My Mobster

by J. L. Drake

  He’s passionate, ambitious—and hot.

  Every day since we met, Benji came over to hang out after class. We had fun kicking around a soccer ball, making hemp bracelets out on the balcony of my apartment, and just being together.

  On the eve of my trip to Punta Cana, Benji tied a special friendship bracelet around my wrist. “This is so you won’t forget me.”

  “Aw, thanks. It’s beautiful.”

  Benji shook his head. “Not the bracelet. This…” He lifted my chin and pressed his lips against mine. I melted when his beard scratched against my skin and his warm hand massaged the nape of my neck. I ran my fingers up his back and through his hair. His earthy scent of hot guy and patchouli lit my fire. I’d only known Benji for six days, but I invited him to spend the night. Kiki was staying with Toby, her lab partner she’d been lusting after for months, so we had the place to ourselves.

  My bedroom was tiny, and I just had a twin bed. The idea of snuggling with Benji all night, crammed in that tiny space together was exciting, but also nerve-wracking. I hadn’t yet told him I was a virgin. I mean, we were in college. I didn’t have faith that this gorgeous guy would stick around too long while I was still waving my V card.

  But I was wrong.

  When I broke the news, he honestly seemed impressed. And to put me at ease, he came up with a brilliant, less intimidating sleeping arrangement. We moved around the living room furniture, tossed the cushions off the couch onto the floor, and made a fort out of sheets in front of the balcony. We kissed under the streetlights and touched and laughed and did all the things lovers do, without going all the way.

  This is what a healthy relationship feels like.

  Chapter 58

  Spring Break Bound

  It was dark when Kiki and I left for the airport early in the morning. I had a rush of paranoia when a black Cadillac got off the exit ramp behind us. I took a deep breath and talked myself out of a panic attack as Kiki parked the Mustang in the long-term parking lot. We rolled our suitcases over to a covered hut and waited for the airport shuttle to pick us up.

  When the bus screeched to a halt and the door opened, a big dude with a buzz cut and a guy as wide as a dumpster with a deep scar on his cheek came out to help us with our luggage. They were wearing gloves—at the end of March. Kiki thanked them, but neither one of them said a word.

  Oh, God. They looked like they’d just stepped off the prison yard. They had to be Russian. Why else wouldn’t they talk to us? They didn’t want us to detect their accents, and they’re wearing gloves to hide their tats—or to avoid leaving fingerprints.

  My hands began to shake.

  “Are you all right?” Kiki asked. “What’s wrong?”

  I couldn’t speak. I had to warn her. This was all my fault. Kiki put her arm around me and rubbed my back, attempting to rub out the crazy.

  The buzz-cut guy eyed me like a drooling predator ready to eat me alive. “Sorry, miss. I know it’s freezing in here. Crazy Cincinnati weather, huh?” No Russian accent. I was wrong. The guy held up his gloved hands to back his story. His innocent, Cincinnati-cold gloved hands. “I hope it’s warmer where you’re going.”

  “Oh, yes. We’re spring break bound. In a few short hours, we’ll be in our bikinis basking in the sun,” Kiki replied.

  I inhaled a deep breath and let out a chuckle. I was a paranoid disaster, that was all. Clearly, I was so ready to say goodbye to Cincinnati and move on to paradise where I could stop checking over my shoulder in search of the Russian Boogey Man.

  I glanced out the window and noticed the driver passed an old couple waiting in a little hut for a ride. The bus was empty except for us. Buzz Cut grinned, as if he knew what I was thinking. The bus left the long-term parking area en route to the international airport terminal, which was a couple miles away from where we’d parked.

  As Kiki rambled on about what outfits we should wear on our first night, the bus turned down a secluded side road and screeched to a stop. Buzz Cut got up, and then the driver cruised over and stood next to him. Instead of facing the door, they towered over us.

  “Is there a problem?” Kiki asked, looking out the window. “This isn’t the airport.”

  Scar Face smiled at Kiki and then turned to me. “Nyet.”

  I grabbed Kiki’s arm and tried to fling her out the door. Scar Face intercepted and smothered Kiki with his big body. She kicked and screamed, and he dragged her to the rear of the vehicle. I lunged forward to try to fight him off, but Buzz Cut tackled me in the aisle. I screamed in vain for them to let Kiki go. Scar Face held a rag over her face. My dear friend stopped fighting and fell limp in his arms. “Don’t hurt her. She doesn’t know anything.”

  The goon injected a needle into her arm.

  “No!”

  While I was pinned on the ground, the door to the van opened, and Boris climbed on board.

  Oh, God.

  Buzz Cut held my wrists behind my back and yanked me to my feet. I slumped forward. He wrapped his arms around my waist and forced me down on his lap. Boris sat next to me and twisted the cap off a bottle of vodka.

  “Please let Kiki go. I’ll do anything you say. Don’t hurt her.”

  Buzz Cut covered my mouth with his gloved hand.

  Boris lifted a small plastic bottle out of his pocket, tapped a couple of pills into his hand, then dropped them into the vodka bottle. “Like old times.” My assailant pushed down on my chin to spread my lips apart while Boris lifted the bottle to my mouth.

  I shook my head, stomped down on the goon’s foot, and tried to struggle out of his grasp. In retaliation, he squeezed his arms around my ribcage so tightly, I felt like my body was being crushed inside a trash compactor.

  “You never learn, do you, weasel?” Boris said something in Russian to Scar Face, and he responded by dropping my best friend to the ground, and as she lay unconscious with her arms outstretched on the dirty floor, he drew his leg back ready to kick her in the stomach.

  “No!” I cried. “Boris, please.”

  Boris held up his hand to stop the guy. “Thirsty now?”

  Live to fight another day. I drank.

  “One more sip, dear.”

  “Why are you doing this? We’re even.” My vision blurred.

  “You’ve caused some trouble for us back home.”

  “I never told a soul what happened.” My words came out slurred.

  “I know, dear. Trouble has come looking for you.” He unfolded a sheet of notebook paper. “The boss would like to cash in his wager now.” He turned it around and showed me the picture I’d drawn of a winged heart with an arrow through it with the word forever scribbled across the center.

  “Never make a bet you’re not willing to lose.”

  I fought to stay conscious.

  “And remember the bet you won? Use of the private jet to anywhere in the world. A Russian never goes back on a deal. Boss would like to fly you to his home for an extended vacation.”

  My head tipped to the side. The bottle went back between my lips. Vodka swished in my mouth.

  “There’s a war going on at home. Our rivals have put a bounty on your head to get to the boss. If they capture you, they’ll force Vladimir to surrender—his life in exchange for yours. In order to protect the pakhan, I have to protect you.”

  My body went limp. The last thing I remember before everything went black was Boris’s taunting words.

  “Living in our world is not so bad.”

  The goons bound my wrists and ankles.

  “Our family is anxious to meet you.”

  A blindfold covered my eyes.

  “Forever is a long time, lapsha.”

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  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Kat Shehata’s first career involved caring for exotic, dangerous, and adorable animals as a zookeeper. As an author, Kat weaves her love of animals
into her work. She is the co-author of the New York Times bestselling children’s book Animals on the Other Side written with Sylvia Browne.

  She is also an avid tennis player and spends her free time playing matches in a recreational league in Cincinnati, Ohio. She holds a bachelor’s degree in theatre from Wilmington College, a professional writing certificate from the University of Cincinnati, and a master’s degree in creative writing from Spalding University.

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  Prologue

  Katherine Anderson strolled down 67th Street in Manhattan. Rush hour was quickly approaching. Cars crept by as they slowly pushed through the traffic in a hurry to get to their next destination. Horns blasted with impatient drivers and the smell of exhaust filled the air. This was home. This is where she’d grown up and become the princess of the city.

  Katherine worked as a food critic in New York. She frequented multiple restaurants a week and provided reviews in various magazines, newspapers, and blogs. She was becoming highly respected in her own right, and the future looked bright.

  This day was just as any other. A new restaurant named Le Bleu had opened on 44th Street. Every dish on the menu had blue cheese worked into the recipe. She loved blue cheese and was excited to try the food and give her critique. Whether she loved the food or hated it, the article would be printed in Friday’s edition of the newspaper as well as this month’s edition of Food Times magazine.

  On her way to the restaurant, her stomach began to ache. Sharp cramping pains shot through the sides of her abdomen. The overwhelming urge to vomit caused her mouth to salivate and skin to grow clammy. She wanted nothing more than to go home, change into her pajamas, and curl up in bed.

  Katherine thought about trying to tough out the tasting so she could get her article in on time, but the increased cramping in her stomach made it impossible. Instead, she hailed a cab and promptly headed home. Once securely seated, she pulled her long blonde hair back into a ponytail; she needed to get the thick locks off of her face and neck. They were only adding to the beads of perspiration already forming. Then she removed the small pink cardigan from her thin five-foot-nine frame.

  When the car pulled in front of her building, she wasted no time paying the driver and rushing to the elevator. She didn’t even stop to make small talk with the doorman as she did routinely. She needed to get into her apartment, and fast.

  The keys jangled as she unlocked the door. When she stepped inside the foyer, music blasted through the hallways. Despite feeling like death warmed over, a smile spread across her face at the thought of Mike rocking out in the bedroom. It was like a scene out of Risky Business. Watching him sing and dance around was always comical.

  Why was Mike home? He was usually out with his buddies. When she worked, he went to a bar with the guys and she’d meet him after her stint at the restaurant. They would hang out for a bit, have a few drinks, and talk about each other’s days. It was comforting and perfect. Everything was as it should be.

  She typically went to the restaurants by herself. It helped her focus on the food and the ambiance without distractions. Mike would occasionally go with her, but usually, she wasn’t very good company. She would be too absorbed with the establishment.

  She called out to Mike, but there was no response. With her nausea subsiding, she put her keys and purse on the coffee table and kicked off her shoes. Her feet thudded softly against the hardwood floor as she headed down the sage green hall. She was eager to see the handsome man she was marrying in three short weeks. The thought of lying in bed with Mike holding her until she fell asleep was comforting.

  Mumford and Sons’s “Little Lion Man” echoed down the hallway. The sound of banjos made her smile as she remembered the time they saw the band in concert. She knocked on the bedroom door before opening it, not wanting to startle Mike. The smile plastered across her face quickly turned to a frown and a gasp. She caught her breath and took a step back. Oh my God. This can’t be happening. She closed her eyes and opened them again in an attempt to erase the image before her. Knots formed in her stomach as she stared at the scene playing out before her. How could this be? Why? There was a naked woman with long brown hair flowing down her back perched on top of Mike. The woman laughed. “You’re my stallion. I never want to stop riding you. You are so fucking amazing!” The voice was like nails on a chalkboard. The laugh was fake—like a desperate girl trying to hook up.

  Katherine stood there frozen. Her knees grew weak and body grew numb. The sickness she felt only minutes before suddenly disappeared. All she could do was stare in disbelief as Mike enjoyed the ride of his life with the quirky little grin on his face that was normally reserved for her. Mike moaned, urging the woman to continue her descent down the home stretch. This was the love of Katherine’s life—the man she was supposed to marry and spend eternity with. They were going to start a family and live happily ever after. Instead, the perfect life she imagined was crashing around her.

  Still stunned, her heart raced as she tried desperately to catch her breath. She had to get out of this room and away from Mike before she suffocated. She stepped back in the hallway, closed the door, and sat on the sofa. She stared lifelessly at the television, and replayed the life-altering scene she had just witnessed. It was like a bad soap opera with some tramp stealing her man. One part of her wanted to scratch Mike’s eyes out. But the rational side of her didn’t want to create a scene. There would be a time to deal with this later.

  The air suddenly became trapped in her lungs as her throat tightened. Her nausea returned suddenly, saliva poured into her mouth, and sweat beaded on her forehead. She ran to the guest bathroom, where she wretched and heaved her lunch into the toilet. The remnants permeated the air, causing her stomach to continue to cramp and recoil until there was nothing left but dry heaves. Tears filled her eyes as she started to wonder what she was going to do now. How would she ever recover? She remained stoic to this point, but the dam holding back the floodgate of tears crumbled. She collapsed in a heap on the floor and sobbed until the waterway was empty and fatigue took over.

  Unsure as to how long she’d been asleep on the floor, Katherine woke to the warmth of Mike’s embrace. The smell of cologne and gentleness of his touch was soothing. Maybe it had all been a bad dream. It wasn’t until she caught the whiff of the other woman’s perfume on Mike’s shirt did she remember what happened. What could’ve been just a nightmare was suddenly reality. Waves of nausea took hold again and refused to let go until she purged her already empty stomach some more.

  Mike’s warm hands rubbing her back did nothing to soothe the nausea or the reality of the situation. When she was sure her body was finished revolting, she lifted her head from the toilet and pulled away from him. He wasn’t hers anymore—he was dirty and tainted. She stared at his guilt-ridden face; the slumping of his shoulders left no doubt the magnitude of the situation weighed on him. Mike knew he had been caught cheating.

  “Get out!” Katherine’s voice was weak and hoarse.

  Mike raised his hands pleading for her to calm down. “I…I can explain. It’s not what you think.”

  He was denying what she saw with her own two eyes. Her blood began to boil. Anger took control, pushing the sadness and illness aside. She gritted her teeth and forced the words out. “I said, get out!”

  “Baby, we need to talk. Here, let me help you up.”

  Mike reached to lift her but she swatted his arms away. “I’m not your baby anymore. You—you get out this apartment. I NEVER want to see you again!”

  He stood froze
n as a wave of emotions swept across his face. Fear, panic, and sadness all showed up in a matter of seconds.

  “I said, get out!” Katherine pointed to the door.

  Mike put his head down and left the room. She sat on the cold tiles and waited for the front door to close. What was only a few minutes seemed like an eternity as Katherine listened to the zipper of the duffle bag being ripped open and closed, and the medicine cabinet door slammed shut as Mike packed a few of his belongings. Finally, the sound of keys jingling allowed Katherine to exhale and slowly ascend from the floor. He was gone. Katherine was alone for the first time in her entire life.

  Chapter One

  The rough texture of jeans brushed against her arm, forcing Katherine out of her trance and to take notice of the guy who had just boarded the train. It was hard to mistake the eye contact that took place—he was all but staring. She glanced away, but his laser beam stare made her look up.

  From a distance, it was hard to tell the exact color of his eyes. For certain, the green stood out—glowing like shimmering emeralds. If she had to guess, there was gold surrounding those emeralds. Not wanting to be completely obvious, she studied the stacks of reservation confirmations strategically placed in front of her. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the mysterious man settle onto the seat catty-corner from her. For whatever reason, she had a sense her life was about to change dramatically.

  “We will be arriving at the Firenze station in approximately forty-five minutes,” the conductor’s voice boomed through the speakers, startling her. Firenze, or Florence, was the next destination. Florence was a romantic city known for various artists and poets, and she hoped it would be everything she imagined.

  Katherine was meticulous in everything she did in life. When planning the trip, she dotted every “I” and crossed every “T.” She calculated the distance from the train station to the hotel and found the quickest way to get there was to walk. However, the stories of drug dealing and pickpocketing in Florence convinced her it would be best to take a taxi to the hotel the first time.