Sold to the Mob Boss: A Mafia Romance (Lavrin Bratva)

by Nicole Fox

  Not a man moves.

  “So be it,” I say, nodding. “Then we’re leaving now. To face death.”

  The ride to Gino’s headquarters is long and quiet. Most of us are mentally preparing, making sure our gear is ready. Everyone carries numerous clips filled with ammunition.

  Eitan and one of the men go ahead of the rest of us to find a spot to set off the explosion. We need a diversion to force our way in, and the grenades we’ll be using are the last resource we have left.

  Our watches are timed so that no other form of communication is needed. Once we’re in place, I eye the watch on my wrist, adrenaline flooding my system. I haven’t yet let myself think about what Annie is experiencing right now. Has he laid a finger on her? Is she alone? Both thoughts make me ill. I shudder and check my gun once again.

  For the last few moments of silence we have left, I close my eyes.

  I wonder what my father would say to me right now, if he could. Would he be proud? All I can picture is the little bird in his hand, testing its wings. So pure. So small. So fierce.

  Then the beeping from my wristwatch cuts through the air and we exit the van just as an enormous explosion goes off. Windows shatter. Smoke and fire rush out. Thousands of shards of glass and steel shower all around. That’s our cue.

  We race along the hidden route to the main complex. But we don’t get too far. Gunshots begin to crack into the air as loud as thunder. Gunshots in movies and video games are merely an annoyance, a tinny pop and crackle. But out here, they’re as good as a hypodermic to the heart. Each one isn’t just loud, it booms and echoes, seeking to deliver death.

  We fan out, ducking and dodging, returning fire when we’re able, hiding as we must. It’s a dogged, bloody fight, but we make our way around each corner. Each foot of ground is hard-gained. Already, I can see my men—what’s left of them—sporting bleeding wounds.

  We pass the first layer of security, and soon enough, the gunshots come thick again as more of Gino’s soldiers arrive. The industrial complex is a hell zone of zipping bullets and groaning, dying soldiers. Metal shrieks and concrete shatters.

  I pop up from behind a concrete pillar, take quick aim, and fire my weapon in rapid succession, killing three men as I move closer and closer toward the blast site. No matter what, I need to get inside. When I tuck into an alcove in the wall of the building, I turn to check my men. No one is dead, but many are wounded. That’s the best we could have hoped for, for now.

  I spy an Italian creeping up across the empty lot, knife drawn, ready to slice the throat of one of my soldiers who is focused in another direction. I drop to a knee, brace, and fire. Through my scope, I see a bullet hole bloom in his forehead. He hits the ground in a sickening tumble.

  I’m reloading and looking for my next target when I spot a familiar weapon. A weapon that came in on the shipment Gino stole from me and which would end our attack in a matter of minutes.

  A machine gun.

  “Fall back!” I rush out, throwing my hand out to command my men to move back just as the distinctive rat-tat-tat of the ammunition cuts through the air. One of the men to my right erupts in a mushroom cloud of blood. He’s torn to pieces instantly as I jump over a couple of empty drums and duck for cover, cursing under my breath.

  Fuck. There’s got to be another way in.

  I see a door to my right, rusted over. When I hear the machine gun pause for a moment, I take to my feet and sprint that way as my men return fire behind me. I make it to the door, yank it open.

  I’m almost inside when I feel a hand seize my ankle. The unexpected touch sends me tumbling to the floor in the dark hallway within. The man who grabbed me falls in. I spot the glistening edge of a knife blade before the door slams shut, trapping us in the pitch black.

  I deliver two quick heel strikes to the man’s face. His nose crunches under my boot, but it’s not enough to stop him. His knife bites into my calf in one long slice. I roar as pain explodes in my lower leg. The hot rush of blood starts to fill my boot.

  I need to move quickly, or this bastard will slit my throat in the dark and leave me here to die. Swinging my injured leg around his throat, I pull him into a chokehold with my shin cutting off his airway. I use my free hand to grab his knife-hand wrist and twist hard. Bones crack beneath my grasp. I hear the knife clatter to the floor.

  The man is thrashing in my grasp, but when he reaches up and punches blindly into my groin, I let go with a pained grunt. The sickening lurch of his blow makes my stomach churn, but I don’t have time to think before he’s on top of me, raining punches down. Half of them miss, but enough land on my face and shoulders to disorient me.

  I throw a blind punch back and get lucky, connecting with his jaw. The man falls to my left and I roll on top of him immediately.

  Time to end this.

  My hands find his throat and begin to squeeze all the air from his body. I can feel his fingers scrabbling over my face, looking for my eyes. I bite down hard on his thumb and taste the coppery tang of blood. He screams hoarsely; I don’t let go.

  Only when his thrashing has stopped and the man is strangled beneath me do I finally relinquish my grip and slump to the side. My breath comes in ragged gasps. The pain in my calf where he knifed me is a bitter throb, sharp and relentless.

  I’m running out of time. I don’t even know for sure if Gino is here, or if Annie is. And if he catches word of our suicidal assault on his headquarters, there is no telling where he might take her away to. This is my last—and only—chance to save her.

  I stagger down the dark hallway, trailing blood. There’s a dim light at the end of the tunnel, streaming down weakly from overhead. I reach out and find the cold metal rungs of a ladder. Don’t think; climb. I mount it and make my way up.

  At the top, I push aside a manhole cover and find myself in an empty hallway. It’s silent, aside from the occasional pop of gunfire from far away, muffled by the walls. But I stay on guard. Down the hall, a light is on in one of the rooms. Someone is talking and shadows dance across the floor. I take a breath and narrow my eyes as I inch my way closer.

  “It’s got to be Nikita?”

  Augustin’s voice, I realize.

  “Of course it’s him. We have his little girlfriend. Did you think the Lavrin hothead wouldn’t try to come and rescue her?” Gino laughs. “He’ll die trying and I’ll get what I’ve been waiting for.”

  “Go to hell,” Annie spits at them.

  My heartbeat races the moment I hear her voice. She’s alive. I swallow and push on. Failure isn’t an option. Not when it comes to protecting Annie. But I don’t know the layout of the room or where she is. Or if they have a gun pulled on her.

  Please, Dad, if you can hear me, watch over Annie and keep her safe.

  I inhale and exhale a couple of times, then charge toward the door, throwing my body into it. As I crash into the room, I take quick count of everyone. Augustin and Gino are unguarded. Annie is held down to a table by Augustin gripping her arms, while Gino wrenches her legs apart. The Italian’s pants are unzipped and unbuttoned. I can see the ugly head of his cock protruding from his boxers.

  I hurl myself at him. No fucking way is the bastard going to rape my little bird.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Annie

  An hour earlier

  Not again.

  Not again. This can’t be happening to me again.

  “Why so glum, princess?” The Italian’s thick accent wrenches me back to reality.

  He reaches across and pats my leg, his touch lingering longer than I care for, his face moving a little too slowly as he takes in the sight of me. Then he grins, and as he does so the temperature in the car falls a little. It’s a Cheshire grin of sorts, the kind that’s so wide it’s more as if he wants to eat everyone than say hello.

  “Don’t worry, little girl. We’re going to have so much fun, and soon the memory of Nikita will disappear from your mind, no?”

  I sneer and quickly wish I hadn’t.
Gino tenses and his eyes are unblinking. No way will he make me forget Nikita, not when I’m carrying the man’s baby. And not when my heart belongs to him. No, the only way Gino could ever make me forget about Nikita would be if he kills me.

  Goose bumps pepper my skin at the last thought. Gino will most likely kill me—and my baby. I just pray it’s quick. No torture, no slow death. Just put a bullet in my brain.

  “Nikita won’t be coming to save you this time. He’s got no army, no allies. And I don’t think he’ll waste whatever he does have coming to rescue a slave.” Gino taps his chin with his index finger. “Tell me, darling: why did he let you go?”

  My eyes widen at the question. Gino must suspect that I mean something to Nikita. Why else would he have kidnapped me. But maybe, just maybe, he doesn’t know that. So, I shrug and look out the window. “Said I was a bad lay.”

  The Italian’s high, cold cackle makes my skin crawl and my body tremble.

  “Nikita fucks so much I’m sure every pussy feels the same to him,” Gino says as he flips his wrist in the air. “The man didn’t need another slave. You were just another power play, another way for him to rub in everyone’s face the money he has, the control he has. Or rather, thought he had. The Lavrin accounts are looking rather bare these days, though. And that’s why the council didn’t care when I made my move against him. Because Nikita Lavrin is finished in this city.”

  I swallow past the lump in my throat and stare out the window, worrying about Nikita.

  The car drives through the city and toward the water. I know my journey is coming to an end when the warehouse is in front of me. I should have expected it. The houses gave way to barren industrial territory a full twenty minutes ago. Old machinery lines the road, covered in dirt, like metallic skeletons of huge, ugly beasts from thousands of years ago.

  A warehouse beckons in the distance. It has the curved roof of an aircraft hangar and the walls are corrugated tin surrounded by a chain-link fence.

  The driver pulls up to the west end of the lot and two men push open a gate to let us through. The car pulls up to the side of the warehouse and stops. A couple of men come out and open the door, helping Gino out. I follow and when I look up, I spot a familiar face standing next to Gino. A face I had prayed I would never see again.

  Augustin.

  “So happy to see you again. But from the look on your face, I’m going to guess the feeling isn’t mutual,” Augustin says. He smiles, and for a moment, I’m transported back to the nightclub. This smile was where it all began. Take a shot with me, he said. If only I’d thrown it in his face instead. Maybe this would all be different.

  The men surround us and cut off any hopes I had of running away. Not that I would get far, but a girl can always hope. I watch everyone without turning my head. My heart is hammering but I keep my gait casual with no hint of hesitation. No sense in showing my fear. I won’t let them get the best of me twice.

  Augustin and Gino instruct most of the men to stand guard at different places and then head up a flight of metallic stairs. Two guards escort us to the top of the staircase, then take up stations there. Only Augustin and Gino continue inside with me. Augustin stands behind me. I straighten my spine in an effort to pretend I’m not afraid of him. Gino opens the door to the room.

  I pause on the threshold. If I go in here, I might not make it out. Chances are pretty good that I’ll die in this godforsaken dump.

  But Augustin doesn’t give me the time to reflect. He shoves me in the back and I stumble inside into Gino’s arms. The men laugh cruelly as Augustin pulls the door closed behind me.

  “You must’ve had a lot of fun with Nikita. How many times did he fuck you?” Augustin crosses his arms and waits for me to respond.

  “According to the girl, she’s a bad fuck. That’s why Nikita let her go,” Gino sneers.

  Augustin shakes his head. “No way. Not for a quarter of a million dollars.”

  Gino takes his jacket off and sets it down on a chair. “You don’t really think I bought her story? My men told me that he went out of his way to protect her on the rooftop of his penthouse. That told me everything I needed to know. The girl means something to him. Why do you think she’s here?”

  Augustin and Gino grin. I’m the bait they’re using to lure Nikita into a trap.

  I have to find a way to let him know. He can’t die because of me.

  Gino steps into my space and I back up until I bump into a table. When I turn around to try to maneuver around it, Augustin is there. He grabs my wrists and pulls so that I fall flat against the table. Oh God.

  “That’s right, Annie. When I said I’d make sure Nikita was a distant memory, what I meant to say was that I’m going to fuck you until you don’t remember what he feels like,” Gino says.

  “And I think I’ll fuck that pretty little mouth of yours so you forget what he tastes like, too” Augustin says as he yanks my hair.

  Please, dear God, please make it stop. Maybe if I tell them I’m pregnant, they’ll stop, I think. Then I look at Gino’s scowling face and realize that it might just make him punish me more.

  Gino kicks my legs apart and I scream. But his hands hold my hips in place. I can’t go anywhere. I bite the inside of my cheek and prepare for the worst. I hear the metal sound of a zipper being undone and the rustle of clothing moved aside.

  “Look at me, darling,” Gino barks. Augustin forces my head up to see Gino waggling his cock between my legs like some hideous snake. He starts to stroke himself harder and harder. I gulp against a knot in my throat.

  Then I close my eyes and pray that it will be over quickly.

  ***

  Suddenly, a bang rips through the air. The door swings wildly and crashes into the wall. And Nikita stands in the doorway with his gun pointed at Gino.

  “Annie, get down!”

  Augustin releases me as he fumbles for the gun at his hip. I scream, roll to one side, and drop to the ground just as the crack of gunfire cuts through the air. Gino is a couple of feet in front of me and pulls his own gun out, firing at Nikita, who has tucked and rolled to the far side of the room. I crawl on my hands and knees to a desk at my right and duck behind it as I try to keep safe from the bullets screaming through the room.

  “Missed you, boss!” Augustin shouts from the opposite corner of the room as a couple of more bullets crack through the air.

  Nikita growls and says nothing. More bullets slam into the walls and ceiling.

  I have no idea who’s firing anymore. I just lean against the desk, my knees to my chest, waiting for the gunfire to stop. I hear two more pops and then a pained groan.

  And then ... silence.

  Gino’s sinister laugh fills the room and my heart plummets. Did they kill Nikita?

  I peek around the corner just in time to see Nikita and Augustin tumbling head over heels on the dusty floor. Fists fly back and forth. Off to the side, I see Gino, bleeding profusely from a wound in his leg, sliding away, leaving a trail of blood behind him like a slug.

  I don’t know where to look. Nikita’s fist slams into Augustin’s face while Augustin sinks his own fist into Nikita’s stomach. They struggle to their feet, stumble apart for a brief second to catch their breath, and then dive back at each other with twin roars, eyes narrowed.

  Nikita dodges Augustin’s swinging fist and comes up with his own uppercut. It dazes him for just a brief instant. Then Augustin’s rears his head back and slams it into Nikita’s face. They separate again, bloody and dusty, before Nikita shakes it off and blindly throws a sloppy kick

  Augustin steps back, easily evading the kick. “You shouldn’t have come here, Nikita,” he taunts through a mouth full of broken teeth. I can see blood droplets spatter against the wall from a gruesome gash in Nikita’s leg. He lands heavily and barely keeps his feet, favoring the injured leg. It looks bad. My heart is pounding against my ribcage.

  “I came to get something of mine,” Nikita retorts. He charges once again at Augustin, this time th
rowing his elbow into the other man’s face. The sickening crunch makes my stomach churn and I gag. Blood spurts from Augustin’s face and he falls backward into a shelf. Nikita sends two more quick punches into his face and the man slumps aside, unconscious.

  Off to my right, I see Gino tearing off his shirt and fashioning a tourniquet around his bleeding leg. His face is pale and drawn, but the evil gleam in his eyes is as bright as it was the moment he first snatched me from the sidewalk.

  Slowly, Nikita extracts himself from Augustin’s limp limbs and stands straight. He turns painfully to look at Gino, who is still half lying on the ground, panting.

  “So much fire in you, Lavrin. Too bad your father didn’t have such fight in him,” Gino hisses.

  “Enough from you, Gino. You’ve made your last mistake.”

  “Care to wager who’s going to die?” Gino smiles, his eyes briefly glancing over Nikita’s shoulder.

  I follow the look only to find Augustin standing above me, a gun pointed at my head. Everyone in the room freezes, until Augustin reaches down and hauls me to my feet by the roots of my hair. I scream, not that he gives a damn. Hell, he probably enjoys my fear.

  “Get up, you cunt,” he bellows. “And you!” he adds, whirling around to point his gun at Nikita. “Hands up. Don’t make a fucking move.”

  My terrified gaze darts between Nikita and the other men. I try to find a weak point, something none of them are paying attention to, a way out. But there is none. Augustin’s gun prods me in my lower back.

  “Over here, bitch,” he snarls, pushing me away from the corner of the room. “I want you to look at him while I put a bullet in his head. Then I’m going to fuck you till I’ve had my fill.”

  When we reach the middle of the open space, Augustin kicks me in the back of my legs, sending me to my knees with a thump. I’m a few feet away from Nikita. His gaze is fixed on mine, unreadable, as Augustin comes to my side, gun pressed against my temple.

  “I’m sorry, Annie,” Nikita whispers. “I tried.”

  Above me, Augustin’s eyes are dark, as if he’s lost his soul. They’re darker than my father’s. Darker than Nikita’s.