Kiss Me Deadly

KISS ME DEADLY

Mahalia Levey

Erotic Romance

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Erotic Romance

Kiss Me Deadly

Copyright © 2014  Mahalia Levey

Second E-book Publication: September 2015             

Cover design by Dawné Dominique

Edited by Stephanie Balistreri

Proofread by Makayla McKinne

All cover art and logo copyright © 2015 by Dawne Dominique

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED:
This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

Dedication

To the musicians who inspire me with their musicality, dedication, and love for their craft. To all the readers who’ve made writing this series fun. I appreciate your support.

KISS ME DEADLY

Mahalia Levey

Copyright © 2014

Chapter One

Two Years Ago…

Helplessness surged through Jimmy, adding to his soul crippling grief. Before the service, his father commanded him to keep a tight leash on his emotions, to be strong for his mother and for Sameera. Unlike his dear old dad, he wasn’t a cold-hearted bastard. For all the beatings, his old man never succeeded in teaching him how to cut off hurt, anger, and sadness like a water tap. He barely survived the funeral service, speaking the eulogy for his older brother. Huddled with family, he watched the casket team from First Special Forces Group carry the flag draped casket of his brother, Sergeant First Class Miles O’Riley.

The urge to drown himself in a bottle hit Jimmy hard. He could taste the bitter sludge as if he held an open container instead of wishing for one. Inside he struggled with the weakness threatening to break through his stony façade. The somber atmosphere that accompanied burying the dead was getting to him even though he pushed the emotions back.

The dead. His only brother, his fiercest ally, lay in the sleek black box draped with the American flag, while the preacher droned on about his path to Heaven, his sacrifice for the country not going unnoticed. He should be there with him, getting ready to start a family, getting married to the most beautiful girl in the world, spending time with him on the road. Not ending with a tragic story. Not cut down by enemy fire. Not killed like this, not without a chance to say goodbye, not with a closed casket.

He hated God, hated his sanctimonious father, hated war. At the moment, he even hated the United States Military. If he was a hundred percent honest he hated his brother too, for being such a hero, for going above and beyond—for choosing country over family—for leaving him.

What killed him the most? The two women next to him sobbing buckets. No matter how bad his ma hurt him and continued to cause him a world of hell, in the end she was still the only mother he had. Sameera’s grief cut him to the quick though. Tore through him as shrapnel did to his brother. He couldn’t help them, couldn’t make the situation all right. Nothing about this would ever be right, ever feel justifiable. His mother lost a son, Sameera lost her fiancé and a future, his father would much rather he have died than his older brother, the favored son.

Jimmy lowered his head to the shadows shedding a trail of invisible tears from his soul. He avoided a physical show, not wanting to incur his father’s wrath and displeasure for a display of weakness. Clenching and unclenching his hands, he fought to breathe. In the midst of anguish, the sweet smell of sunshine wafted over him, obliterating the angst. A slender hand closed over his. Sameera stepped into his arms hugging him for dear life. Her body melted with his. Like old times, he kissed the top of her head and crushed her in his arms.

In front of them the burial team removed and folded the flag. Sameera’s arms wound tighter around his back as if she knew the lead team member had stopped in front of them to present her with the flag. Jimmy chanced a glance at his mother who stood by grief stricken, no doubt still upset she wouldn’t be the one receiving her son’s flag. She’d received the shadow box during the base ceremony. Jimmy demanded his parents give Sameera what she rightly deserved before the funeral. He brought her arms from around him and kissed her palms while the trumpets played Taps.

“You can do this. Reach out and accept the flag.” He locked eyes with the guard.

“If I do he’s really not coming back.”

“I know, Sam. I know. Let’s reach out together, okay.” Jimmy accepted the flag with her small hands in his. As the gun salute rendered, her body jumped with each blast, her knees buckling on the final shot. Jimmy folded her into his arms sinking to the ground with her. Garrick and Shea moved forward to help him while his father and Jackson held up his mother. He nodded a silent thanks to his bros and rocked with Sam on the soft earthen floor.

Together they watched the crowd disperse, leaving only immediate family and close friends. The funeral director having lowered his brother into the ground, began to fill the plot with the loose dirt. “Let’s go,” he murmured in her hair.

Sameera hitched a breath. She took off her heels and pushed off from his body to stand.

Jimmy climbed to his feet and smoothed down his suit, taking a moment to compose himself. His band members and their families moved off to their cars for the reception. “Do you want to ride to the house in the limo?” He motioned to the waiting car.

“I don’t want to leave him. Is that selfish? I don’t think I can handle playing hostess at the reception and hearing stories about him all evening.”

“No, that’s not selfish at all. I don’t want to leave either. My mother has her friends to lean on from church. All that’s waiting for me is my band and the media. I’m not in a rush to have cameras flashing at me for a second time today.”

“Yeah. The local media was nice. They sent flowers and a card. But the piranhas lying in wait? I don’t know how you deal with them day in and day out.”

“I ignore them mostly. Days like today though, I hope they’ll sport common decency and leave me off the rags.” Jimmy swiped a hand across his hair.

They stood and watched. “Do you think he’s at peace?” Sameera murmured.

“I hope so.”

She swallowed and nodded. “I’m ready to go now. I think I’d like to lay down and rest for a bit.”

Jimmy linked her arm into his, leading her to the waiting limo, shielding her body from the flashing bulbs. As they clambered inside, his bandmates shuffled in with them. She laid her head on his shoulder as the limo merged with funeral traffic.

“We’re sorry, brother. We can’t offer our condolences enough. We all loved him, bro.” Garrick gripped his other shoulder.

“I know. Thank you for coming. Did you send the girls home?” Jimmy stroked Sameera’s glossy mane of jet-black hair.

“They’re headed to your parent’s house in the other limo. I’m sure they’ll help your mom with whatever needs done.”

“Yeah. Or she’ll shoo them all away, wanting to do everything herself as a distraction.” If anyone labeled his ma anything it’d be the queen of avoidance. “Sam?”

“Yo, she’s sleeping. God man, I feel so bad for her, ya know.” Shea rubbed the back of his head.

The limo cut a path to his parent’s place, the same path he and his bro took many times to avoid being caught out past curfew. Jimmy didn’t want to think of happy memories. He didn’t want to remember anything. As they neared the house, he saw the paparazzi just on the edge of the lawn outside the boundary of private property. His bandmates exited single file while he slipped out of Sameera’s hold and pulled her over to the car door closest to the house. Jimmy pulled his suit jacket off, covered her face and torso, then got out and crossed over to her side of the car. His friends closed in a circle around him while the vultures buzzed. He protected Sam, she didn’t need to see herself plastered everywhere in the present circumstances, none of them did.

“Fucking assholes. No human decency. We’re mourning.” He handed her to Garrick and advanced on the parked car. Not giving a fuck as they snapped pictures.

“We’re not breaking the law here,” The camera man said. “I’ll sue.”

Jimmy snarled and yanked the camera out of his hand, opened the back, pulled out the sim card, then snapped the plastic piece in half. “The next time I see anyone stalking my grieving parents and family, I will break necks. I don’t give a fuck if you’re obeying the law.” He tossed the camera back.

“You asshole, you can’t destroy my property.”

Jimmy turned back to face him. “I could destroy your face or your hands. If you can’t see and hold a camera you can’t earn a living.” He withdrew his wallet, peeled off ten bills and tossed them in the man’s face. “For your lost work.”

“Yo, bro. Don’t give that dick wad another minute of your time,” Shea called out to him.

Jimmy stalked over to his mates, his eyes on the departing camera man. He slipped his arms under Sam and tugged her from Garrick’s grasp. “Let’s get her inside and settled.”

“Damn. You and Garrick have a habit of breaking cameras.”

“And faces.” Garrick chuckled.

His mom met them at the door. “Joquan James, what did I just see? I didn’t raise you to vandalize property,” his mom admonished while ushering them inside. “What if he calls the police?”

“Ma, don’t start. You didn’t really raise me now, did you? I don’t give a—Damn. Do you think they care about us? Nah, the bottom line is lies and money. Whatever it takes to line their pockets. I’m going to go lay Sameera down.”

“She’s in the blue guest room. Poor girl, today’s been a nightmare for her. Boys would you like a plate of food? Drinks?” his mother addressed Jackson, Garrick and Shea.

“Yes, ma’am,” the trio answered in unison.

“All right, let’s get you fed. Joquan James, when you’re done, come down and get something to eat. Stay away from the alcohol, you know how you get.”

Jackson clapped him on the back and leaned into whisper, “Don’t worry, we’ll grab you something.”

“Thanks.” He climbed the stairs, keeping his eyes on the shiny wood flooring instead of the walls filled with pictures. When he reached the top, he headed down the hall opposite from his room, opened the door and almost fell over her suitcase and cello. He moved the bedding off to the side, set her down, pressed a kiss to her brow and pulled up the covers. Sam wasn’t sleeping, she hadn’t been since the trek up the driveway. She never could play opossum worth a damn. She looked so vulnerable. If he concentrated on her long enough, he wouldn’t have time to do the same to himself, at this time he wasn’t in the mood to put on an amenable face.

The image presenting itself as he descended the staircase reminded him of a horror film—well, the Leave It to Beaver version of a horror film. Everyone in their black dress up clothes stood around eating off plates, laughing and talking to each other. His father gave him a stern glare as he stepped off the stairs onto ground floor. Etiquette demanded he play the polite son. Instead, he headed to the bar, grabbed an unopened bottle of Jack and twisted off the cap. Eyes on his dear old dad, he tilted the bottle to his mouth and took a more than healthy swallow, more of a guzzle, the burn setting his throat on fire, blazing a path down to his gut.

His father moved toward him, no doubt to grill him or take his choice of vice away. He took another quick swig before opening his mouth to speak, only to be distracted by the most beautifully haunting music reverberating from upstairs. Fire and damn, Sameera and her cello planned on torturing him more than he already was. His father stopped too, transfixed in the moment, trapped in her inner turmoil of devastating loss.

“Fuck, I can’t handle this right now.” He tilted the bottle to his mouth and stormed past his father outside, to break away from Sameera playing
Nothing Else Matters
.

“Damn brother, what has your ass lighting out of here on fire?” Jackson joined him fisting a beer in each hand.

“Outside. Need air.” Jimmy took the bottle of Jack to the head.

“Joquan James,” Jackson mimicked Jimmy’s mother’s voice. Jimmy swung on his friend, meeting nothing but air as Jackson danced out of the way.

“Don’t be a dickhead, dickhead.”

“Aw. Garrick sent me out to get the goods. Grab your guitar and head up to Sam’s room. We’re gonna jam.”

“Look, I’m not in the fucking mood to play. Besides, she likes to play alone.”

“Brother, neither one of you needs to be alone. Let’s go play. Music heals the heart and shit or so they say.” Jackson sucked his beer down and grabbed the bottle of Jack from him.

“Fuck, man.” Jimmy growled. “Mine’s in my room. Meet you there.” He snatched the bottle back and chugged until he was numb.

“That’s the spirit. J.J.,” Jackson quipped and headed off to the truck to grab a few guitars. Shea joined them. “Gonna grab my drum pad.”

“My dad is going to go postal. He hates this shit.”

“Yeah, we know.” Garrick whistled. “I’m gonna sit this one out and watch all you get your asses handed to you by the colonel.”

Following his friends inside, he shrugged his shoulders at his ma and the colonel, took another hefty swallow of the amber numbing fuel, and mounted the stairs. He wanted to smash the bottle over the pictures, but held back out of a slim amount of respect for his mother. After grabbing his guitar, he downed the remainder of the bottle and threw the empty container in the trash. Her haunting music continued to screw with him. He stormed down the hallway and threw open the door, uncaring that it crashed against the wall. Sameera sat in the center of the room in a chair, her hair fanned over her face as she played a sad melody. He took one look at her and turned to block his friends from entering.

“Dude?”

“Nah, go hang. I’ll be down later. I can’t let anyone see her like this.” Broken, he couldn’t let them see her broken. Mirroring his soul. He shut the door on his friends, set his guitar on the floor and took the cello bow from her fingers. “Sam.”

“I can’t sleep. I feel like I can’t breathe. How is this real, how is death fair?”