The Hitman's Possession (A Bad Boy Mafia Romance Book 1)

by Tia Lewis

  “So, Bree?” One of the guys sitting across from me got my attention. He was short, heavy-set, with a thinning hairline. His goatee and mustache were a fiery red. Eyes bright like emeralds. He sported a scar that went down the side of his face. I wondered where it came from.

  “Who’s asking?” I grinned when I said it, though. I had to keep up my tough façade, for sure. I didn’t want them knowing I was new to the inside of their world. Remember: Terrible home life, Mom’s a slut, Dad ran off, Stepdad is an asshole. You hate men, in general, authority figures more than anything.

  “My name is Creed.” He pointed to a patch on his black leather biker vest, underneath which was another patch. Sergeant-at-arms. So he was a higher member of the organization.

  “What’s up, Creed?” I chewed slowly, taking him in. I didn’t remember hearing anything about him from my father. Maybe he was a behind-the-scenes type of guy.

  “Where are you from?”

  “Right here in the city. My mom raised me in a nicer part of Queens, but when her money ran out, she moved us here. She shacked up with some guy, I don’t know.” I shrugged.

  “Bad news?” he asked.

  “She doesn't wanna go home on account of him being there.” That was Richie. He has turned into quite the authority figure on me. He had a crush, the poor kid. I felt sorry for him. He wanted so much to fit in and be accepted. I could have punched that Drake Collins in the face for putting his hands on him.

  “Why don’t you just get a place of your own?” Creed asked, taking a huge bite from his corned beef and chewing loudly, to the point where he made me feel a little nauseated.

  “I don’t have the money. I wanna get out of Queens, you know? Maybe move to Brooklyn. I’m trying to save up.”

  Creed grimaced. “Good luck with saving up for that,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t envy you.”

  “Why? Where do you live?”

  “Not far from here,” he admitted. “Born and raised here, myself. I was just wondering why I never saw you around before.”

  I shrugged. “I spend time with my aunt, big chunks of time. You know, when I can’t stand being at home anymore. But my cousin just got out on good behavior, and now there’s no more room in her house. So I had to come back.”

  “Ah, I see. That sucks.”

  “Yeah, well. Shit happens.”

  “I can tell life wasn’t easy for you. You look like shit.”

  “What?” My eyes widened, realizing I probably still had smeared makeup all over my face from sweating earlier. “Oh, my face?”

  Creed grinned as he shook his head in sympathy. I had made up that whole story about my life on the fly. I hadn’t thought about why the guys wouldn’t know me if they were so well-known throughout the area. There I was, thinking I’d planned everything out so carefully. There was a lot I had to be wary of.

  Like, Drake. Damn him. He would watch me carefully, and after that little altercation, I would need to get on his good side if I wanted to stick around. How could I have guessed he would be such an ass? Ugh, I should have known better. Dad, what should I do? No sense in asking him what I should do, because he would tell me to get my ass home and never even think about trolling around with the Blood Riders again.

  They all looked like a bunch of convicts, every one of them inked, hairy, with the slovenliest eating habits I’d ever seen. I wondered if some of them were saving bits for later, as their beards and goatees were peppered with bits of meat and cheese. It was enough to turn my stomach. Even Richie ate like he’d never tasted a sandwich before. Did they ever feed him?

  I looked around in between bites. For all it looked like a rundown shack from the outside, that was just the outward appearance. I understood once I saw the inside why they kept it looking so ramshackle—nobody would ever guess how nice it was. It might have kept hoodlums away from the inside. Then again, if anybody in the neighborhood had any idea of the men behind the walls of the place, well that might have been enough to keep them away on its own. It would keep me away, for sure.

  I didn’t know what it was about them. Even if I didn’t know who the Blood Riders were or what they’d done, I would have been uneasy around them. It wasn’t the leather, the scars, the copious amounts of unkempt facial hair. It was an attitude. A toughness that bordered on viciousness. Even when Creed asked otherwise innocent questions, I got an almost ominous feeling from him. It might have been my guilt and nearly all-consuming fear. Whatever it was, I didn’t enjoy it one bit.

  This was your idea. You don’t have to be here. You can walk away, and pretend you never met any of them. Don’t make a mistake you can’t correct. I knew that was the right thing to do, the safe thing. But did my father ever take the safe way out?

  No, and look what happened to him. I wanted to punch my inner voice in the face if it had one. My father did what he had to do because it was the right thing. It was his job, and he loved it. I loved him. I wanted his killer to suffer—or, at the very least, to pay for what they did. The men in the room with me were relaxed, joking, enjoying their lunch. My father couldn’t do that anymore.

  I took another watchful bite of my sandwich, my stomach in knots at that point. I didn’t know where to go, what to do to get myself into the club’s good graces. I had Richie in my pocket—he kept shooting looks at me, and I grinned—but he obviously didn’t have much of a say in anything club-related. I’d picked him because he seemed like an easy and weak target, but he wasn’t respected by Drake. Drake the Almighty, the man whose word meant everything.

  Not everything. I wondered where the club’s leader was. Big Jack. Any man who needed to put the word “Big” in front of his name didn’t deserve it, in my opinion. I wondered what he was compensating for.

  I looked around the room again, admiring the vintage video games along the walls, the pinball machines, the massive flat-screen TV with a gaming console beneath it. Dart boards, because what bar-type room was complete without one. And yes, there was a bar stretching along one side of the room. It had all dark polished wood with a brass rail. I followed it with my eyes and wound up staring at Drake—which was unfortunate because he was staring at me.

  I didn’t like the way his eyes traveled over my body. Like I didn’t have clothes on at all. I fought the urge to cover myself with my hands. Don’t let him see how he gets to you. No matter what I did, I couldn’t get the image of him shattering a man’s jaw out of my head. I noticed his big hands and wondered at the damage they could do when curled into fists.

  “What are you thinking about?” he asked. His voice was just loud enough for me to hear it, but low enough that many of the others didn’t.

  “Nothing,” I cleared my throat.

  “I see you looking around.”

  “So? I’ve never been here before, have I?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know. It seems like you’re taking notes with your eyes. Something like that.”

  “I’m not.”

  “You sure about that?”

  “Don’t you have something better do to than to bother me? I didn’t come here for Twenty Questions.” I stood, walking toward the bar—but to the other end of it. A girl was standing there, pouring drinks and uncapping cold beers for the guys. At lunch time. Classy.

  “I was stupid and forgot to get something to drink. May I have a glass of ice water?”

  The girl smiled. She looked a little rough, like a heavy smoker. Her skin was wrinkled and dry, there were yellow stains on her teeth. But it was a friendly smile, just the same. “Sure thing. I’ll give you a bottle. How about that?” She reached into the cooler and pulled out a semi-frozen icy cold water bottle for me. I thanked her, uncapping it to take a sip right away.

  “Who are you, really?” I glanced over to find Drake staring at me just as he had been before. So I was going to be his project. He wanted to know all about me. Damn, he was dangerous.

  “My name is Bree. I told you that already. And I grew up in Queens, just not around here
. Richie ran into me at the deli, literally.”

  “Yeah, ‘literally.' Nobody around here uses words like that. So, where are you really from?”

  I shot him a look that I hoped conveyed how stupid I thought our conversation was. “Oh, really? Wow. Thanks for the grammar lesson.”

  “You don’t talk like anybody around here, and stop pretending you do. What’s wrong with me wondering why you talk differently than we do, huh?” He moved closer to me, sliding from the stool with cat-like grace, stalking me. I steeled myself for what was coming. He wanted to drive me away, to scare and intimidate me. I wouldn’t let him do it. I had come too far already.

  “What’s wrong with me talking the way I talk, Drake? Does it make you feel stupid? Do you hate it that a woman’s smarter than you?” I leaned in, lowering my voice. “Do you keep dumb girls around here to make yourself feel smart?”

  “Watch it,” he muttered. “Don’t let any of these bitches hear you talking like that. They’ll tear your eyes out.”

  “Don’t let them hear you calling them bitches, or I get the feeling they’d be happy to tear your eyes out.” I looked him up and down, daring him to come at me again. He only shrugged.

  “You’re probably right, now that you mention it.” He sat back down, but in the stool closest to me. I wished he would go away. “So, I heard you tell Creed you have it shitty at home, huh? Is that why you wanted to come here because it’s better here?”

  “Anything’s better than there,” I said. “But you’re extremely rude, so I think I’m gonna go.” Oh, it was a gamble—a huge risk. I didn’t know if he would welcome the chance to throw me out or ask me to stay. I had to take the risk. I couldn’t make myself seem too desperate.

  “You know who we are, though. Right? I mean, being from the neighborhood.”

  “Yeah, I know. So what?”

  “Prove it. What’s the sort of thing a girl from the neighborhood would know about us?” The room started to go quieter as everyone in it noticed Drake squaring off with me again. My blood ran cold.

  “I don’t understand.” I felt myself starting to sweat, despite the chilled air pouring down on me from a vent over my head. All eyes were on me. I wished he would stop challenging me. It wasn’t worth it. What would I do even if he accepted me into the club as one of the girls?

  “So, tell me about us. What do you know?” He smirked.

  “Let me ask you something.” I sat down on the stool beside his, facing him. “If I were a spy or some mole, wouldn’t I have already gotten the rundown on you guys?” I heard a few chuckles behind me, but I kept my eyes on him. I wouldn’t let him intimidate me. I wouldn’t let him scare me away. He wasn’t all that much.

  He grinned, acknowledging my point. “But the Cobras are from the Bronx. Totally different area. So anything that happened, say, here in the neighborhood, they might not know about. But you would since you’re from here.”

  “Gotcha.” Damn it, think. What did Dad tell you? A million things. Think of something you would only know if you lived here. “What about the time Big Jack got himself stuck climbing out of the back of that pawn shop you boys were stealing from because you felt like the owner stiffed one of your guys? Where was that? Ninety-Fifth Avenue?”

  “Oh, shit.” I heard laughter breaking up all around me.

  “And he got his jeans stuck on the broken glass window, and he had to leave his jeans hanging there after you helped him out of them. Only one man in the neighborhood wears jeans that big, right? I mean, he’s a pretty hefty guy.”

  “She got you,” Creed laughed, and the men sitting around him laughed, too. Drake’s eyes darkened at being shown up. I only grinned.

  “Does that tell you anything?” I asked, drinking my water.

  He shrugged, getting up as if to go into another room. “You’re not going anywhere,” he whispered. “So don’t think about it.”

  His nearness was enough to get my heart racing, and I didn’t want it to race that way. It wasn’t fear that made it happen. It was the way his blue eyes made my skin burn wherever they touched.

  Yes. Drake was dangerous, all right.

  5

  Drake

  “Smart ass bitch!” I slammed the door to Jack’s office so hard it shook the pictures on the walls. She thought she could make a fool out of me in front of my own crew, huh? I would show her what happened to people who believed they could do that. It didn’t often end well for them.

  I usually went to the office when I needed a little peace and quiet. I had always liked the room. It reminded me of the kind of office a powerful man would have. Somebody who made big decisions. I knew Jack had remodeled it with that in mind when he took control of the Club back in the nineties. I hadn’t even known it existed back then. The wood throughout the clubhouse, the polished look of everything and the smell of leather and whiskey gave me calm. It made me breathe a little easier.

  It usually did, that was. Unless a smart ass, little bitch made my guys laugh at me. Then, it didn’t do much for my mood.

  There was a knock at the door. “Who is it?” I barked, pacing back and forth.

  “Only the man whose office this is.” Jack came in, ducking down, stooping to clear the doorway without hitting his head. “What the hell are you doing in here?”

  I stopped pacing. “Sorry. I just needed to get away from out there.”

  Jack looked behind him, to where a few of the girls were talking with Bree and the rest of the club finished up their lunches. “Why? What did I miss? What’s going on?”

  “It’s that new bitch, man. The one sitting at the bar like she’s the fucking queen of this place. That’s what you missed.” I wanted to pick up something and throw it through the window. Only the thought of what Jack would do to me if I did stopped me. I punched the palm of one hand with my balled-up fist.

  “Calm down, Drake. What happened? Who is she?” Jack closed the door behind him then sat in his custom-made black leather chair behind his custom-made desk. He was so damned tall, ordinary office furniture wasn’t big enough for him.

  “I don’t know. Some bitch Richie picked up when he grabbed sandwiches for lunch.” I waved it off.

  Jack chuckled, raising his aviator sunglasses until they sat on top of his head. He whistled. “Damn. I wish I could pick up something like that when I went to the deli.” He chuckled again.

  “Oh, so you looked at her?” I asked.

  “Son, new pussy doesn’t come walking in here without me noticing it. Hell, yeah, I saw her. She’s hot shit, isn’t she? And she’s Richie’s? Talk about a fucking waste.”

  “She’s not his. He only found her and brought her here. You don’t think that’s a bad idea?”

  “What?”

  “That he picked up a random chick and brought her in?”

  Jack got my point, and he stroked his chin like he always did when he was deep in thought. “I don’t know. What do you think?”

  I sighed. He wasn’t going to make it easy to me. “I figured she was a fucking spy for the Cobras the minute I saw her. I mean, she’s too good looking to be hangin’ around here. Right? You have a chick that looks like a model walking off the fucking runaway who steps inside our domain, and that doesn’t scream red flags to you?”

  “Hmm.” That was what Jack would say.

  “And she talks nicer than any of us. She sounds like she got a good education and was raised properly. You know that’s not like the way the rest of us talk. Something is up, man.”

  “Hmm.” Again with that?

  “But she says she comes from a shitty home not far from here, and she’s always lived in Queens. Ha! I don’t buy it, I really don’t. I think they sent her here. She must think I’m fucking stupid.”

  “So, wait. You believe that the Cobras found a beautiful, smart, classy chick and used her as a spy? When’s the last time you saw any of those jackoffs with a woman who didn’t look like she just came in off the corner or out of a crack house? Gimme a break, son.” He la
ughed, shaking his head. “No way. All the reasons you think she doesn't belong here are reasons why she sure as hell don’t belong with those losers.”

  “Man, I don’t know.” I paced.

  “You’re thinking too much into this.”

  I sat, the fight draining out of me like water through a pipe. “You think so?”

  “Yes, I think so. Come on. The Cobras wouldn’t send somebody like her here. They would send someone like them. And we could sniff that out a mile away. Don’t let it get to you.”

  “I guess it just threw me, somebody like her with somebody like Richie. I mean, come on. It’s Richie for fucks’ sake.”

  Jack threw his head back, letting out one of his famous full-body laughs. He was a big guy, so he had a pretty boisterous laugh when he really let loose. “You already said she wasn’t with him. She just went along for the ride. Completely different. Right?”

  “Right.” I nodded. “You’re right.”

  “Hmm.”

  “What?”

  “Since when are you jealous of a little shit like Richie?” I heard a joke in Jack’s voice, and I didn’t like it at all.

  “What? I’m not jealous of Richie. Are you fucking serious? What the hell would I have to be jealous of him about? Shit.” I stood up, running my hands through my hair. “Nothing, that’s what. I could break him in half.”

  “So why are you so shook? Chill out, V.P., or I’m gonna throw you in a cold shower.” No matter how tough I was, Jack had a way of breaking me down. I didn’t like it, but there wasn’t anything I could do about it. He was my president.

  “If I wanted her, I could have her,” I said.

  “No doubt. So why don’t you take what you want?”

  “I didn’t know if it was safe,” I admitted. I could admit that much to Jack. “I didn’t know if she was for real or not. If I could trust her, you know?”