Ensnared: The Mafia's Prisoner (Book One) (A Dark Mafia Romance)

by Raven Dark

  “This is familiar ground, isn’t it, Michael?”

  His smile is slow and dark. “You’re still determined to see the worst in me, aren’t you?” He sweeps my hair off of my shoulders, a gentle caress that, with the danger pounding off him, feels threatening.

  Tears well up, but I don’t know if they’re for Jack, or because of the memories of our past that bring back so much pain.

  “Do you remember what you said to me back then?” I whisper. “If I can’t have you, no one can.”

  “It was true then. It’s true now.” He steps back. “Get undressed.”

  “You killed a man, and now you want to fuck me?”

  “Yes.”

  “So you did kill Jack.”

  “Strip,” he growls.

  I’d always known he was broken, that he’s damaged, but this time he’s gone too far.

  Michael runs his finger down the buttons on my shirt. “If I have to rip those clothes off, you will not get anything to wear until we leave here.”

  I close my eyes. There is no getting through to him, no stopping him. If he’d killed a man to protect himself or me, I would have found the whole mess incredibly hot. But what he’s done…

  Slowly, I strip down until I’m nude. I force my eyes to meet his the whole time. Hoping he can see it in my eyes how much I hate him. He yanks me to him and his mouth punishes mine, possessive and bruising.

  I scratch at his chest, and he spins me around, pushes me up against the counter so that my back is to him, and wedges my feet apart with his.

  In the mirror above the sink, I catch sight of us in the glass. My nipples are already peaked, shame and anger written all over my flushed face. He looks huge behind me, menacing and cold, darkly possessive. I look away, unable to watch the catastrophe he’s about to rain down on me.

  “Look in the mirror.” His fingers curl around my hair, jerking my head up. Leaving me no choice but to stare into the glass at us. “I want you to watch while I fuck you. I want you to see for yourself how much you want this.”

  Oh, God. In its own way, seeing how I respond to him is its own brand of cruelty. If I’m looking into the face of my own need, I can’t even lie to myself about what he does to me. It’s all the worse when I know what he’s done. It makes me hate him, hate myself.

  Again, I try to look away, and he yanks my hair harder. The bite of pain makes me moan. I see my eyes roll back while my sex throbs. He smells of physical exertion and clean sweat, of male and obsession. It’s intoxicating.

  Michael’s hand reaches between us. In the mirror, I see him bend me over toward the counter and hear his buckle clink, his zipper go down. He presses his steely cock into me, rubbing it against the crack of my ass, against my wet sex.

  “No one is taking you from me, kravitsa. No one.”

  I pant, twisting in his grip. He slides his cock through my folds. I shouldn’t want him, not now, but his words send my body heat so high I’m drunk with need. The need mixes with my sadness over what he’s done.

  “Tell me you hate me,” he whispers in my ear.

  “I hate you.” The words are easy because they’re true.

  “Tell me you want me.” His cock teases my core.

  I grip the countertop for dear life, as if it can save me from the damage he’s doing to me. I close my eyes, unable to repeat his words.

  “Tell me you want me,” he says again.

  I try to make my tone emotionless, automatic, but when I open my eyes and see the hunger in his gaze, it comes out anything but. “I want you.”

  His smile in the mirror mocks my anger.

  He nips my ear, making my sex cream. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. It’ll be our little secret. No one needs to know you fucked a man who killed to keep you.”

  The truth in his words rips open so many old wounds and lays bare not only how sick he is, but that, at least in this moment, I am as shameful and wrong as him. I sob, twisting in his grip. It’s useless. He pins me to the counter and thrusts into me, a single hard, deep thrust. He feels so good, and that tears apart my soul.

  “Fuck. Your pussy feels so good, baby. So good.” He slides in and out of my soaked core, stretching me slowly, savoring his conquest.

  I mewl helplessly. “You’re a monster.”

  “But that doesn’t change anything, does it?” He licks my shoulder. My pussy clenches around him, greedy. “I think you like what I am.” He groans and thrusts in and out, claiming me over and over again.

  “Never.” But my hips are rocking with his, in time with his hungry strokes.

  He growls as if the anger there turns him on. “Mine,” he rasps. “No one will take you from me. I will kill anyone who tries.”

  Another sob escapes. His palm cups my jaw, giving him total control. I try to rip his hand away. He jerks my face to the side and savages my mouth. I scream against his mouth, half rage, half need.

  Michael fucks me wildly, an animal consumed by his need. The bathroom fills with the echoing sound of flesh slapping flesh. The echoes of his grunts, and my helpless cries.

  My orgasm utterly destroys me. I scream and thrash against him, hips bucking. His cock twitches, he moans in release, and spills into me with a handful of thrusts.

  Minutes later, in the shower, he takes me again, and it’s just as wild, just as possessive and without mercy. His need for me is endless, my need for him is terrifying, and, as he pulls out and comes on my ass, one inescapable fact settles over me, sucking me down into a bottomless pit of despair.

  Michael isn’t just twisted, and he isn’t just wrong. He’s beyond obsessed with me, he’s a killer, and he has me trapped.

  Chapter 20

  Desperate

  We leave the lodge in a hurry before the sun is up the following day.

  As soon as the storm dies down enough to drive safely, Michael and Adrian throw everything into the back of a vehicle. Not the limo, but a black Hummer, which had been sitting in the second garage with the limousine. The Hummer can handle the roads better than the limo. Visibility isn’t perfect, but Adrian insists he can manage. Michael appoints Girgory to stay behind with Joanne and the others, who will leave when the weather is better. Michael tells me to stay out of the way of preparations as if I’m the little helpless female that he wouldn’t think of putting to physical labor. I sit on the step, playing fetch with Wolf. Last night, he’d been morose and despondent, sleeping at the foot of my bed, but now, he seems happier, excited to be going on a car ride.

  Depression tries to set in whenever I think about the situation I’m in, about what Michael is, and what it means for me if I outlive my usefulness as Katerina warned I would. Wolf is a good distraction, his exuberance despite his having lost his master making it easier to put on a brave face and not fall apart. Much like I imagine he’s doing.

  Like Wolf, I have to stay strong, have to keep it together until I figure out a plan. The rush to be out of the area serves as an unpleasant confirmation that I was right, not only about what Michael did, but why.

  Jack somehow discovered he’s a criminal, and Michael killed him, so now he means to hurry us as far from here as he can before anyone figures out he killed a man. Before someone, the sheriff, perhaps, discovers what he did, and puts him in cuffs.

  I can’t help feeling a savage kind of satisfaction at that thought, until I consider what would happen to me. His protection is all that’s keeping the Mafia from taking my life. If he’s in jail, I’ll no longer have that protection.

  Which puts me squarely in the “help the psychotic murdering kidnapper” territory.

  Lucky me.

  Once everything is packed, Michael takes my hand and pulls me to my feet. He removes that wretched collar and hands it to Adrian, probably to hide it from anyone who’d see it.

  “Is this where you cuff me again?” I ask sweetly.

  “That won’t be necessary this time.”

  “What?”

  He takes my elbow and leads me to the Hummer,
then opens the back door. Before I can climb in, he points a finger at my nose, I assume meaning to lecture me on not trying to use the snow and ice and bad weather to get away.

  “Listen to me very carefully, Aurora.” His voice is low and hard. “At any point between now and when we get to the jet, if I tell you to run, you run. Understand?”

  The ominous tone of his voice sends my thoughts racing as much as the unlikely command. “What?”

  “Just do as I say and don’t ask questions, woman.” He grips my nape in a firm hold. “If I tell you to run, you take Wolf and you run. No looking back, no matter what happens.”

  Oh, fuck. I can guess at what’s happening here. It sounds like he’s expecting a member of law enforcement to come after him, and if he ends up being taken, he wants me to escape. If he does things the way my father would, he wants me to hole up and wait for him to find me after he gets out.

  “You got yourself into a hell of a lot of trouble here, didn’t you?” Again, this is not a first for him, though when we were kids, he never did anything that got him this jammed up.

  “For a Family man’s daughter, you ask a lot of questions.” He smirks, kisses me on the forehead, and then nods for me to climb into the back seat. “In.”

  With no other choice, I make an angry sound and drop my shoulders, then climb in. He signals to the dog. “Wolf. In you go, boy.”

  The Husky bounds into the back with me. “Lie down. Behave, and don’t chew up my damn seats.” He shuts the door when Wolf lies down with his head on his paws, then Michael climbs in beside Adrian.

  Jesus Christ, I’m trapped in this Hummer with a man on the run.

  “The jet’s ready to go,” Adrian reports, revving the engine.

  Relief sweeps over me. I assume we’re headed back to New York. In hours, at least I’ll be back among civilization. Although, I have to wonder where Michael will take me when we get there. How does he plan on hiding me, on keeping control of me when we’re not in such an isolated area?

  Adrian and Michael both wave goodbye to Joanne, who’s watching in the window of the front door. I give her a wave too, and she offers a warm smile.

  I’m shocked to realize how much I’ll miss her, and that I hope she’ll join us later when we get back to New York.

  Wolf lays his head on my knees. I scratch his ears. “So, what are you going to do with him?” I nod to the dog. He always seems irritated with the idea of having the dog to deal with, even though I sometimes catch him looking amused with him.

  “Again with the questions.” Michael looks over his shoulder. “I don’t know,” he adds, as if thinking to himself. “I’ll have to think about it.”

  I can’t help but wish he’d let me keep him. I love dogs, I know how to take care of them, and I don’t want him to end up in a shelter. Besides, if I’m going to be stuck with Michael for the rest of my life, having Wolf around will at least make it more bearable.

  If I thought the drive out to the lodge was long, the way back is worse. The heavy snow, ice, and flurries make for slow going. The windshield wipers swipe back and forth over the windowpane, keeping the visibility from being reduced to nothing.

  Half an hour into the drive, the warmth of the Hummer makes me sleepy. I lean back against the seat

  “That’s right, kravitsa, rest up. You’ll need your energy for tonight.”

  I glare at him and he just chuckles. I sigh, but in minutes, I drift off.

  Another hour or so into the trip, the blowing snow dies down except for a few snowflakes. The roads are a little better ploughed here, allowing Adrian to drive faster, but it’s still going to be another hour or more.

  A full hour and a half into the trip, the Hummer slows.

  “What the fuck?” Michael sits up in the seat.

  I lift my head sleepily. “What is it?”

  But I can already see what the problem is.

  A hundred feet ahead, a large truck blocks the narrow road. High snow banks rise on either side. Parked width-ways across the path, the vehicle looks like it’s wedged in between the banks, stuck in the snow perhaps.

  Adrian turns to Michael and scowls as he pulls the Hummer to within about forty feet and then stops. He peers out the window at the vehicle.

  “It doesn’t look like there’s anyone in there,” he says.

  “No.” Michael looks around, apparently not seeing anyone. Neither do I.

  “Maybe the driver got out and went for help,” I say.

  “Maybe. I’ll check it out.” Adrian opens his door. “Stay here, you two.”

  Wolf paws at the back door, expecting to be let out.

  “No, stay put, Wolf. Down,” Michael orders. “Adrian, be careful.”

  Leaving the Hummer idling, Adrian nods and climbs out, then pulls a pistol from his blazer. He holds it at his side, out of sight as he makes his way toward the stranded truck.

  Michael keeps his eyes on the truck.

  “What’s wrong? Are you afraid the driver’s going to highjack us or something?”

  Michael doesn’t answer, but looks tense. Once in a while, his eyes scan the area around us. Fuck, he looks like he’s waiting for an ambush.

  No one appears.

  Adrian disappears around the back of the truck to the driver’s side, probably checking to see if there’s anyone inside, and if the driver is all right.

  My heart quickens.

  Silence prevails for a minute or two, until Adrian finally picks his way carefully around the back of the truck, over the snow bank where it’s back end butts up against it.

  Adrian’s hands are also raised, and his gun isn’t in his hand. When he comes around the side of the truck, a second man appears.

  “Shit,” Michael breathes.

  “Oh, no,” I whisper.

  The man has a shotgun raised, pointed at Adrian’s head. He’s standing at a good two feet from him, but all it would take is one shot and Adrian would be dead.

  The gunman walks Adrian toward the car, but stops a good twenty feet from the front fender. He walks in behind Adrian, with the truck at his back. He’s got a mask over his face, his clothes all black, including a thick winter jacket and leather gloves.

  “Keep your hands in the air,” he orders Adrian. “Get on your knees.”

  Adrian’s face is enviably stoic, without expression. When Michael slowly reaches for the door, Adrian gives the slightest shake of his head, blinking twice—at Michael, I assume. He lowers carefully onto his knees. In front of the Hummer, I can see the top of Adrian’s head.

  “Michael Volkov.” The gunman’s voice is cold. “Turn off the vehicle. Toss the keys and get out.”

  “”Sir, don’t do it,” Adrian calls to Michael. “Stay in the car.”

  “Get out of the car now, Volkov,” the gunman repeats. “Now, or his head will end up splattered all over the road.”

  “Fuck.” Michael reaches over and snatches the keys from the vehicle’s ignition. Then he opens his door slowly. “Stay here. Get down.” He nods toward the seat. “Wolf, lie down. Stay put, boy.”

  My breathing comes fast and hard. I press into the seat while Michael climbs out of the car. The gunman jerks the firearm at him, and Michael tosses the keys into the snow bank, then raises his hands.

  Son of a bitch. Without the keys, the car no longer feels safe, but I feel like a sitting duck.

  “Whoever you are, you have me. Let him go.” Michael’s voice is calm and cool, but there’s a roughness to it, worry for Adrian, I think. He removes a gun from inside his blazer, then another from his boot and drops both weapons to the ground.

  “Kick them away.”

  There’s a scraping sound, the guns skittering across the icy road.

  I peek between the seats and over the dash to see the gunman now pointing his shotgun at Adrian. As a trained protector, Adrian would have been able to whip around and grab the gun if it were a pistol, but it’s not. Plus, the guy’s holding it at a good four feet back, too far for Adrian to reach it b
efore gunman could fire.

  “Get over here.” The gunman nods to Michael and gestures to the road in front of Adrian.

  Michael advances, but slowly, as if trying to buy time.

  Adrian’s hand waves at him in a single to remain where he is. “Sir, stay back.”

  Michael’s gives a twitch of his head, “no.”

  Wolf whines and I stroke his fur, soothing him.

  “Wolf, down, boy,” I hiss. “Get down.” I glance around frantically, my mind scrambling for a way out of this, but I don’t see anything that would help.

  Wait. There’s a key dangling from the cup holder between the bucket seats.

  Adrenaline rushes through me. It’s just a single key, but does it belong to the Hummer, or something else? The plan forming in my mind is probably incredibly stupid, and I don’t see another option. I quickly scramble between the two front seats and sit behind the wheel. Hands shaking, I keep low in the seat and grab the key

  Michael closes in on the gunman and Adrian. My heart hammers.

  “I’m guessing you’re the replacement,” Michael growls.

  What the fuck is he talking about? An unwilling concern for Michael bolts through me. That makes no sense, but I guess there’s something about seeing a gun pointed at him that triggers a protective instinct despite what he’s done to me. I shove the key into the ignition.

  It fits!

  “Good guess,” the gunman says. “Get on your knees, Volkov. You aren’t going to get out of this twice.” When he doesn’t move, the man points the shotgun at him. “Now.”

  Michael starts to go down on his knees. My breath hitches. Once he’s on his knees, it’s all over.

  It’s now or never.

  Hoping that Michael and Adrian will pick up on what I’m doing, I twist the key in the ignition and the car’s engine roars to life.

  “Hey!” the gunman shouts.

  Michael whips around and his eyes go wide. I throw the Hummer forward.

  Adrian swears and rolls out of the way. Michael leaps aside. I race right at the gunman. He scrambles out of the way.