Owned by the Mob Boss

by Ashley Hall

  More volleys of shots fired overhead, and I kept low as I neared the doors in question.

  One of them opened, and I darted inside to see none other than Vanya Golovkin, surrounded by no less than ten of his men.

  “Leave us,” Golovkin demanded. “He’s mine.”

  I dropped the bullet-less gun and stepped forward to allow his men enough space to be able to live. How fitting that it would come down to this—to just him versus just me.

  “You never should’ve taken her,” I growled.

  Golovkin shrugged. “You never should’ve had your man sniff around my daughter.”

  I circled around him, my gun raised and aimed directly at his. “If your daughter wouldn’t have talked so freely, he wouldn’t have bothered with her skirts.”

  He sneered and fired a shot that I jerked to the side to avoid.

  “Oh, did I hit a nerve?” I mocked.

  “You’re too arrogant and cocky for someone who has lost so much already. Or have you forgotten what I did to your parents? It was my mistake that I didn’t kill you off then.”

  I smirked at him. “There’s a reason why you haven’t tried harder to kill me. You need the ransom money more than you need me dead. Oh, I’m sure you’ll kill me if I bothered to pay you, but—”

  “I fired a shot at you,” he growled. “I could easily kill you right now.

  “Then pull the trigger,” I said hotly. I damn near pulled the trigger myself. The firepower going off in the hallway was increasing, and a few guys were backing up and into my line of sight through the open door. Chaos, that’s what this was, and it would be a miracle if I could get Rachel and myself out of here alive.

  Golovkin hesitated.

  I barked a laugh. “You won’t, and I know why. Because you need me alive for my money. You’re that desperate for the ransom money.”

  A loud explosion went off, and the house shook slightly. I darted forward and knocked Golovkin’s gun aside, clear across the room.

  He backed up slightly, hands raised. “Listen, I—”

  “No. You listen,” I hissed. “I don’t care who it is that kills you. Me. The police. The guys at Garcia Trucking. Oh, wait…didn’t you realize I knew about that? About how you’re a wanted man? Because I did. You’re a dead man any way you look at it, Golovkin, because I can’t pay you. I won’t. I refuse.”

  Sweat dotted Golovkin’s brow. I could hear a door swing open from nearby, more gunshots too, but I didn’t glance away. I had Golovkin right where I wanted him.

  “I could ask you to beg. I could make you get down on your hands on knees and plead for me to spare you. I could grab your family from wherever you stashed them, bring them here, and kill them in retaliation for what you did to me.”

  Quick as a snake, I leaped forward and twisted him around, his head in the crook of my arm as I held him tight in a headlock.

  “I could, but what would be the sense in that?” I whispered in his ear. “I know you, Golovkin. You would rather die than be thrown in jail. You would kill yourself first if given the chance since you know that neither I nor the guys you owe money to won’t give you a peaceful, merciful death.”

  I pistol whipped him, and he slumped to the ground, unconscious but still alive.

  I bent down over him. “You won’t get the chance to hurt anyone else that I care about.”

  I might’ve killed him right then and there, but I hesitated. The gun ringing, the shouts and cries of those in pain…everything had been so crazy. All that death and destruction. We knew what to expect, but we still hadn’t been prepared, and I lost a lot of good men.

  But I had also found Rachel. She needed me. She needed my help. And that was more important than getting my revenge. She had called my name and brought me back to her, and I couldn’t bear the thought of wasting one more second of my life without her in it. I also didn’t want her to witness me killing someone, even Golovkin, the man responsible for her abduction. I wanted her to be safe, and that overrode everything else, including my revenge.

  And here I was, holding her again, pressing her to me…it was amazing and wonderful but also absolutely terrifying. Someone had never meant this much to me before. I never needed someone else before. I had always kept walls up, to prevent myself from being hurt again, like I had when Golovkin had taken away my family. But Rachel…she meant everything.

  And having her back again meant everything to me. For a moment, everything was perfect. It didn’t matter the world around us had descended into chaos, that guns were being fired, that we were still in danger. We were together.

  But then I noticed her clothes were wet. It wasn’t until she mentioned the baby that I realized she was soaked with blood—her blood.

  One need, one goal, pulsated through me, and I carefully, tenderly, but quickly got her out of there. Her safety and that of the baby’s far outweighed my desire for revenge.

  I carried her out of there. The fighting was slowing down some, but it hadn’t stopped. One bullet did hit me in the back, and I stumbled but didn’t fall. This Kevlar was shot—pun intended—but it was still holding up and absorbing the brunt of the impact and keeping me safe enough.

  Once outside, I winced at the sight of so many of my men lying dead on the grass. I had to step over one man, and I recognized him as Golovkin’s cousin. He had been killed. A spark of pity overwhelmed me. He had been a coward, yes, but he had only thought of his family. He had wanted to live another day for them. I’m sorry.

  But I couldn’t dawdle. I had to keep moving, and I made my way to my car. After I belted her in the backseat, I rushed to get behind the wheel. Right as I was turning off the street, the police with their sirens blaring rolled by, heading straight for Golovkin’s. I grinned with grim satisfaction. Vanya Golovkin would never hurt Rachel, our child, or me ever again. Vanya Golovkin would rot in jail forever. He didn’t have the money to pay for a high profiled defense attorney. Between the weapons charges and everything else he’d be charged with today on top of the charges I helped to make stick, there was no way he’d be leaving jail unless it was in a body bag.

  Driving to the hospital was a blur. I drove as swiftly as I could, but also safely. My clothes clung to me, wet from sweat and Rachel’s blood. I warred with myself, wanting to race there but not wanting to jar Rachel, not wishing to cause her any more pain. She was crying softly, and I kept trying to reassure her that she’d be all right, that everything would work out, but she never responded to me. I wasn’t sure she even heard me. I took turns as gently as I could and cursed every red light.

  As soon as I parked, I hurried out of the car and carried her straight inside to the emergency department. The staff was amazing, moving Rachel to the front of the line. They took her back immediately, whisking her away, and I felt as if they took a part of me with her. They wouldn’t allow me to follow. My stature didn’t matter. My lying that I was her fiancé helped. She needed serious help, maybe even surgery, and there was nothing I could do other than to sit and think and wait and feel completely helpless.

  I couldn’t bear to lose her. I didn’t want to lose the child either, and the thought that she might lose the baby was devastating. I still wanted and needed an heir, but I wanted Rachel just as much. This wasn’t about our deal anymore. This wasn’t about a deal of goods in exchange for money. This was about so much more than that. I didn’t just want to have a child. I wanted to have that child with Rachel. I didn’t just want an heir. I wanted the mother of my children—boy or girl or boys or girls—to be with Rachel. I wanted her period.

  I wasn’t a religious man. A mob boss couldn’t be. But here I was, in the hospital waiting room, my head in my hands, praying. Hoping. Wishing. Willing. I hoped and prayed that the doctors could help her, could save the baby, but even if they couldn’t, we could always try again later.

  If Rachel would still have me. There was no doubt in my mind that her experience would change her. She had been introduced to the darkest part of my life. I wouldn’t blam
e her if it made her want to turn tail and run away.

  But I sure hoped she wouldn’t.

  I prayed she wouldn’t.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Rachel

  Light shone beyond my close eyelids, and I rubbed my eyes and stretched. Pain shot through me and I winced. Hours had passed. I was alive. I had survived.

  But I still felt destroyed, shattered, broken. I felt like I had been broken into pieces.

  A nurse came in and checked on me, and a few minutes after she left, Ivan came into the room. He rushed to my side, held out his hand, but then brought it back without touching me.

  “That baby?” he asked.

  I refused to look away. “The baby’s okay.”

  He looked so relieved, and my heart broke all over again. He was just relieved that the contract hadn’t been broken. Of course. Nothing had changed. My reasons for leaving hadn’t changed. Ivan wasn’t a changed man. He was still a mob boss. The man behind the reason for his desperation to have an heir as soon as possible had kidnapped me in order to get to him. A man named Vanya Golovkin. He was all over the news. I had to turn off the TV because I didn’t want to see the house or be reminded of my captivity.

  I just wanted to get out of here. I just wanted to go home. To my home. Not Ivan’s house.

  I took a deep breath. “You don’t need to stay,” I told him. He could leave. He could go. The threat to him had been dealt with. The reporters were already convicting Golovkin. There was no doubt, according to them, that he would be tried and convicted and sent to prison for life. Which made me feel better, but I also wanted him to die too for what he had done to me.

  Which gave me pause considering how anti-guns and against violence I had always been. I didn’t want to change that part of myself. I didn’t want to accept violence or welcome it into my life. I wanted to be free and happy. I didn’t want to feel afraid or face worries.

  Ivan took my hand and squeezed it. “I won’t leave you ever again. I would have stayed with you every second if the doctors had allowed me. I’m so sorry. I never… If I can take back what happened to you…” He ran his other hand through his hair. For once, Ivan didn’t seem like the suave, controlled man who knew what he wanted and how to get just that. He looked apologetic and frightened.

  Frightened yet. Why?

  “I can’t.” I pulled my hand from his and rubbed my belly even though it caused me pain. The doctors said I was suffering from malnutrition and severe morning sickness. I needed to reduce my stress and try to get food in me, to keep it down. They had medication I could take that might help, but I was reluctant to take any medicine right now. If it proved necessary, though, I would take it. I wanted this baby desperately. I wanted him or her to be happy.

  And to never have to go through what I just endured.

  “I can’t,” I repeated. “I just…can’t.”

  Ivan took a step back. “What’s wrong?”

  The compassion in his voice combined with the worry in his features had me looking away from him. “I…” I couldn’t say anything else.

  “What do you need from me?” he pleaded. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, and now I was in his arms, burrowing my face into his chest. Tears poured out of me, and I was sobbing, almost hysterically. I had been through so much, too much. I couldn’t handle it.

  The kidnapping, the fear of losing the baby, of dying…Ivan’s lifestyle was the cause of it. I couldn’t handle that. I wouldn’t. Nothing was worth the chance of going through something like that again.

  “What do you need?” Ivan asked. “How can I make this better?”

  At hearing that, I pulled away. “I don’t think you can.”

  “Please.” He really was begging.

  “I can’t.”

  “Can’t what?”

  “Can’t forgive you!” I shouted.

  Ivan hung his head. “I know. It’s my fault you were in danger. I never should’ve…I never wanted…”

  “It doesn’t matter what you wanted,” I said coldly. “I don’t want to be with someone I can’t trust. I don’t want to be with someone who will keep secrets from me. If you had been upfront about why you needed an heir—because someone was after you and wanted you dead—I mean, seriously, Ivan, did you think that wasn’t important information for me to know?”

  “I was afraid—”

  “Afraid that I, or any other woman, wouldn’t agree to your terms if we knew the truth? Well, yeah! Look at what happened! And don’t you dare say that if I had just stayed—”

  “I wasn’t going to.”

  But I was too angry to stop my ranting. “I’m not a sex partner. Or a whore. Or whatever you want to call it. I know I was paid, but…I had a right to know.”

  “You’re absolutely correct.” He stood and ran a hand through his hair. He never looked so vulnerable. “My profession put you at risk, and my enemy sought to hurt me through you.”

  “And obviously you thought that might happen,” I said bitterly, “because you gave me a bodyguard!”

  “I wanted to keep you safe.”

  “Keep your uterus safe,” I muttered.

  “No. To keep you safe, Rachel.” He kneeled beside the bed. “Rachel, I would give anything, do anything, to take back what has happened to you.”

  “From what point?

  He hesitated. “Maybe I’m selfish, but I do not regret meeting you. With us getting together.”

  “We didn’t ‘get together.’ We had an arrangement. Sex for money. A baby for money.” I rubbed my belly.

  “That is what I regret,” he whispered. “I wish we hadn’t made the arrangement. I wish we had a real relationship right from the start. Because that’s what I want, Rachel. I want our baby, yes, but I want you too.”

  I shook my head, staring at my tightly clasped hands. “That’s not enough. That doesn’t erase the pain, the memories. You put me in that position. You—”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You should be! Apologizing isn’t enough! You killed a man. You frighten me. You…”

  “I killed that man to defend myself. He attacked me. And yes, I was trespassing when I was attacked, but I was looking for evidence to put away Golovkin. I should never have told you the little I did without explaining everything, every last detail. I thought that keeping you in the dark would help keep you safe—”

  “Safe?” I snorted back a sob. “If I hadn’t told them I was pregnant, they were going to torture me! They thought I was lying when I told them I didn’t know anything! Honestly, I don’t know why that stopped them. I would’ve thought they wouldn’t care about an unborn baby.” I wrapped my arms around myself, hugging my belly.

  “I don’t know. I know it’s late to be telling you this, but do you want to hear the whole story?”

  A part of me didn’t want to hear it. I didn’t want to let him back in. I didn’t want to hear excuses. I didn’t like that I had turned toward wanting violence during my captivity. If I hadn’t seen Ivan through the open door, if I had found a gun on the ground and saw Brute or the driver or Handsy, would I have been tempted to pull the trigger? Yes. I didn’t know how good my aim would’ve been, but I would’ve wanted to pull the trigger, regardless of whether or not I actually would’ve gone through with it. And that terrified me. Yes, I loved bad boys, but I wanted that to be the extent of my closeness to the wild, dangerous side.

  But Ivan had come to rescue me. He had saved my life and the baby’s. The doctors hadn’t minced their words—I would’ve lost the baby if I hadn’t come to the hospital when I had. Luckily, they didn’t ask a lot of questions, and they hadn’t called the police, but I wanted to come forward. I wanted to face Vanya Golovkin and the other men involved in my kidnapping. I wanted to testify against them. I wanted to help lengthen their sentences. I wanted to do my part to ensure they wouldn’t walk the streets again, wouldn’t have the chance to hurt anyone else.

  While the doctors didn’t ask questions, I did have them myself, so I
nodded. “Go ahead. Tell me what happened between you and Golovkin. But don’t think I’ll forget that you’re only telling me this because I was kidnapped. I know you never would’ve told me.”

  Ivan took a deep breath. “When I was young, my father told me who he was, what he did. I knew he was a mob boss, that I was his heir, that I would one day rule the Kovalsky mob.”

  I winced. I did not want that for our child. With every fiber of my being, I didn’t want that. And I knew, based on how much money Ivan had shelled out, that with every fiber of his being, that was exactly what he did want.

  “Vanya Golovkin hated my father and all he had built. He was jealous. He was determined to wipe us out. He killed my family. I survived in a safe room. When it was over, I left the safe room and saw…I saw my parents…” He paused, choked up.