Patrick: A Mafia Love Story by Kit Tunstall, R.E. Saxton Page A
Authors: Kit Tunstall, R.E. Saxton
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range.
She had to blink back tears as a wave of fondness swept over her, memories of all the time she’d spent with her father crowding her mind for a brief second. She had unashamedly been a daddy’s girl, likely because there had been no other family, but also because her father had doted on her.
Even when he brought around the first—and only—girlfriend he’d ever introduced her to, she’d had no doubt she was still the most important person in his world, and she felt that way even now. It was a good feeling, though she would have given anything to have her father beside her, instead of being left with nothing but nostalgic memories.
They were quiet as they entered the warehouse, so she remained quiet too. She was thankful to be wearing tennis shoes as they moved across the concrete, because heels would have clacked loudly enough to announce their presence. She had a feeling they were trying to catch someone unawares.
That someone turned out to be a skinny guy with a bald head and an impressive mustache waxed within an inch of its life. The man took one look at Patrick and his crew, and he started wailing and muttering in Spanish.
When he would have run for it, Jake and Isaac grabbed the man and forced him to his knees. Patrick walked over to him, his gun in hand. “Franklin sold you out, Jorge. I know all about your little deal now. You thought you could steal from me? Skim profits? Take money out of my pocket?” He jabbed the barrel of his gun into the other man’s forehead, the silencer pressing deeply enough to make the skin around it turn white. “You thought wrong.”
“Please, Mr. Murphy. I’ll pay you back.”
Patrick scoffed. “I’ve already agreed to one deal today, with Franklin. He’s going to pay quadruple before he gets the fuck out of Dodge. That was my one and only act of mercy today, Jorge.”
“I’ll pay you back quadruple too, boss.”
Patrick shook his head, his expression impassive. “No, you were the mastermind. That means you get to be the example. I won’t have my people fucking me. You don’t steal from the Murphy family and live to tell about it.”
Lauren froze with shock as Patrick pulled the trigger, looking completely calm that he had just taken a life as the other man slumped to the cement floor, his blood forming a large pool around him in seconds. She pressed her back deeper to the wall, feeling the urge to run from him as he neared her. Patrick stalked toward her with the easy grace of a panther, and she was feeling a bit like a lame duck. Easy prey. She knew she wasn’t doing a good job of disguising the horror in her eyes when he looked into them, his expression cool and unchanged.
“Now that you’ve seen reality, do you still want me, sweetheart? Do you still want to be mine?” He seemed to find the idea laughable.
She pressed a hand to her mouth, attempting to stifle a sob. She had no answer for him, and she couldn’t think straight at the moment. Knowing what he did and seeing it were two different things, and for the first time, she doubted she could find a place with Patrick, not at all certain she could embrace the murderer alongside the man.
***
They returned to his house in silence, and he wanted to feel a smug sense of satisfaction at having gotten through to her. Instead, he just felt hollow and empty inside. He’d shown her the worst of him now, and he knew she would be leaving him. It was what he’d wanted, and it was for the best, but it still made his heart feel like it was being ripped in two.
His chest physically ached, and the temptation of having her so close had him balling his hands into fists on his legs to keep from reaching out for her. She wouldn’t welcome his touch. There was blood on his hands. Not literal blood, because he had not gotten close enough to Jorge to spatter the other man’s brains on him, but now she knew. She would look at his hands and always see the red staining them. He had driven her away, just as
She had to blink back tears as a wave of fondness swept over her, memories of all the time she’d spent with her father crowding her mind for a brief second. She had unashamedly been a daddy’s girl, likely because there had been no other family, but also because her father had doted on her.
Even when he brought around the first—and only—girlfriend he’d ever introduced her to, she’d had no doubt she was still the most important person in his world, and she felt that way even now. It was a good feeling, though she would have given anything to have her father beside her, instead of being left with nothing but nostalgic memories.
They were quiet as they entered the warehouse, so she remained quiet too. She was thankful to be wearing tennis shoes as they moved across the concrete, because heels would have clacked loudly enough to announce their presence. She had a feeling they were trying to catch someone unawares.
That someone turned out to be a skinny guy with a bald head and an impressive mustache waxed within an inch of its life. The man took one look at Patrick and his crew, and he started wailing and muttering in Spanish.
When he would have run for it, Jake and Isaac grabbed the man and forced him to his knees. Patrick walked over to him, his gun in hand. “Franklin sold you out, Jorge. I know all about your little deal now. You thought you could steal from me? Skim profits? Take money out of my pocket?” He jabbed the barrel of his gun into the other man’s forehead, the silencer pressing deeply enough to make the skin around it turn white. “You thought wrong.”
“Please, Mr. Murphy. I’ll pay you back.”
Patrick scoffed. “I’ve already agreed to one deal today, with Franklin. He’s going to pay quadruple before he gets the fuck out of Dodge. That was my one and only act of mercy today, Jorge.”
“I’ll pay you back quadruple too, boss.”
Patrick shook his head, his expression impassive. “No, you were the mastermind. That means you get to be the example. I won’t have my people fucking me. You don’t steal from the Murphy family and live to tell about it.”
Lauren froze with shock as Patrick pulled the trigger, looking completely calm that he had just taken a life as the other man slumped to the cement floor, his blood forming a large pool around him in seconds. She pressed her back deeper to the wall, feeling the urge to run from him as he neared her. Patrick stalked toward her with the easy grace of a panther, and she was feeling a bit like a lame duck. Easy prey. She knew she wasn’t doing a good job of disguising the horror in her eyes when he looked into them, his expression cool and unchanged.
“Now that you’ve seen reality, do you still want me, sweetheart? Do you still want to be mine?” He seemed to find the idea laughable.
She pressed a hand to her mouth, attempting to stifle a sob. She had no answer for him, and she couldn’t think straight at the moment. Knowing what he did and seeing it were two different things, and for the first time, she doubted she could find a place with Patrick, not at all certain she could embrace the murderer alongside the man.
***
They returned to his house in silence, and he wanted to feel a smug sense of satisfaction at having gotten through to her. Instead, he just felt hollow and empty inside. He’d shown her the worst of him now, and he knew she would be leaving him. It was what he’d wanted, and it was for the best, but it still made his heart feel like it was being ripped in two.
His chest physically ached, and the temptation of having her so close had him balling his hands into fists on his legs to keep from reaching out for her. She wouldn’t welcome his touch. There was blood on his hands. Not literal blood, because he had not gotten close enough to Jorge to spatter the other man’s brains on him, but now she knew. She would look at his hands and always see the red staining them. He had driven her away, just as
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