Growl
Watching her touch herself was the hottest thing I had ever seen. God, I’d told other women to do the same thing for me but it had always looked false and wrong. But with Cara, she’d really let loose. She trusted me in bed. It was more than I deserved for sure.
I’d wanted many things in life. I’d wanted to possess, to destroy, to subdue. I’d never wanted to be kind to someone, or be with someone beyond the simple act of fucking. I’d fucked many women; none of them had meant anything to me. I didn’t despise women. I didn’t like them less than men. I just didn’t like humans in general. They were back-stabbing, disloyal creatures. That’s why I preferred the company of my dogs. They wouldn’t wait for me to fall asleep before killing me. If one of my Pitts wanted to kill me, he’d take my face off in the middle of the day. I liked it better that way.
Cara was sprawled on the bed beside me, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her peaked nipples even pinker than usual against her white skin. A few trickles of sweat trailed down her stomach and I had to stop myself from licking them off her skin. I needed to talk to her, not distract myself with another round of sex. Though the sight of her naked, finally without shame, made it hard to contain myself.
Cara turned her head, raising her eyebrows. “There’s a funny look on your face. Did I do something wrong?” Two pink spots appeared on her cheekbones and I leaned forward and kissed her forehead. I didn’t know why. I’d never done it. Never even thought about doing it. The forehead wasn’t a very interesting place for a kiss. Cara was turning me upside down, that was for sure. “You did nothing wrong.”
Surprise filled her pretty face. Even she didn’t understand why I’d done it, and she was usually good at emotions and human actions.
She put a hand on my chest. A small gesture that didn’t make sense either. Perhaps not everything had to make sense. “Are you alright?”
“I will help you,” I said firmly.
She blinked. “Help me?” Her hand against my skin began to tremble. “You mean with Falcone?”
I nodded. There was no turning back now. I’d made my decision and nothing would stop me. I’d die if necessary. She would be worth it. “I will help you get revenge.”
Cara
I couldn’t believe it. I’d hoped for it of course, dreamed about it. But it had seemed unlikely, impossible. Growl was Falcone’s man, his most feared assassin. How could I have changed that?
“So let me get this straight,” I said slowly, wanting to make sure that I wasn’t getting things wrong. “You want to help me get revenge, even though you never tried to get revenge for what Falcone did to you and your mother? Why? I don’t get it. You don’t even liked my father.”
My mind was screaming at me to stop asking questions, but I needed to know. I was starting to accept that for some reason part of me felt something for the man in front of me. And I needed to know if he did too.
“It’s not because of your father. I don’t care that he’s dead.” The words barely stung anymore. I’d gotten used Growl’s harsh words. He was honest, that was something I appreciated.
I propped myself up on my elbow and searched his face for answers. “Then why?” My voice was a bare whisper.
Growl’s amber eyes traced my face. “Falcone’s gone too far. You didn’t deserve what he did to you.”
“What do you mean?” I asked carefully, not sure where he was getting at.
“You were innocent. He punished you for something your father did. That’s not right.”
“And he punished you when you were a little boy for something your mother might have done, punished you for doing absolutely nothing. That should have been enough to make you want to kill him.”
“I always wanted to kill him.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
“When I was a small boy, I would have killed him but back then I didn’t have the skills. And later when I had them, I felt obligated to him, for giving me the skills, for showing me what I could do. Without him, I wouldn’t be what I am today.”
“A monster? A killer? You could have become so much more, if he hadn’t killed your mother and destroyed your childhood. He broke you.” I winced the moment the last words left my mouth.
“I was the son of a whore who worked for Falcone. I would have become one of his men anyway, but without his cruelty, without what he’d done to me, I’d have never become ruthless enough to become his best hitman.”
“So you’re helping me because Falcone treated me wrong? He’s treated many people worse than me.”
Growl nodded. He ran a finger down my arm, then back up again. “He did. I did. But I want to help you be happy. I want you to get out of this miserable city and life. I never wanted that for me, but you, for you I want everything.”
“Thank you,” I said quietly. I couldn’t say more. This was overwhelming.
I cleared my throat. Emotions had never been part of the plan, or even a possibility in the beginning. I needed to focus now.
“What are we going to do with my sister? We don’t even know where she is.”
Growl pulled his hand away from my arm. I felt bad, but I knew I had no reason to. I had never chosen this.
“I will find out,” Growl promised.
“I thought Falcone wasn’t sharing that piece of information with you.”
“So far he hasn’t. But now that things are going worse with New York, I think he might soon have reason to tell me where your sister is.”
I sucked in a breath. “Because he thinks you will hurt her.”
“But I won’t.”
“I know,” I said without hesitation and I did. How could things have come this far? I was falling for him, and I wasn’t sure how to stop myself from feeling that way. But I had to. There was no future for Growl and me.
He had been a monster all his life. Even if I told him he could redeem himself by helping me, I’d never really believed it, had I? How could I be with someone like that? How could I explain that to my mother and sister?
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Cara
The screaming from the neighbors grew again. It was early in the morning. The sun had barely risen yet, but I’d been lying awake for hours. Not just because of the fighting in the neighbor house but also because of Growl agreeing to help me.
I scrambled out of bed and peered out of the window toward the house across the street. This time the couple had taken their fight outside. They both were facing each other on their front lawn. A small boy stood in the doorway, perhaps two years old, watching how his parents screamed at each other.
The man raised his hand and hit the woman so hard that she stumbled and fell to the ground, but that didn’t stop him. He leaned over her and hit her again. The boy started crying, his face contorted with terror.
“Growl,” I called, then louder. “Growl!”
My door flung open, and he stepped in, looking alert. He wasn’t wearing a shirt and only boxers. “What’s wrong?”
“The guy is beating his girlfriend up again.”