Kissing the Killer: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (Barone Crime Family) (35 page)

I
heard
the door open downstairs and the alarm go off. Fear shot through me briefly until the system was disabled a second later.

“Dad?” I called out. “Easton?”

I walked down the stairs and saw him. He looked haggard, and the look in his eyes sent shivers down my spine.

“Easton, what’s wrong?”

He shook his head. “I . . . fuck,” he mumbled, trailing off. He held out a brown envelope.

I took it and looked inside. Worry flooded my mind. I’d never seen Easton speechless before, much less not trying to hide it. Inside the envelope, I found a plastic badge and pulled it out.

“Martin Rodriguez? Is this your partner?”

He nodded slowly. “That’s his badge.”

“How could his badge end up here?”

“I don’t know, Laney. I found it outside on the steps.”

It hit me immediately. “The killer?”

He nodded slowly. “Yeah. The killer.”

Chills ran down my spine. “He was here.”

“Right outside.”

“Easton.” My eyes went wide. “What does this mean?”

The fear in his expression was slowly being replaced by anger and exhaustion. “There’s something I haven’t told you.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Come on.” He led me away from the door and into the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator and grabbed himself a beer, cracking it open. I shook my head when he offered me one. “It’s a long story,” he said, sitting down across from me.

“I read about what happened. In the files.”

“The files are wrong.”

I raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean? Aren’t they based on what you said happened?”

“Laney,” he said slowly, “I lied about what happened that night.”

“What? Why would you do that?”

He sighed. “Most of what I said happened, but one key detail is different. Just . . . listen.”

I sat back, afraid and mystified, as he began to talk. I could see it all, every detail, almost like a movie in my head.

Martin was older, in his fifties, and was on his way out, which was part of why they matched him up with Easton to begin with. Easton figured they wanted to try to teach him something, maybe give him some wisdom from the old guard.

The only thing Easton had learned so far was that Martin hated the rain.

“It’s always like this when we’re on a stakeout,” he grumbled.

“Nah,” Easton said. “It’s just that you only ever notice when it is.”

Martin gave him a look. “I know the psychology behind it, kid.”

Easton just shrugged and leaned back in his seat. He’d been on edge, heavily on edge, ever since they’d pulled up outside the totally boring suburban house. They’d been sitting there for a few hours,

“Where the hell are they?” Martin said after a long stretch of silence.

“They’re coming,” Easton replied.

“We called over an hour ago. There’s no reason they’re not here yet.”

“We did say that it wasn’t important,” Easton said.

“So? We’re the fucking FBI. When we call, you come running.”

“Could be something else happening. It’s a small town, after all.”

Martin just cursed and crossed his arms.

Easton knew what that look meant, and he had a bad feeling. The years had not tempered Martin’s impatience or his hatred of murderers. In fact, as far as Easton could tell, Martin was one of the most intense and passionate agents in his section.

Still, it was his case. Easton had tracked this scumbag, had gotten so obsessed that he began to think like that guy. He had found the new body, had found the extra evidence. It was his operation.

But that never mattered to Martin.

“We have to wait,” Easton said. “We need backup before we talk with this guy.”

“Come on, kid, haven’t I taught you anything?” Martin said. “This is just some old, fat fucking guy. We’re not even here to arrest him.”

“Still,” Easton said, “he’s dangerous.”

“Maybe. We’re not sure he’s the killer.”

“He is. DNA doesn’t lie.”

“Okay,” Martin said, “maybe he is. How do you think he’ll react when a cop car pulls up outside his house?”

Easton sighed, shaking his head. “Come on, Mart. Forget it.”

“Fuck it,” Martin said, opening the door. “I’m going.”

“Martin, fuck you. Wait!”

But Martin had already climbed out of the car.

Easton had no other choice. He followed quickly, his nerves flaring. They were about to come face to face with a killer, and Martin barely seemed to care.

He caught up with Martin, and they ascended the front steps together. Martin opened the screen door and knocked a few times on the thick, green wooden door.

They waited, Easton leaning back on his heels. He subtly checked his gun, heart pounding.

The door opened a crack. “Yes?”

That voice. Those eyes. Easton’s heart was hammering like crazy. It was him. It had to be him. It was the killer Easton had been tracking for so damn long, had put so much energy into capturing.

“Lester Seed?” Martin asked.

“Yes? Can I help you?”

“Mr. Seed, my name is Special Agent Rodriguez, and this here is—”

The door slammed shut and Easton heard running inside the house.

“Shit,” Martin said. “Probable cause?”

Easton didn’t have a chance to reply, because Martin was already shoving open the door. Seed hadn’t locked it in his rush.

The rain started coming down heavier.

They moved into the house.

The first thing that struck Easton was how normal it looked. The man that lived there, Lester Seed, was a long-time serial killer. He was one of the most successful and sickest killers out there, and yet his home looked like any other middle class, white collar worker’s.

Clean living room. Clean kitchen. Pictures on the walls. There was a sound toward the back of the house.

“Seed, we just want to talk,” Martin called out, moving forward.

Easton put his hand on his weapon, unstrapping the catch. He was ready to draw.

“Hold on,” he said, but Martin wasn’t listening. He strode forward, toward the noise.

“Mr. Seed, we just want to chat.” Martin’s hand was on his weapon also, but he hadn’t made a move to un-holster it.

Easton caught sight of Seed. His face was maniacal, a huge grin. He bolted toward the back, and Martin followed.

“Stop!” Easton yelled, but he was talking to Martin, not Seed.

Martin didn’t listen. He ran after Seed through the house, turning blind corners. Easton followed, chasing fast, his heart hammering.

It happened in an instant. They turned a corner without checking first, and Seed moved way quicker than Easton would have guessed. The knife flashed out, catching Martin, cutting deep. Blood welled up, and Martin made a sound that Easton would never forget.

And then the gun was in his hand. Seed’s knife flashed again, cutting Martin again, and then he turned toward Easton.

Easton fired. Four shots, deafening in the tiny space. He couldn’t have missed if he had tried.

The red bloomed thick across Seed’s chest as he toppled to the ground.

Easton stood over Seed, but he wasn’t moving. His eyes stared, seeing nothing.

“Martin,” Easton said.

He pulled his phone out and made the 9-1-1 call. Backup arrived within minutes.

Martin was gone before he reached the hospital.

I watched him for a few minutes after he finished the story, letting his words sink deep into my skin. He finished off the beer, stood up, and got another one.

“That’s it,” he said. “Now you know everything.”

“Easton,” I said softly.

“Do you understand what it means?”

I nodded. “You took the blame.”

He didn’t say anything, just opened the beer and sat back down.

“But why?” I pressed. “Your whole career was ruined because of it. Wasn’t that your dream job?”

He nodded. “It was like a dream, yeah. And when Seed’s knife sank into Martin’s skin, I woke the fuck up real fast.”

“You didn’t need to take the blame.”

“Martin was a good man,” Easton said. “He had a family. He was respected. But he was dead. At least I could maybe try to come back, try to fix my name. Martin never could. He would forever be known as the agent that got himself killed by breaking protocol and rushing after a known killer.”

I was totally shocked. I couldn’t believe what Easton was willing to sacrifice for that man. Martin had almost gotten them both killed, and yet Easton had destroyed his whole career and his reputation for him.

“But why the badge?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” he said, frustrated and angry. “I really don’t.”

Easton hadn’t rushed in. He hadn’t gotten Martin killed. In fact, he had tried to save his life but had failed. All this time he had lived with that fact while the world saw him as an impulsive and reckless failure that had gotten a man killed.

I couldn’t even begin to imagine the sheer weight of that lie. I understood why he had done it, but it was just so big.

I reached out and took his hand. “How have you been dealing with it?”

He smirked. “You saw my office. Not well.”

I shook my head, amazed. “You need to tell someone.”

“No,” he said forcefully. “And you can’t either.”

“But why? You can clear your name.”

“No,” he repeated, moving his hand. “If you tell anyone, then everything I’ve gone through will have been for nothing.”

I gaped at him. “Easton, come on.”

“Listen to me. We will use this information together, but it goes no further than this table.”

“Okay,” I said softly.

“Swear.”

“I swear. I won’t tell anyone.”

He relaxed slightly. “I don’t know how useful that information is anyway.”

“It has to be important,” I said. “Martin’s badge wouldn’t have been left here for no reason. Everything that happened with you, Martin, and Seed is important.”

Easton stared at me. “So what do you think?”

I stood up and walked around the table, taking his face in my hands. “I don’t know. But you’re fucking crazy.”

He grinned. “Yeah. I know.”

I kissed him then, deep and hard. He pulled me down into his lap, wrapped his arms around me, and kissed me back.

It turned frenzied, hungry. I felt his hands roam my body, and after a second he stood, carrying me up toward his room.

I
felt unburdened
.

Like a fucking weight had been lifted off my chest.

That secret, that lie, had been weighing me down ever since that day over a year ago. I hadn’t told a single soul about the truth, but telling Laney was the right thing to do. Just finally telling the true story out loud made me feel incredibly light.

And it helped that it was Laney who heard it. I kissed her rough and hard as I pressed her down onto my bed, practically tearing off her clothes.

I wanted her more than I ever had before. I wanted to fuck her deep, slowly, and rough, wanted to make her moan my name again and again. I pulled off her shirt and unhooked her bra, kissing her neck and pressing her breasts together.

“Fuck, Laney,” I whispered in her ear. “You make me fucking crazy.”

“Same to you,” she said back, laughing.

“I know that already.” I slipped my hand down between her legs, pressing my fingers against her pussy. “I can feel it every time.”

I unbuttoned her pants and pressed my hand down beneath her panties, needing to feel her clit, to touch her soaked skin. Her pussy was wet as always, soaked and ready for me, and that only drove me wilder. I began to rub her clit gently, and she writhed and moaned under my touch.

“Careful,” I said, “can’t be too loud. Never know when the parents might come home."

“Fuck it,” she said.

I laughed. “Laney, since when did you get a dirty mouth?”

She blushed. “You’re a bad influence.”

“I disagree. I’m a wonderful influence. You’re just a very, very bad girl.” I slipped a finger deep inside her and she gasped. “A very bad girl. You love having your stepbrother’s finger deep inside your soaked cunt, don’t you?”

“Yes, I really do,” she said, biting her lip as I began to slowly slide my fingers in and out.

“You don’t know how fucking hard that makes me.”

“Let’s find out.” She pushed me away and rolled on top of me, sliding down and unbuttoning my jeans. She pulled them off my legs and tossed them aside.

“Look at you, taking charge,” I said.

“Just trying to do my part.”

I sat up and grabbed her hair, pulling her toward me. I kissed her rough as her hand began to stroke my cock.

“Don’t forget who’s in charge,” I whispered.

“Never.”

I let her go and she pulled off my briefs. She wasted no time in sucking my cock, pressing my thick, hard tip between her lips and sucking it hard.

I loved that she wasn’t playing around. There was something intense in her, serious. Gone was all the uncertainty, gone was any semblance of hesitation. She wanted it, and we both knew it. We didn’t have to pretend like it was wrong because we were stepsiblings or because I was her boss or any other fucking idiotic reason.

I watched her pretty lips slide up and down my dick, and desire flooded through me. I pressed her head down, fucking her mouth. She grabbed her tits, holding them as I fucked her mouth.

She finally pulled back, my cock sliding from her lips with a pop. “God you’re so fucking sexy,” I whispered. “Those lips are unreal.”

“Oh yeah?” she said, stroking my cock, wet from her spit.

I sat up and pulled off my shirt. I saw her bite her lip as she looked at my muscles, my body. I pulled her forward, putting her on all fours. I slipped a hand behind her and began to rub her clit and fuck her pussy with my fingers.

I slapped her ass with my free hand and she moaned. I knew she loved it, so I slapped her again, and harder. “Come on,” she moaned. “Fuck me. Don’t make me wait and beg again.”

I smiled and reached into my nightstand, grabbing a condom. “On your back. Open your legs.”

She did as I asked, legs spread wide. I loved her soaking pussy waiting for me, bare and ready. She watched as I opened the condom and slid it over my cock, moving slowly just to tease her.

Finally, I pulled her hips toward me and eased my cock down between her legs, slipping it deep inside her.

She let out a low, deep moan.

“Ah fuck,” I said. “It’s like you’re tighter every time.”

“I need it, Easton,” she moaned. “Fuck me.”

I grabbed her hips harder and began to thrust, giving her what she wanted. She grabbed her tits, moaning wildly as my thrusts grew deeper, rougher.

“God I love how much you beg for it,” I said. “I love filling this tight, soaked pussy. You make me fucking come fire.”

“Ah, Easton,” she moaned. “I want to come on your thick cock. Keep fucking me.”

I rubbed her clit with one thumb, fucking her deep. She writhed from the pleasure and I loved it.

“You want me to fuck you without mercy? Make you take my thick cock?”

“Please,” she groaned.

“You’re not ready for it.”

“Easton,” she gasped.

I grabbed her hips again and began to fuck her rough. I reached up and held her hands above her head, pinning her down. I kissed her neck, my cock thrusting and sliding into her. Deep slaps of skin filled the room as my cock filled her tight pussy.

“I want to watch you come. I want to get you off until you can’t think anymore,” I whispered.

I held her down as I fucked her rough and deep. She moaned loudly, taking my cock, letting me fill her deep and rough.

I pulled out suddenly, making her gasp. I moved back and pulled her on top of me. “Ride it,” I commanded.

“Fuck, okay.” She wrapped her knees around me.

“No. Like this.” I lifted her up, onto her feet. She leaned forward, hands propping herself up on my chest, as I pushed my cock up and into her.

She moaned into my ear. “Oh shit, Easton. I’m getting so close.”

“Ride it, Laney.” She began to move her knees and hips, moving up and down. I held her ass, supporting her as she moved.

She moaned loudly, her ass slapping against me, as I began to thrust into her. I fucked her hard and rough, using all my strength to press deep into her. She rode me back, working her hips, slamming back down onto my hard cock.

She slipped down onto her knees, pressing me back flat. Her hips began to work in circles, riding and working. I let her set the pace, matching her rhythm with my thrusts.

I could see it was coming. I could feel it in her body. Her eyes shut as I fucked her, feeling her tits and ass.

And then she started to come. She said nothing, only moaned loudly. She couldn’t ride anymore, so I continued thrusting, fucking her through the orgasm, pushing her over the edge and deep into it.

I watched her body convulse, her muscles tense and relax. Her mouth hung open, a half smile, an expression of pure ecstasy.

“Oh fucking fuck,” she said as it finally finished. “Holy shit.”

I laughed, holding her tight against me. “Yeah?”

“Fuck.”

I grinned wickedly and pulled out, pushing her away. I got her onto all fours, making her gasp.

“You want me to be nice?” I said.

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“I want you to come in this pussy.”

I smirked. “Yes, ma’am.”

I grabbed her hips and thrust my cock deep between her legs. I slapped her ass, fucking her rough.

Her body drove me insane. Nothing else mattered as I fucked her. All of my problems, my lies, the pain, and the nightmares of the last year melted away as I fucked her tight pussy. She moaned and worked her hips, encouraging me, wanting me to come inside her.

And I wanted it badly. I wanted to fill her with my hot cum, to make her mine. Because as I fucked her, our bodies sweating and one, I knew that I was always going to want her to be mine.

The orgasm hit me hard. I came liquid fire deep inside her. She said my name, over and over as I thrust and pumped inside her.

That was what I needed. I wanted her to say my name, again and again.

We collapsed together onto the bed, but I knew it would only be a matter of time before I spread her legs open and made her mine again.

Whatever else happened, it almost didn’t matter.

The night of sweaty sex still buzzed through my skull as I drove to my office the next morning.

We never even heard our parents come home. Fortunately, the house was big as hell, so they never noticed that we were sequestered in our own little room, exploring each other for hours on end.

She was insatiable and so was I. Nothing felt better than fucking over and over until you hit your absolute limit of exhaustion. Spent and satisfied, we fell into a deep, deep sleep.

It had been a long time since I’d felt that way about someone. I’d been with other girls in the meantime, but they were always a one-night thing. I’d fuck them and then move on to the next thing. My demons never let me slow down, not even for a second. If I thought about settling, the nightmares would come back.

Which was why I was always on the move, drinking to forget. That worked for a while, but it wasn’t a permanent solution and never could be.

Catching this killer, and maybe being with Laney, could be my solution.

I was tired of weakness, tired of emotion. I wanted to hunt down this bastard with a single-minded devotion, and I wanted Laney there by my side.

Feeling decent for the first time in a while, I parked out front of my office and stepped out of my car.

Instantly, a strange feeling washed over me. I couldn’t tell if it was just a strange coincidence or if it was from years of FBI training, but I suddenly felt like someone was watching me.

I glanced around, but there was nobody even close to me.

Shaking my head, I went inside.

As I moved down the hallway, the feeling didn’t go away. As I approached my door, I felt almost dizzy with it.

I put my hand on the knob. The door swung open.

I stepped back. I had locked the door when we’d left. I reached into my pants and pulled out my gun, gently cocking the slide back. Pressing myself against the door, I quickly pushed into the office, gun held out.

It was trashed. Papers were strewn everywhere, the cabinets were all pushed over, and even the heavy wooden desk was tipped forward.

I moved through the space, careful to check my corners, relying on my training. I swept the whole apartment, room after room, and found nobody.

But the place was a fucking wreck. Whoever had broken in had tossed the place over so thoroughly that I couldn’t even find my whisky bottle. At first glance I couldn’t tell what was missing, but it had to be a lot of stuff.

I had come back to grab some important documents, but I could see that was probably useless. Instead, I checked on the photographs in the bathroom.

Most of them were there. I picked through a few I might need, stashing them in my bag. I had a nagging feeling that something was missing, but I couldn’t tell.

I went back out into the office and began to sort through the files. Most of it was still there, just strewn all over the place.

Shivers ran down my spine. I knew who had broken into my place, but I really didn’t want to admit it.

Quickly though, that unease turned into anger.

The bastard had been here. Whoever it was had found my office and had broken in, had gone through my shit, had violated my personal fucking space. My office had been my sanctuary and my home for so long, and now it was tainted.

I shook my head, seething. It took me almost an hour to pick through the files, but eventually I found what I needed. They were mostly dossiers on people who were closest to the Seed case back in the day.

I backtracked into my bathroom slash film development lab and began to sort through the pictures again. That nagging sensation of missing something came back to me, hard.

And then I noticed it. When Laney had first started with me, I had taken some pictures of her, but those pictures were missing.

In fact, every picture of her was gone.

I went back out into the main office, my stomach filled with dread.

The file I had made on her when she had first started was also missing. I had a habit of starting a file on people, just in case I ever needed it.

All of her pictures. All of her materials. As far as I could tell, that was everything that had been taken.

Anger flooded through me, anger and worry. I quickly gathered my shit and left, shutting the door behind me but not bothering to lock it.

As I got closer to my car, I began to run, my fists clenched, my jaw tight, uneasiness filling my chest.