Hitman's Baby (Mob City Book 2)

by Holly Hart

  She hugged me tight, and I felt a sense of profound gratitude that our unexpected visitor hadn't been something more sinister. Someone knew the location of my safe house – and it was a worrying development. It wasn't listed anywhere. No phone line, utilities under a different name, and the building itself was owned by a network of shell companies. I swore under my breath. I'd only just started to make it a home. Whatever that meant.

  "What does it say?" Ellie asked, bright, inquisitive eyes lighting up at the sight of a clue. I didn't blame her. Anything that could help dig us out of the disaster we found ourselves in was all right in my book. I handed the envelope to her without a word.

  "It's all yours."

  She tore it open hungrily, pulling out the sheet of paper within and holding it just out of sight.

  "Don’t play games. What does it say?"

  25

  Ellie

  I read the hastily penned, ink-stained letter again. For perhaps the dozenth time, but I couldn't tear my eyes away from it. The paper was already beginning to crinkle and thin from my constant thumbing of it. My gut told me it was telling the truth. Roman wasn't quite so sure.

  Ellie.

  I sent flowers. I don't know if you got them. I'm sorry for what happened to you. I'm sorry for what a misguided member of my family is trying to do to you. I want to help, if you'll take it. I understand if you'd rather not. If I was in your shoes, I don't know what I'd do. We'll be at the spot you received this letter in one hour. You're a brave woman. I'd be honored to meet you.

  Maya.

  "What you doing?" I snapped, more harshly than I meant. "You can't bring that!"

  Roman looked up, surprised, cradling a rifle that looked big enough to use as a battering ram. "Why not? We don't know anything about these people. I'm not putting you in harms –"

  "Not putting me!" I giggled. I couldn't help it. The tension and stress of the last few hours, days, ripped through me. "Believe me, honey, we're a long past harm's way. And besides, what kind of message does you bringing that elephant gun send?"

  "A strong one," Roman replied, frowning. "That's the whole point. Nobody fucks with an AR-15. Not for long, anyway."

  "No. Nuh uh. Not on my watch," I said, waggling my finger. “We're trying to make friends, not scare them off." I almost laughed at the absurdity of the situation. For me, ten months ago was only last month. And for me, last month I was just a small-town reporter, working on the biggest story of my life – sure, but a story that probably wouldn't make state news, let alone get national attention. Things change fast.

  "You can't be serious," he complained, looking longingly at the rifle. "I didn't mean it when I said we don't know anything about these people. We do. We know one thing – they're killers."

  I interrupted him. It was becoming a habit. In fact, there was no becoming about it – I was making it a habit. "The Irish guy who gave us this letter, he seem like a killer?" I asked, my voice a mosaic of false innocence. "Because he didn't seem that way to me."

  Roman toyed with the rifle's action as he spoke, and his reply was punctuated by the metallic clacking of a round being ejected from the chamber. He wrapped his fist around it and squeezed. "No, but –"

  "Listen," I said, softening my voice. "This is our only hope. We can't go up against Victor all on our own, not with me by your side," I smiled wanly. "I'm a lot of things, but a soldier isn't one of them. And you were right, earlier. If we die, then our baby doesn't have a chance." As I spoke, I considered the craziness of what I was saying. Only a day ago, the idea of casually remarking about the fact that I had the baby would've seemed insane. Now it was par for the course, just another stop on this roller coaster ride. I couldn't wait to get off, and to just cradle him in my arms…

  "I don't like it," Roman grumbled, his expression pained. He loaded a black magazine full of long, amber bullets as he spoke. Something to do with his hands, I guessed. "We go out there, who says we don't get gunned down?"

  I spread my hands. "No one. They knew where we were, where we were going to be earlier. They didn't kill us then. Sometimes you just got to trust that someone's looking out for you." I cocked my head to one side and fought to keep his gaze. "Like I did with you…"

  That sentence had far more effect than I had expected, even intended. Roman lowered both the rifle and the magazine to the dining table, and they barely made a sound as they lay flat, the rifle rocking slightly from side to side. He met my gaze frankly, without trying to hide, breaking from a lifetime of dissembling, of molding his face to hide his emotions.

  This time, his eyes were a window into his soul. And what I saw, hurt me. He was aching, bleeding inside. He needed a hand to hold just as bad as I did. No matter how strong he was on the outside, no matter how comfortable with violence and practiced with weaponry, no man is an island.

  I walked to him and held him silently, squeezing his sides with as much strength as I was able to muster. I laced my hands together, stretching my arms as far as they would go around his massive, muscular chest, and laid my head on it, my cheek resting just under his shoulder. He smelt of hard work, of masculinity, of sweat and the faintest hint of soap. I sucked a deep breath in through my nostrils, held it for a second, and let it out slowly. The tension gripping my body seemed to dissipate with it, and whether it was Roman's presence or the breathing, I didn't know.

  "I'm not good at this," Roman admitted, finally bringing his arms down to envelop my body into a deep, squeezing hug. It pushed the air right out of my lungs, but I didn't care. I could have stayed there forever. It felt safe, a refuge from the violent uncertainty my life had been plunged into. "Not being in control, the one with the answers. Hell, until you came along –"

  I interrupted, a cheeky smile toying with the corner of my mouth. "Don't make it sound like you didn't play a pretty big part in making that happen…"

  Roman smiled sadly, but my attempt at lightening his mood seemed to have worked. "Okay, okay – you're right. But I'm serious, Ellie. I know it sounds corny, but I've always been a lone wolf, I guess. No one relying on me except myself. No one caring about me, not even myself. And then you came along, and changed all that. But what I keep asking myself is, can you just click your fingers and change your life, just like that? Will I ever be able to escape," his voice cracked. "The things I've done…"

  I took another deep breath in before I spoke, savoring his deep, sweet, spicy scent. I lifted my head off his chest and looked up, searching for his eyes.

  He met my gaze immediately, didn't hide. "I don't know," I answered honestly. I don't know what you've done, maybe you'll tell me one day, maybe you won't. I don't mind. But I know one thing, Roman," I said, extending my hand and prodding him in the chest with my index finger. "All you've ever done for me has been good. Okay," I grinned. "That whole kidnapping thing was a bit of a misunderstanding, but apart from that…"

  He didn't smile, I pressed on.

  "Apart from that, everything you've done for me has been the right thing. Everything you've done for me has saved me, given me a chance to get out of this mess. If it wasn't for my job, wasn't the fact that I was chasing after Victor Antonov long before I ever met you, then our child wouldn't be in danger. You'd never have been sent to kill me, and we wouldn't have to make this decision, whether to risk everything on a throw of the dice."

  I took a deep breath.

  "This is my fault." I saw him breathe then, preparing to protest, but I pressed my hand flat on his chest before he could speak. "No, it is. I didn't mean it, and I never knew this would happen, but it has, so it is. But I need you to know, want you to know, that when you're by my side I feel like we can get out of this. We can force a path out, together."

  I sagged a little as I finished my impromptu, but powerful speech. Roman caught me before I stumbled. "Okay, okay," he said, his voice smiling. "You got me. Remind me never to let you go into politics, okay?"

  "Believe me," I said with feeling, jutting my chin out to make the point. "Tha
t's the last thing I'd ever want to do." The comment lingered, though, lodging itself in my subconscious. If the last week had taught me anything, it was that crazier things have happened.

  I looked down, toward Roman's sleek wristwatch. "Come on, it's time."

  Roman cast one last, lingering look at the rifle lying next to us on the table, but to his credit he didn't so much as mention it.

  I hope I'm right about this…

  26

  Roman

  We waited on the corner around the block where the Irishman, Massey, had first accosted us. My hands twitched, fingers aching for the cold, smooth, comforting feel of a warm trigger underneath them. Ellie was right, as she so often was, but I didn't have to like it. I'd never felt more naked. The handgun strapped to my waist was all well and good, but it was a peashooter, when I could have had a cannon…

  Get out of your head…

  Dead on two in the afternoon, a car turned onto the potholed street that led toward my leg, deep in the heart of the industrial district. I blinked as I saw it. "You've got to be kidding me…"

  "Roman…" Ellie warned. "Remember, play nice."

  Suitably warned, I realized that I was resting on the balls of my feet, and rocked back onto my heels. Again, Ellie was right. No use in leaning forward threateningly. The die was cast. If they wanted us dead, it would happen. But it didn't feel that way.

  As the car crept forward, the reason for my surprised outburst became clear. The car was a stretch limo, black, and polished to within an inch of its life. It crept down the street, weaving around potholes and crushing old, discarded tin cans as it moved. The crackling sound they made as they collapsed in on themselves reminded me of popcorn popping in the oven. Ellie linked her hand with mine without a word. I could tell she was nervous. She was right to be.

  The limo purred to a halt in front of us, and neither of us moved. Ellie said what I guessed all of us were feeling. "Well, what the hell do we do now?"

  Before I could reply, the driver side window rolled down with an electronic hiss. "What're you folks waiting for," a familiar voice cried out, the upbeat Irish accent bringing a smile to my list before I wiped it off. "Get in the back. The bosses are waiting."

  I looked to Ellie, and she shrugged, at as much of a loss as I was. "I guess we better do what the man says…"

  I stepped forward and opened the rearmost door, my other hand resting on the handle of the weapon holstered at my waist, ready to draw. I saw Ellie's disapproving look out of the corner of my eye, but I ignored it. I hadn't brought the rifle, but there was no way I was letting her step into the inky darkness of the back of the limo without at least some protection. "Me first," I murmured.

  As usual, she ignored me. My heart leapt into my mouth as she stepped forward and ever so deftly maneuvered herself in front of me. Before I had a chance to react, she clambered inside. The last thing I saw was her tight ass disappearing inside the limo.

  Not now…

  I hurriedly climbed in after her, ready to do battle to save her. Instead, as my eyes adjusted to the lower light inside the car, I heard a soft voice.

  "Thanks for agreeing to meet us. I know that deciding to trust us can't have been easy."

  I blinked, and the limo's interior faded into full view. It was stunning. Four liquor bottles slotted into a glass cabinet on the right-hand side. They sat beneath one of the windows, their clear and golden contents still rippling. My ears detected the ever so slight background hum of a miniature fridge, and I saw metal tongs.

  Our hosts, though, were another story. They were a study in contrast. One looked as though she was born for this – royalty, or close enough. The other… Not so much. He was dressed in a smart, dark gray suit, but the jacket lay on the seat by his side, and his crisp white shirt was rolled off at the sleeves, revealing a patchwork of tattoos underneath. His face was bearded, though well-maintained, and his hair swept back messily behind his ears. He had the thickly muscled, calm demeanor of a fighter. I eyed him up warily, and came to one quick conclusion – he wasn't the kind of guy I wanted to mess with.

  Ellie continued merrily, as though she wasn't phased for a second by her new surroundings. I couldn't say the same for myself… "Oh, it was nothing. Honestly, I was a bit nervous, but Roman insisted."

  I almost spluttered out loud at Ellie's barefaced lie, but somehow managed to hold it together. In this kind of environment, Ellie was entirely in control. Like I said, I'm a fighter and a lover, not a talker. That's not my domain, never has been and I guess it never will be. I hope it never has to be, especially now that Ellie's by my side.

  The man opposite reached out his hand. I bit the inside of my lip and reminded myself to stay in the moment. They hadn't given me any reason to suspect their motives… Yet.

  "Conor. Pleased to meetcha so I am. The wife dragged me down, but I've been wanting to meet ya. Any man sticking two up to Victor Antonov is fine by me."

  "Roman," I grunted, accepting the handshake. Conor's hands were firm and calloused. Definitely a fighter, I thought. And definitely not one I'd like to get on the wrong side of, either. "Thanks… For not shooting us." I broke a smile, just to show there were no hard feelings.

  "Thanks for not shooting my man earlier," Conor grinned. "It's getting harder to get a visa these days, even for the Irish, would ya believe it!"

  There was a slight crack in the privacy shield separating the driver and the main cabin, and as if on call, I heard Massey say. "Yeah, a close one, so it was. Remind me never to believe you again, Conor. It'll be easy, you said. Just a drop off, you said," he mimicked. His tone was light and airy, and my eyebrows danced. This whole thing was getting curiouser and curiouser. Conor and his man, because I hesitated to call him a henchman, had an easy, friendly relationship – not what I would have expected if he really was a typical mob boss.

  Conor rolled his eyes, and replied with a tone filled with mock exasperation. "Massey, how many times do I got to tell ya to keep that damn thing closed. Don't think I don't know what you're doing, boy."

  His reply came in the form of a groan, and the mechanical hiss of the privacy shield rolling back up. "Can't get the staff these days," Conor chuckled. "Forgive me, I've been awfully rude, you haven't met my wife, have you?" He turned to the elegant woman sitting to his left, and a genuine smile lit up his face just at the sight of her. "Maya, Roman," he said, pointing at me. "And Roman, Maya."

  The limo's engine growled into life, and the vehicle continued its slow, gentle route down the street. I tensed, my shoulder stiffening, but Ellie shot me a look. I had to make do with letting out a deep, stressed breath of hot air. "Nice to meet you," I said, hungry to get on with the formalities. I felt out of place, and hasty to get out of here, like flames were licking at the soles of my feet.

  She smiled, and I could tell why Conor's face had filled with such delight as he turned to her. At any other time, I knew that I would have hungered for her. Not now, not after meeting Ellie. I could respect her beauty, sure, understand her effect on men – but it washed over me without leaving so much as a high water mark.

  "Me too. I'm just sorry it's under such… Terrible circumstances," she replied. As I studied her in the murky, dimly lit atmosphere of the limo's cabin, I noticed that there was something off about her. No, not off – different. Better.

  Her hand rested on the slight swell of her belly. My eyes flickered downwards in a movement I had hoped to conceal. Either I was getting rusty, or Maya was a damn sight sharper than I had anticipated. I figured it was the latter.

  "Is it that obvious?" She grinned, with the same delighted expression on her face as any one of the legion of pregnant women across the world who say they aren't telling people just yet, but so are…

  I looked down, embarrassed. "I'm sorry…" I murmured.

  "Don't be," she replied with a gentle laugh. "It's no big secret. You don't get to tell many people in this line of work. Most of my men, bless their hearts," she said with a quick glance up at the pri
vacy shield, "are more of the meathead variety." She looked disappointed that Massey was unable to hear. I guessed that he didn't fall in that category.

  "You're pregnant!" Ellie half-shrieked. "I don't know how I missed it!"

  I wanted her to hurry along, to find out why the hell we were sitting here, and how the hell this all fit together. But more than that, I wanted Ellie to be happy. I wanted her to get a break, even if it was just a few seconds, from the misery we'd both been feeling. And this might be as good as it got.

  "Four months along," Maya smiled. "Couldn't keep him off me, could I?" She rolled her eyes and gestured at Conor who grinned unrepentantly. He grinned, as if to say: can you blame me?

  "It's one of the reasons we're here, actually," she said, her tone and posture changing all at once. She was straight-backed, in control – all business. I shuffled up and sat thigh to thigh with Ellie. I guessed she'd be doing the talking, but we were sitting at the big boys table now, and I wanted to give her all the support I could.

  "What do you mean?" Ellie asked, her brow bunching together. I was glad she asked.

  "Conor and I set this all in motion," she sighed. "When we killed my father. I don't think either of us expected Alexandria to turn into a paradise of sunlight and rose petals overnight, but," she spread her hands and clenched her jaw in an expression of distress. "We didn't expect it to go downhill this fast, either. You and Roman here have got caught in the middle of a war we started, and we want to help."

  That's more like it…

  "How?" Ellie asked shrewdly. I shouldn't have doubted her commitment to our cause. Looking at her, the way she held herself, interested yet guarded; her face expressionless, it was as if she'd been playing the game for decades, not minutes.

  Maya nodded. "We know what," she paused to correct herself, "who they took from you, Ellie. I'm sorry you've had to go through this. As a mother, I can't even imagine how you're feeling right now." She stopped and blinked, her eyes glancing at me as if for the first time. "Are you…" She said, breaking off as if worrying that her question might cause offense.