Witness Protection

by Stacey Espino

  How had he found his location in the first place?

  If Vlad had found him, anyone could.

  When he peered up to the penthouse suite of the hotel next to him, his thoughts went right to Sophia. They were supposed to watch a movie together, but his self-control around her was shot. He’d crossed the line and couldn’t let it happen again. Sophia had cracked through his barriers, and he’d changed everything between them. How could she trust him again after he’d given into his desires?

  It was so easy to forget the outside world when they were holed up alone together.

  Things were getting too domestic between them. These breaks were becoming essential to his sanity. If he stayed locked up with her twenty-four-seven, Hawk was sure he’d lose his heart. Probably already had.

  Sophia was too off-limits for him to even have such impure thoughts. Vasily would be rolling over in his grave if he knew the things swirling in Hawk’s head.

  He’d be giving Vlad shit later, but he wasn’t going to wait another minute. Sophia had been alone long enough. He made his way up the elevator of the hotel, back to the suite. They’d been on lock down for days. Tomorrow he’d check them out and decide what to do next.

  The suite was quiet. He wondered if Sophia had decided to go to bed and skip the late-night movie.

  He gently pushed open the door to check on her, but the light was on and she wasn’t there. “Sophia?”

  Her brush was on the floor and the blankets were bunched up on one side. He bent down and picked up the brush, smelling her strawberry shampoo. Hawk frowned, not liking where this was going. The bathroom was still humid from a shower, so she couldn’t have been gone long.

  “Sophia!” He checked the rest of the suite, nausea setting in when he realized she was nowhere to be found. Maybe she’d gone to look for him. Taken a walk for a change of scenery.

  He knew it was bullshit.

  She wouldn’t have left on her own, not after he told her to stay inside.

  Hawk took a deep breath. He was probably overreacting.

  His cell rang. “Yeah,” he shouted.

  “It’s me. I’m calling from a clinic. The bastard shot me. He’s going after Sophia,” said Vlad.

  He dropped his arm to the side, the phone still in his hand. The impossible reality took shape, and it terrified him to the core. How would he find her? The killer wasn’t there to play games, just level the playing field. He didn’t want a prisoner. He wanted Sophia dead.

  “Vlad, she’s already gone.”

  “Oh, shit. I’m sorry. He knew things, Hawk. Knew where she was. The guy’s good.”

  He hung up. There was no sense talking with him. Vlad had failed him, led him away from his ward to save his own ass. The only person he could trust was himself.

  He rushed down to the lobby, grabbing the man behind the counter by the collar, nearly pulling him over the granite barrier. The gasps around him brought back some of his sensibilities, and he released him. “I need to see security footage of the lobby. Do you have cameras in the elevators? Hallways?”

  “Sir, if you’re not with the police department, I can’t help you.”

  Hawk clenched his teeth, his jaw twitching. There were too many people staring. He’d have to break into the security room himself or call in a few favors. He had to find Sophia before it was too late.

  He winked at the man. “Sorry about the shirt, eh?”

  It was night now, and darkness was his friend. But he needed a lead. She could be anywhere. When he started to think of the things that bastard could be doing to his sweet Sophia, he nearly retched, pushing the images away before they drove him crazy. When he got to the front of the hotel, he ordered his car from the valet and waited, his mind in a million directions.

  His cell went off.

  “Sophia?”

  “It’s Vlad. I’m on a public line. I got the license plate, not that it’ll help. There was a pizza box on the backseat. Bruno’s Pizzeria.”

  “Get another cell then text me the number.” He hung up. Hawk was too pissed off with Vlad to talk now. The license plate wasn’t going to get him anyway. A professional would have a dozen fake plates on hand.

  The pizza—that was a different story.

  If he could track that bastard, he’d make him pay for touching Sophia. Bring a shitstorm of pain to his front door.

  He sat in his car once the valet brought it to him, searching up Bruno’s Pizzeria on his phone. The location wasn’t what he expected. It was in a rundown part of the city known for its high crime and drug infestation. It was under the Morenov umbrella. They had a lot of informants in that area because junkies were always ready to spill for quick money.

  Hawk drove out to the seedy part of the city. It would be a cesspool at his time of night, all the criminals coming out to play. He only had one thing on his mind.

  Bruno’s Pizzeria was a beacon in the darkness, several patrons inside. The first “R” was burnt out on the sign, but the place looked better than most businesses on the street. He sat in his car, watching the people inside through the large glass windows.

  After nearly half an hour of observation, he exited his vehicle and went inside the pizzeria. The scent made his stomach rumble, and sounds were everywhere—orders and shouting from the kitchen, several conversations from customers, and the game on the television. No one took notice of him, which was always good in his job.

  A teen boy behind the counter met eyes with him. “I’m looking for my friend. He was in here recently. Poor bastard got a bad cut to his cheek. Have you seen him around?”

  “You mean Cayden?”

  “Yeah, Cayden. We were supposed to meet up.”

  “Sorry, haven’t seen him in a few days.”

  He nodded, keeping casual. “You wouldn’t know where he lives, would you?”

  The kid shrugged. “No clue. Maybe he’ll be in soon. You can have a seat, if you like.”

  “Thanks.”

  Shit. At least he had a name—Cayden. Hawk rolled the word over his tongue, memorizing every syllable. It belonged to the man he planned to gut like a fish.

  He noticed a woman looking at him from the corner table. Hawk approached her, pulling out a chair. She was easy to read, a local whore, no doubt.

  “You know Cayden?” she asked.

  “Old friend of mine. He never told me he had a hot girl like you hidden away.” The woman blushed. Judging by the track marks on her arms, she was a hardcore user. He pulled out his wallet from his back pocket and slapped a fifty on the table. “Do me a favor and let me know where he lives. He probably forgot we were supposed to meet up.”

  She eyed the cash.

  He slid it toward her.

  “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind,” she said. “You’re his friend, after all.”

  “He’ll be happy you helped me out.”

  Once he had the address, he crossed the street to his car, driving the few blocks to Cayden’s house. If he hurt one hair on Sophia’s head, he’d make him die nice and slow.

  The house was in disrepair, a real shithole. He didn’t bother to hide his car. His heart raced, and a blind rage built up inside him. Hawk parked in front and went to the first door, noticing there was an apartment number. For a professional, he couldn’t imagine the guy would actually live here. Maybe that junky had given him the wrong information.

  He checked the mailboxes and noted “C.W.” for the basement apartment. It could be Cayden’s. He’d give it a shot because, at this point, he had nothing to lose. Hawk descended the concrete stairs and picked the lock. He drew his gun and pushed the door open.

  Silence greeted him.

  He flicked on a light.

  Hawk had the right apartment all right.

  There was a gun cleaning kit and empty clips on the coffee table, an overflowing ashtray, and countless pics of Morenov’s place, layouts, security footage, and headshots. He bent down and picked up a picture of Sophia. She was a lot younger in the pic, but those big dark eyes
stared back at him. He folded the photo and put it in his pocket, not wanting the bastard to have anything of Sophia’s.

  A cat peeked at him from behind the sofa. Hawk refocused, checking out the rest of the small one-bedroom apartment. He found more weapons, boxes of ammo, high-end surveillance equipment, and a kitchen full of booze.

  No sign of Sophia.

  He rummaged through more paperwork, discovering “C.W.” was short for Cayden Walsh. Did it even matter if he could track down every aspect of this fucker’s life? If he killed Sophia, nothing would matter. He wouldn’t be able to bring her back from death.

  He punched his fist through the drywall, savoring the sting on his knuckles. He’d had one duty—protecting Vasily Morenov’s daughter. Vasily was dead, and he had no fucking clue how to find Sophia.

  Hawk dropped down on the sofa, trying to think like Cayden. Where would he take her? Why not just assassinate her in their penthouse suite and be done with it? Did he plan on torturing her?

  “Fuck!” he shouted.

  He wasn’t sure how long he’d sat there, wondering if she was alive or dead.

  His cell went off. “Yeah.”

  “Antonio Baretti Jr. My condolences for your loss.”

  The Baretti family had been rivals to the Morenovs for as long as he could remember. They constantly fought for territory, contracts, and supremacy. The fact the piece of shit was calling Hawk after Vasily’s death was an insult.

  “I thought you’d be celebrating.”

  “I’m not an animal. I had great respect for Vasily. That’s why I’m calling.”

  “Oh?”

  “You’re hiding his daughter. I’d like to extend an offer of help in finding Vasily’s murderer.”

  Hawk didn’t buy it. Men like Antonio Jr. didn’t live for good deeds. It was always about money and power. He was just like his father. “You’re just doing this out of the goodness of your heart?”

  “Friends are better than enemies, wouldn’t you agree?”

  “Cayden Walsh. He has Sophia. You bring her back to me alive, we can talk about friendship.” He hung up the phone and took a deep breath.

  He’d head back to the hotel and look for more clues. The video feed in the lobby would give him something he needed, he was sure of it. They may refuse to help him at the hotel, but he didn’t plan on asking this time.

  Chapter Five

  The next morning, Cayden turned on the coffee maker, then took a cold shower. He should have woken up in his own bed, but he’d fucked up once again. This was supposed to be simple. Kidnap the girl, bring her to the room he’d rented, then finish the job.

  He never hesitated when killing.

  Numbing his emotions came easy for him during hits, no different than turning a light switch on and off. It was a safety mechanism he’d learned as a kid to survive being tossed from one shitty foster home to another. Some much worse than others.

  He expected Sophia to cry and beg for her life. In fact, he’d been envisioning it all week. Instead, she challenged him. What was it about her that kept toying with his head? She was an innocent, but she was also Vasily Morenov’s daughter. She was a complete contradiction.

  Time wasn’t on his side. Eventually her men would track him down, so he needed to deal with his problem. A problem of his own making. He pulled a smoke from his pack and lit up, taking a deep drag.

  It didn’t matter how cute and feisty she was, the girl had to go. He knew that. It was bullshit that he was second guessing himself this late in the game. He’d envisioned pulling the trigger, and it was pure satisfaction. The reality was nothing like the fantasy. Sophia wasn’t what he expected of a mobster’s daughter.

  His cell vibrated. It was Randy.

  “Your line secure?” Cayden asked.

  “Yeah. You never called yesterday.”

  “There were no issues with our friend. He gave me what I wanted.”

  “Is it already done?” Randy asked.

  He didn’t answer at first. It was fucking embarrassing. “Not yet. It will be in about two minutes.”

  “I’d hold off. We have a bit of a complication.”

  Cayden leaned against the wall, exhaling clouds of smoke as he tried to ease his nerves. “What’s the problem?”

  “There’s a hit out on you. Hot off the press.”

  He stood straight. “What the fuck? Who?”

  “Antonio Baretti. The Morenov family probably paid him to get the girl back and make you disappear permanently.”

  “So they know who I am…” He said it more to himself, wondering where he’d fucked up. Vasily was dead, so who was pulling the strings now? He hadn’t left any breadcrumbs behind. “Where did I screw up?”

  Randy scoffed. “You’re losing it, buddy. I’m just suggesting keeping the Russian princess alive so you can use her as a bargaining chip. Or not. That spoiled rich bitch wouldn’t think twice about ordering your death.”

  It pissed him off that things had turned down a new, more inconvenient, path.

  “Check out my place, will you? I want to know what they know.”

  “I’ll head there now.” The line went dead.

  After tossing his phone on the bed, he went to the second bathroom off the living room. He stood in front of the door for the longest time, wondering what he was going to do with a hostage. Cayden rarely took people for ransom. He preferred find and eliminate contracts. Playing babysitter didn’t suit him, but he also felt a sense of relief after Randy suggested he keep her breathing. Nothing made sense lately.

  When he finally opened the door, he expected to find her curled up on the floor asleep. Instead, he had to duck to avoid being hit with a chunk of porcelain.

  She screamed, rushing out toward him like a miniature gladiator. The pedestal sink was in pieces, blood specks splattered on the white tiles.

  There goes my security deposit.

  His body didn’t even budge when she tried to strong-arm him. Cayden easily subdued her around the waist, hoisting her off her feet and smacking the porcelain from her hand. She thrashed, throwing up her legs to try and unbalance him, kicking against the walls. He forced her onto the sofa and pressed her face down, his knee on her back.

  “Settle down.”

  “Get off me!”

  He hadn’t finished dressing, only wearing his jeans. What he wanted was to shove the barrel of his gun to her temple so she’d shut the fuck up. He flipped her around and shackled her wrists above her head. “You think you can escape? Think you can overpower me?”

  She shifted her head from side to side, practically foaming at the mouth.

  “Lucky for you, you’re more use to me alive than dead at the moment. That can change, so calm the fuck down.”

  “You’re hurting me!”

  He eased his weight off. “We’re leaving here. I don’t want any trouble out of you.”

  “I won’t go anywhere with you.”

  His patience was shot. He hadn’t even had his cup of coffee yet. Cayden grabbed a handful of her hair, keeping her head bent over as he walked her to his bedroom. She stumbled and whined, struggling with her cuffs. With his free hand, he picked up his handgun from the dresser. He pushed her backwards, so she fell onto his mattress. Then he braced one knee on the bed as he leaned over her, the gun to the side of her head. He practically got a hard on knowing how close he was to blowing her brains in.

  “You know how this works, sweetheart. I pull the trigger. You die. That what you want?”

  She shook her head, her fire petering out to nothing.

  About damn time.

  “This is the situation. I don’t want to be here. Because of you, I have half the city hunting me down. And I’ve missed my morning at the gym, so I’m extra cranky.”

  “You shouldn’t have kidnapped me.”

  He tightened his grip on the gun, not appreciating her tone, and tempted to end this right now. “No talking.” He stood back up, tucking his weapon in the back of his pants. Cayden removed her cu
ffs and chains. “Don’t fucking move.”

  She lay there on the bed, rubbing her wrists, and watching him pull on a t-shirt and attach his harnesses. Staying in the hotel was too risky with a hit on his head. He needed to get off the grid for a while. Cayden had to gather information, and then he’d pick off his enemies one at a time until things were back to the status quo. He liked to live in the shadows, so knowing his name was public threw him way out of his comfort zone—and he put all the blame on Sophia Morenov.

  He tossed one of his long-sleeved shirts at her. “Put this on. There’re cuts all over your arms, and I don’t want any attention drawn to us.”

  She sat up and did as told.

  “Who’s in charge now that your father’s gone?”

  When she didn’t answer, he finished tugging on his jacket, then strode to the bed and grabbed her upper arm, giving her a sharp jostle. “Listen, princess, if you keep being difficult, I can make this very unpleasant for you.”

  She scowled. “Like killing my father and kidnapping me? I spent the night on a bathroom floor. What more do you have in store?”

  Cayden smirked without humor. “Use your imagination.”

  Getting her out of the hotel without being noticed could end up badly if she made a scene. Considering how difficult she’d been, he didn’t trust her to behave. If he killed her now, he’d have less baggage. He also wouldn’t have collateral.

  Decisions. Decisions.

  It wasn’t even nine in the morning, and the day was already fucked up.

  He packed his duffel bag, shoving everything inside, grabbed his phone, and double checked the room. Before anything else, he needed to clear his head. He grabbed her by the shirt and led her to the kitchen, pushing her down into an empty chair.

  Cayden ran a hand through his hair as he searched the cupboards for a mug. He needed coffee … and another smoke.

  “It’s me,” she said.

  Her voice surprised him. With his coffee now in hand, he sat down at the opposite end of the table. “What are you talking about?”