by Rose, Bella
Russian Hitman's Innocent American
By: Bella Rose
All Rights Reserved.
Copyright 2016 Bella Rose,
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Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
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Her Russian Mafia Killer
Chapter One
The ricochet of bullets never seemed to end. The little boy hunched over in the corner of a closet, clapped his hands over his ears, and rocked back and forth. Over and over again, he reminded himself of what his father had told him. “Don’t cry. Don’t scream. Don’t make a sound. Don’t cry. Don’t scream. Don’t make a sound.” He struggled to do as his father had asked, but in the midst of the fight, he could hear his father’s cries and shouts.
Then, finally, the bliss of silence. The little boy waited for what seemed like hours before he finally crawled out of the closet. Two men he didn’t recognize were lying still on the moldy carpet. He tried not to look at their faces as he slowly stepped past them. Another man was splayed out in the living room. The smell of blood was overpowering, and the little boy almost vomited.
In the foyer, stretched across the threshold, his father also lay unmoving. The little boy trembled as he reached out to touch him, but there was no response.
“Remember,” his father had told him. “If something happens to me, you must leave. Leave and tell no one. Find your Uncle Ivan. He will protect you.”
So the little boy, not even realizing that he was crying, wrapped his arms around himself and stepped out into the blistering cold.
And he was never the same again.
***
“Exams are over. Summer is here. Why do you look so glum?” Veronika asked Charley as she reached over to steal a dumpling.
“You probably aced your exam even though you had to take a month off. You are living in bliss and sin with one of the sexiest men in Russia. And you are probably going to some all-inclusive resort for the summer. I think I barely passed my exams, and I have to work all summer. And if you steal one more dumpling, I’m going to stab you with this fork,” Charley said grumpily as she eyed her beautiful best friend. Veronika was tall, lithe, and blonde. She was perfection all wrapped up to go.
“I already told you that I’m not going to a resort,” Veronika laughed. “And I told you that I’d pay you another year’s rent.”
“But you’re not living with me anymore. You’re living with Kaz. And I’m not here to take your charity. I have a few interviews lined up for a new roommate.”
“Oh really?”
Charley nodded. “Yup. And I’m only taking American applicants. Seriously. You Russians are messed up.”
Just last semester, Charley had taken on Veronika as a roommate, and the woman was a dream come true. She’d paid for a year in advance, she was dedicated to her studies, and she came with a security guard. Of course, that was before Charley found out that Miss Perfection was the daughter of Fedor Saiko, a well-known mob boss. When the security guard, otherwise known as Kazimir, discovered that Saiko had killed his son and Kaz’s best friend, Kaz was determined to end the man. He’d partnered up with the assassin Dmitri and conspired to take Fedor down.
But then Kaz fell in love with Veronika, and everything fell apart. Fedor, realizing there was no way out, ended up taking his own life. Veronika moved in with Kaz, and someone else took over the Saiko business of murdering and smuggling.
Charley wasn’t really excited about possibly being involved with all that again.
“It’s not like Americans are any better,” Veronika pointed out.
“Sure. We all have our problems. But I’m going for an American student who’s not the daughter of a mob boss and doesn’t have ties to assassins. It’s not a lot to ask for,” Charley said as she checked her watch. “I’ve got to get going. I’m going to be late. If you’re not going on vacation, does that mean that you’re taking summer classes?”
“No.” Veronika shook her head emphatically. “I feel like I’ve barely mourned. I’m going to spend some quality time with Kaz. It’ll be nice to not have to focus on studies or whether or not someone is going to try to kill my boyfriend. Just him and me and a lot of sex.”
“Good for you,” Charley said with a smile. “I, on the other hand, am going to have to buy new batteries for my vibrator.” She grabbed her tray of food and headed to the trashcan.
“No more one-night stands from the clubs?” Veronika asked as she gathered her books.
Charley scrunched up her nose. “It’s hard to look at sexy Russian men the same way now. Kazimir was a bodyguard for a mob boss. Dmitri was an assassin.”
“You thought Dmitri was sexy?”
She gave her friend a withering look. “I know you’re all head over heels for Kaz, but you’re not blind. Dmitri is beyond sexy.”
“And dangerous,” Veronika said in a low voice. “Don’t forget that part.”
“Please. You’re living with dangerous. Besides, Dmitri faked his death. He’s not going to surface anytime soon, and he’s not going to surface for me. He only met me once. He probably doesn’t even remember me.” She grinned wickedly. “But in my dreams, he knows every inch of my body.”
Veronika laughed. “You are incorrigible. All right, call me after the interviews and let me know how they went. We’ll get dinner later this week, and maybe we can go dancing.”
“Kaz would kill anyone who so much as looked at you. You would sentence some poor man to his death to go dancing with me?”
“If it means pulling you out of your funk, yes,” Veronika said as she reached over and gave Charley a hug.
“You’re a good friend. You almost got me killed, but you’re a good friend. Go have lots of yummy sex, and I’ll talk to you later.” Charley waved Veronika off and stared after her.
The rest of the semester had been crummy, but Charley had managed to pull through. After Fedor Saiko had killed himself, Veronika withdrew completely. Charley helped her handle the funeral arrangements, and she dragged her back to school. It wasn’t until Kaz finally came back into her life that Veronika came back to life.
Charley had always enjoyed men. She wasn’t drop-dead gorgeous like Veronika, but she was pretty. Short and curvy, she had long, dark, curly locks and dark eyes. And she held her own when it came to men. There were times when she craved what Kaz and Veronika had. But Veronika’s depression was a reality check for Charley. She didn’t want to be dependent on a man. She wanted to just enjoy herself but still be in control of her life.
That control would have to start with her home life. Once she got a new roommate settled, she could get back into her old routine. She could get back to her carefree life.
***
Dmitri was a man on a mission. Normally, he only took on dangerous work after a large sum of money crossed the palm of his hand, but tonight he was working only for himself. He donned many disguises, but tonight he entered the home of a man who would immediately recognize his dark hair and light grey eyes. Although Dmitri had only been a teenager when he’d left, his cheekbones and jawline was striking. He could be easily recognized. But lucky for him, Dmitiri knew that Ivan Bobrov was spending a few days out of town. He knew that Ivan had moved into the old home of Fedor Saiko soon after taking over the business, and he’d been traveling between his old home and new home while he was get
ting situated. But just because Ivan was currently not at the Saiko estate didn’t mean the house was empty. It simply meant that no one at the house would recognize Dmitri. Not that it mattered. Dmitri the assassin was dead. He’d been shot to death moments before Fedor admitted to killing his son, Pavel, and Pavel’s lover, Nikolas. Dmitri was dead before Fedor Saiko took his own life.
He’d taken a few bullets and faked the rest. He’d injected himself with a special drug to lower his heart rate, and, after a hefty payout, several hospital volunteers turned their backs while Dmitri left a body double in his place.
Fedor Saiko was dead, and Dmitri was not. It should have been considered a win-win situation, but the following events had left a strange taste in his mouth.
For example, Ivan Bobrov had apparently been a close friend to Fedor Saiko. How had Dmitri missed that? And more important, how far back did their friendship go?
He’d warred with himself for days. Fedor Saiko had killed his father, and now Saiko was dead. Ivan Bobrov thought he was dead. He was free to do whatever he wanted with his life. He was free to be whoever he wanted to be.
Except that things just didn’t add up. Ivan and his father were friends. Why would Ivan befriend the man who had killed his friend? Why would he take over the business?
Any psychiatrist worth their salt would have told Dmitri that he was simply having trouble letting go. After all, his life’s mission was to see Fedor dead. Now, instead of embracing the victory, he was looking for any means to keep holding on.
They were probably right. But Dmitri had only survived this long by trusting his instincts. And his instincts told him something was wrong.
Security was light while Ivan was gone. Dmitry suspected Ivan was probably having trouble gaining the loyalty of Fedor’s followers. Those who refused to work for him were probably already at the bottom of the river, and those who were still alive were no doubt only doing so out of fear for their own lives. It would take time for Ivan to develop enough relationships to strengthen his detail. Because of that, Dmitri could probably get in and out without spilling blood.
The four-story mansion expanded well below the ground surface, and if Dmitri hadn’t spent some time working for Fedor earlier in the year, he would not have known his way around the place. As he shimmied up the tree on the side of the house, he peered into an empty window. With a small smile of satisfaction, he cut a small opening into the glass and reached in to unlock the window, then silently entered the house and quickly crouched in the corner.
No one sounded the alarm. No one came running. Sloppy, but Ivan probably didn’t have any sensitive information in the house. He was still in the process of moving.
Keeping himself in the shadows, Dmitri moved silently across the room. Easing the door opened, he glanced into the hall. Two men shuffled along the carpet. Dmitri quickly pulled his head out of view and waited for them to pass.
“Do you believe the rumors?” one of the men asked the other.
“That Ivan is looking into the death of the assassin? Seems far-fetched. He’s probably throwing a temper tantrum because people won’t cut the same deal with him as they did with Fedor. Ivan was always jealous,” replied the other.
“I think it’s true. I heard Ivan talking on the phone last week. I think he knew the assassin.”
“Doesn’t matter. The assassin is dead. Fedor might be dead, but he was still victorious,’ the second man boasted as they walked by.
Dmitri struggled to keep his breathing even. Ivan was looking into his death? Why the hell would he do that? Ivan had no interest in Dmitri as an assassin. He’d refused all jobs associated with him so that Ivan wouldn’t be suspicious.
He was just about to shrug the men’s conversation off as paranoia when a sudden thought struck him. Three weeks ago, Ivan went to St. Petersburg. Today he was in Kazan.
Before working with Kazimir, Dmitri’s most recent jobs were in St. Petersburg and Kazan. It was too much of a coincidence to ignore.
Ivan knew that he was the assassin. And he obviously didn’t buy his most recent attempt to kill off his identity. He was looking for him. The question was why?
And what would be his next move? None of his clients had ever seen his face. In fact, there were only three people who could possibly identify him.
Kazimir, Veronika, and the pretty American who would have no way of defending herself.
With a curse, Dmitri abandoned his search and quickly left the mansion. He needed to get to Moscow as soon as possible.
***
The afternoon seemed like a complete disaster. Of the six interviews Charley had lined up, only three showed. And of those three, absolutely none of them seemed viable choices.
The first one, Grant, showed up without a shirt on. Charley didn’t even have a chance to drool at his sex-pack before he opened his mouth and ruined her sudden daydream of having a live-in sex god.
“I don’t work, but I’m quite talented in other areas, if you know what I mean,” he said as he wagged his eyebrows.
Charley just stared at him. “Are you telling me that you’re a prostitute?” she asked carefully.
“What? No. I didn’t mean other women. I meant you. I bet you and I could have a lot of fun under this roof,” he said with a wicked smile.
She rolled her eyes. “So you’re suggesting that instead of paying me money for rent, you’re going to pay me in orgasms.”
“Screaming orgasms.”
“Screaming orgasms don’t pay my bills,” she said as she pointed to the door. Paying bills trumped sex. He turned red and scurried out of the room.
The next person to show up was a tall and lanky blonde named Delia. Lanky may not have been the right word to use. Gangly would have been more like it. As soon as the woman entered the room, she walked right into the table in the foyer and knocked the vase of flowers over. As the glass shattered on the hard wood floor, the woman’s eyes welled up with tears.
“I’m so sorry,” Delia cried. “I’ll pay for it.”
At first, Charley was stunned. How had the woman missed the table? It was not only way out of the walkway, but it was in plain sight. Delia’s tears made her uneasy, and she quickly moved to clean up the mess. “There is no need to pay for it. I think one of my exes gave me that vase, which means it’s absolutely worthless anyway. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,’ Delia sniffed. She immediately lapsed into silence, and Charley felt like she was pulling teeth to get the woman to talk at all.
“So you go to school here, right?”
Delia nodded.
“What’s your major?”
“Literature,” she whispered.
“Do you have a job?” Charley pressed.
The woman shook her head, and Charley frowned. “I’m sorry. I have to ask how you’re planning on paying rent if you don’t have a job.”
The woman immediately looked frightened. Charley was afraid she’d burst into tears again. “Hey, we can come back to that question. No pressure. Tell me what you like to do for fun?”
But the interview was clearly over. The woman looked like a deer caught in headlights. Finally, Charley told Delia she’d be in touch, and the woman bolted.
Straight into the coffee table, spilling a glass of water. As she burst into tears again, Charley herded the woman out.
“What the hell?” she muttered when she was safely alone.
As she cleaned up the mess, another applicant knocked on the door. Charley opened the door to find a suspiciously beautiful blonde standing on the front porch. “Hi,” she said brightly. “You much be Charley Barns. I’m Kristi Evanovich.”
“You’re Russian,” Charley said stupidly.
“Yes,” the girl said slowly. “This is Russia.”
Damn it, how could she have missed that last name? The woman’s accent was thicker than Veronika’s. Kristi must have sensed her hesitation because she quickly tried to regain control of the situation. “Look, I’m starting my master’s next semester,
and I’m trying to find something quiet off campus. I can pay you the full year in advance…”
Alarmed, Charley held up her hand. “A full year in advance? How can you do that?”
“Well my father is a wealthy business owner, and—”
“Hell, no,” Charley said before slamming the door. She immediately locked it and peered out as the girl, dumbfounded, walked away. A beautiful Russian woman with a wealthy business-owning father? Yeah. Charley wasn’t about to tangle with that again.
Feeling dejected, Charley finished cleaning up the mess Delia had made and collapsed on the couch. The provided time period for interviews had long since expired when there was another knock at the door.
Armed with a baseball bat, Charley peered out the window cautiously. A woman her own age stood on the porch with a piece of paper in her hand. Hiding the bat behind her back, Charley cracked the door open. “Can I help you?”
“Hi. I’m Daphne Reynolds. Are you Charlie Barns? I was trying to get here in time to interview for the room in the house, but I got terribly lost. My Russian is still a bit shaky,” the woman said.
Tucking the bat behind the door, Charley swung the door open the rest of the way. “I am Charley. Come on in.”
“Have you already chosen someone? I’m so sorry that I’m late.”
“I found the earlier applicants unsuitable,” Charley said with a small smile. “Have a seat. Can I get you anything to drink?”
“Oh, no thank you. In fact, I was afraid you’d refuse to see me since I’m so late. I brought you a small bribe.” Daphne reached in to her bag and pulled out a bottle of wine.
Charley’s eyes rounded. “Red Herring Decoy. Oh, that’s my favorite.”
“Really? It’s mine, too. I’m actually not even sure that it’s legal to ship it here, but my sister sends me a couple of bottles every few months.”
Practically drooling, Charley grabbed the bottle of wine. “Forget the list,” she joked as she tossed the clipboard aside. “The room is yours.”
Daphne laughed. “Go ahead and ask your questions. I want to make sure it’s a good fit. I’m looking for more than a roommate. I sort of need a friend. My last roommate didn’t speak much English. It was a lonely semester.”
