Stolen by the Mob Boss : A Russian Mafia Romance (Bratva Hitman)

by Nicole Fox

  I trailed behind my target, Evan Cleary, for a few hours, waiting for him to step off into a secluded part of the city so I could strike. With how quickly X assigned this job and the time crunch that I was in, I had to forgo my usual stakeout. No days spent hiding in the shadows, watching a target and finding a pattern, some kind of schedule they operated on. I should’ve known from the start it was a bad idea.

  Perfecting the art of blending in is something I’ve spent years doing, and on any other assignment, I would’ve gone undetected. That is, unless the target knows my face. As he crossed the street and glanced to his left, I made eye contact with Evan Cleary and watched as recognition settled over him. That same realization hit me.

  I’d seen him before. It was an assignment years ago. Simple recon. Mr. X did business with a local strip club and wanted to figure out where his money was going. He’d been coming up short thousands, and whoever was behind the missing cash was going to pay in many ways.

  I try to work alone, but X knew that I couldn’t just waltz into the building and fit in with the others. I stuck out like a sore thumb compared to all the suits. The local crowd at the strip club was very tight-knit. At Glamour, everyone knew everyone’s name, and at the time, no one knew me from a random stranger on the street. After I donned my best suit, a few of X’s men, including Evan, walked me into the club and sat me down. With that crowd around me, no one questioned who I was. I was part of the group automatically, no questions asked.

  The idea of depending on others while on a job made me itch, but I managed to contain my distaste long enough to fake interest in a few strippers. Nice girls, all of them, but I made it a point not to fuck around while on assignment. The last thing I needed was to get distracted by a Diamond or Trisha.

  It was easy to figure out where the money was going. Sneaking upstairs, I could overhear a pair of men talking in hushed tones. Then there was the exchange of bundled cash between the two. I recognized the owner of the club, and the man he handed money off to must work for him, I decided. The owner instructed him to deposit the money in their bank account immediately.

  Rather than just returning with the information, I decided to do Mr. X one better. I waited until it was closing time before striking, knocking the owner unconscious and stuffing him in the trunk of my car. Evan stumbled out, drunkenly asking if this was part of the assignment.

  “Go home,” I warned him. “Unless you want to join Tony here.”

  Evan gave me a sloppy smile, understanding that I had no qualms about putting him in there as well. He nodded and headed home, so wasted that I was sure he’d forget this night entirely. Mr. X appreciated the fact that I got the thief for him, but what he enjoyed more was the suitcase full of cash that I placed on the table the very next morning.

  Holding Tony’s assistant at gunpoint and making him withdraw all the money he’d been siphoning off X was the cherry on top. It was a clean, easy assignment, with no loose ends and no unnecessary violence. Or so I thought.

  I fucked up in thinking that Evan would just forget. The moment he looked back at me on that street, it all obviously came rushing back to him. He knew what it meant to see me. He knew that bad things happen when I’m close by. So he ran, dodging honking cars.

  “Fuck!” I cursed, chasing after him. I knew I should’ve worn a hat, or something that could cover my face. Even an umbrella would’ve made for good cover. He wasn’t about to come quietly and shoved his way through the crowd, sending civilians tumbling into my path. The little fuck must’ve run track in high school.

  But I’d never lost a target before. I wasn’t about to start now.

  Grinding my jaw, I picked up speed, until I cornered the rat in an alley.

  He put up a good fight. Got a few good hits in and even slashed me with a knife. But he was fighting from fear. I was fighting from a lifetime of violence. All it took was an uppercut to knock the resistance out of him.

  “Roman, please,” he panted, one eye bloodied and swelling. I watched the rain wash the red away from his face. He was a desperate man. A kinder person than me might have sympathized with him. But his cries made me feel nothing.

  Per orders, I made it quick. The pop of the gun was hidden behind a roar of thunder, but then there was the high-pitched scream of a woman. It cut through the noise like a crackle of lightning.

  I turned to see her standing there, shivering, and soaked from head to toe. Blonde hair clung to her forehead, and despite the low light of the alley, I could see her bright eyes staring at me with a mixture of fear and something else. Was it curiosity? Terror? We stood still for what felt like an eternity. Before I could say anything, she turned and ran.

  I followed behind her, determined not to let her get away. The last thing I needed on this already fucked-up job was an eyewitness. At least this chase was easier. I turned the corner just in time to see her trip and hit her head hard. She fell to the wet pavement. I holstered my gun and approached.

  Now, standing over her, I see she looks much more innocent and frail. Beautiful, too. Like a butterfly caught in a spider’s web. Part of me wants to leave her here, let her go back to her normal life.

  But the professional in me knows I can’t do that.

  With how long we stared at each other, it would be easy for her to go to the police and file a report. Soon, I’d have a sketch of me all over town. No, I can’t run that risk.

  Looking down at her, I shake my head. “You almost made it,” I murmur. Her eyes fall closed, and I watch her slip into unconsciousness. I hover over her and look up at the other end of the alley. Any minute now, someone could come along and see her lying in the rain. I don’t know who this girl is, but I can tell that this isn’t where she belongs.

  I reach down and heft her up. She weighs nothing. Carrying her to the car I’ve parked a few feet away, I drop her off in the back seat, pausing to tie up her arms and legs. When I’m sure she’s secured and won’t be getting away, I head back to Evan. His corpse still lies facedown on the cement. The rain has thankfully washed most of the blood away so there won’t be much of a clean-up, but I already know he’s going to bleed when I put him in my trunk, which means I’ll have to clean that out soon.

  I shake my head and curse under my breath again. So messy, so unlike me. I need to get the fuck out of here before something else unexpected thrusts itself into this shit pile of a situation. Evan hits the trunk with a thud, and I slam the lid closed, taking a seat in the car and pausing to collect myself.

  Mr. X doesn’t have to know how quickly this all soured. As long as I keep the girl quiet and take care of Evan’s body, as far as X knows, everything went according to plan. I didn’t fuck up too badly. This is all still salvageable.

  But there’s still the loose end of the girl to tie up. For all the shit I’m paid to do, I don’t kill women or children. I refuse to put them through anything close to what my mother and brothers felt. The only people I take out are men who deserve it, which Mr. X is fine with. He has plenty of other men to harm anyone else he deems worthy.

  This would all be so much easier if I could make myself pull the trigger and take the blonde out as well. I damn near lost her anyway. If not the rain, she might’ve gotten away, and then I’d be royally fucked.

  I pull onto the road. The rain hasn’t let up any, so it’s hard to see. At least the rain keeps people from peering inside my car too closely. The last thing I need is someone calling the police because I have a woman tied up in the back seat.

  Now, where to go? Home is my first thought, but it’s a bad idea. She’s seen my face already. The last thing she needs is an address to go along with it.

  Instead, I head to a small motel that I’ve stayed at before. It’s a ratty thing, mostly used for men cheating on their husbands and women trying to score drugs or a pretty penny for fucking. Nobody asks questions there, which is exactly what I need.

  I halfway expect the girl to wake up and throw a fit, but to my surprise, she stays unconscious the enti
re ride. Transporting her is the difficult part. I pull up as close as I can and quickly stride through the lobby, paying for a room all the way at the back of the building, as far away from prying eyes as I can manage.

  The man behind the desk doesn’t ask questions. He must assume that I’m having some kind of illicit affair and want as much privacy as possible. When he hands over the keys, I give him a short nod and head back to the car, pulling it around and parking underneath a large oak tree.

  Every time I think it’s safe to throw her over my shoulders and head inside, someone steps out onto the balcony for a cigarette or to take a call. It takes nearly thirty minutes of waiting, but finally I have an opportunity to move. I pull a blanket out and toss it over her. It’s not much, but from a distance, she looks like a rolled-up rug.

  I hustle inside and set her down in the dingy bathroom, untying her hands and wrapping them around the base of the sink. As I reach for the rope I set on the toilet lid, I feel her stir. She blinks away the sleep and focuses on me.

  “Get off me!” she screams suddenly, thrashing against my grip. She’s stronger than I thought, and it takes a bit of effort to keep her pinned. “Let me go! Someone help me!” she howls.

  “Stop,” I growl, and for a moment, her fire dims a little. I don’t want to hurt her, but I might have to if she doesn’t cooperate.

  But just as quickly, she’s angry again, fighting with me as I reach for the rope once more. Growing sick of the struggle, I pull a rag from my pocket and stuff it in her mouth. This cuts off her screaming, but it doesn’t help that she’s still writhing beneath me, trying to twist free from my grasp. Quickly, I grab the rope and secure her wrists around behind the base of the sink.

  Once that mess is taken care of, I stand up and look at her. She kicks at me, but she’s just out of reach. For someone so small and demure-looking, she’s vicious. Under other circumstances, I might find it endearing, but right now, this girl’s a pain in my ass. First, she’s eavesdropping and watching from the shadows, and now she’s trying to tip off the whole motel that she’s in here against her will.

  “Look,” I say, my voice echoing off the walls of this tiny bathroom.

  She does as instructed, her wide blue eyes facing me.

  “I don’t want to do this to you, but if you don’t stop, I’m going to leave you here with that rag in your mouth. Do you understand me?”

  She nods slowly. For a moment, I question whether this is a good idea or not. I don’t need her blowing this a second time tonight. Still, it doesn’t sit right with me, seeing a woman tied up, blind rage running through her like some kind of wild animal. There’s not much of a conscience left in me, but this weighs heavy on it.

  Carefully, I reach forward and pull the rag from her mouth. “Fuck you,” she spits. She opens her mouth wide to scream again, but before she can get it out, I stuff the rag back inside, silencing her.

  “What did I just tell you?” I ask. “Now you have to stay like that until I get back.”

  Her eyes start to water, but I straighten up and look at myself in the mirror. There’s a large bloodstain on my side that’s growing larger, but I don’t have time to worry about that right now. Instead, I zip up my jacket and grab the car keys, locking the door on the way out of the motel room. She’ll be all right while I finish this assignment.

  ***

  Down in the parking lot, I pull my phone from my pocket and dial Mr. X’s number. The phone rings three times before he picks up. There’s no response, just the sound of his heavy breathing.

  “Evan is taken care of,” I reply.

  “Get rid of him. Then come to the warehouse.” Then X hangs up the phone. A man of few words, as always. Not that I’m complaining. I don’t imagine we’d have much to talk about aside from me telling him where all the bodies are buried.

  I pull out of the parking lot and head to a swampy marsh out of the way. The drive takes about forty-five minutes, but there’s no hurry anymore. The woman from the alley is safely secured at the hotel, Evan is dead, and, in just a few minutes, he won’t be my problem anymore. The sooner that happens, the better.

  I don’t notice the pain in my side until I begin digging the hole for Evan, but I clench my jaw and work through the sting. This is the final task before I can collect my money and head back to the motel. I can tough this out and worry about fixing myself up later.

  Evan’s body hits the soft dirt with a dull thud when I drop him into the hole. I pause to look at him. Death smoothed out the scared-shitless wrinkles in his forehead. In fact, he almost looks peaceful. Lucky bastard.

  I don’t know what he did to piss Mr. X off, but in this line of business, I’ve learned not to question the men with money. I don’t need to know why someone is on their shit list. All I have to know is where they are and what the price is. Gripping the shovel again, I toss the dirt onto him. His face disappears.

  Against my better judgment, my mind wanders back to the woman and the way she looked at me in the alley. It wasn’t just my imagination. I know that much for certain. Whatever happened between us, she felt it too. She felt that standstill sensation, the limbo where our eyes locked and for a moment, neither of us made a move.

  She’s beautiful. There’s no point in denying that or pretending that I haven’t noticed. I’m not fucking blind. I’ve always been attracted to women with her features, especially the smattering of freckles that covers her nose and cheeks.

  She’s feisty, too. Feistier than I expected. I like the fight in her, even if it made my next move harder.

  She deserves better than the fate she’s going to get. Evan here was scum from the start. He knew the life he chose, and he knew the risks that came with it. But the girl ... she just walked down the wrong alley at the wrong time.

  But it’s out of my hands now.

  I return to my car and toss the shovel in the trunk. I have money waiting for me. After I receive my payment, I’ll worry about figuring out what to do with the woman in the motel. Until then, I can compartmentalize and breathe easier. Evan is dead and I’ll have my money soon.

  That’s a good enough distraction for now.

  Chapter Five

  Lucy

  My head is still pounding when the hazy fog of sleep finally disappears. I blink a few times, turning my head and immediately regretting it. The ache is worse than any bad hangover I had in college, and it almost makes me nauseous. I squeeze my eyes tight and take a slow breath, trying to talk myself through the pain. I would kill for an ibuprofen right now, but my oh-so-generous host doesn’t strike me as someone that will be particularly keen on running errands for me.

  How the hell did I even get in this position?

  Today was supposed to be simple. All I had to do was write a bit, then head to Rudy’s and fill in for my coworker. But then things took a left turn. Worse than that, actually.

  I watched someone die today.

  Just remembering that detail, the thick red glop painted on the wall, makes me want to puke again. One moment I could see the life in his eyes, and the next, it was gone, blown out through the back of his head. I want to kick myself. I should’ve been quiet. I should’ve stayed hidden, or run faster, or tried to hide. If I did, I wouldn’t be here, tied up in the bathroom like a pig awaiting slaughter.

  I don’t know what he’s going to do to me, but I’ve heard these kinds of horror stories before on all my favorite true crime podcasts. Women like me don’t fare well when it comes to being kidnapped by murderous psychopaths. If I don’t act fast, I could very easily become the next victim people are talking about.

  The idea of being killed—or worse—lights a fire inside of me. I have to get out. I can’t die like this. If I do, who’s going to take care of Nana? Who’s going to bring Konstantin to justice after what he did to my family? No, there’s no way that this is going to be the end of me.

  I look around the bathroom for something that might help me. We’re in some kind of motel, I can tell that much. The little b
ottles of shampoo bear the logo, and the monogrammed towels are a dead giveaway as well. On the side of the bathtub, there’s a small razor, and my heart beats quicker. I can get that and cut these ropes on my hands. I slide my legs out from under me and reach one foot out, desperately trying to reach the bathtub. My foot stops short just past the toilet, and I let out a cry of frustration, trying not to lose my cool entirely. Repositioning myself, I get further, but it’s still not enough. When I feel like I’m about to tear my arms out of their sockets, I take a break, sitting up straight again.

  That’s not going to work. I can’t reach it. Think, Lucy. Think.

  Aside from the razor, there’s not much else in the room that can help me. I could try and reach for the shampoo or conditioner to help slick my hands up enough to slide out of the rope, but with how tight the binding around my wrists is, that might be time wasted that I could be putting towards something else. Something that might actually help me escape.

  Frustrated, I tug against the rope and stifle a yell, panic threatening to overtake me. The feeling of being trapped is like a wildfire and it spreads throughout me, every part of my mind on red alert. The only thing I can focus on is getting free.

  Breathe, I tell myself. Talking it out works wonders, and that bubbling of anxiety slows down.

  Lying outside of the doorway of the bathroom is my purse. I can just barely see my cell phone poking out of the top of it. Hope sparks again, and I take a deep breath. This is going to hurt. It looks closer than the razor, but still a bit out of my reach. I have no other choice, though. I have to do this. I have to get away. My eyes close, and I try to collect myself. I can do this.

  When I’m calm, I slide down on my back and stretch my legs forward, patting around on the ground in search of the strap. My arms scream for mercy, but I can’t stop. I have to reach further. I have to grab the bag. This is the only way that I’m going to get out of here alive. My captor could return at any moment, and every second I spend not calling the police is another second wasted.