Hostage of the Hitman: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance

by Alexis Abbott

  He starts dragging Caitlin away, and she turns to give us a reassuring smile, trying to put on a brave face. “Don’t worry, y’all. I’ll be okay. Lyssa, you’re going home tomorrow. Delaney — thank you for looking out for us.”

  “Hurry up,” barks her captor.

  But a look of realization comes over her face and she says quickly, “Oh, uh, wait. I need to get something from my friend really fast. Then I’ll come with you, okay? I won’t fight you at all. I’m really excited to go, I swear.”

  The man heaves a frustrated sigh and releases her for a moment. She hurries over to me and says loudly, “Oh, thank you for holding onto my earring all this time, Delaney. I-I need to get it back so I can sell it when I get home. My parents are super broke right now, you know. So, I’ll just, um, lean in and take it off—”

  I’m confused at first, having forgotten that I’m even wearing earrings, much less earrings that belong to Caitlin. But then she leans in close and whispers in a barely audible tone, “Do you want me to fill Brandon in on what’s going on? I-I can talk to him when I get home.”

  I shake my head ever so slightly and she looks surprised for a split second, then recovers herself before the man can take notice of anything amiss. She takes off my earrings and tucks them into the pocket of her dress, giving me a wide smile, even though I can still see the confusion in her eyes. I can’t explain it to her right now, but the truth is that I don’t want Brandon to know what’s happening to me. In fact, I don’t want him to know anything about me at all anymore. I’m done with him, utterly and completely. I would rather die here than have to go crawling back to him.

  “Well, thank you. I guess I’ll, uh, see you guys later. Hang in there,” Caitlin says, giving us a little wave as she walks back over to the door. Lyssa and I wave back at her and watch as the man guides her out, shutting the door behind him, leaving us alone in the stark blackness.

  Lyssa and I do the only thing we can do and go back to our little sleep station. After I do my best to reassure her that all will be okay, she finally falls asleep and I sit there totally awake, thinking about what I should do. I have this burning voice in the back of my mind telling me this isn’t right.

  When morning comes, I have made up my mind. I gently awaken Lyssa and give her a tight hug and a goodbye, wishing her good luck. I promise that we’ll see each other again soon, even though I don’t know if that’s a promise I can keep. And then I get up and go upstairs to confront Darios.

  17

  Darios

  I pull up at the compound after a long night of check-ins with past ‘clients,’ and I want to punch through a wall in frustration. Every family I visited, every person whose arm I twisted for information, none of them produced any leads. All of my past victims have been tight-lipped, thankfully, but I only ever get the same response from those who’ve been contacted by someone: they reached out to them asking probing questions, but nobody has a source. All anonymous calls. The callers could be anyone, and I’m left keeping my guard up in the dark.

  This isn’t an enemy I can just face head-on or blackmail. My suspicion is that Luka is greasing some palms in the media to get this stirred up against me while he rebuilds his old gang. Tracking him down is also a high priority, but I can’t let myself become exposed in the process, so ensuring the silence of all past witnesses takes chief importance.

  I walk across the villa grounds, feeling the morning dew on my face as I make my way towards the doors. Despite all the unease, I find myself happy to have such a place to come back to in the early hours of the morning. There is a certain antique stasis to the villa that serves as a rock for my psyche, as well as that of the ransomed girls.

  Not that I try to comfort the brats, but it keeps them from panicking and becoming too much to manage.

  And when things are amiss in this unchanging place, I can tell instantly. That’s the sensation I get the moment I walk through the doors and start climbing the stairs to my room. The men nod to me as usual, but I can feel an uneasiness in the air that I can’t quite place. I move past the men without much regard, though. I don’t have time for pleasantries.

  Up in my room, I take off my jacket and set my weapons aside, stepping over to a map of the city I have up on the wall as I cross my arms. My body wants to sleep, but I can’t allow myself to rest, not while there are so many questions unanswered.

  I have a few areas of the city circled, thumbtacks pushed into sites I know to be strongholds of local crime lords. If Luka is trying to build up enough support to take me down, then he’ll have to be collaborating with one or more of them. I’ve already begun contemplating who will have to die first — the world will not miss such scum.

  My name carries weight in Barcelona. I know the Spaniards resent me, but they must fear me if they are to be allowed to live. Each and every one of them, even the proudest, know that I am a threat. That’s kept them in line for years, leaving me to carry on my trade unimpeded, but if Luka is coaxing them into doing something foolish, anything could happen. It’s a troubling thought, and I rub my tired eyes, heading to my nightstand and taking a drink of day-old, cold coffee.

  I’m used to staying up for days on end. Some stakeouts have had me alert for well over a day, keeping vigilant before a kill. Tracking down Luka and whatever he’s planning will be no different. Especially with Delaney in danger.

  Damn the girl. My heart beats faster at the thought of her, but I stride to the window where I fucked her, and I can’t help but feel angry at her stubbornness. If she’d just agreed to be sent back to her parents, it would be so much easier. Nevertheless, I know part of me wants to have her close to me, to keep her in sight. I want to feel her body pressed up against mine every night, and when this is over, there will be hardly a second of spare time we have with each other that won’t have my cock impaling her to the hilt.

  It pulses at the thought of her, and I find myself wishing she was at my side now to work off some of this stress, but I have to keep my head clear. I’m considering relieving myself in private when I hear my cell phone speaker go off.

  “Sir,” one of my men says, “the blonde is on her way up to you. She seems upset.”

  “Noted,” I grunt at my phone, raising my eyebrows. Good timing.

  “Darios!” I hear Delaney’s voice calling out to me as she comes up the stairs to my bedroom, and open the door to see her striding towards it, her brow knit. She’s made impressive time, it would seem. She tries to storm past me into the room, but I grab her by the wrist, pulling her close to me and looking down at her with concern.

  “What’s the meaning of this?” I demand, glancing behind her before pulling her into my room and closing the door behind us. “What are you doing up here? I’m very busy right now, Delaney.”

  My gruff greeting doesn’t seem to help her mood at all, and she balls her fists in frustration. I wouldn’t normally be so quick to dismiss her, but I’m in the middle of trying to trace leads on this attack. Many of the Barcelona police officers I have on the take have suddenly gone quiet, and that makes me suspect a number of things — first and foremost being that local pressure is building up.

  “Darios, listen to me!” she says, stepping up to me as I glower down at her. “Why didn’t you tell me Caitlin was being taken today?”

  “Taken?” I repeat, arching an eyebrow. “What do you mean, has there been a kidnapping attempt? Is something wrong?”

  “No,” she says, stamping a foot on the ground, “I mean, ransomed! Caitlin was taken last night to be sold off to her parents and you didn’t even tell me!”

  I’m quick to conceal my confusion to Delaney, but this is news to me. I know we’ve been in contact with her parents and had planned to make the exchange sometime early this week, but none of my men had informed me that it was to be done so soon. Especially considering the fact that Lyssa’s ransom is scheduled for this morning.

  We rarely, if ever, conduct ransoms too close to one another. It doubles the risk of exposure
and the parents potentially coordinating with one another or the police. And contrary to what one might think, night drop-offs are somewhat more risky than public daytime ones — we met with the Megan’s parents in a public cafe to avoid just such trouble.

  “Who took her?” I ask, not betraying my unease at this news.

  “I...I didn’t catch his name,” she says, running her hand through her hair nervously as she paces about the room, “but he was kind of old, like older than most of the people here, and he looked like he had his nose broken at some point. Dark eyes?”

  “Sounds like Toma,” I muse, stroking my chin as I step over to the folders I have on my desk detailing some of the information about the girls and their handlers. Toma has been around for a while, but I don’t remember assigning him to handling Caitlin.

  “What do you mean, ‘sounds like’ Toma?” Delaney asks, her eyes widening as she steps over to me. “I thought you kept track of how all this goes down? Don’t you know what happened to Caitlin?”

  “Calm down, Delaney,” I tell her in a warning tone, turning to look down at her, but her eyes are defiant and alarmed. “Toma is a trusted associate. He’s been here longer than some of the other men who have handled you, you don’t have anything to fear from him.”

  “But,” she protests, putting her hands on her hips, “everything else around here happens like clockwork, isn’t it a little weird that this would happen without you knowing about it?”

  “I know what my men are up to,” I say more firmly this time, taking a step towards her, my body looming over hers like a mountain. I may like this pretty little brat, but I won’t tolerate my authority being questioned.

  “I don’t mean-” she makes an exasperated noise, rubbing her eyes and turning her back on me to stride towards the window, a fresh breeze billowing through gently. “I’m just worried that something might be going wrong. You’ve been overworked, Darios, have you ever thought that you can’t trust your own senses when you push it this hard?”

  “Says the girl who was abducted while perfectly sober,” I say, striding towards her and taking her by the shoulder, gently turning her around to face me. My expression is stony, even if my motions are gentle, and I take her chin in my hand to turn it up to me. “Delaney, I have this under control. Don’t worry about it — you’re overreacting.”

  She seems to be calming down a bit until that last word, at which she tries to pull away from me and balls her fists up again.

  “Overreacting?!” she spits, “Darios, I know we’re nothing but a bunch of dolled-up paychecks to you, but I know when something seems fishy!”

  “You haven’t been in this business as long as I have,” I say, glazing over the fact that it makes the scene all the more suspect. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Don’t know what I’m-” she throws up her hands, striding around the room, her face reddening, and I suspect I’ve pushed her a little too far. “I am so sick and tired of everyone assuming I’m some dumb blonde ditz,” she says, her voice thick with emotion as she teeters on the verge of tears. “You spent so much time telling me how much ‘potential’ and ‘talent’ I have, but you’re just like all the others who think I’m an idiot, aren’t you?”

  I feel anger swelling up in my chest, and I stride forward, a stormy expression in my eyes, and she backs up against a wall, and I put a hand beside her, trapping her under me as I glare at her. “I also told you that you’re a sheltered girl who doesn’t know the first thing about the real world,” I say, “and this sensitivity of yours proves that!”

  “Sensitivity?” she retorts, slapping my chest, “I’ve been sleeping with my kidnapper! I never know whether I’m going to wake up one morning and hear that the guy who’s been coming inside me has decided to sell me into slavery or something!”

  “Careful, girl,” I warn in a menacing growl, but the next moment, Delaney breaks down into tears, melting into my arms as I hold her up.

  My brow is hard for only a few moments until I find my heart softening at the sight of her, a sobbing mess in my arms, and soon, I pull her up properly and let her cry into my chest, stroking her hair gently as she lets it out.

  Maybe this really is something I should be looking harder at. Above all, though, I can’t risk my relationship with Delaney over something as petty as this. Well, I could, but with each passing second that I feel her melting into my arms, I feel less willing to do so.

  “I spoke too rashly,” I say quietly at last, hugging her to me. “It’s okay, Delaney — I know you’re only looking out for the people you care about. That’s a rare thing among the rich. It’s something you should be proud of in yourself. It’s rare for people to care for others anymore.”

  “I care about you, too,” she sobs, looking up at me with tearstained eyes, her hands gripping my shirt at my sides. “I don’t want anything to blindside you, Darios.”

  I nod, letting a smile creep onto my face. “I care about you too, Delaney. And I understand what it’s like to need to watch out for your friends. You must trust my judgement in this, but of course I would never fault you for caring too much.”

  She sniffs, then nods a few times, hugging me tight. “Thank you, Darios,” she says, her voice cracked, and I stroke her on the back.

  We stand there a moment, enjoying one another’s presence, until my phone buzzes. Reluctantly, I break the hug and step over to it and raise it to my ear.

  “Yes?”

  “Sir,” one of my men says, his voice flustered, “I’ve just gotten word from Officer Cardona, he checked in with us barely a minute ago.”

  I’m suddenly very interested, my eyes widening as I move to my map of the city. Officer Cardona is one of our officers on the take, and he was one of the few I wasn’t able to get a hold of at all last night. “Well? Spit it out, what’s the report?”

  “We need to move, sir,” says my man, sounding grim. “Cardona wouldn’t leave details, but he warned that a police raid is being organized — they’ll be at the compound by the end of the day.”

  I feel blood rising to my face, and I swear, nearly crushing the phone in my hand.

  “Sir? What’s the order?”

  “Pack up minimal supplies and get ready to move,” I say curtly, my leadership instincts kicking in. “Lyssa is set to be ransomed at noon. I want my lieutenants with me to oversee the transaction personally, and I’m bringing Delaney along for the job — nobody leaves my sight without explicit orders. I want this place a ghost town in the next half hour, do you understand me?”

  “Yes, sir!” my man says, and I turn off the phone to meet Delaney’s confused gaze, not having understood a word of the Georgian I was speaking into the phone.

  “Hope you’re ready for a new set of clothes,” I tell her ruefully, putting my phone into my pocket. “We’re going underground.”

  18

  Delaney

  “We’ve got to leave now,” Darios insists, rushing about the room collecting items into a duffel bag. His jaw is clenched and there’s a sense of extreme urgency in his movements. I still don’t quite understand what’s going on, but just from the hurried tone of his voice when he spoke in Georgian on the phone I can tell that this is serious.

  “What’s happening? Why are we leaving? Where are we going?” I fire these questions at him in rapid succession, following him around the room as he packs. I am horrified to find that nearly every single drawer and nook and cranny seems to have been concealing yet another weapon, like we’re on some morbid Easter egg hunt for guns.

  “Have these been in here all along?!” I ask, unable to stifle the disgust in my voice. Despite the fact that I am from a state in which hunting and weapon collecting is an accepted part of life, I have personally never been a fan. There are too many things that could go wrong in an instant. Just seeing a gun makes me feel a little queasy, to be quite honest.

  “Yes,” Darios answers hastily, piling the shiny weapons into the duffel bag along with several boxes of am
munition. Almost as an afterthought, he goes back to the set of dresser drawers and retrieves some clothing, as well.

  “I love that weapons are prioritized over clothes. So you might be naked, but you’ll be naked with a million guns,” I remark, a hint of my old sarcastic wit emerging for a moment. But Darios shoots me a solemn glance and I shut up.

  “If you knew the circumstances of our departure, you would not question this,” he says gravely.

  “Well, then, tell me what’s going on. I want to know. Why are we suddenly packing up and getting out of here? Is someone coming here? Are we in trouble?” I question, holding my arms outstretched in frustration. I wish he would just be straight with me for once. I’ve wasted enough of my years living in between lies and deception, and it’s gotten tiring. I just want to have some authenticity in my life. Even if it means hearing things I don’t want to hear.

  “A trusted contact has informed me of information regarding a police raid planned for this location soon,” Darios explains, and I am surprised both at the content of his statement and at the openness with which he shares it. “We need to get the hell out of dodge.”

  “Oh my god,” I murmur, clapping a hand over my mouth in horror. It’s strange to realize that just weeks ago I would have been ecstatic at the prospect of the cops rushing in to save me. But something tells me that they wouldn’t be here for me, anyway. This is a different situation, in which the police are not my allies.

  “You understand,” he says, zipping up the duffel bag and hoisting it over his shoulder. There’s the frightening clatter of metal on metal as he does so, and I can’t help but wince at the reminder of just how many weapons are stashed away in there.

  “Okay, but you haven’t answered my other question,” I continue, even as he hurriedly grabs my hand and starts leading me out into the hallway, down the stairs, and out the front door. “I get why we’re leaving, but I still don’t know where the hell we’re going next.”