Trafficked

by Alexis Abbott

  The minister at the end of the aisle regards us carefully, but neither of us are ashamed of the age difference. We both know what we want in life, and now, we will be getting it.

  We reach the altar, and the minister drones on, but his words are just a formality. Both of us are waiting for our vows, and when the time comes to give them, I feel a lump in my throat that I have not felt in a long time.

  “Autumn,” I say in my accented English, “this is but a pause in the fast life we have started together. But more than ever before, I feel as though this is a life that is my own, and it makes me the happiest man alive to be able to share it with someone like me. I have worked for others in all these years, always biding my time and working toward freedom. And now I have it with you—because of you, in large part. And so, it only makes sense to give you my heart, and to swear to you that I will protect you and cherish you for all the days of my life. We were both born in darkness, my love. Let us step into a brighter future we can be proud of.”

  Autumn’s beautiful tears are rolling down her face by the time I finish, and even the minister can’t help but smile at her as she gets her bearings to speak. Our vows are carefully guarded so as not to let the truth be known to the innocents who are marrying us, but nothing is keeping us from expressing ourselves.

  “Vladimir,” she says through a thick voice, “I… have never known the kind of love you have given me. I never even knew this kind of love could exist, much less grow so strong. I…” She laughs at herself, and I give her a warm, reassuring smile as we hold hands. “I love you, Vladimir, more than words can say. You’ve completed a part of my soul that lets me see the good in the world, because we’ve endured the worst of it. That gives me an incredible hope in the middle of the darkest part of the night. And for that, I give you myself and everything I am. Forever,” she adds.

  The most embarrassing part of it all is that I am such a storm of blissful emotions that the ring exchange is a blur to me. We do it, though, and somewhere along the way we trade our I Dos, but the minister’s last words stick out through the wonderful haze.

  “By the power vested in me by the state of New York, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride.”

  I sweep Autumn off her feet, bridal-style, and I press a kiss to her gasping lips before she throws her arms around me to hold herself up.

  She is mine forever, my dark prize that I claimed in the midst of the greatest crime and escape of my life. My Autumn.

  My girl.

  And now, all I have to do is take care of the final detail standing between us and eternal happiness.

  The throbbing strobe light of the seedy nightclub in New York City couldn’t be a more stark contrast to the almost haunting silence of the chapel where I got married two nights ago. Heavy bass pounds overhead in what would be pitch blackness, if not for the dim red lights along the walls, the many glowing neon accessories the partygoers are wearing, and that seizure-inducing strobe.

  Artur Gregorovitch was not hard to track.

  He lives his life fast and loud. He has kept his nose out of mafia business proper for his whole life, both because he is not interested and because his father has been smart enough to keep him out of it. The boy is an idiot, but he is an idiot with unlimited money, a short temper, and an insatiable desire for distractions.

  That is what I imagine brought him to this club. It’s the kind of place you don’t get to without knowing the right people, and many of the things that happen here are not legal. I stand at a dark corner of the room, watching the dance floor in front of me. It is a sea of people old and young, almost all of them strung out on hallucinogenic drugs and strong alcohol. The dance floor is less of a dance and more of a thick, chaotic mosh pit of bodies getting wild to the harsh music.

  I hate this place, personally.

  But this is the place I learned that Artur has been gracing the city at night to satisfy his cravings, and so, here I am. Every part of me wants to hurry up and take Autumn on a honeymoon that will last in our minds forever, but neither of us want to relax until we have all loose ends tied. And I’m tying the last of them tonight.

  In fact, that loose end is a mere ten feet away from me.

  He’s wearing a designer tracksuit, grinding up against a couple of women who, like him, are probably too drugged up on ecstasy to care who they’re with.

  After a few minutes of watching him, I make my way over to the DJ. The bouncer standing nearby gives me a once-over and a stern look, but I slip him a crisp bill to let me through. I step up behind the DJ so that he can’t see me, and I wave a $100 in front of him. He takes it, but instead of trying to speak to him, I simply jab my thumb up, indicating that I want him to turn the volume up.

  He shrugs, nods, and does as I say.

  The music starts thumping harder than it might have ever done before, to the point that it’s almost painful. But the ecstatic crowd loves it, and the mosh pit descends into absolute chaos. I watch more sober people start to look panicked as they dance and grind closer and more violently with each other, and I even see a couple of people trying to get to the bar fail, because the wall of humans is simply too thick.

  Perfect.

  A hunter stalking his prey, I descend back into the crowd and start moving through it. I know how to weave my way through a raving crowd safely, largely thanks to my size and strength, but there’s an element of skill to doing it without attracting too much attention.

  Making my way up from behind Artur is child’s play.

  I slide the syringe I have ready out from my sleeve, and I hold it close by my side as I come up on him. I can hear him shouting something incoherent to the women at his side, with a snide tone and his hand on one of their asses. She looks disgusted, and she turns to get away, but he grabs her ass. She forces her way through a couple of dancers, and before Artur can follow her, I catch him by the scruff of his collar.

  With one solid swing, I bring the syringe up under his arm and inject the lethal serum into his bloodstream. I doubt he even feels it. But he does feel it when I yank him back and whisper the last words he’ll ever hear into his ear.

  “For my girl.”

  By the time he turns around, I am gone, melted into the crowd like a shadow. I retreat to a shadowy wall, and I watch him look around wildly for whoever grabbed him. He’s red in the face at first, and he tries to push his way out, but soon, I see his face melt from anger into concern, then fear. He starts patting people on the shoulder, trying to get their attention, but nobody pays him any mind.

  His bodyguards are long gone. I saw to that half an hour ago.

  His face goes red again, but this time, it starts to turn purple. He starts to sink into the crowd, and despite his shouting, nobody can hear him, and if they can, they don’t care.

  Soon, I smile as I watch Artur Gregorovitch’s body getting tossed around like another raving party goer. The people bumping up against him don’t even know he has just been claimed by a very fast-acting toxin.

  Anonymously as I entered, I make my exit, as much of a shadow as the rest of the clientele of this place.

  As for Artur’s father, the man who escaped my blaze of gunfire that night what feels like a lifetime ago? The cell phone that Autumn gave me was handy in taking care of that last night. I sent a message to a well-known hitman over a non-encrypted line after hacking into the phone. The message, of course, was an explicit offer of money for the life of his own son, who I said had become too much of a nuisance. That phone belonged to him, meaning every INTERPOL agent from Portugal to the east coast of Russia will be closing in on the Gregorovitch compound in a matter of days.

  Especially once news of Artur’s death becomes public tomorrow morning.

  It’s over.

  We are free at last, to build a beautiful future… with my girl.

  Autumn

  “Darling, it says there’s going to be a storm tonight,” I call out from my place in the captain’s nest of our new personal yach
t. I can barely hold back the grin threatening to give away how much joy and excitement I am currently feeling. I’m trying to get Vladimir’s attention as he does chores on the top deck, tidying and setting up our lounge chairs so we can bathe in the sun together and listen to music, drinking cocktails and whiling the hours away.

  What a wonderful way to spend our days together. I truly cannot imagine anything better. My captain, my guardian angel, my entire universe all encapsulated within the small, perfect world of our yacht out on the sea. The sky is a crystalline sapphire blue, the clouds so light and puffy they look like they could have come straight from a master artist’s paintbrush. Even the wind has died down so much that it’s now more of a gentle breeze than a whipping wind. I can even leave my hair down, falling in thick waves of luscious brown around my shoulders.

  I have to say that the recent… changes to my lifestyle and body have made me glow a little bit. It feels as though I am finally blooming into the glorious red rose I was meant to be. My cheeks are pink and achy from smiling all the damn time, my eyes have a bright new twinkle to them, and there’s a spring in my step that lends itself quite easily to dancing.

  Which, I must add, Vladimir and I spend a fair amount of time doing.

  That is yet another positive aspect of being alone together out at sea—we can do literally whatever we want, and there’s not a soul around to judge us. If we want to sip wine and twirl away the evenings on the candlelit deck to golden oldies on a classic record player one of his friends gifted us as a wedding present, we can do that. If we want to call each other by pet names and cuddle like the world’s most insufferably adorable couple all day long in the warmth of the sun, we can do that.

  And if we want to fuck each other hard and fast or slow and gentle at all hours of the day and night, screaming and moaning and gasping at top volume, well, we can do that, too.

  We don’t have a set path of where all to visit on our ocean voyage. We go where we feel like going and sail as long and as far as we please. We stop when we want to or on the rare occasion that we require a re-up of our supplies, but for the most part, it’s just heavenly to be alone together. We spend hours talking and reading literature to one another. I write poetry about him. He paints shockingly beautiful portraits of me.

  We make up silly, romantic songs together. Sometimes, when we need a change of scenery, we will make port and head out into some exciting new city full of fragrant spices and exotic flora and fauna. We book a hotel room at the ritziest place we can find and order tons of room service. We sit in the gigantic, fancy hotel bathtubs and drink champagne and feed each other strawberries dipped in chocolate or bowls of frozen banana ice cream.

  We cater to every whim and desire that passes over us, and I have never once felt so free in my entire life. I am no longer afraid of anything. Hell, a couple months ago we even went cliff-diving together! I never thought I would be brave enough to do something like that. But with Vladimir at my side, I feel invincible.

  Of course, a recent revelation on my part has left me feeling a little less daring with the physical acts of recklessness, but it’s not fear that holds me back. It’s love. A new kind of love I am overjoyed and anxious to share with Vladimir once we get the right chance.

  I can hardly wait to give him the good news.

  My heart flutters as he climbs up the stairs to the captain’s nook, looking every bit the part of a swashbuckling high seas captain. His skin, formerly pale as marble, has sunned to a gorgeous golden tinge. He looks like a mythical god descending from the heavens to dote on me, his mortal princess. As you might guess, we play a lot of games together. We make up new identities, try on new personas. Every time is just as exciting or more so than the last. And then we have the evenings when all we want to do is be ourselves, and that is just as lovely.

  “Did you say something about a storm, princesa?” he asks me as he walks into the room and saunters up to me. I’m perched in the captain’s seat behind the steering wheel, flirtatiously biting my lip at him. Vladimir steps up and kisses me, then scrutinizes the weather doppler.

  “Doesn’t look like a storm is brewing to me, my love. Are you sure?” he asks.

  “I have a confession to make,” I murmur. He turns to give me an amused expression.

  “What is it, malyshka?” he coos, cupping my cheek in his large, rough hand.

  Turning to press a soft kiss into his palm, I reply softly, “I might have lied just to get you to come up here. There’s no storm. Just blue skies forever.”

  “Oh, you are a tricky little fox,” he chuckles, sweeping me up into his arms.

  I giggle and wrap my legs around him as he carries me off downstairs to the bedroom, just as I hoped he would. He cradles me down onto the bed, lovingly takes off my clothes before stripping out of his own clothing. I lie there with my heart beating like mad as he brings out all the fun new toys we bought at the last island stop. He ties me up. He spanks me. He teases me with a ticklish feather and makes me weep and scream with ecstasy when he presses a vibrator to my clit. We spend hours and hours tangled up in the bedroom, moaning and moving in perfect harmony, our bodies totally synced. And when we’re finished, we lie there in each other’s arms, utterly spent and satisfied.

  In the dim glow of the setting sun filtering through the porthole window, I turn and brace myself up on my elbow to gaze into my protector’s face. “I love you,” I murmur softly.

  He leans over to kiss me. “I love you the most. More than you can ever know,” he whispers. I stroke his cheek, a huge smile warming my face. “What is it? I can tell you are keeping something from me, malyshka,” he says, raising an eyebrow.

  Finally, I can’t hold it in anymore.

  “Vladimir, you’re going to be a father,” I burst out, tears prickling up in my eyes.

  He sits up and looks at me intensely, the cogs turning in his mind. “Are you sure?” he asks almost breathlessly, pulling me close.

  I nod and grin, a joyous laugh stumbling from my lips. “Yes, my love. I am sure,” I tell him, feeling tingly all over. “Are you happy?” I ask quietly.

  “Happy?” he repeats, letting out a genuine laugh. “No, my dear. I am more than happy. I am joyful. I am over the moon. This is such wonderful news! Another angel to look after and love and protect. I cannot imagine anything better.”

  “You’re already such a good Daddy,” I gush, just the faintest note of flirtation in my voice, “and now you’re going to be an amazing father, too. A real daddy!”

  “I can hardly wait, malyshka. I can hardly wait,” he murmurs, pulling me in for another passionate kiss. I feel full to bursting with joy. There is nothing better than this.

  Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed <3 If you have a moment, please leave a review. Other readers are dying to know what you thought.

  I have plenty more bad boy romance for you, so make sure you check out my other books on the next couple of pages, and sign up for my newsletter to be notified when I have a new release on the way!

  ~Alexis Abbott

  Next from Alexis Abbott

  Description

  Even when the ransom is paid, I won’t let her go.

  She’s innocent, shielded from the dirty games her father plays. Until now.

  I’ve been watching her for weeks, and I’ve seen how every smile, every toss of her hair, every flick of her hips drives men wild. A sensual beauty who is completely oblivious to the power she wields.

  I’m not immune to her beauty.

  And I sure as hell know my gang isn’t immune to it after we kidnap her. That’s why I watch her, day and night. Keeping her safe, even if she blames me for all the pain and anguish in her life. But with every passing moment, my desire to possess her grows.

  Before this is over, she will give herself to me.

  Completely.

  Buy Stealing Her

  Teaser…

  “Get your grimy hands off of me!” I scream.

  Dust kicks up under my
feet as I spin around, yanking my oversized messenger bag down from my shoulder. I turn to face one of my attackers, an almost beastly snarl on my face as I glare at him. It frustrates me to no end that he’s wearing a ski mask— they all are for some reason— because I want to see his face. I want to know exactly what this man looks like so I can have a before and after in my mind once I beat his face in with my bag. I have never been so grateful for the overly ambitious load of classes in my university schedule as I am right now, because my messenger bag is stuffed full of heavy textbooks, notebooks packed with intricate notes, and a bulging case of pens and pencils. The bag must weigh at least fifteen pounds, more than my little dog, Henry.

  As soon as his precious, sweet little face pops into my mind, I’m filled with a renewed sense of vengeance. These fuckers think they are going to capture me and take me away from Henry. They think they can just show up in my busy, tightly-wound microcosm of a world and shake it all up so easily, like I’m made of papier-mache. Like I’m some wimpy little waif just waiting to be scooped up and stowed away in a castle.

  I’m no princess. I’m no damsel. Nobody is going to Rapunzel me.

  There are three of them and one of me, but all of my attackers are regarding me more like a wild animal with rabies than a slender, petite co-ed. That’s good. I want them to fear me. I want to keep them on their toes.

  “Go on! Do your worst!” I hurl at them, spitting on the ground with rage. “Just try and take me, you filthy cowards! You have no idea who you’re messing with.”

  “Calm down,” one of them hisses, glancing around furtively.

  It’s still dark here on campus, the sun just starting to crown over the horizon. The sky is still that anemic shade of pale gray, the light barely illuminating the fluffy clouds above. Every tree and bush is shrouded in darkness, a hulking, mysterious shadow in the low light. The thought occurs to me that time is on my side. If I can just keep these guys at a safe enough distance for long enough, people will start showing up on campus. Students will start rolling in, half-asleep and bleary-eyed, for their early morning math classes. Professors will march across the grassy paths to their offices to prepare for a long day of teaching. The custodial staff will turn up to keep things clean and gleaming. After all, this is the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. This is an important place, filled with important, brilliant people. Overachievers like me who show up before the sun rises and don’t leave until after the sun disappears back over the horizon. Surely, sometime soon, backup will get here and I’ll be saved.