, the boss lady, Amanda Passadaego encroached on my territory. She shot me that typical annoyed scowl, when she got like this she was really nothing more than a puppet. Aka, guilty of having wood up her extremely stiff ass. “Summers,” she said in that polite to outsiders, I’m-going-to-fire-you to insiders voice. “What are you doing?”
“Miss Passadaego,” I started, adjusting my glasses. “Sorry I’m just on break.”
She said nothing, just kept wearing that scowl. Yep, I’m boned.
I gave her a limited and tight smile, “It’s just, I have five minutes left… so…”
“Does it look like now is a good time to be taking a break?”
I hoped that my disdain wasn’t showing on my face, “Is it, uhm, ever a good time?” Said that too sarcastically. Should not have said that.
“Cut it short,” she clipped, “you’re teaching that girl the wrong kind of manners, Summers.” She looked over to Samantha and gave the fakest, most put on smile I’d seen her do in weeks.
I cleared my throat and internally cursed, getting up from the table, “Alright,” I managed to say without moving my jaw. It was the only way to hide my annoyance, or, rather, the bulk of it. I turned to Sam, “I’ll see you later, okay?”
She nodded her head so very understandingly, “Promise?”
“Promise,” I smiled, watching her walk away.
When Passadaego saw that the child was on her way, she gave a warning glare and went back to making her rounds.
CHAPTER THREE
EMERALD EYE TROUBLE
TABITHA
My stomach dropped like a stone when I saw him. Fear gripped me tight, and I found myself beautifully mesmerized by this force of nature before me.
I’d never seen royalty in person before. Not face to face like this.
His hair was dark green and slicked back, and there was a wicked smile more in his emerald eyes than in his face. I’d seen him on TV being locked up for petty crimes, even though he was always accused of much, much worse. The man never stayed in jail for long. He flaunted his heists in front of the police during interviews. Taking credit only in theory and in jest for the high rate of robberies in Chaos, Nevada.
When there wasn’t a woman on his either shoulder, there was a gun in his hand.
When there wasn’t a gun in his hand, there was a drink.
Most residents of Chaos tried not to pose the question of ‘what if’ when Leo Ligotti didn’t have any of the above. I think what unsettled me most about the man, was that Leonardo didn’t have a gun. He didn’t need one. Just what in the hell was he doing here?
Everyone in the library froze, daring not to move. Some opted to sit down, others covered their heads and a couple hid underneath the library desks.
There wasn’t a chance in hell someone was going to try and be a hero against Leonardo Ligotti.
Beautiful. Reckless. Crazy. One thing was for sure, he was the heir apparent to the Ligotti crime family; an underworld empire of thugs, rogues and masterminds. Messing with him or anyone even remotely associated with him was… well, for lack of a better word, foolish.
Leo was dressed sharply in a rich, extravagant suit. The jacket itself held dark, lapis colors to it, and a deep red undershirt with an equally red tie. Only one black button was done up on his jacket, and his pants matched the exquisite color; though it did well to conceal it, you could tell that he was well built beneath all of those rich clothes. His long legs made big strides, along with his crew, towards the middle of the library – his black shoes kissing the wooden flooring with each motion.
He swept a hand through his hair. Even from here I could make out the word ‘Lenore’ on his knuckles, along with each suit of playing cards. Some nervous part of me wanted to hurl, it felt like he was coming right for me.
You’re just overreacting and being silly, I reminded myself.
Going unnoticed was like a skill that I’d been unknowingly practi
cing my whole life.
Life, for that matter, had become a whirlwind of normativity, and this was the first, on the one hand exciting, and on another, absolutely terrifying thing to happen to me in months. The next most interesting thing had been the coincidental fact my coworker Sarah Reynolds, who had been trying to set me up with this one repeat customer, had some of the exact same mannerisms of the leading man in the book that I was reading.
Suffice to say, The Importance of Being Seductive was far more entertaining than the date in which I’d been set up. Frankly, I had a hard time getting close to men… I’d never actually slept with one. Kinda kills your confidence when all of your peers are getting, seemingly, nonstop laid.
Why I’m getting caught up on these things, I’m not sure. Maybe it’s because I’ll end up dying a virgin if someone gets the bright idea to bad mouth Leo-friggin-Ligotti.
The swaggering crime lord Leonardo scanned the room and announced with a staggering, aggressive confidence, “I don’t want your money, I don’t need any of you. But I do need Theresa,” he craned his head back to one of his rifle holding goons, and they exchanged some quick, quiet words. The man that he was speaking to was dressed in a bulky, dark purple coat. He had thick, dark brown hair and a captivating beard.
Heat surged through me at hearing that name. Was he talking about me? There definitely wasn’t an employee named Theresa.
Leo brought his head back and growled with amusement, showing off his mostly white teeth – aside from the one in the front that was capped with shining silver. “Sorry folks,” he said, and straightened his tie, “sometimes my associates get a little confused. I’ve got an itch that only the mayor’s daughter can scratch. Tabitha, Tabitha? Anyone? No? Alright then…” Fire twisted up my spine, and I sucked in a breath. “Now,” Leonardo did a circular motion, looking all around, “the first person to give her up, our lucky winner, will get a night on the town with me,” the Mob Prince cackled, “no broken jaw and a good time, now that’s a prize. What’s the matter, hm?” He strutted around getting his face in people’s space, “you look like you’re terrified.”
