The Hitman's Desire: A Mafia Romance (The Silent Family Book 1)

by T Steele

When we reach it, John jostles me around so that he can wrap his fingers around the knob.

  “I can walk,” I whisper. His actions are frantic and fast and they’re affecting me, making me want to just curl up into his chest and never leave the solace of his arms.

  The door bangs open and then I feel John stiffen and I gasp.

  Luca’s sitting in a chair, a Russian man is behind him with a gun to his head.

  Luca’s staring at us grinning. “It’s about time you guys have joined the party. Take off your shoes. Come in. Sit down. Stay a while.”

  “It will be fun shooting you,” the Russian man behind him says, and Luca rolls his eyes.

  “That’s what they all say,” he grins with a shrug.

  What the fuck is wrong with him?!

  My eyes meet John’s and he’s already staring at me. He raises his brows, trying to communicate something with me that I’m not sure of. Then my eyes travel over his shoulder and I see the top of a buzzed head. Belkov is standing directly behind John. So close that I’d wager that he has a gun to his back. My gaze locks on John’s again silently asking him how we’re going to get out of this.

  “All I ask is for a poker game. Winner gets a kiss from the beauty here. That’s all. No one needs to get hurt,” Belkov says.

  “If it’s just a poker game why do you have your Glocks out?” John asks softly.

  Belkov chuckles darkly. “Because I’m willing to bet her pussy’s to die for.”

  I gasp and John works his jaw furiously, sweat beads on his forehead and he’s still holding me, not daring to make any sudden moves.

  “If you want to keep your tongue, Belkov, I suggest you quit speaking about her that way.” John’s voice is so soft it instantly causes the feeling of a sharp claw scratching down my spine. The fury and rage and lethal calm is a mixture John has perfected and I’m willing to bet no one in the casino would want on his bad side.

  Belkov laughs. “Is she yours, John?” he asks, instigating. And even I will admit that he must have balls to mess with John when he’s already angry.

  When John doesn’t answer, I speak up, causing all eyes to shift to me. “I’d never put my lips anywhere near you.”

  The Russians’ laugh, and I know the next words out of his mouth will be a bigger taunt to John than me. He sees John is barely holding it together and, for some reason, he wants him to lose control.

  “Are we fucking playing poker or what? Winner gets a kiss. Big fucking deal. She’s the entertainment, she’s likely already fucked half the men in this place.” Luca’s voice sifts through the room, speaking before Belkov has a chance.

  I hate Luca, and I hate that even tied up, he looks like a Hollywood star. He’s all blonde hair and blue eyes, tan skin. He looks like an Abercrombie and Fitch model in a suit, but it could never fool me. Even as a normal civilian, I would like to think I would still see the cunning and prowling wolf inside his eyes. It’s insidious and dark whenever you get a glimpse, and I would never feel safe when someone like him came to my rescue. If one could even call it a rescue. More like doom.

  But I’m grateful for his words, harsh as they are, for they do give a small respite in the current shitty situation we’re all in.

  The longer we stand here, the more I feel my body start to shiver. My eyes meet John’s and he looks calm, his stare boring into mine. “We’ll play,” John says softly and my face falls, but his eyes are staring at me with intent. What kind of intent? I don’t know, but at least he has a plan.

  The man claps him on the back and John snarls. “Why do you want me to kill you so badly?”

  “All I want is a poker game the way we used to play. Don’t you remember the way we used to joke around with each other and play every weekend at the casino? You’ve lost your sense of humor, John.”

  He walks around us with his gun still aimed at me in John’s arms, but gestures for us to follow him to the table.

  John sits down, not taking his hold off me but helps me straighten in his lap.

  I feel him sag a bit behind me and know that his arms are probably sore from holding me tightly for so long.

  It’s when I finally sit down that I start to actually notice some of the room we’re in. There’s a round poker table under dim lighting, and I wonder why they have this random room here when there are dozens of other poker tables exactly like this one lined up outside.

  I notice beautiful art hanging on the walls and a few plants in the corners, but it doesn’t give the room a nicer appearance. If anything, it gives it a more haunted feel. And once again, I’m the only woman in a room full of men, all well over six feet tall.

  Then I’m aware of Luca staring at John and I, observing us. He raises a brow, grinning like he knows some sort of secret, and I look away from him. Belkov takes a seat beside us and laughs loudly. It’s then I realize his eyes are fully dilated and he’s fidgeting. He’s obviously high and I inwardly smack myself for not noticing before.

  “Let’s be clear,” John starts and I know he’s grinding his jaw back and forth by the way his words come out gritted through his teeth. “She is mine and I’m not letting any of you fuckers near her. Sure, you might win against me, but I’ll fucking skin you alive if you so much as look at her.” Belkov sputters and John glowers at him, his hand coming around me possessively, and his nose skims the side of my face to my neck. “And to confirm what you already said earlier, Belkov, her pussy is ‘to die for’ and none of you fuckers WILL. EVER. KNOW. what sort of paradise that feels like.”

  I feel my nipples pebble through my dress at his words, and I hope no one notices the goosebumps showing on my arms. I glance around at everyone in the room, and they watch John and I, not even trying to conceal their lust. There's a knowing look in Luca’s eyes and it scares me—the fact that our relationship isn’t allowed blares in my skull. Yet, here we are, flaunting it in front of everyone. The fact that my father could kill John for this fully sinks in and I want to scream or cry or break something.

  I feel John straighten behind me, his arm tightening around my waist. He hands the cards to Luca. “So, you fuckers ready to play?”

  Chapter Eleven

  Sweat beads on my forehead as John’s hand wanders inside the slit of my dress. We’re still sitting at the table. Belkov, Nick, and Deviant are the other men’s names, which I figured out during everyone’s pissing contest. Oh, and of course, there’s Luca, too, who sits with a shit-eating grin on his face and I hate it. He knows about me and John and it’s enough to make me nauseous.

  “Damn, John, are you gonna fuck her right here in front of everyone?”

  At Belkov’s words, I’ve finally had enough. I turn to him with the most seductive smile I can muster. “If I wanted him to fuck me, he would have already.”

  Belkov laughs loudly, pulling at the collar of his shirt. I can’t see his arms, which are covered by his long sleeves, but I’m willing to bet they’re covered with bruised veins.

  I lean back into John, snaking my arms around his neck and sinking my fingers into the soft, thick curls at his nape, and I feel his heartbeat quicken against my back.

  “You wanted a show, boys?” I ask, grinning, finally feeling fed up.

  I turn my face to John’s, angling my mouth up to his and giving him my most possessive kiss. My nerves, for a split second, turn to empowerment. I hate that these disgusting assholes are watching, but I revel in the satisfaction that I’ve rendered them speechless. I keep my eyes open, watching their reactions.

  It’s such an absurd thought, but it’s almost as if I’m claiming dominance. Like I’ve taken control for one minuscule second.

  John’s big hand rests on my neck, his thumb gliding along my jawline, and I sigh. And then I do close my eyes.

  It’s subtle, but I feel John stiffen a bit, and I open them again.

  The Russian Family stare at us blatantly. Even Luca looks a bit shocked.

  I smile broadly at them all. “I’m not kissing any of you fuckers tonight. Bri
nging me back here was a waste of time.”

  One of Belkov’s men speak up, “I hate to break it to y—”

  Then he’s cut off by John’s knife as it impales him through the throat.

  I gasp, not quite understanding what happened yet. One minute, John and I were kissing, then the next, I felt John’s arm move and he was throwing a knife at one of the Russians.

  “Get down!” John yells, shoving me under the poker table.

  I crawl further under the table, and it feels like there's a rock in my chest, blocking my airway. I can’t look away from the dead man lying on the floor.

  A gurgling noise brings me back to the present and my breath rushes out of my lungs forcefully, as if I’ve been holding it. When I look over, I see the other Russian on the ground. He’s clutching his mouth, which is continuously oozing blood, and I know John has cut his tongue out.

  Everything happened so fast, my brain can barely keep up. Can barely process what’s happening.

  John! I’d lost track of him in the chaos.

  Panicked, my head whips back and forth looking for him, and when I find him, I’m horrified. He’s holding onto a syringe that’s sticking out of Belkov’s arm. Where he got it, I don’t know, but he’s pumping him full of drugs. Over and over he does this, and I sit there frozen, not able to understand what I’m seeing.

  Then Luca swaggers over to Belkov, cocking his head to the side. His eyes are cunning and calculated, and, in this moment, he’s more terrifying than John could ever be.

  Luca laughs. “How did you think this would end tonight? Why the fuck would you even show up here?”

  Once the words leave his mouth, he wrenches his head back before spitting directly in Belkov’s face.

  Suddenly, Belkov looks directly at me. His eyes are bloodshot, and vomit spews from his mouth. I cover my own and realize my face is wet. I started crying at some point.

  “I know. . .who- who,” he coughs and sputters, “killed your mom.”

  I’m up and walking over to him before I even have the conscious thought of doing so. “You’re lying,” I spit out. “She wasn’t killed.”

  A wet, choked laugh erupts from his mouth, and Luca rolls his eyes. “He’s obviously hallucinating.”

  “And besides, this dumb motherfucker doesn’t even know you. How could he possibly know anything about your mother?” John’s eyes bore into mine, his voice dripping with meaning.

  I gape, realizing I’ve shown our cards. Literally. John was still acting and playing the part, and I had forgotten. Did it even matter now? Where the hell was my father?

  But my eyes continue staring, observing the horrid scene before me. Why would he even say that? How does he know who I am?

  When I don’t say anything, the man smirks at me. Even in his sweaty and shivering state, he looks smug.

  “It was me,” he gasps. “Who knew? After all these years of trying to strike Malcolm down and all we needed to do was dig deeper. Find his family and go after them. You would’ve been even better.” His eyes quickly glide over my body, and he licks his lips. Revulsion ripples through me. “We could’ve had a lot more fun with you. We all could’ve taken a turn.”

  And that’s when John kicks him in the face, causing his eyes to roll back in his head. His body shakes violently and I know he’s having a seizure. I know he has too much in his system, yet I can’t force myself to feel anything. Anything at all. I’m entirely numb, and I watch. Watch as he dies painfully.

  I should hate this, I should hate everything. But right now I don’t feel anything.

  Then, my dad’s in front of me cupping my face, but I still don’t look at him. My eyes are still glued on a now-dead Belkov.

  I sputter as water is poured on me. My chest heaves and all the raging noise is back, loud and thunderous.

  I shove my fingers into my eyes, wiping the water away and glare at my father. “Did you know?”

  He stands at his full height, staring down at me, and I feel sick because I already know the answer. I suck in a jagged breath. “Of course you know. That’s why they’re after me.” My voice comes out flat, and I’m trying so hard to process everything, but it’s too much. All I want is John and that thought is just as scary. But I feel as though I need him. I wrap my arms around myself and glance over at him.

  He looks brutal. Savage. Barbaric. I don’t think he realizes the look he’s giving my father. He’s ready to fight him. For me.

  When my eyes dart back to my father, he’s still staring at me, and thankfully didn’t catch John glaring daggers at him.

  “ANSWER ME!” I scream and my father recoils.

  He opens his mouth and no sound comes out. He shakes his head and his voice cracks when he does speak. “Ruby, I wanted to tell you, bu—”

  I throw myself at him, beating my fists against his chest.

  “It’s your fault she’s dead!” I scream, tears racing down my cheeks, and I slap him across the face so hard it stings my hand, but I don’t care. “I hate you! It should’ve been you!”

  Hands pull me back, lifting me in the air. I flail and kick, trying to harm my father more, but the sight of his guilty and defeated face gets farther and farther away. Then, suddenly I’m in another dark hallway and my fight or flight instinct kicks in. My foot connects with someone’s shin and I hear a grunt.

  “Ruby.” It’s John. His voice is ragged. “It’s me,” he says. The familiarity of his presence and the feel of him causes me to hold on to him like a lifeline.

  “Did you know, too?” I seethe.

  “No.”

  I sigh, and slump against him. “Thank God,” I sob into his chest.

  His arms tighten around me and I feel his hand gliding up and down my back.

  “Just let it out,” he soothes.

  And I do.

  He holds me until I catch my bearings. “Why do you cut out people’s tongues?” I whisper, sniffling, wanting to ask about any random thing that will distract me.

  His hand stills against my back. “It’s my signature. If a tongue is missing, people know I killed them. Sometimes, if I don’t kill them, it means I silenced them. They can’t talk and say who did it and they go back to their family as a warning.”

  I nod against his chest. “Why is all this happening? Is it just because I’m Malcolm’s daughter?”

  “Yes. Malcolm has made a lot of enemies fighting his way to the top,” he pauses, and I’m nervous about what he’s going to say next, but he surprises me by asking, “You wanna drive my car?”

  I crane my head to look up at him. “You better not be fucking with me right now.”

  He grins and pulls the keys from his pocket, dangling them in front of my face.

  “Are you trying to cheer me up?”

  “Is it working?”

  “Yes,” I say with a watery smile.

  John takes my hand and leads me through the hallway. “Where are we?”

  “This is the private exit. This isn’t the first time something . . . violent has happened and we needed to leave quickly.”

  I don’t say any more. Of course there would be a secret passageway type of shit.

  When we get to John’s car, it’s parked in a secluded garage that’s cramped with tall metal walls. I can barely squeeze through to get to the driver’s seat.

  Once I’m seated, I put on my seat belt and turn to John. “Why’s it so cramped down here?”

  “It’s called Metalith, a metal infrastructure. Makes it almost impossible for a car to get bombed down here.”

  My mouth drops open. “That’s fucking crazy.”

  “But smart.”

  I shrug. He has a point.

  I put the key in the ignition, but then John’s voice stops me from doing anything else. “Wait,” he says.

  I look at him and he carefully unclasps the hair pieces holding my wig in, and gently undoes my hair, letting it cascade messily down my back.

  He gives a half-smile. “There. Now once you take those contact
s out, you’ll be my Ruby again.”

  His Ruby?

  I smile, and I’m surprised when I don’t literally melt into a pile of goo. I pull down the mirror and take the contacts out. When I glance back at John, I find him grimacing at me.

  I frown. “What?”

  “People touching their eyes grosses me the fuck out.”

  I laugh. “Oh, but killing people is a picnic in the park?”

  He doesn’t laugh. “I’m so sorry you had to see that.”

  I nod, putting the car in reverse and backing out of the parking space.

  The truth is, I am too. That was absolutely terrifying, and I hope I never have to see anything like it again. It makes me wonder how John even deals with it.

  The more I think about it, the more the scene of Belkov’s face while he told me he murdered my mom keeps flashing through my mind.

  “How do you think Belkov knew it was me?”

  “He must’ve been watching you for longer than we thought.” John looks unsettled by this.

  I think about my mom. The doctors said she’d died from a heart attack due to her high blood pressure never getting taken care of, and that some of the medications she was on could’ve increased her risk of heart attack as well.

  “Do you think he poisoned her?” I’m crying again, but I can’t do anything about it. When the sharp knife of grief stabs you, nothing and no one can stop it or erase the damage.

  John doesn’t answer, but his hand grips my thigh, and I cry silently while I drive. He doesn’t ask me to pull over or to explain, he just sits there beside me as a silent comfort, and I’m grateful. I think when people are struggling all they really need is for someone to be there. To exist beside them. Not placating them with false reassurances and the old, “It’s going to be okay”. John is here beside me, and he knows I'm hurting. He hates that I’m hurting, but he’s here and he’s not running or afraid of the ugliness of my pain.

  “Stop the car,” he does eventually ask when it’s clear I’m driving aimlessly.

  I do as he says and stare out the windshield, my eyes not really seeing anything, as tears continue to fall.