KILLIAN: A Mafia Romance (The Callahans Book 2) (16 page)

Stacy

Pops drove to a renovated warehouse in downtown Boston, one of those places with hot new loft-style apartments. They were all the rage right now, especially for young executives who liked to spend their money on all the latest fads. He parked behind an empty sedan in front of the building. Sean immediately slipped into the backseat from nowhere.

“I’m sorry, Pops,” he said quietly.

“What exactly happened?”

“We hadn’t seen anything. I went to get some food, and when I came back, the window was broken and Killian was gone.”

“What about his phone?”

“Sitting on the front seat with a message telling us to back off in an open text window.”

I turned so that I could see his face. “Did he have a weapon?”

“A gun in a shoulder holster. But he left that behind, too.”

Fear trickled through my chest, but I refused to believe that Killian was dead. It made sense. Why would he keep Killian alive when he’d been paid to kill him? Twice he was paid. But I had to believe Killian was still alive.

Pops put the car in gear and pulled around to the other side of the building. Ian was leaning against another simple sedan, his arms crossed over his chest.

“They’re in the apartment on the top floor.”

“Is Killian…?”

“He’s okay, so far.”

“Where’s Kyle?”

“Trying to get onto the roof.”

Pops made a face, but he didn’t say anything. He simply turned off the car’s engine and climbed out.

“Stay,” he said pointedly to me as he leaned back inside. “Keep her here.”

Sean nodded.

We watched them walk to the building like a couple of guys out for a walk. I was so tense that I could barely feel my legs. I needed to get out of the car; I needed to go with them. I needed to find Killian.

“I can’t…”

“Stacy, they said you should stay. You have to stay.”

“I can’t. He’s my husband, and all this is my fault.”

“It’s not. It’s the fault of whoever is trying to hurt the family.”

I shook my head. “If I hadn’t hired the hitman in the first place…”

“Stacy!”

I jumped out of the car and ran around the far side of the block, away from the building Pops and Ian just entered. I couldn’t follow them. They’d just send me back. But if I went in front the other direction, there was nothing they could do.

I had to save Killian.

I could hear Sean coming up behind me, but I ducked into an alley. I was always better at hide and seek when we were kids than he was. I kept close to the side of the building, dashing in and out of the shadows so that he couldn’t see me if he happened to look around the corner at the right time.

I stopped for a second, just long enough to get what I knew I would need. Then I slipped into the building and ran quickly up the stairs.

I’m coming, Killian. Wait for me.

Killian

I struggled, pulling at the ropes, twisting my wrists around, trying to break free. Blood was running down my arms, dripping over my shoulders and down my chest. He was groaning. He was going to be awake soon, and then I’d be dead, and Stacy would be vulnerable to whatever came next.

I wasn’t going to let that happen.

I bounced against the ropes, trying to use the weight of my body to stretch the rope. Nothing I did would loosen the ropes. And his groans were turning into something more comprehensible.

Fuck!

Where was Pops? Where were Ian and Kyle? Where was Sean?

I tugged harder, ignoring the pain shooting through my shoulders. I had to get free. There was no other choice.

I cried out as I pulled roughly at the rope.

“Let me go!” I mumbled.

“It’s not going to let go. I’m good at tying knots.”

The killer pulled himself up off the ground. Blood continued to pore from his nose, his voice changed by his horrifyingly shattered nose. The additional swelling from the damage I’d done changing his face into something unrecognizable. He looked like something out of a horror film.

“Let me go, and I might let you live.”

He shook his head. “That’s not the deal. I don’t get all my money if you live. And he won’t clear my name with Jack.”

“Why? Did you ever ask him why? Why me? Why now? He probably could have taken me to at any time. Why now?”

“Doesn’t matter. Now I want you dead. You fucked up my face, asshole!”

He came toward me, and I kicked. Something about what I’d done to his face must have messed with his vision, because he didn’t see the kick coming until it was too late. My foot smashed into the center of his chest, sending him flying backward. He screamed in pure fury as he slowly, painfully pulled himself up off the ground.

“Stay down!”

He made a sound that might have been laughter before, but it sounded more like a choked gurgle.

“You’re dead.”

He came at me with his bare hands extended. I tried to move out of the way, but he had me hung high enough that I couldn’t reach the floor. I was like a punching bag just hanging from the rafters. He slammed into me, hitting my broken ribs just perfectly with the side of his face. I immediately began to struggle, trying to work him back enough so that I could kick him again. The only good thing about his fury was that he pushed me back so far that he put a new pressure on the rope around my wrists. I could feel it slide up my wrist, catching on my thumbs.

I was getting there.

“There’s no way in hell I’m letting you get anywhere near my wife!”

“Can’t stop me if you’re dead.”

He punched me a few times in the ribs. I wasn’t sure how that was supposed to kill me, but it seemed to help him with the rage that was building in his chest. I managed to connect with his upper back when he let me go, sending him sprawling again. I had exactly two seconds to pull at the rope again. The pain was excruciating, but I could feel my thumbs giving way.

And then he had a gun in his hands.

“Not the way I wanted to do it, but I’m done playing games. Maybe your wife will be more accommodating.”

“Unlikely.”

He stood and aimed, his eyes a little crossed as he struggled to focus despite the swelling and the pain. I waited, still tugging at the rope. When the gun went off, I was pretty sure it was over for me. At least there wouldn’t be any more pain.

But then
he
fell. Not me.

He fell, the top of his head missing.

Stacy

I’d never fired a weapon before. Never. I wasn’t even sure what to do beyond the whole pull the trigger part. I didn’t expect the kickback. And I wasn’t prepared for the sight of his head exploding in front of me.

I don’t know what was more disturbing, the fact that I’d just killed a man, or the sight of my husband, bloody and bruised, hanging from a rope in the center of the room.

He was staring at me as if he’d never seen me before.

“Stacy?”

I dropped the gun and ran to him. He groaned when I threw my arms around his waist, pressing my head to the center of his chest.

“I thought I’d never see you again.”

“I’m okay.”

But he wasn’t. There was blood. Everywhere there was blood. I couldn’t move, couldn’t think. I had to get him down, but I couldn’t begin to figure out how. But then there were gentle hands pulling me back. Ian and Kyle carefully cut Killian down and helped him to one of the tarp-covered couches. There was some discussion about who should go where, who should do what. I didn’t hear any of it. I couldn’t stop looking at Killian.

He was alive.

They took us home and said something about sending a doctor around. They wanted to help clean him up, but I took my husband upstairs alone, taking the steps one at a time. What a symbolic moment for our marriage! In the master bedroom, I guided him to the bathtub, carefully undressed him and helped him inside. I wet a washcloth, lathered it with soap, and washed away the blood that stained his chest. I washed the wounds on his hands. I carefully moved my hand as gently around his bruises and cuts as I could.

“Stacy,” he whispered, catching the side of my face, “are you okay?”

“I did this.”

He shook his head, but I wouldn’t let him talk me down.

“I did this. I created this situation, and I nearly lost you.”

“I told you, I’m not going anywhere.”

Tears began to roll down my cheeks. “I love you.” I kissed him, softly. “I don’t know what the hell I was thinking. But I do love you. I’ve always loved you. I’m so sorry for what I did.”

“I believe you.”

He couldn’t have said anything better. I knew he loved me. I knew he would have stayed with me no matter what I’d done. But to hear him say that, to know that he believed the things that came out of my mouth after all the lies and secrets…that was everything.

He was everything.

Killian

My ankle was broken. Three ribs on my right side were broken. My left thumb was broken. My thigh was not broken, but the bruise he’d given me was so deep that it might as well have been. Pain medication was a godsend the first few days, but the pain was growing more tolerable now.

It’d been two weeks. Despite my injuries, it was the best two weeks of my life. Stacy was at my side day and night, refusing to leave me on my own. I’d never enjoyed lying in bed watching reality television so much in all my life.

“His name was Stephen Wallace,” I said one night.

“Stephen. How did you find that out?”

“Ian did his computer thing and figured it out. He was born in New Orleans, but lived in New York until fifteen years ago.”

“Did he have a family?”

“No.”

“No kids?”

“No, babe.”

She crawled into my lap, careful of my injuries. “Do you think I’ll go to hell for killing him?”

“No.”

She kissed my jaw lightly. “Do you think he’ll go to hell for killing Davis and all the others?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you right away. I’m sorry that I hired him in the first place.”

“Can I ask you something?”

She pulled back slightly. “Uh, oh. It’s never good when you ask that.”

“He said that you called him the night he first attacked me and gave him the go-ahead.”

She climbed off my lap and curled into the chair beside mine. She was quiet for a long moment, staring at her hands, at her fingers pressing into her own flesh.

“It was the night you told me you had to come back to Boston. You said you wanted to marry me, and it just seemed…I thought you’d killed Davis the night before our wedding, so I thought it would be appropriate if you died the night you asked me to marry you.”

“Why?”

“Because you refused to commit for years before that. Because you were happy. Because he was supposed to tell you that I was the one who hired him.”

“You wanted me to know it was you.”

“I wanted you to hurt.”

“That would have done it.”

“But you know that things have changed. I changed. I called him that night.”

“I know.”

“I tried to call him off.”

“I know.”

“Killian…”

“My only problem is, I can’t figure out what changed in those few hours.”

She shrugged. “I realized that I didn’t want you dead.”

“Before you knew that I didn’t have anything to do with Davis’ death?”

“Yeah.” She dragged her fingers through her hair. “I was stupid. I thought…I thought I was punishing Pops, but I was only punishing myself.”

I held out my hand to her. “You have to talk to Pops.”

She shook her head, standing and pacing along the edge of the back deck. I watched her, not in so much pain that I couldn’t appreciate the way her curves moved under her thin dress. She paced for a long few minutes, then she turned and looked at me.

“I wouldn’t know what to say.”

“It’ll probably come to you.”

She shook her head again, but then she came and climbed into my lap. I pulled her close against me, running my hand slowly down the length of her back.

“No more secrets.”

“Well, I have one more little thing I need to tell you then.”

“Oh?”

I steeled myself, wondering what more I could take. But then she took my hand and pressed it to the lower bit of her belly.

“You’re going to be a daddy.”

I pushed her back so that I could see her face.

“Say that again?”

“I’m pregnant. You’re going to be a daddy.”

I couldn’t even begin to describe the feelings that rushed through me in that moment. I cupped her face in my hands and drew her close.

“I love you.”

She sighed. “I wasn’t sure you would want kids now.”

“Of course, I do. Stace…that is fantastic!”

She sighed, her lips sliding over my chin. “I love you….”

***

Ian stopped by a couple of days later.

“Things have settled down again. No one’s disappeared in a few days, no one’s had the cops called on them. In fact, the cops have backed off a little on most of our properties.”

“Good.”

“It’s like whoever was behind all this has decided to go on vacation for a while.”

“Let’s hope it’s a permanent vacation.”

“Pops thinks that this hitman, this Stephen Wallace, was behind it all somehow.”

That was an optimistic thought. But I could tell by the look on Ian’s face that it wasn’t reality.

“I’ve checked all his assets, everything I could find out about him. This guy…he couldn’t have known some of the things that this mole knows. And he was out of the country when Brianna was kidnapped.”

“He could have had accomplices.”

“Could have, but there’s just too many things against the idea. He couldn’t have been the mole.”

So we were back to square one.

Fantastic.