Mafia Romance

by Aleatha Romig, Skye Warren, Annika Martin, Natasha Knight, Kaye Blue, Michelle St. James, Renee Rose, Parker S. Huntington, Alexis Abbott, Willow Winters

  “Rookie mistake,” I growl at myself. But my head had been fuzzy. It was a miracle that I pulled off the rescue at all with all the blood I’d lost by then.

  “Aren’t we safe here?” she asks me as she pulls on her clothes. Unfortunately, I have no extra women’s things, so I do my best to offer her one of my oversized shirts to replace her bloodstained top.

  “No,” I say firmly.

  “But… you said it’s secure,” she says, clearly not grasping the severity of the situation. And how could she? I took her out of her simple life, where her biggest concerns were getting recognized at her job. She wasn’t made for my life, for the things I have to do.

  I grasp her by the shoulders, holding her tight as I gaze down into her eyes.

  “This isn’t a thug like Vasili. Gregorovich is a boss. He commands an army with the backing of a fortune. He’s less a criminal than a warlord. None of the usual rules apply anymore, Allie. None of them. He will find us here if we stay long enough, he’ll find us anywhere we go. Hiding is no longer an option. Running only works for so long,” I say, impressing upon her the seriousness of this situation.

  But I see the wide-eyed fear and depression setting into her gaze.

  “Then…then what? We just…give up?” she asks, her lower lip trembling, making me want to kiss and suckle it. Damn it, I can’t get distracted. Not now. I want to soothe and comfort her, but there’s only one way I know to do that.

  “No,” I say firmly, lightening my grip on her. “I am going to take you back to the gang and arrange a meeting with the over bosses. If Gregorovich is going to wage war, I am going to call in the big guns,” I tell her firmly, knowing it’s the only course of action.

  But her brow furrows, she disapproves immediately.

  “But… you can’t take me to the gang again,” she objects as I take out a burner phone, a disposable thing I’ll use but once before discarding it. “Mikhail,” she says grabbing my bicep as I dial up a number I’ve not ever had to call.

  I block her out as the call goes through, and a dark voice picks up on the other end.

  “Yes?” a man’s voice says on the other side.

  “I need to arrange a meeting,” I say, grim and simple.

  “When?” he asks, knowing well that I would never call unless it was serious. Direly serious.

  “Immediately,” I tell him and he goes quiet a moment, as Alicia tugs at my arm again.

  “Mikhail!” she cries, looking panicked. So I put my arm around her and hold her close.

  “You know the place. Tonight,” he says, and that’s it. The call is over.

  “You can’t just dump me off with them! Not after what happened last time! I’m no safer with them than I am with you!” she pleads frantically.

  “Get ready,” I stress as I finish up pulling on my jacket and then open a back panel behind the clothes in the closet. There I store some guns, ammo, a knife, and other equipment, everything I’d need to take out a small army.

  She takes a step back, and I can feel the fear that jolts through her. She’s been with me so long, it feels like, but she’s still surprised by the ugliness I hide. A second later, though, and she’s back at my side, the momentary shock evaporated.

  “Holy shit,” she curses, and the dirtiness of her words distracts me again, just for a second. I’m not at my best with her at my side, that’s really why I don’t want her there. Protecting her means putting a bit of distance between us so I don’t get fouled up when I need to work.

  When I need to kill.

  Strapping some guns and knives to my body, I’m wearing a heavier leather jacket to better mask their presence. I give her a small knife, strap it to her calf, and add two small guns, giving a quick rundown of how to use them. Then I guide her to the door, grabbing up some food from the cupboards along the way. It’s all non-perishable stuff, but some protein bars and bottles of water from the fridge will have to do. I’ve not eaten in so long, and I’m still getting over the injuries I suffered, so nourishment will be needed.

  I take her on out of the building, down towards the basement garage. I open the door and very nearly guide her out first before my instincts kick in, and I hold her back.

  Not a moment too soon, because a shotgun blast rings out, enough to mow down anyone that’d be standing there and leave only a bloody pulp.

  “Get back!” I say, pushing her to the wall out of the way. The doors on the other side now, I can’t reach across to close it.

  I hold back and wait, but there’s not much more to do. I could take Alicia to the other exit, but there’s a good chance if they found this hideaway, they’ve staked out that exit too and are just as ready there.

  Their impatience pays off for us, though, when one of the men comes to the door. I grab his wrists, hit him in the face, and step out into the doorway, using his body as a shield. Another shotgun blast fills the building, but the meaty thug in front of me absorbs the blow with a pained, dying groan.

  I raise my gun over the dying man’s shoulder and fire. One shot is all I need again, and the shooter is down, never to get up.

  I toss the corpse in my arms into the garage, and another man shoots for it, his itchy trigger finger anxious and aiming for the first sign of movement. These men were sent here to kill me, not capture. Gregor isn’t playing games.

  But that one moment of distraction is all I need, and I slip out, shooting down the man that just plugged the corpse of his comrade. He fires off a shot as he sprawls back against the wall, short one eye. But that bullet of his goes astray.

  “C’mon,” I say, grabbing hold of Alicia with one hand as I take us out to make way for a car.

  I’m hoping luck is with us, and there I see it: another thug waiting by the stolen car we got here in, and I realize that there must’ve been something in Vasili’s vehicle used to track us down. Of course. Another amateur mistake, but one I couldn’t have avoided in my condition at the time. I’ll blame myself later.

  Instead, I take fire at the goon, able to take him out before he can pop off a shot at all. Alicia starts to rush towards the car but I stop her.

  “No, we’re not taking that one,” I say, but she furrows her brow and looks around at the empty parking garage.

  “Then what?” she asks, sleek black gun in hand.

  I take her by the hand and guide her around a brick wall into a hidden nook. It’s so simple, but so hard to see. The human mind is easily tricked by such optical illusions. There, waiting for us, is a plain black car that I keep at the safe house in case of need. Just another little precautionary method. And a relatively cheap one, as far as they come in my line of work.

  “Get in,” I tell her, and she rushes around to the passenger side.

  As I move to get into the driver’s seat a gunshot rings out, and I freeze.

  I missed something. Someone. They got the drop on me.

  I look up and see Alicia’s face, the world moving as if in slow motion. Her expression is one of horror. Fright.

  I can feel my heartbeat. The mistakes are catching up with me. I’d let myself be led astray by feelings, and it’s cost me. Not just my first mistake of over a decade, not my second, my third. Now… this?

  But as she lowers her gun, I hear the sound of a heavy set man’s body hit the pavement and realize—it’s not mine.

  I turn around and see that from out of the shadows, the killer behind me slumped down dead. Or nearly so. Her aim was far from perfect, and that chest wound wasn’t guaranteed to do him in. I finish the job for her, and hope it clears her conscience.

  “You saved us,” I tell her in soft praise. “Now get in!” There’s no more time to waste.

  So much has happened. And the beautiful young woman I rescued from death has faced more than any woman should ever have to. I start up the car and we tear out into the garage. It’s not until we’re about to exit onto the street that another goon pops his head out, and I blow it off of him from out my window. The guy coming up behind him is vi
ctim to my fender. Probably not dead, but when he hits the pavement, he won’t be up in time.

  We’re moving on down the road, and I realize…

  She’s right. She’s no safer with Leon, not now. Leon’s dealing with his own shit, and I know there’s going to be guns there, too. Besides, if she’s going to be sticking with me, then I’m going to have to get used to her butting her cute nose into my business.

  “New plan,” I say firmly, trying to steady my mind. To bring that killer instinct to full focus again, checking all points around me, making sure we’re not being followed.

  There’s no more room for mistakes, not from me, not for her. Together, we’re going to have to prove ourselves stronger than Gregorovich and his army. If she and I have any hope at a future, then this will have to be how it is, and we’re going to have to be better than I was when I was alone.

  My head needs to be clear, but it’s filled with lust and desire for her. It’s not how I’m used to working, but I can take my love and I can make it into a deadly weapon, just as I took my loneliness and hurt and turned it into one. I can make this anger and rage and desire to protect even more potent than what I had before.

  These emotions don’t have to weaken me. They can be a source of my strength, and once I tap into them, I know we’ll be unstoppable.

  “You’re with me, kotika,” I tell her. “To the end.”

  Alicia

  We’re driving down the road, making our way out of town, and my head is abuzz with thought.

  I just shot a man.

  The gun is still cradled in my hand, upon my lap. And I’d used it to shoot a man dead. I’d never even held a gun in all my years before Mikhail. The closest I’d come was playing light-gun games at the arcade with an ex-boyfriend!

  Part of me feels like I should roll down my window and fling the gun away. Part of my feels like I should clutch it and never let go. Overall, I’m mostly surprised by how well I’m handling it.

  “I shot a man dead,” I mutter aloud without realizing it.

  “Not quite dead,” Mikhail says, keeping his eyes upon the road. “I took care of that for you. But you saved both our lives, Allie. That’s what matters.”

  And despite the moral qualms of it all, I feel he’s right. Just like I’ve felt he’s been right about so much.

  “Here,” he says, taking one hand off the wheel and fishing out a phone from his jacket. “Call your mother’s place. Tell the care worker to get your mom out of there, take her to safety. Some friend’s place, anywhere that will keep her safe for a bit longer,” he explains. And I realize he’s been true to his word about looking out for my mom.

  I was right to trust him.

  I know instantly that Mikhail was having someone check on her this whole time, just as he promised. Just as he told me he would. I felt like a rotten daughter for not checking in before now, but being on the run…there just hasn’t been time. To know that even through all this, he has been thinking of her, even when I got wrapped up in my own head…

  Maybe that’s why I can’t stop the word ‘love’ from running through my brain.

  Every time I try to tell myself that he’s just a killer, he proves me wrong. He’s something—someone—so much more. He might kill, but no one who’s innocent.

  He protected me from whatever my asshole boss had planned, saved me from an even worse torture at the hands of Vasili, and now I know he was looking out for my family, too.

  I quickly call my mom, each ring feeling like eternity.

  Please pick up, I plead with her silently. Please, Mom, I need to hear your voice.

  If something has happened to her, I’ll never forgive myself…

  Her old style answering machine kicks in, some relic from the 90s that still has a novelty recording. My mom couldn’t stand to replace it, not with the sound of her and my deceased father’s voice sing-songing their way through the greeting. It makes me tear up.

  “Mom, pick up,” I say, hoping she’s nearby. “Mom, are you there?”

  Seconds pass, and I start to lose hope, giving Mikhail and uncertain look, and he squeezes my thigh in a comforting manner. And then I hear a click on the other end of the connection.

  “Mom?”

  A laughing man’s voice answers, though. “Hello? She’ll be right with you!”

  Who the hell is this? Is what I want to ask. But instead, I wait for my mom. It’s only a few seconds later that her giggling voice answers. I don’t know if I’ve ever heard her giggle before.

  “Alicia? Honey! It’s so good to hear from you. Sorry about that, Hernando and I were salsa dancing in the kitchen!”

  What has been going on since this happened and who is Hernando?

  “Mom, all that is going to have to wait. For now, I need you to pack and go to a nice hotel somewhere, alright? On the Upper East Side, somewhere ritzy. I’m going to dip into my savings to treat you to a nice weekend! And you can bring… Hernando?”

  “Her care worker,” Mikhail says to me softly.

  Oh. Well then.

  “Oh honey, that’s too much! And Hernando and I are fine right here. When are you coming home? I’m planning on making a Sunday meal this week.”

  “Soon, Mom,” I say, my throat clamping up. “Just go out, enjoy the weekend. Can I talk to Hernando?”

  “Fine, fine, but I have my appointment this week, remember.”

  “Yea, Mom. I remember.” Since when did she remember that though?

  A second later, and Hernando takes the phone from my mom and I glance at Mikhail, silently wondering how much Hernando knows about him. Probably not much.

  “Hey Hernando, Mom’s going to fight me on this, but I’m going to give her a nice weekend in a ritzy hotel on the Upper East Side, okay? I want you to go with her and take care of her. Here’s my credit card info for the booking,” I say, quickly wrapping up the call. At least Hernando knows how to take orders.

  And then I sit back, the phone call ringing in my head.

  “She hasn’t sounded that happy since Dad died,” I say quietly. “She’s never let anyone else take care of her, only me…”

  “Don’t worry,” Mikhail says, perhaps mistaking my words for worry, “Hernando is the best in his business. He can be trusted. I made sure of that before I hired him.” The stern look on his broad-jawed face tells me exactly how serious he took my mother’s care.

  It takes a little longer for it to dawn on me that this is likely the nicest thing that anyone has ever done for me. I could excuse his saving me for some twisted moral code, or because he has the hots for me. But taking care of my mom—something he did since he first took me captive, apparently—is something altogether different.

  It shows that from that first day together, he never lied to me. He never deceived me.

  He has been the man he told me he was, and for better or worse, I know that we’re in this together now. I reach out, touching the back of his hand, letting him feel the slight weight of my skin on his.

  “Thank you, Mikhail,” I say, and I hope he can hear the earnestness in my tone.

  He doesn’t respond immediately, just gives the slightest crook of a smile before twisting his one hand around and holding mine as he drives us along into the darkening night. We hold hands like that in quiet for a while as we drive through forested back roads away from the cities and people.

  It’s the kind of scene that should send chills down a girl’s spine: driving into a dark, forested road, away from all witnesses, in the clutches of a killer.

  But after all that’s happened, my trust in him rewarded, my own abilities to defend myself—and him—proven, I feel so very calm. In control. For the first time in my life, I feel like I can trust my own judgment. My own abilities.

  Mikhail pulls us off the road into an old sports field, which looks out of use.

  “What are we doing here?” I ask, not quite putting all the pieces together. There’s no buildings as such, unless you count an outhouse and what looks to be a padlock
ed storage shed.

  “We have some time to kill,” he says, opening his door and getting out. “Come with me.”

  He shoots me a wry grin before getting out, and I follow. I’m still holding the gun in my lap as I climb out. It’s dark and I can’t see well, the white paint on the structures the only thing making them stand out.

  The stars glow above us, just a sliver of the moon that barely lights our way as the silence of the rural area stretches out. It’s so quiet, it almost hurts after living in New York for so long. All there is around us is crickets and a bird in the distance.

  Mikhail leaves my side and goes over to the storage shed, hitting a switch along the side and making lights go up around the grassy area.

  For a second, I’m blinded, having to shield my eyes from the sudden light, but then I can see what I’m looking at. An abandoned baseball field, the grass grown out a bit, but still cleared enough that there doesn’t seem to be any mosquitos, the breeze keeping them at bay. A few yards away is a row of bleachers, and beyond that, simply trees.

  It’s actually beautiful, for an old sports field.

  Mikhail just walks towards me, my giant, mafia brute looking dashing in his shirt and jacket, while I feel a little silly in a mix of his clothes and mine.

  “Take out your gun,” he says to me, and I do after a moment’s delay.

  “You did very well today. Saved both our lives,” he says, resting his large hand upon my shoulder, squeezing before he guides me into the field. “But without training, it’s a miracle you hit anything. Especially under pressure. If we’re going to survive all of this, you’ll need more than your wits about you.”

  He crouches a little behind me, his thick arms wrapped about, guiding my own slender limbs up, positioning me according to his exacting expectations.

  “When you hold a gun, you have to do so like this. It’s the best way to absorb shock and make sure your aim is true,” he explains to me in that deep, husky voice of his, every word a tickle upon my eardrum.

  He feels so warm and reassuring, but I understand why he wants to teach me. Because maybe he won’t always be right there to reassure me or finish the job. I’m going to need to learn to stand on my own two feet and rely on my guts and wits if I’m going to be living in his world.