Owned by the Mafia Bad Boy (Book Five)

by Raven Dark

  “I’ll take you into the facility and help you get the information from the guards about your father’s attack, but then I’ll have to leave for a board meeting. Will you be okay by yourself?”

  Cool, matter of fact, as if he only offered to help me the way a parent does a child. His manner ripped open the vein of hatred I’d thought sealed when I’d realized I loved him.

  Then and there, I could have saved myself from the path he’d somehow pulled me down. I could have nurtured that hatred, reminding myself he was a Davros, letting it burn away my love once and for all. Then at the end of my contract, I could walk away without my heart in tatters. Instead, I reminded myself that he was being the ruthless mobster to protect me, letting that truth keep me from lashing out. Still, I didn’t have to like it. I could detest and even fight what he did to me, but I still had to accept what he was.

  “I’ll be fine. You can just have David drop me off at the facility and go on. I’ll find my dad on my own.” Just as cool and clipped.

  “Nonsense. The guards are in my employ, they’ll talk more openly to me.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Boy’s club?”

  “Something like that.”

  Fuck, I couldn’t even be distant properly.

  Two and a half hours outside downtown LA, far down a long, winding road that snaked up a mountain, we reached Big Bear. I opened the window. It was gorgeous here, rugged and thick with green, the smell of pine a pleasant tang on the air. When the limo stopped in front of Lakewood Medical, deep in the mountains, we got out and David parked the car while Kane led me to the elevators.

  Everything about Lakewood screamed opulence, the best money could buy. Security was everywhere, glass doors locked with keypads. Shining white towers rose with glass walkways between. Even the coffee looked like it was high end. This was probably the sort of place the president came to when he needed medical aid. Holy shit, how had someone gotten to my dad in here?

  Kane didn’t look at me or speak to me the whole time the elevator rose to my dad’s floor. Walking down the corridor to the room, he held my hand, but somehow he managed to make that feel remote, as if, for all the physical contact, there was still a world of distance between us. He was leading me to my dad’s room, nothing more.

  At the doors to the room, there were a lot of people gathered. Way too many people to be normal. Two men in dark suits stood there, plus the doctor in a white lab coat, and a nurse who seemed to have just come out of the room. My heartbeat quickened. Beside me, Kane stiffened, hand tightening in mine.

  “Mr. Davros.” One of the suits turned as we approached. Kane introduced me to the doctor attending my father.

  “Anika, this is Dr. Peters. He’s the foremost head trauma surgeon in this part of the world.”

  Alarm lanced through me. “Wait…head trauma? Doctor, what’s happened? Is my dad okay? Can I see him?”

  “Miss Montrose. Not yet. Please, let’s sit down over here.” He gestured to a set of chairs near the wall.

  My muscles tightened. I’d seen this a hundred times working at the hospital. That careful way doctors talk to you when the news isn’t just serious, but life threatening. Every word is chosen with care, as if one wrong one will cause a melt down. That they wouldn’t let me see him before they broke the news only confirmed my worst fears. I’d always understood the reason for the delicacy doctors used with the loved ones of trauma patients, but now the clarity of it hit me full on, and my stomach clenched violently in response.

  “No, Doctor, you don’t have to be delicate. Just tell me, what happened?”

  He nodded. “The man who attacked your father apparently struck him in the head. Your father has suffered a severe blow. There’s considerable swelling on the brain.”

  A brain injury. Shit. Panic bubbled up. I knew too much about head trauma not to know what that meant. “How bad is it? He’s alright, isn’t he?”

  The doctor’s somber expression was all I needed. Even before he answered, I knew.

  “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, Miss Montrose. Your father is in a coma.”

  6

  I didn’t hear much of what the doctor said beyond the word coma. Something about the coma being medically induced, but after that, his voice became an unintelligible, muted buzzing. It’s strange how all the medical training in the world prepared me to deal with other patients’ worst injuries, as well as telling their families some of the worst news, and yet none of it equipped me to deal with this.

  My mind spun, my knees threatening to buckle. All my life, my father was all I had, the only one I could trust and depend on. He’d scared away the monsters under my bed when I was little, protected me from the mobsters, the real monsters that hunted us for years. If I lost him… No. I shut that train of thought down. I wouldn’t lose my father. Not now.

  At some point while Dr. Peters talked, Kane’s hand settled on my shoulder. He squeezed gently, a subtle touch, his warmth pounding into me. The distance between us began to melt away, and I instinctively drew strength from his presence.

  “Can I see him?” I asked when the doctor was done.

  Dr. Peters nodded and led me into the huge, sterile room where my father lay. “We’ll contact you the minute there’s any change. Miss Montrose. Mr. Davros.”

  Kane murmured a thanks, and the doctor left.

  I stared across the room at the bed in the middle of it. A blanket covered my dad’s unconscious form. He lay with his hands at his sides, unnaturally still. A breathing tube snaked out of his mouth, and a thick white bandage wound about his head, his dark curly hair sticking up out of it at the top. Machines surrounded his bed. The breathing machine beside him made a click-swish sound, a slow beat as it worked to keep him alive.

  Swallowing, I walked across the room, feeling as if my legs were made of lead. Kane slid his hand into mine, slow and gentle. My hand shook in his and he tightened his grip as if to steady it.

  When I stood beside my father’s bed, I covered my mouth, looking at him. He looked so fragile, too pale and worn. Hardly a shell of the strong, vital man I once knew. Whiskers he never would have allowed himself grew briskly on his chin and cheeks.

  “Daddy.” I put my hand in his. It seemed so small and weak. The medical details of what was happening ran off in my head. Whomever had hit him had caused his brain to swell so that it pushed on his skull, so much so that they had to medically induce a coma. An IV stood by his bed, dripping medication into his blood that would keep him unconscious. A heart monitor beeped, making sure his heart rate didn’t drop too low or send him into cardiac arrest. God, how different it felt being on this end of the situation. All my skills as a nurse seemed suddenly far away and useless.

  The breathing machine clicked and swished. I shuddered, realizing the significance of that sound. Without that machine, my father would die. Gone. Forever.

  Kane slid his hands over my shoulders, squeezing. “What can I do?”

  My eyes stung; his gentleness only made me more tearful. I pushed the tears back, letting my anger with whomever hurt my dad burn away my fear. “Where is the guard who was watching him?”

  “He’s outside. I’ll talk to him.”

  My blood heated with the need to march out and demand to know how those two suits let my father end up in this situation, but I knew I couldn’t. By what Kane had said, those men had to see Kane always in control of me. I couldn’t make a scene. Fuck, I hated this. I kissed my dad’s forehead and followed him back outside into the hall.

  Those two suits I’d seen earlier stood up as we approached.

  “Gentlemen, what happened here?”

  “It’s crazy, Mr. Davros. We thought the guy was legit.”

  Kane’s face hardened. “What guy?”

  “One of the other guards you hired got the flu. We pulled in another. Had him thoroughly checked. This should never have happened.”

  I between Kane and the two guards. “What’s going on?”

  The guards ignored me.
>
  “He betrayed me.” Kane’s huge shoulders rippled with anger. “Who is he and where is he now?”

  “We don’t know. As soon as he knocked Montrose out, he rabbited. His name is Paul Franks. We saw him on the camera feed too late. He must not have wanted to risk firing a gun in here, because he tried to smother Montrose with a pillow. Montrose punched him and tried to escape. Didn’t get far with that gunshot to his leg. He fell, and the guy knocked him out. Put him out cold.”

  My stomach clenched at the thought of how close I’d come to losing my father, even while a bolt of pride for his punching his attacker hit me. He might have looked a little worn, but he was still the same man who’d taught me six years of karate. He was still my dad.

  My dad.

  Kane nodded. “I want someone with him at all times—”

  “We are, Mr. Davros. There’s someone outside the door all the—”

  “No, not outside the door, I want someone in the room with him, by his bed constantly. Montrose doesn’t take a piss without someone watching him, you understand me?”

  “Yes sir.” The guard nodded quickly.

  “And I want him in a better room. The top floor rooms, no one gets into without top level access, right?”

  “Yes, sir, but those rooms are for only the highest profile people.”

  “I don’t care, I want him in there. No one gets near him who isn’t one of you, or his medical staff.”

  “Done, sir.”

  As soon as the men left, Kane took my hand and led me to the elevators. His treads were long and predatory, so that I had to almost run to keep up with him. Oh, who was I kidding, it was impossible to disparage his wealth when he went all badass with it like this. Menacing energy pounded off him, and my blood raced like fire under its force.

  “Kane, where are we going? I thought you had a meeting.”

  “I do. I’ll be a little late.” He marched me down the hall to the elevators.

  My cheeks heated with emotion for him. I knew too much about his life, the traditions that were expected of him, to miss the significance of his showing up late for a meeting. His father would probably cut his finger off.

  “Can you really do that? Take one of the rooms meant for some superstar?”

  “I can do whatever I want, Anika. Get used to it.”

  “You’re a little scary, you know.”

  In he elevator, he stabbed the down button. “Just a little? I’ll have to work on that then.” The hint of a smirk on his lips made my heart dance.

  Outside at the curb, we found David waiting. Instead of taking off for his meeting, he pushed me into the car and then followed.

  “Kane, no. I saw what happened to Oliver for putting Danica first before business. Just go, I’ll be fine.”

  “I will, as soon as we take care of something. There’s someone who needs killing.”

  Oh, fuck. It disturbed me a little that the rush of adrenaline I felt wasn’t mixed up with the loathing and anger that used to come when Kane talked about Mafia work. On the contrary, as protectiveness radiated from him, a violent need to have him claim me burned hot and bright. David shut us in and went around to his side.

  “Gavini didn’t do this, did he? That wouldn’t make sense, would it? It was Ferrara, like the last one who tried to kill my dad.”

  “Probably.”

  When David was in the front seat, he rolled down the partition and looked back at us. Ready and waiting for instructions. I loved him a little just then.

  “David, I want all the information you can get on a Paul Franks. He posed as a security guard to get close to Anika’s father and then tried to kill him.”

  “You think he’s like the other guy who tried to kill Mr. Montrose?” David pulled out his tablet.

  “Yes. He must be working for Ferrara.”

  “Wait.” I sat forward when both men looked at me. “Whomever this Franks is, if he was hired by the same person who brought in the first hitman, it was a woman who set this up. Twice, Hadler mentioned a “she,” in relation to killing my dad.”

  “So we’re looking for a woman within the Ferrara family.” David started typing fast. Screens appeared and disappeared, passwords entered, new screens popping up. Wow, the only person I’d ever seen work that fast on the net was Fran. Finally, the unmistakable insignia of the FBI filled the screen.

  “David, are you doing what I think you’re doing?”

  He flashed me a smile.

  “Never mind, I don’t want to know. And if you tell me you’re just a driver, I’ll whack you.”

  He entered a password. A bunch of keystrokes and a few moments later, mugshots of hundreds of men’s faces flashed across the screen. The one that finally popped up was a shot of a grizzly looking guy with a round, but mean looking face and a scar down one cheek. David looked at us.

  “That’s got to be your guy. Paul Franks, and he’s got a rap sheet to match. He was in prison for the murder of a judge. It looks like this guy will kill the pope for the right price.”

  “Which means he’s not only good, but expensive,” Kane said. “That explains how he got past the security in here.”

  “But how did your men not catch this when they screened him?” I asked.

  “Whomever it was must have built him a cover. A good one.”

  David nodded. “And that takes money. A lot of it. Look, there’s no current address for him. The last one on record here says he was staying at a high-end hotel in Big Bear, but he’s moved on.”

  “Good work, David. Find him, and find out who this bitch is he’s working for, then forward me the information.”

  David nodded again and started the car.

  “Don’t you have somewhere to be, Davros?” I said, letting the memory of his behavior earlier keep my voice frosty, and quash the gratitude I felt for him.

  He took my face in his hands, a firm grip that radiated possession. A slight smile turned his lips up before he pressed them to my forehead. The warmth of his kiss lingered, a single point that infused my blood, refusing to allow me to shut him down.

  “Little brat.” He stroked my bottom lip with his thumb. “We’ll figure this out. Your father is going to be fine. We’ll find this woman, and then I’ll put her in the ground.”

  “Solving everything with bullets again, huh?” But my voice lacked force. Fucking bastard, making me love him.

  “Are you complaining?”

  I shook my head. It scared me that I wasn’t. For the first time, I understood his code. If this were happening to him, if he were losing someone he loved, retribution and rage would be burning a hole inside him, demanding to be sated. I knew, because they were in me, eating me alive. I wanted to find this woman and destroy her, and I hated the helpless feeling that I couldn’t. Jesus, what was I becoming?

  “I’ll be back to pick you up this evening. Go, be with your father.”

  The last thing I wanted to do was sit passively and wait for us to have the information we needed, and then likely sit back some more while Kane marched off and dealt with this thug, but I had no choice right now. Besides, I needed to be with my dad in case he woke up. He’ll wake up. He will.

  I got out of the car and watched his limo pull away with tightness in my chest, choking me. Then I returned to my dad’s side and tried not to let myself fall slowly and irrevocably apart.

  He’ll be fine. God, please, please, let him be all right.

  The information on Paul Franks came from David around three in the afternoon, just as I was finishing my meeting. We found the hitman in a ritzy high rise not far from the strip. It was high-end, but it was also a well known address for mobsters, many who were connected to my father. Perfect. This was the type of place where shady men did dark deeds to even shadier men and no one got involved for fear of retribution from the Family. Franks wouldn’t stand a chance.

  The afternoon was heating up as I made my way with David toward the entrance. Vengeance for Anika’s pain burned bright behind my eyes, tighte
ning my fists. Montrose and I weren’t friends, not when he saw me as the big bad wolf who was set to become the same swindling monster my father was, and have my way with his innocent daughter. Still, Anika loved him, and she needed him, so anyone who laid a hand on him needed an appointment with the Reaper.

  Already, I had a plan for how to handle Mr. Franks. His building had long balconies out front of each apartment, with sliding doors. Likely, he wouldn’t simply tell us who’d hired him to off Montrose, but even the toughest man became a jabbering rat when hanging over the side of a building fifty feet above concrete.

  Keeping pace with me down the hall to the apartment, David screwed a silencer onto a pistol. At Franks’ door, I moved to knock on it but, ever the protector, David stopped me, signaling for me to step back. I rolled my eyes, but drew my Glock and moved back. David fired a quiet shot at the door’s handle. The knob flew out and he pushed the door open.

  We made our way in. The silence in the apartment sent alarm bells off in my head. The back door stood open. A hitman, an obvious target of the mob, leaving his door open, and in an area of town like this?

  I glanced at David, nodding to the open sliding door. Gun cupped in both hands like mine and pointing it in front of him, he gave a nod back, letting me know he’d noticed the same thing.

  The large apartment was a bachelor pad with a giant flat screen and a four poster, oak bed that looked like it belonged at the Lion’s Head Hotel.

  “Franks?” I called, but no one answered.

  The faint sound of running water reached my ears, coming from what was probably a bathroom, just off the living room. I froze, exchanging a worried look with David. Why hadn’t the water stopped, Franks coming out to greet his guests?

  Halfway to the door to a bathroom, David again stopped me, moved in front, and slowly pushed the door open. He lifted his gun, ready to shoot whomever was in the room, but he didn’t have to.