The Russian: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance

by Renee Rose

  Yuri flexed his fingers. He didn’t know what the nod meant. Were they letting Jake and Lucy free? If so, he’d just fucked his career, forfeited his life as far as Don Diego was concerned, and further damned his soul for nothing. No—saving his girl from rape wasn’t nothing. But Leo might not agree with his decision making.

  “You might think about leaving town,” Junior said to Jake. “And take your pretty sister with you. The don wouldn’t like it if you were hanging around his new club.”

  Jake looked like he was about to pass out. His head wobbled on his neck.

  Junior jerked his head at the door. “Get lost.”

  “I need to go up to the office to pack my things,” Jake began.

  “Get out,” Junior barked, looking meaningfully at Yuri.

  Yuri grabbed Jake by the collar and hauled him toward the door, while his mind whirled around what to do. He had nothing on the don, and would get made by Freddo the minute they returned to the hotel.

  His life and career over for a girl.

  And he’d do it again in a heartbeat.

  They left the now destitute Jake standing in the parking lot with the promise that they’d go free his sister. As Yuri walked around to the passenger side of Freddo’s car, he pulled out his phone and sent an SOS message to Leo, their prearranged signal that he needed to be extracted immediately.

  If all went as planned, a local cop would be given his coordinates and pull them over, arresting Yuri on felony extradition charges from Atlanta. He hoped Freddo would then go to the hotel room, realize Yuri had double-crossed them, and call the don. The don would give him the order to whack Yuri, which would be recorded. That meant a lot of things would have to go right.

  But if anything went wrong, the fall back plan was one he knew all too well—kill or be killed.

  Chapter Six

  Lucy glared over the table at the cop interrogating her. “I told you, I’m not answering any questions. I have a right to a lawyer.”

  “And ma’am, I told you, you’re not being charged with anything, we just need some answers about what happened to you back there.”

  “Then why am I in these?” She rattled the handcuffs they’d put her in when they’d brought her into this room. For a rescue, it had been seriously lacking.

  The cops and FBI had arrived at the hotel room not long after Yuri left her strung up and alone with a corpse. They’d cut her free, but once they’d determined she didn’t require emergency care and wasn’t a cooperative witness, she’d ended up at the local precinct in handcuffs.

  After she’d been left alone in the interrogation room for what felt like hours, this asshole had come in and tried to pretend he was good cop. She’d already decided the moment the police and feds swarmed in that she wasn’t going to say a word. Her brother’s life still hung on the line, and since Yuri had just killed a man for her, he might be in mortal danger, too. Until she knew what was going on with the two of them, she needed to keep her mouth shut. She wasn’t going to throw them under the bus.

  The door suddenly slammed open and to her shock, a furious Yuri stormed in like he owned the place.

  She surged to her feet, but the chain that attaches the cuffs to the desk tugged on her wrists.

  “What in the fuck is she doing in here?” He flashed… a badge—yes, a fucking badge—at the guy. Was it an FBI badge?

  Yuri is a cop? Or agent? The blood drained from her face, leaving her ice cold. Her mind swirled, swiftly rearranging the facts in her mind. Yuri wasn’t Yuri at all. He was some undercover agent.

  She couldn’t breathe.

  Of course he’d had to protect her. It had been his job, not some impassioned need on his part. He wasn’t her crazy Russian, he’d been playing a part. But… what the fuck? He’d had sex with her! Was that in the protect the innocent job description?

  An older FBI agent trailed in behind Yuri, shouting at him to calm down.

  “I asked you to get her to a fucking safe house,” Yuri snapped at the other agent. To the local cop, he said, “Get those cuffs off her—now!” Funny, his Russian accent was still just as thick. She’d half expected him to suddenly speak in a perfect Midwestern cadence. Who was this man?

  The local cop looked pissed, but apparently Yuri’s intimidation worked here, too, because he produced a key and unlocked her wrists.

  “Thank you, you can leave us,” the older agent said to the local cop. To Yuri, he said, “You are out of line. I need a full report immediately. If I’m understanding right, this entire operation has been jeopardized by your feelings for this woman—”

  Yuri held his hand up. “Please, Leo. I know. I will make full report and I have hope the mission may still be salvageable.” He spoke to his boss, but he hadn’t taken his eyes off her. “But first, I need to know Lucy is safe.”

  The man Yuri called Leo blew out his breath. “The safe house is being arranged.”

  “Now. She shouldn’t be treated like a fucking criminal.”

  “I know. The locals got too excited. I’ll take care of it.”

  “Give me one minute, please.”

  Despite the tension, there seemed to be mutual respect between the men because Leo nodded and left the room.

  “You’re an agent?” she croaked the minute they were alone.

  He stepped toward her but she backed away. He held his hands up as if to show he meant her no harm. “Yes. Lucya—”

  She shook her head. “Don’t Lucya me. Everything about you has been a lie. I don’t even know who in the fuck you are.”

  Jesus, she’d had sex with this man. Been held captive by him. Whipped by him. And it all was a setup? Had there been bugs and cameras? Would he put their blowjob in the report? The room spun and her stomach churned.

  He kept advancing, but he didn’t touch her when they arrived toe to toe, either. Instead, he leaned his head down to hold her eyes. “I’m still who you thought I was, Lucya. A bad man. But nothing between us was a lie. Nothing.” He leaned his forehead against hers. “Nothing.”

  The door opened again. “Lucy, come with me, please,” another crisp FBI agent said. “I’m sorry for the way you were treated. We’re going to get you somewhere safe until we can locate your brother and ascertain that your lives are no longer in danger.”

  Tears burned behind her eyes, but she wasn’t even sure what they were for. “Thank you.” She pushed past Yuri and walked out the door. It took all her effort not to look back at him, but she managed. No matter what he said, he’d lied. She didn’t know which parts of him were real. Or which parts of them were real.

  She’d just been kidnapped, bound, and seen a man killed right in front of her. Her brother was missing, maybe dead. The last thing she needed right now was a complicated Russian explaining his deception.

  No, this would be their clean break.

  Thanks, it’s been nice knowing you. Have a great life.

  Oh, and by the way, thanks for saving me from getting raped, but I’ll never forgive you for leaving me with the dead guy.

  And also, that was the best sex of my life.

  The last thought brought on a stab of pain. Her passionate lover who had whipped her and brought her to orgasm with such skill. Was she willing to write him off?

  Yes.

  She had to. This was all too crazy, and she needed the craziness to stop. It was too much to believe that her life would ever go back to normal, but she could at least eliminate the one person who had brought the crazy.

  So long, Yuri.

  ***

  Yuri had never worn a wire on this assignment. He’d also refused to insert any special technology into the mobsters’ phones. They checked for things like that all the time, and if he was made, at best, their one chance to get anything on the don would be over and at worst, Yuri would be dead. He’d been waiting all this time to either see or hear something in person or get something on his phone recorder—anything that would be big enough to end the operation; the drop on Don Diego’s drug supplier, o
r a kill order. But Yuri hadn’t worked his way high enough in the organization. They used him for grunt work, but he never dealt directly with the don or his business dealings.

  He felt certain a hit would be out on him now, though. Hopefully, if they arrested Freddo right away and checked his phone, they’d find something incriminating enough. That was the best he could hope for out of the situation.

  He explained that to Leo, and the two of them were now dressed in Kevlar vests, following the location signal on Yuri’s cell phone, which he’d purposely left in Freddo’s car. Four backup vehicles trailed behind them.

  They tracked the car to a warehouse the organization used as a meeting location. Bare industrial warehouse on the outside, the inside was used for everything, from torturing people who owed the don money, to storing stolen merchandise, to a hangout. Three cars were parked out back—Freddo’s Mercedes, Don Diego’s Range Rover, and Junior’s Jaguar. Leo parked beside one. The backup vehicles glided noiselessly into place, surrounding the warehouse.

  “Let me go in first.” Yuri surged out of the car, drawing his government-issued Glock 22.

  “No,” Leo snapped, but he was too busy barking orders over the comms unit to the rest of his men.

  Ignoring his superior, Yuri strode quickly up to the back door and gave the secret knock.

  The door swung open before Leo arrived behind him.

  “Well, look who showed up,” Junior said.

  The don’s face contorted with rage and all three men drew on him.

  Technically, he should have identified himself as an FBI agent first. Leo shouted it behind him, his weapon also drawn. But Yuri hoped to draw their fire, which would solidify the government’s case against the men and allow him to fire back.

  Don Diego fired first.

  Leo was still yelling for them to drop their weapons when the don fell to the floor with a bullet between his eyes.

  Yuri moved his aim to Junior, and when he saw a gun in his hand instead of hands in the air, he took him out, too.

  Leo dropped Freddo, but not before the asshole shot Yuri. A searing hole burned on his outer arm—just a flesh wound. Jesus, they were bad shots. It was no wonder they wanted Yuri to do all their dirty work.

  Leo cursed as the FBI agents swarmed in, kicking guns away and checking pulses. “You didn’t even try to take them in, did you?”

  “Better this way.”

  His mentor sighed. “Yeah. Probably so.”

  Chapter Seven

  Lucy paced around the small, nondescript house in Long Beach. Her FBI guard, J.J., a scrawny, self-important geek with a gun, sat on the couch watching the television, which he’d turned to one of the Jason Bourne movies.

  She examined the framed Degas print of a dancer putting on her shoes that hung on the wall. Who furnished these places, anyway? Was there an FBI decorator? Or was it the same person who decided what art went on hotel room walls?

  She shuddered, remembering the hotel room from the night before. This was the second night she’d spend in captivity. Just a different kind this time.

  A tap sounded at the door. The FBI agent leaped off the couch and drew his gun before looking out the peephole. He holstered the gun and opened the door. “I didn’t expect anyone,” he said to their visitor.

  Yuri walked in, pocketing his badge. Like her, he still wore the same clothes as the night before. His light blue button-down shirt still draped perfectly across his muscled shoulders, making him look more like a GQ model than an undercover FBI agent/mafia hitman.

  Or it would have, if it wasn’t splattered with blood. He wore a bandage around his biceps. His gaze swept around the room as if assessing danger, then settled on her. “Your brother’s been picked up. He’s in for questioning, but they should release him soon.”

  She’d been ready to glare at him or give him the silent treatment, but the news took all the fire out of her. She exhaled, a warm wave of relief washing through her chest. Finally, an answer. “He’s okay?”

  “Fine.”

  “What about your, uh, associates?”

  “Dead.” To his colleague, he said, “I’m taking night watch here. You can head out.”

  The guy hesitated, glancing at her. “I don’t know,” he said slowly. “I didn’t hear anything about you coming over here.”

  Neither had Lucy. She folded her arms across her chest. If Yuri thought he could waltz in here and claim to be her protector again, keep her under his thumb in a hotel room—safe house, whatever—he was dead wrong.

  Yuri shrugged his shoulders and strolled through the room. “Call Leo.” He spoke in a bored voice, but she’d seen a tick in his jaw, like he’d rather beat his chest and tell the geek to get out or be thrown out.

  Which meant Yuri hadn’t been sent by the FBI. He didn’t have any right to barge in and spend the night with her. And she definitely didn’t want him there. She wanted to forget he even existed.

  But she knew no matter how she tried, that was an impossibility. And as J. J. pulled out his phone to call and check Yuri’s story, she realized she’d pick Yuri over him any day. What in the hell did that say about her?

  J. J. said a few words into the phone and listened, then hung up and looked at her. “You okay staying with him? Because if you’re not comfortable, I won’t go anywhere.”

  Yuri actually bared his teeth, but his gaze locked on her and she realized he was waiting for her answer with what appeared to be held breath.

  She made him wait another beat. “Yeah, it’s cool.”

  Yuri’s nostrils flared and he devoured her with a gaze that promised both reward and retribution.

  They both stood perfectly still until J. J. left.

  The moment the door closed, Yuri began to speak. “If I could have told you I was undercover, I would have,” he said, his thick accent painfully familiar, even after just one night together. It would almost be endearing if she wasn’t pissed at him.

  “Lucya—there were no lies between us. Only that one.”

  She didn’t know why it hurt so much to look at him. Why her lips trembled to find herself the subject of his intense gaze again. She slapped his face.

  Because, yeah. He didn’t get to kidnap her, whip her, fuck her, swear his undying obsession with her and then turn out to be an FBI agent. Her brain couldn’t piece all those parts together into anything that came out feeling right.

  He didn’t move. Pain hollowed his eyes. The red prints of her fingers stood out on his cheek. “I’m sorry. For everything. I just wanted you to know that everything I said to you was true. I was Russian mafiya, and then got busted and turned. Put into this nest as an agent. Still playing the same role. You see? What I said about you giving me hope was real.”

  She couldn’t figure out why her heart was bleeding, but she needed to harden it and get the fuck away from crazy Russians and drug-dealing dons. She took a half step back and firmed her expression. “Okay. But that means nothing to me.”

  He sagged like she’d punched him. “Da.” He rubbed his forehead. “You said I could get free. Get us both free. Lucy, I have money—lots of it. From when I was in Russian mafiya. I set up Swiss bank account and funneled my income there. It’s been growing for last ten years. More than three million. I never had a reason to spend it. But with you—for you… we could go anywhere. Do anything.”

  Her palm itched to slap him again. Was he insane? Yes, he totally was. She guessed that part wasn’t a lie, either.

  “I can quit FBI. I owe them nothing—they’ve already taken what was left of my soul. You could do anything—open yoga studio, or your own nightclub.”

  “Yuri, you can’t buy me.” The scorn in her voice gave her strength. She gathered it around her. He was crazy and she’d be nuts to want to have anything to do with him.

  Horror shaped his face. He shook his head. “Nyet. I’m not trying to buy you. Only offer what I have. To make amends. To give you opportunity, if you want it. Never mind.”

  She swallowed hard
around the band in her throat. “I already have a life and there isn’t a place in it for you.”

  He staggered back like she’d stabbed him.

  Cold washed through her, and a prickling, like she was making a huge mistake. But how could it be? “I’m sorry—”

  “No. You are right. I don’t belong in your life. I’ve known that from the very beginning. Biggest favor I can do for you is to stay away.” He turned away, then stuck his hand in his pocket and pulled out her phone. “Here. FBI screened it and downloaded data in case it’s needed as evidence. I deleted photos of you before they got it, though.” He set it on the table by the door.

  Her phone rang and she looked at the screen. Jake.

  A mixture of relief and anger flooded through her. She answered the call. “Jake? Where are you?”

  “Just leaving the police department. Where are you? The feds say you don’t have to stay in the safe house now that they’ve confirmed the deaths of Don Diego and his guys.”

  ***

  Yuri left the room to give her privacy and found himself standing in the middle of the room, staring at nothing. He wasn’t sure his heart even knew how to beat anymore. He’d never felt more dead. If he thought he’d lost his soul before, he’d been wrong. Now it had been fully rent from him, because he was nothing more than an empty shell.

  Walk away. Leave her in peace. What seemed impossible a few hours ago now crystallized into resolve. Thank God she’d rejected him or he would have never let her go.

  She came out and cleared her throat. “Jake’s going to come pick me up.”

  “Great.” The word came out too quickly, sounded too stiff.

  She found her purse and stuffed her phone in it.

  He walked around the breakfast bar that separated the tiny kitchen from the living room and searched the cabinets. “Are you hungry?”

  “No.” She drew a breath. “Yuri—”

  “Don’t.” Whatever it was, he didn’t want to hear it. The sooner they ended this, the better.

  She smacked the counter between them. “You don’t get to sulk, okay? You—”