Never Kiss a Bad Boy (42 page)

Lars was.

Glaring at the spot between his shoulders, I imagined pulling the trigger of the Ruger. It'd be easy to do it here. He wasn't looking, just standing still and making himself the perfect target.

But every time I visualized whipping out the gun, I thought of the photo of Hecko in the foyer. How awful it'd be—how cold—to murder someone here while Hecko's family was trying to celebrate his memory.

Gritting my molars, I turned on my heel and left the room. Lars had to exit eventually. I had the perfect view to stake out his car, he couldn't escape. That was what I'd have to console myself with.

I was close, so fucking close. Patience was a virtue, wasn't it?

Stretching out in the driver's seat, I put my purse in my lap. It felt better to know the gun was in reach.

He didn't spend long inside, but it felt like forever. The thick man stepped across the grass, then down the curb until he reached his car. My heart had taken position in my mouth, forcing me to breathe heavier.

I didn't have an exact plan, it was a straightforward urge that made me turn on the engine. That feeling guided me down the street, following as far back as I could from Lars while still tracking him. Wherever he was going, I intended to stay on his ass.

Not appearing suspicious was easy to do while we were on the main roads, clumps of cars camouflaged mine. It was when Lars got on the interstate, then pulled off an exit onto a quiet, emptier stretched of road that it became risky.

Taking a chance, I slowed down and flicked off my lights. In the dark, tree-lined lane, I was a shadow.

He didn't speed up or change his pattern.

Grinning in excitement, I listened to how my blood sang. This was going to happen. I was really doing this.

He took a corner, his car escaping behind a thick strand of brush and branches. We were in the middle of no where, I didn't know if it was east or north or what. I was hyper focused on Lars, not the directions.

Coasting down the road, I expected to see his car moving ahead of me. Instead, I came upon it in the darkness. There were no streetlights here, no homes or business nearby.

Prickling with foreboding, I pushed the breaks and slowed to a halt. He was blocking me in, I'd have to reverse down the thin dirt stretch. Why had he stopped?

Lars rose up abruptly, a solid shape with no features that stalked into view. His headlights illuminated him from the back, brightening his edges but throwing his face into a black void.

He moved fast, coming up along side my door in a blink. Something in his hand glinted. “Get the fuck out of the car,” he snarled.

Claws scraped at the inside of my stomach. In a moment, I'd gone from heated confidence to cold despair. He was a hellion at my window, knuckles rapping savagely on the glass.

Grabbing the door handle, he yanked it open. I hadn't thought to lock it.

Fuck, my mistakes were adding up. They were going to cost me.

“Who are you?” he snapped, lifting the hatchet high. The sight of it curdled my blood. “Why are you following me?”

Making myself tiny in the seat, I hoisted my purse and lifted my hands.
Act like you aren't here to kill him!
“Don't hurt me! I—I wasn't following you, I swear!”

Lars yanked me out in one quick motion. All of a sudden I was six again. Except this time, it wasn't Cece who had the monster towering over her with an axe at his side. It was me.

The fear was paralyzing.

“You weren't following me?” he asked, ignoring how I winced when I hit the asphalt. “Then why are your headlights off? I'm not stupid, lady. Tell me who you are.
Now.
” The hatchet glinted, wickedly sharp.

On hands and knees, I wasn't going to be able to escape. Running wasn't an option, but you know... for me, it never had been.

My purse had spilled open near my thigh. Grabbing the Ruger, I flipped back and aimed it at Lars' surprised face. The weapon fueled me, made it clear I was no longer the little girl hiding in a closet. “Throw the hatchet away. Do it right the fuck now!”

He hesitated, gaze flicking from the pistol to me. Finally, he tossed the axe, the instrument clunking in the leaves of the ditch.

On legs that did not shake, I rose up, keeping the gun leveled on him. “You want to know who the hell I am?” I slid the safety off. “I'm Marina Fidel. I'm the woman whose family you destroyed, the person you stole everything from.” Heat flared in my chest. “And I'm the one who's going to kill you.”

He hadn't blinked. The only noise was his car, the engine running quietly in the night. “Fidel?” he asked. “I don't remember any Fidel family.”

I couldn't keep the bitterness out of my voice. “You don't
remember
us? Let me help. Think back, sixteen years. You and a man name Frank. A hard working dad, a happy home, and you swinging that fucking hatchet of yours to chop everyone up.”

A coldness slid over his face. I thought he'd been scary before, but even through my stoic shield, Lars made me swallow loudly. “Did you come back from the dead, little girl?” Shit, how was he able to smile? “I swear I cut you up after I used your body.”

Inhaling sharply, I trained the gun on his evil grin. “That was my sister.”

“Was it?” He tilted his head, I followed the movement with the Ruger. “She was a sweet one. She screamed so pretty when I touched her.”

Cece.

My head swam with the memories he was forcing up. I felt vomit on my tongue, icy sickness knotting up my muscles.

I hadn't been thinking—could
not
think—my hands just squeezed
.

The gun went off, firing uselessly past his ear and into the black sky. Bullet after bullet that missed and set me up for my own carefully constructed doom.

Lars was demonic lightning, he grabbed for me and caught me by the hair. The gun fell, my scream slicing up my own vocal cords.

His punch to my stomach ended the noise.

On the rough ground, I fell to my side and moaned.

Boots appeared, a hand in my scalp forcing me to my knees. The hard tip of the gun—Kite's gun—made me snap my eyes open. “I don't remember you,” Lars said calmly. “But if you're who you say you are, then I'm impressed. That was a long time ago. Did you live all these years, wishing me dead?”

Tears squeezed from the corners of my eyes. The way he twisted my hair was excruciating. “You and your friend murdered them,” I sobbed. “All of them!”

“My friend? You mean Frankie?” He lifted me, shoving me against Kite's car and bending so we were nose to nose. “He's not my friend. He was going to rat on me for a deal with the cops, and you don't squeal on the Diani family. He's dead now, I kill little rats. Get it?”

It clicked for me. “You had Frank murdered?”
He was the one who hired Kite and Jacob.

“Had to happen.” he said. “Some people need to die to prove a point.”

This wasn't how this was supposed to go.
Cece, Mom, Dad. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

His breath was scalding me. I flinched and bent away, but he pulled me right back. My nails cut into his arm, but I couldn't find a grip. “Let me go and just
die!
” I screamed furiously.

“I won't be the one to die tonight. Perhaps I shouldn't have gone to the wake, though. I was worried about Frank's family trying to cap me, I didn't expect an anomaly like you.” Running the tip of the gun down my cheek, he smiled. “I like to tie up loose ends.”

I saw nothing but the opening of the suppressor. My death would be quiet, snuffed out on a darkened road to be found by scavengers. At least Kite and Jacob wouldn't have to see my cold body.

Their faces entered my mind.

Revenge had kept me going. With it escaping me by the second, my heart yearned for something more. A life that lay beyond this moment, a place I could maybe reach if I just lived. That was all it would take... living.

I had to find a way.

Lars was speaking, but I didn't listen. I thought back to the steps I had taken to prepare for this moment. The metal of the gun was warm now, my blood alight. I burned with something besides fear.

Eyeing the mouth of the Ruger, I felt hope.

That monster pulled the trigger, and I felt fucking
hope.

The click popped in my ear drum. I knew what would happen before he did.

Lars had been ready for my brains to splatter.

No bullet came out to pierce my skull.

I'd already fired all three of them.

He couldn't react fast enough to the fact I wasn't dead. I was a coiled spring; summoning all my speed, I jammed my elbow into his jaw.

Lars shouted in pain, shoving me away as the gun bounced out of reach. I wasn't going for it, though. It was useless without ammo.

As Lars groaned, covering his face with his hands, I sprinted across the road. The hatchet was in the leaves, I skidded to grab it.

He must have realized what I was thinking, because he started yelling, rushing my way. Spinning, I swung just as he got in range. The blade cut his forearm, blood pouring down his sleeve. The pain didn't stop him, he shoved me into the road.

Lars was bigger, stronger; my adrenaline and lust for survival couldn't match for long.

Screaming, my arms vibrated as I worked to keep him from shoving the axe handle into my throat. Lars crouched over me, eyes so wide they could have fallen from his head. “I'm going to make this hurt,” he hissed. “I'm going to cut your tongue out, and then I'll fuck you like I did your sister. How's that sound?”

Grunting, I worked my knee up towards his balls; he blocked me, kept bearing down. “Get off of me!” I growled. Spitting in his eye, I got goosebumps from how he cackled.

Smooth wood touched my neck, my muscles failing.

Above me, Lars' silver filling glinted like the last star I'd ever see.

I can't give up,
I thought numbly.
Not now, not here. I've come so far, I...

The air was split by a whistling bullet.

Lars fell off of me sideways, shouting in shock and pain. Breathing in raggedly, I coughed and sat up. Hands grabbed me, pulling me away and getting me on my feet. “Are you alright?” Kite asked.

Kite?
I thought in my daze. My brain was working slowly from depleted oxygen.

“Keep her back,” Jacob said, his shade falling over us. “This man is unpredictable.”

I couldn't believe these voices. Seeing their faces hardly made it real. Curling my fingers around Kite's wrist, I squeezed. He wasn't a phantom.

He looked down at me, his arm curling around my shoulders as if to save me from the world itself. Here, with these two, I was safe.

“How did you guys find me?” I asked in disbelief.

Jacob was bent over Lars, his gun at the ready. That broke me from my fog. “Don't shoot him!” I snapped, shoving away from Kite and hurrying to the hitman's side.

Jacob froze, looking down at me with such a range of emotions I could name none of them. “Did he hurt you?” he growled. His rage was plain as day; Jacob was ready to destroy the man who had dared to harm me.

“Who the fuck are you assholes?” Lars groaned, cupping his right shoulder. Blood was dripping onto the asphalt in a steady stream.

Kite laughed, every word mocking and sweet. “We're the guys you hired to kill your old buddy. Isn't it kind of funny, us running into you like this?”

The heavy-set man was speechless, gawking up at all of us. I had questions, so did he, but neither of us was going to get answers right now.

I aimed to make sure he'd never get any.

Opening my hand, I stared Jacob in the eye. “Give me your gun.”

Those ice-blue centers threatened to overwhelm me. They wanted to inflict pain on this man. I loved him for that desire, was grateful he had saved me, but this moment was mine.

They couldn't take it away.

Flipping the gun, Jacob pressed it into my hand. He didn't stop there. Curling his fingers over mine, he made me grasp the pommel. Together, we held the gun as he studied me. “Are you sure you want to carry this burden?” he whispered.

Lifting my chin, I pulled away. He let me go without a fight. “The only burden here is the one I've been carrying for sixteen years.” It was going to end. I was ready for the weight to come off my back, for the guilt over being the only survivor to dissipate.

Kite had told me I'd fail my first time trying to kill this man. He'd been right, I'd fired and missed in my panic. Lars had come close to destroying me out here.

And then they saved me.

They hadn't needed to. They could have let me die. How had they found me, and why had they bothered?

Lars was panting, sitting on the ground and looking grim. He watched me as I stood a foot away, the gun pointed at his skull. “You're a fool for doing this,” he coughed. “Killing me is going to bring the Diani family down on you. The police are in my pocket, too. You're fucked if you pull that trigger.”

My mouth tasted funny, rust flavored. “I don't care. I never cared about dying.”

Lies. Lies and more lies.

Stiffening, I buried the taunting words and stood tall.

“Wait!” he spat, crumbling in the hour of his destruction. “Aren't you going to ask me
why
I did it? Why I killed your family, burned their business?” His smile was nervous. “Ask me anything, go ahead.” He was stalling for time. It wouldn't help him.

“No. I already know why.” Lars was pale, no longer the big, burly man who'd frightened me. He seemed so small now. Tightening my hand on the trigger, I breathed until I was steady. “Obey or be killed. That was what you told him. You wanted to send a message to everyone who would stand up to you. Now, here's
my
message.”

The shot wouldn't miss. I was too close to his gleaming skin.

I whispered, “You can't murder my family and live happily ever after.”

The explosion went through my forearms and into my gut. It wasn't the kinetic power of it, though. Pure release, freedom from the ghosts that had haunted me... these tremors came from my soul.

Shivering, I watched my breath make clouds in the cool air. Lars was still, no longer capable of hurting me or anyone else. I should have collapsed, my energy had vanished in that bullet.