The Killer's New Wife

a strangled sound, and I laughed gently. “Don’t worry, it was by marriage. Her cousin was married to a Healy cousin back in the Old World. It’s tortured and barely counts, but I’m technically part of the Healy clan by marriage.”
I finally looked at her, and she stared back at me in pure surprise. She didn’t move, and I wasn’t sure if there was fear in her stillness, or if she was seeing me in a new light.
Not that it would matter. I was a killer in her eyes, and maybe I was a half-Irish killer, but still only a killer. I was broken in some fundamental way, and I knew she saw it, could practically taste it on me.
“So I guess we’re not second cousins then,” she said finally.
“No,” I said. “Fortunately for you.”
“Right.” She laughed nervously and tugged at a strand of her hair as she paced over toward the kitchen. She took out the bottle of wine and refilled her glass, then drank it down.
“The Don wants to see what I’ll do,” I said once she refilled her glass for the third time and put the bottle away. “He wants to see if I’ll take your side, my mother’s side, and turn against the Valentino family.”
“Will you?” she asked, and it was sadly hopeful.
“No,” I said. “The Valentinos are my family now.” I decided not to tell her that I despised the Healy clan for abandoning my mother to my father and for abandoning me to them both.
If they wanted me, they could’ve come, back when I was a child. It wasn’t unheard of for the Healy clan to take in a stray Irish boy with distant ties to them. I was sure they knew about me, since my father was a known entity in the Philadelphia underworld, but they never bothered to do anything for me or for my poor mother.
No, I wouldn’t turn on the Valentino family. Even if the Don didn’t fully trust me, I’d still never turn my back on them, not for anything. They rescued me when my life was blackest, and I’d give anything to the family now. I sacrificed my life for them, and gave up a piece of my soul to become their killer.
No light, only rot in me now.
“That’s a shame,” she said, smiling a little. “For a second, I had a fantasy about us running away to join the Healys together.”
“It won’t ever happen,” I said, and stood up. I walked over to the bags I had tucked in the corner behind the kitchen table, and began bringing them up, one by one. “But maybe this’ll help with your isolation.”
She drifted over. “What is all this stuff?”
“Clothes,” I said. “I don’t know your size, so I guessed. Tops, bottoms, underwear, whatever you might need. And if there’s more stuff you want, I’ll get it, just ask.”
Her eyes went wide as she began to look through the bags. Expensive shirts and hoodies, designer underwear, lace and tulle and soft colors, all beautiful and cost a fortune.
“How can you afford all this?” she asked, holding up a button-down satin top against her chest. It suited her, brought out her eyes, and complemented her hair.
“I live simply,” I said, gesturing around. “I don’t buy a lot of things. I like to support local artists. I like good whiskey. Otherwise, the Valentino family pays me very well, and I save most of what I earn.”
She chewed her lip as she stared at the bags then shook her head. “This isn’t going to fix anything, you know.”
“I don’t need it to,” I said. “I only need you to be happy enough to keep playing along.”
“Pretty clothes won’t make me forget.” She met my eyes and her expression was hard. “You’re my kidnapper.”
I stared right back and stepped forward suddenly. She didn’t flinch as I reached out and grabbed her arm. I pulled her close and my lips almost brushed against hers before moving back to her ear.
“You can run whenever you want,” I whispered. “But don’t act like I’m keeping you in jail.”
I held her for a moment longer and let that electric desire arc between us before releasing her arm. I stepped away with some difficulty. Her smell flooded me, flowers and clean linens.
“If I’m supposed to feel bad that your Don’s testing you, I really don’t,” she said.
“I don’t need or want that,” I said. “I only need you to stay put and behave. If we can both pass this test, then you’ll walk away alive. Can you do that for me, Tara?”
She worked her jaw then glanced at the clothes. “I want a TV in my room,” she said. “And upgrade your cable package. It sucks.”
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. She smiled a little bit and started collecting the bags.
“All right,” I said. “Any other requests?”
“Better food,” she said. “You eat like an animal. And it wouldn’t kill you to buy some nice towels.”
She carried her bags back to her room and slammed the door behind her. I stood and grinned to myself as the quiet of the apartment closed in around me. For the first time since this all started, I felt certain that she wasn’t going to do something stupid, even if she had every right to. And I’d give her whatever she asked for, because she didn’t deserve to be my prisoner, and because I wanted her to be happy and comfortable.
More than that, I wanted her naked again, dripping wet, lying on her back, legs spread, tongue licking along her lips.

6
Tara
For the next few days, I fell asleep to the glow of a small flat screen TV turned to Bravo with designer clothes spread around me like pillows. I’d never owned so much expensive clothing before in my life, and although half of it wasn’t my taste, and didn’t totally fit, and was honestly a little too revealing, it felt good to touch the fabric and to think about how much money it