Deadly Little Sparrow (Mafia Bound #1)

by K.M. Neuhold

Two drinks and I’ll be tipsy. Even tipsy is too out of control as far as I’m concerned. Not that giving up control is always a bad thing. It’s all about context, and let’s just say that I don’t trust whiskey to respect my safeword.

“Tell me where the fuck I can find them, or I’m going to shove this so far up your ass you’ll be spitting splinters for the rest of your life…” He saunters closer, slinking like a tiger stalking its prey. “Which won’t be long.”

“Tell me, or so help me, I will cut your fucking tongue out with this broken shard of glass,” the tiny bird growls the words so menacingly that a hot wave of electricity courses through my body. Would it be inappropriate to propose to a man while he’s in the middle of threatening someone’s life? It would be a hell of a story to tell at our wedding, if nothing else.

Maybe a marriage proposal is too much, but what’s the etiquette on buying a man a drink after stopping him from cutting out someone’s tongue with a broken bottle?

I shouldn’t be surprised that no one in this fucking city wants to get on the bad side of the Sleepless Reapers, but I’m used to getting my way. People have gone so far as to call me a spoiled brat on more than one occasion. Fine, we’ll just call this little exchange a temper tantrum then. And there’s plenty more where that came from. I wasn’t actually going to cut his tongue out… probably.

It might be an inappropriate first thing to notice about the man whose nose I just broke, but rawrrrr.

“What happened?” Elio, Lorenzo’s younger brother and the underboss of the Moretti organization just comes right out and asks the question I’m sure they’re all thinking. I suppose I should be proud of the fact that me turning up with an injury is worthy of front page news. I adjust my tie and cross my ankle over my knee. “Your dad plays rougher than I expected.” I keep my expression deadpan and Elio furrows his brow. “My dad is dead,” he reminds me with the kind of charming ignorance only Elio could pull off. “Zombie sex,” Salvatore says with a snort, and Elio’s frown only gets deeper. “He’s being evasive,” Allessio helps him out. “Probably would have landed better if he’d picked a living relative.” “Well, the joke hardly works if I say I fucked his brother. And it seems wrong as a gay man to claim to have fucked his mom. It’s straight appropriation,” I reason with a shrug.

“Yeah, I’m bisexual,” Dante answers the question Alessio asked a moment ago. “Why, you got a cute sister you’re trying to set up or something?” “We need a ruling on whether it’s a violation for a fully-fledged gay man to make an ‘I fucked your mom’ joke if no male relatives are appropriate,” Alessio explains.

“What do I know about the Morettis?” he repeats, laughing again, an edge of hysteria to the sound. “I know enough to stay the fuck off their radar. How’s that?” “Come on, they can’t be that bad.” Sure, they’re a crime syndicate, but they’re still just people. Like the Sleepless Reapers? Benny’s voice whispers in the back of my mind. That’s different. “I’ve heard Lorenzo Moretti’s enforcer carves out the hearts of his victims and keeps them as trophies,” a deep voice says from my other side. I startle and turn my head to find the man from last night. The person already occupying the stool to my right scrambles out of his seat without so much as a look from Tall, Dark, and Bandaged.

This time a full-blown grin finds its way onto his lips. “I’m not the Tony Soprano of this operation. Thank fuck. And I’m giving it to you so we can have a conversation without you spending the entire time waiting for me to pull it out and shoot you.” I hum thoughtfully, eyeing the weapon again. “You don’t even know me. I could be crazy. Deranged. A sociopath with no regard for human life,” I taunt, reaching out and dragging my finger along the cool metal handle of his gun. He leans in, his breath ghosting over my cheek. “If you’re trying to make my dick hard, it’s working.”

“Because they took something from me,” I answer with a heated tremble in my barely controlled voice. “Do you have any brothers?” “Not blood, but yes.” I hold his gaze, letting him see the emotions burning behind my eyes like the eternal flames of damnation. “And I bet you would kill anyone who took one of them from you. Wouldn’t you?” He doesn’t pause or hesitate this time. “Yes.” The conviction in his voice sends a thrill down my spine, raising goose bumps along my skin and hardening my nipples.

“Don’t get in my way. I’d really rather not kill you.” I punctuate my request by brushing my lips briefly against the smooth skin of his cheek, just above the line of stubble on his jaw. And then, for the second night in a row, I leave the bar with the feeling of Xaviaro Saviano’s gaze boring into my back.

“Death is an inescapable part of life

I fucking hate disposing of bodies. The fluids, the dead weight, it’s the murder equivalent of folding laundry. The job is done, why are there now more chores being added to my list? Except, you can’t just leave dead bodies piled in baskets in your bedroom until you get around to dealing with them. Looking at you, Dahmer

Who are you, Little Sparrow? Will you let me close if I promise to be everything you need? We could be so beautifully dangerous together. Until then, I’ll keep watching.

Sparrow bares his teeth like a feral animal. “You dumped my fucking body? That’s… fucked up. It’s out of line. Touching someone else’s kill has to be the number one no-no in the serial killer handbook. Just… what the fuck?”

“Rage and passion pump through your veins like liquid fire. Fear still makes your heart race and your breath quicken. I’m a well-oiled machine, but you’re a goddamn hurricane, beautiful and violent, leaving a path of destruction in your wake.”

I manage to pull a thin veil of indifference over the fracturing foundation of my control by the time I reach our usual table. It’s not perfect, but it’ll do for now. I can find out what’s got the boss so on edge, and then I’m going to go over to Sparrows and tell him he can’t tug at my seams without putting me back together again when he’s done.

“Catch me up here. Am I getting Daddy’s belt because I’ve been dropping the ball on collections, or because you’re pissy that I didn’t pass you a note in class about my new crush?”

If that sexy, subby stalker hitman has been following me for weeks, then he must be out there in the dark now. If he’s so fucking obsessed with me, if he’s so desperate to do me favors I never asked for, then he can come inside and do me a fucking favor. The window finally slides open with a screech of protest and I thrust my head out into the night. “Xaviaro,” I bark his name, squinting into the shadows of the alley below to see if I can spot him anywhere. “I know you’re out there,” I call when there’s no response the first time. A sharp rap at my door makes me jump, slamming the back of my head into the window.

“I think that I like to play rough, and I’m not sure you’re up for it,” I warn. He meets my eyes without flinching, fresh heat dancing in his gaze. “Try me.” My balls tighten and a shiver runs down my spine. “On your knees.” I add the weight of authority to the words, letting the heady feeling of taking control course through my veins. His eyelids droop and his lips part on a moan. Xaviaro doesn’t hesitate, dropping to his knees without bracing for impact or slowing himself down, and without wincing when he hits the wood floor. Then he tilts his head up to meet my gaze again. His dark eyes soften, flickering with a vulnerability I’m not sure he wants me to see. The big, bad Mafia enforcer, turned to a pile of quivering flesh by three simple words. Three simple words spoken by me. It’s a thrill I didn’t know I was craving until this moment, and one I’m not sure anyone else will ever be able to match. “Good boy,” I purr,

“Xav.” He grabs my arm and tugs me back. “I paid The Phantom every penny I had in my trust fund to train me.” “The Phantom?” I repeat his words, settling back into bed and staring at him in disbelief. “The Phantom? The Russian hitman with more confirmed kills than anyone else alive? The man who allegedly took out the leader of the largest crime syndicate in the world while he was in protective custody?” “That’s the one. Don’t spread that around because he was pretty clear that he would kill me without a second thought if other rich brats started showing up at his door begging to be turned into murder machines. Those were his exact words, actually.”

When I read my own obituary months ago, nothing about it felt like a lie. Seth LeBlanc died the same night his brother, Benny, did. I reach up and run my fingers over the sparrow on the side of my neck, and a slow grin creeps over my lips. Little Sparrow. I hear Xaviaro’s voice purr the affectionate name in my ear. Deadly Little Sparrow. The thought fills me with the same confident thrill I felt as I plunged my dagger into Velcro’s throat.

“To what do I owe this kidnapping?” he asks conversationally, turning the dial on my radio to flip through the presets before stopping on one of the classic rock stations.

I shrug my jacket into place, buttoning it and smoothing my hands over the soft, unwrinkled material. So far, Sparrow has only seen me after work hours. He’s seen me in dark bars and filthy alleys. He’s seen me undone in private. What will he think of the unflinching omen of death the rest of the city sees me as?

“You’re a pleaser, aren’t you, Xav?” I guess. “Not just in bed, in life. You’ll do anything for the people you care about. Even kill for them.” It’s not exactly a revelation, but it’s pieces of a puzzle slotting into place. “And you’ll do anything to please me too, won’t you?” A glance at his expanding cock tells me I’m on the right track. “You’ll suck me and fuck me any way I want you to. You’ll let me spank your ass red and then fuck you too.” None of it is a question, I already know that he would give me any of those things happily. “You kill men without blinking, but you would crawl over glass if I asked you to, wouldn’t you?” He whimpers and nods, his cock jerking and growing another half inch. “Yes, Sir.”

“I want…” He swallows again and I put a hand on his chest, feeling the thundering beat of his heart and the uneven rise and fall of his breaths. “Tell me.” “I want to wear a collar of your bruises, Little Sparrow. I want marks on my wrists and tenderness all over my skin to remind me of the places you’ve touched me. I want to be owned and used. I want to be a vessel for someone’s pleasure instead of everyone’s pain, just for a little while.” He closes his eyes, but as soon as I grab his jaw, they pop open again, shining with a neediness that burrows inside me and awakens that same protective feeling as the last time. “I want you to see all the ugly parts of me and accept me for them. But mostly, I just want to let go and trust that everything will be okay.”

“You’re a sweet little murder marshmallow, aren’t you?” I tease gently, and he lets out a sound that’s somewhere between a laugh and a choked sob. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you.” “Yes, Sir,” he says again, and the certainty in his voice fortifies me. I’m ten kinds of fucked in the head and there are a million ways this whole thing could blow up in my face, but whatever happens, there’s one thing I know for sure—I will fucking kill anyone who tries to come between me and this man.

“You know, you don’t have to be so nice to me just because I got strangled by a tweaker,” Sparrow says, reaching up and ghosting his fingertips over his tender throat. “I’ve been nice to you since the night we met. You’re the one who broke my nose,” I point out. “Huh.” The sound is half amused, half surprised as he seems to turn my words over in his head for a few seconds. “You really have been nice to me this whole time. Even when I’ve been a pain in the ass. Why?”

“It’s because I like you, Little Sparrow,” I whisper. He chuckles. The sound is warm, rattling through me and settling into my bones the same way his moan in the elevator did. He sways closer to me, undoing the button on my jacket and then reaching under it to slide it off my shoulders the same way I did with his. “I kind of like you too,” he confesses, and a grin tugs at my lips. “Thank fuck for that. Otherwise the stalking and kidnapping would’ve been way out of line.” He nods, biting back his own smile as I shrug out of my jacket. “Speaking of stalking… how did you know where I was tonight?” “Oh, come on now.” I tut. “A little mystery keeps the romance alive. Everyone knows that.”

If there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s kill a man before he has a chance to see it coming and say his prayers. If there are two things I know how to do, giving Sparrow exactly what he asks for is definitely the second.

“I wish you had two extra hands so you could wash me without putting me down,” I say, tilting my head back just a little farther to let the stream run over my face for a few seconds. “I can’t do anything about the hands, but we might be able to make it work.” He nods towards a bottle of soap on the nearby ledge. “Grab that.” I meet his demand with a flat look and he gives me an adorably sheepish smile that has no business being on such a deadly man’s face. Except for the fact that the contrast is literally everything. The world can have him cold, controlled, and dangerous. I want to be the only one who gets sheepish smiles and soft touches. “Grab that, please, Sir,” he amends, and I pick up the bottle.

“Be a good boy and get me ready to take that monster cock of yours,” I command, my voice dipping deeper with the lust that’s weaving its way through my body.

I felt an unfamiliar and unpleasant rush of fear when I thought I was about to lose him tonight, but there’s not a damn thing scary about putting my life in his hands. “If you ever tried to leave, I would find you.” The rough words bypass my brain entirely, rumbling through my throat and past my lips, sounding every bit the promise and the threat that they are. Sparrow laughs again, carding his fingers through my hair and tempting me with the tip of his cock barely an inch from my lips. “I know,” he says with the hint of a moan under the words, like the threat of being stalked by a Mafia hitman is straight out of his wildest wet dreams. “And I would let you.”

“Your protective instincts are hot as fuck and I know this is your world, not mine,” he says eventually, his voice just as controlled and even as his movements, twisting and tying the rope into a harness around me. “But I’m not your damsel in distress and I refuse to be the reason you get yourself killed. I got your gun off of you without you noticing, I’ve had blood on my hands, and even before I came fucking unglued, I’ve never had a problem bringing men to their knees.”

“It’s to remind you that I’m in charge and I’m telling you to keep your head clear when you’re working. When this suit comes off at the end of the night, that’s when you’re allowed to worry about me again.” The authority in his tone sends a hot shiver down my spine, and I nod. “Yes, Sir.”

“Is he fucking insane?” “A little bit,” Xaviaro answers. “Excuse you,” I scoff. At Xav’s answer or maybe at the big, bad Mafia boss for asking it, I’m not really sure. “You realize I could have you killed, right?” Lorenzo asks matter-of-factly. “Yeah, yeah.” I wave a hand dismissively. “Either do it or give up the intimidation bullshit and tell me why you wanted to meet me.”

“Watch it, Dante. Xaviaro’s already pissed a circle around this charming little psychopath,” Alessio says. “Figuratively speaking… I’m assuming.”

“Enzo, these men didn’t just kill my brother, they brutalized him.” He looks over at Elio and then back at Lorenzo, hitting the boss with some big, round puppy dog eyes. The words find their target, making Enzo shift in his seat and clear his throat, which is practically an emotional outburst from him.

“To be clear,” Lorenzo says as soon as we’re alone, “my comment when you arrived about getting a bullet in the head wasn’t a threat. We both know how distracted you’ve been lately and if you weren’t my best friend, well… let’s not pretend that our relationship hasn’t made me soft when it comes to you.” A flicker of a smile passes over his lips. “But I’m not the only one in this city who carries a gun.” He’s referring to my near miss yesterday. Or, more likely, to all the potential near misses I could face on any given day if I don’t have my shit together and my head in the game. “I know,” I say gruffly, the soft weight of the rope harness around my chest all I can think about for a moment before I pull my attention fully back to my boss and best friend. “I have it under control now,” I assure him.

“Good, because I refuse to attend your funeral.” If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear there was a slight hitch of emotion in his voice. “That’s fine, you can just roll my body into the ravine and skip all the pomp and ceremony,” I say, letting a hint of humor seep into my cool tone. “Please,” Enzo scoffs. “My body rolling days are over. There have to be at least a few benefits to being the boss around here.” I let out a chuckle at that one and Sparrow shakes his head. “This is possibly very touching,” he says dryly. “I can see what Xaviaro likes about you. Don’t get him killed,” Lorenzo says.

“You’ve been different since you met him. I’m… happy for you.” I cock my head. “But?” I prompt, hearing the hesitation clear as day in his words. He flattens his lips and for a second I think he’s going to play dumb, but he surprises me by answering. “But, the selfish part of me thought maybe you’d be alone forever with me. Alone together, I guess.” He lets out a self-pitying kind of laugh and then downs the rest of his drink. “Who says you have to be alone forever? Plenty of people in this city would crawl over a pile of bodies to get into Lorenzo Moretti’s bed.” “That’s the problem, isn’t it?” he mutters. “The bodies?” “Yes. And the ‘Lorenzo Moretti’ part of that statement. People want power and money, that’s all.”

I would cut my heart out and hand it to him on a silver platter. Is that love?

“You know, my apartment lease is only month to month. Maybe I shouldn’t renew it next week.” Xaviaro folds his arms around me and pulls me impossibly closer, trapping me against him in the best way. “Don’t renew it,” he agrees, still sounding dazed and maybe only half awake. I should probably ask him again when he’s not all subbed-out. “Hey, Xav?” I tilt my face so I can see his, tightening my grip on his harness and rubbing the tip of my nose against the stubble on his chin. He hums, prying his eyes open to meet my gaze. “I think I’m in love with you.” His lips twitch and his eyes droop closed again. “That makes two of us.”

“Yeah, you two are gross,” Alessio says. “Jealous,” I taunt, dragging my thumb over Xaviaro’s lip to wipe off the lingering dampness from the brief kiss. “You two never know, the love of your life could come along and break your nose any day.” Salvatore’s eyes go wide. “He’s the one who broke your nose?” “Oops,” I mutter, grimacing apologetically at Xaviaro. I assumed all the guys knew about our epic meet-cute at this point. Alessio cackles. “I’m thinking Elio has the best shot at that one.”

My eyes land on Xaviaro one more time and my heart flutters when he meets my gaze. “Do you mind?” Salvatore complains. “How are we supposed to eat when you’re making googly eyes at each other all night?” I hold up my middle finger before I remember that Nonna is present and I should probably behave myself. Cringing, I tuck it away quickly, folding my hands in my lap. “Don’t make me shoot you, Sal,” Nonna warns in a casual tone that catches me off guard. “Nonna,” Enzo gasps in surprise. “Don’t look at me like that. I was a better shot than your grandfather and I haven’t lost a step.”

“I love you, Killer,” I whisper, living and dying with the smile that spreads slowly over his lips. “And I love you, my Deadly Little Sparrow.”