Page 57 of Ghostface Killer
“I fell stupidly and selfishly in love with you the moment I saw you,” he professes. “I would have stalked you to the ends of the Earth, and not a damn thing has changed in the three months ’we were apart. You were the only thing that occupied my mind. Your memory drove me insane. And now that I have you back, I’m not letting you—either of you—out of my sight ever again. Does that answer your question and put to rest all your fears?”
“Who says I’m scared?” I challenge.
“We all have fears, Stevie. Even if we’re experts at hiding them. I’m sure the thought of being a single mother rattled your chains at some point.”
“Maybe for like a millisecond. I was more concerned about this baby not knowing it’s father. It’s okay if you don’t love me, but somewhere deep down I always hoped you’d love him.”
“I love you both.” Baz wraps his arm around my shoulder and draws me close.
“You don’t know anything about me,” I whisper. Love is such an almighty word.
“I know enough.”
He hasn’t even scratched the surface.
“I’m a killer, Baz. I’ve done horrible things.” I stress the wordsdoneandhorrible.
“You’re not the only one. Redemption is a powerful force.”
“I want to be better.” I rest my head on his shoulder. “For both of you.”
Because I deserve neither of you.
“We’ll take it one day at a time. I’m not an easy person to love, Stevie. I can be a handful sometimes.”
“Just as long as you don’t pull any more euthanasia stunts, I can handle it. I’m stronger than I look.”
Baz tips my chin up to inspect me. “That’s an understatement.” He plays with a strand of my hair, coiling the platinum lock tightly around one finger. “You don’t look anything like a hitman for hire.”
“That’s the whole point.” I regret the words as soon as they leave my lips. I may have just given my identity away. He has no idea who I really am, and I plan to take my street-given name to the grave. Some things are better left unsaid.
I turn over all the new information as I rest against Baz. He’s Benny’s son. He’s also Gianni Velona’s nephew.
I’ve spent the last nine months picking off the crime boss’ “made” men and intricately tailored chain of command one by one. I killed two more foot soldiers after I got home from Colorado, desperate to spill blood and ease the ache in my chest. But the thirst for vengeance died on my tongue. I realized soon after, it didn’t matter if I killed Gianni himself, it wouldn’t make the pain and sorrow go away. It wouldn’t bring Benny back, or Baz. The only things that could alleviate the sadness were grieving and time. I haven’t killed a soul since. I’m not reformed by any means; I probably never will be, but the urge to kill, to redeem, has cooled significantly.
I have a new page to write, and my main characters are Baz and Whoops, the little life growing inside me. Best mistake I have ever made.
Baz’s stomach rumbles ruthlessly. It sounds like he has an alien growing inside him, too.
“Fuck, I’m starving.” He rubs over his flat, muscled, lickable abs.
“I imagine sleeping for three days would have that effect.” I suddenly grow hungry myself, but food is the last thing on my mind.
“You know what I’m craving?” Baz asks.
“No, what?” I follow the trail of his hand over the peaks and valleys of his ripped stomach.
“Peanut butter and jelly.” His eyes flash with something perverse.
“Naked peanut butter and jelly?” I hint.
“Definitely. That would hit the spot.” He pushes me down to the ground and climbs on top of me. I spread my legs so he can nestle his pelvis against mine while he pins my hands next to my head. “You’re going to be naked a lot. Like, always. All the time. I want to see what’s mine every second of the day.”
“Sounds cold.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll warm you up whenever you want.” He circles his hips in a slow, maddening motion.
“Good thing we’re alone in the woods. I wouldn’t want to give anyone the wrong idea when I scream.” I close my eyes and drop my head back dreamily.
