The Hitman's Desire: A Mafia Romance (The Silent Family Book 1)

by T Steele

  “He says she’s here,” I tell them.

  Malcolm gives a curt nod. “So, what’s your plan?”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Ruby

  I wake up with a throbbing head and a kink in my neck. My arms are stiff and panic claws up my throat when I realize I can't move them.

  My eyes pop open and nothing but darkness greets me. Once my eyes adjust, I see there’s one dim light, and weapons on the walls. Lots of sharp weapons. The sight makes my fear mount higher and I lose control of my bladder. A violent breath leaves my lungs, and tears burn my eyes because I feel pathetic. Whoever has captured me will see how small and afraid I am.

  Footsteps send a shock of alarm through me. Whoever it is, walks slowly down the steps and into the basement, or at least I’m assuming it’s a basement.

  Several people appear in front of me. They’re all wearing masks of different sorts, and I bow my head, not wanting to see them. The masked men who kidnapped me.

  Whether it’s the stereotypical ski mask one might see a burglar wear in a movie, or creepy Halloween masks similar to that of Michael Myers, the entire effect is working on me and making me feel bone trembling terror.

  John pops into my mind and I feel the lines of my face tighten as I try not to sob. He’s going to blame himself for this.

  I take a deep breath, but the tears that were overflowing from my eyes fall anyway, no matter how hard I try keeping them in. In my peripheral view, I see someone tense and my head snaps toward them. There’s a woman here. She’s tiny, and I would have thought she was a child if not for the outline of her feminine body that could only belong to an adult.

  She’s wearing a mask, too, and though I can't see her facial expression, it’s almost as if I can feel her willing me to look away from her.

  I drop my chin back to my chest, my hair comes forward acting as a curtain to shield me from the villains standing in front of me. Then, I hear someone sniff and footsteps come closer to me. I tense when a gloved hand roughly grips my chin, forcing me to look his masked face in the eye. They are so dark they’re almost black, and the mask he wears is the all white one. It’s mostly plain, calling to mind the villain from The Strangers movie, but it’s somehow the most terrifying. It’s his eyes. I only see the outlines of his eyes, but it’s enough to know this man wants me to suffer in horrendous ways.

  “Who knew Malcolm’s daughter would be sex on legs?” His deep voice purrs with lust.

  “I’m not his daughter,” I blurt out and wonder why I feel the need to keep the act up when it’s clearly been figured out.

  The man laughs and runs a hand up my legs, and I curse my high waisted plaid skirt that I’ve chosen today. “Did you piss yourself, little doll?” I hear his slight Russian accent seep through in his words. “You aren’t Malcolm’s daughter, you say? I was really hoping you were because if you’re not, I'll have to kill you.”

  I at least manage to keep my fearful whimper in as my eyes close, looking away from him.

  He yanks on my chin making me stare at him once more. “You better not lie to me again.”

  I give a shaky nod, hoping that’s what I’m supposed to do, and he finally steps back. I wince when my face is no longer being strained at the odd angle. I know it’s likely bloodied and bruised. My eye feels like it has its own heartbeat and my brain conjures up the image of what happened back at the house and the reason I was unconscious in the first place.

  There’s suddenly a flash and I flinch, the skin of my arms burning as I struggle against the ropes in the wooden chair I’m sitting in.

  They took my picture, and then it dawns on me that they’re going to hold me for ransom. It’s the only reason they would keep me alive.

  They prop a huge posterboard on my lap and place the top half under my chin so that it’s propped up and whatever words are written on it can be read. The flash is blinding and I don’t bother keeping my eyes open.

  When the flash finally stops, I do peel my eyes open, trying to ignore the floaters in the edge of my vision. So many flashes and the fact that I most likely have a concussion causes my ears to ring and my stomach rumbles in nausea.

  The masked man is holding the camera and scrolling through the pictures, the light leaves a slight glare on his mask and I can only imagine what the pictures that he’s observing look like.

  My dad may be a ruthless bastard, but he wouldn’t want this for me. He does care about my safety. He’ll get these assholes one way or another. And John . . . my throat burns just picturing his rueful, rare smile. John will incinerate these men.

  That’s if they can find me.

  The thought fills me with such despair and hopelessness that I have to force myself to turn my emotions off before they threaten to crush me. I make myself feel nothing but numbness while they continue to murmur, crossing the T’s and dotting the I’s of what they plan to negotiate with my father. Me, obviously, and from the sounds of it, something about a share of the casino or something. At this point, I couldn’t care less what they’re asking for. All I want is someone to find me before anything too horrible happens to me. They said they need me alive for ransom, but that doesn’t mean they can’t make me suffer.

  A small hand on my shoulder startles me, jerking me awake and I groan, my stiff body needs to stretch, but can’t because it’s still tied to this fucking chair. I try not to panic as claustrophobia sets in, but then a beautiful woman appears in front of me and I’m wondering if I’ve died and gone to heaven. But on second thought that wouldn’t make sense, because I doubt I’d be tied to a chair if this was heaven.

  She pulls out a knife and I gasp, ready to scream, but she covers my mouth with her hand. “We don’t have much time,” she whispers in a Russian accent. “I’m here to help you. I’m going to cut these ropes.”

  I hear the scissoring sound as she saws her way through the thick rope. My eyes bounce around the room frantically, wondering if this is some sort of sick joke that she’s playing.

  “Why?” I rasp quietly.

  She doesn’t answer, and I don’t repeat myself. I want to appear as obedient as possible. If this is a cruel joke, I’ll need all my wits about me and I know that I shouldn’t say anything to anger her when she has a knife against my skin and the ropes aren’t fully off yet.

  The ropes finally fall from my arms, and I slowly move them to my front, gripping my knees and trying to stand. I wince with every shard of pain that lances through my stiff body.

  The girl takes my hand, helping me stand. “Easy,” she murmurs.

  I make eye contact with her beautiful, crystal blue eyes, and realize she’s standing at an equal height with me.

  “I haven’t thought this through,” she mutters, seeming like she’s about to cry but her eyes are dry.

  “Can you get me to a car?”

  She furrows her brow, worrying her lip. “They’ll know it was me who helped you then.”

  “You can come with me,” I breathe desperately, grasping the girls shoulders and I am surprised to feel that she’s stronger than she looks. I don’t even care that I’m offering this to a rival family member. Right now, the only thing on my mind is escape, and for some reason this girl is offering that to me.

  She steps back, running a finger through her shoulder length black hair. I think she means to move the hair from her face, but instead she makes it messier, causing her angled bangs to cover one of her eyes.

  “Please,” I beg. “I can hotwire a car. Get me there and you can come with me.”

  She recoils with narrowed eyes, but then it looks as though something occurs to her, because she gives a subtle nod.

  She takes the wooden chair I was sitting on and brings it to the corner of the room. There’s a small basement window—the only window that’s down here—and I grimace, realizing her intentions.

  We’re going to climb out the window. We’re both petite, but I don’t know if we’ll fit out of such a small space.

  Her eyes probe mine. “It�
��s the only way,” she whispers so quietly that I’m surprised I hear her. “There’s two of them standing guard outside your door. They’ll be checking on you shortly. They don’t know I’m down here.”

  I nod, “Okay, okay, let’s hurry. How do we open it?”

  Our movements are jerky as we fiddle around with the window. We quickly discover it has no latches, so we’re going to have to bust the glass. It’s going to be loud.

  We find a hammer and a crow bar and I’m thankful they didn’t think to remove any weapons from the basement.

  I prop a concrete block onto the chair, hoping to give us both extra leverage.

  I grab one of the knives they laid on the table and then step up onto our makeshift stool. I lightly start tracing the perimeter of the window with the knife, wondering if there’s anyway I can do this in a more quiet way.

  “I locked the door,” the girl says suddenly, and my head whips over to her.

  “That’s a good thing, right?”

  “It’ll give us some extra time, but if they realize the door is locked, they’ll instantly know something is wrong and it will send everyone down here. Instead of just the two at the door.”

  I gulp, understanding that she’s saying regardless of what we try, we’re still on a time crunch.

  I apply some pressure to the knife and start sawing at the top of the window. The sound it makes isn’t extremely loud, but might as well be a rock concert in the silence of the room.

  I meet the girl’s eyes and she swallows. “Shield your eyes.”

  I cover my head, clenching my eyes shut tightly. And then the shrill sound of glass shattering rings through the room.

  We hear the knob jiggle as the men are instantly alerted.

  I take my hammer and clear the rest of the glass away, trying to get any random jagged pieces. Then, I jump through. It’s a tight squeeze. My ribs scream in pain as I wedge my way through the tiny window. Sharp glass scrapes along my body, but I don’t care. I feel the girl pushing at my legs frantically and I try not to panic, knowing the guards at the door will be inside at any moment.

  I finally wiggle and crawl through, blood trickles from random places on my body, but I don’t care. I stick my hands through the window and grab the girl’s arms. With the effort of her jumping and me pulling, she bangs her head onto the window, but she’s just as panicked as I am and wiggles and squirms until we’re both out.

  We hear the basement door bang open and we run.

  “Where are we going?” I pant out.

  “Follow me,” she says.

  I do and it seems like everything slows down while we run. My entire body stings in agony, but I don’t stop. I force my legs to move and my eyes to observe the surrounding area.

  When we finally reach the car, I realize it’s only parked in front of the house I was inside. I sob, sensing my brain isn’t keeping up very well. In my panic, I thought we had run further, but it hadn’t been very far at all.

  The girl pulls on the car handle only to curse before she cocks back her arm with the crow bar—which I didn’t even realize she had grabbed—and busts the window. She pulls open the door and jumps in, waving at me to follow her. It’s as if everything comes screaming back. Like I had just returned to my body and had been watching from the outside like a movie.

  This time when I sob, it’s in relief. I realize the girl must be intelligent if she chose this old van that reminds me of a “molester van.” She must know a little something about cars because most that were made after 2004 could not be hot wired.

  Usually, I would unscrew the plastic cover of the steering column, but there isn’t time and I don’t have any tools. I grab the crowbar from the girl and wedge it under the cover and use my body weight to pop it off.

  I grunt as it snaps off and the roil of electrical wires come into view. The sound of the front door banging open makes me drop one of the wires. Cursing, I pick it up, ripping the end of one before I put my foot on the gas, and bring the wires together. The engine roars and it doesn’t sound good, but it’ll get us somewhere that isn’t here.

  I keep a hold of the wires, locking my wrists, trying not to get shocked or lose the flimsy connection I was able to make. I back up, our bodies rock back and forth as I run over a bush and then put it in drive and punch it.

  I laugh, it’s an unhinged, high pitched sound, but I can’t stop and then I’m wailing. My teeth chatter and tears blur my vision, but I keep the accelerator to the floor board. The speedometer shows our speed increasing, but I feel no relief because I know eventually they’ll catch us and I have no idea where I’m going.

  “Turn left up here,” the girl murmurs.

  I start. The sound of her voice, though quiet, sounds loud in the silence.

  “Do you know where I live?” If the situation wasn’t so dire I would laugh at the absurd question. I don’t know how to get to my father’s mansion from this secluded place. I don’t even know how to get out of this area at all. This girl is, or I guess was, part of the rival family. Maybe she knows.

  An inferno of relief suddenly hits me hard in the stomach when I see a car in the distance and I think to myself, it couldn’t be John. I don’t want to get my hopes up thinking it’s him when it’s just a random car. But who else would have their Bugatti hiding on the side of the road in a secluded forest?

  What if it’s a rival? What if this whole time, this girl sitting beside me was fooling me and I’m about to drive into a trap?

  I glance back at her and her face is similar to that of a small child. It’s open and scared and completely heartbroken. I know there’s no way she would’ve went through all that just to trick me.

  I slam my foot even harder on the gas, speeding up. My eyes narrow, studying the car. The closer I get, the more familiar it becomes.

  As I slam on the breaks, the car skids sideways.

  “What are you doing?!” the girl screams.

  I don’t answer her because I’m too busy sobbing as my hand finds the lever at the door and pulls. I get out of the car and all I see are John’s blue eyes staring at me like I’m some sort of apparition. He falls to his knees, slack-jawed as I run into his body full force. He grunts as he catches me.

  I nuzzle my face into his neck, the hairs at his nape tickling my cheek and I cry harder. His arms tighten around me like a steel band, and I hear his heavy breathing and feel his heart beating wildly against my chest.

  “My Ruby,” he breathes against my skin. His one hand comes up to cradle my head while his arm stays wrapped around my waist. I inhale his heady, masculine scent—feeling safe again for the first time in what feels like a lifetime.

  I hear a gun cocking and my head snaps up from John’s chest. His arms tighten once more, indicating he isn’t letting me up or out of his sight any time soon. My breaths are still coming out in short, uneven bursts as I try to calm myself in the solace of John’s arms. But then I’m screaming again because my father and Luca are pointing a gun at the girl in the passenger seat. I go to stand up but John shakes his head no, burying his face in my hair.

  “Are you hurt?” His voice is raw and shaky.

  “No,” I lie. “That girl saved my life!”

  This time when I try to get up, he lets me, but picks me up and carries me over to the situation.

  “Dad, no!” I scream. My throat is dry and raw and my voice breaks as I speak. “She’s the only reason I’m here.”

  The girl has her knees up with her head tucked between them and is rocking back and forth. I nudge John. “You can put me down,” I whisper, but when I make eye contact with him I see his eyes studying my body, surveying each cut or bruise and lingering on the blood stains.

  His jaw clenches and he trembles as he sets me down carefully, but he doesn’t let me get far and his anger is loud. It reminds me of water boiling in a tea kettle and the noise it makes when it’s reached its peak.

  I put my hand on my dad’s arm, but now he’s staring at John murderously. “You really wa
nt to die tonight, huh boy?” he grits out.

  And I glare, applying more pressure to John’s arm. “You’re not killing John tonight and you’re especially not killing this girl. She saved my life and helped me escape.” Tears start anew and I look up, blinking quickly, trying to hold them at bay. John puts his arm around me, squeezing me to him once more.

  “You’re safe,” he whispers. “You’re safe now.”

  “Please don’t shoot he—”

  I’m cut off by the sound of gunshots, and I’m thrown to the ground, a large, heavy body covering mine. John.

  There’s a few grunts and screams and then I hear the sound of flesh hitting the pavement. When it’s quiet, John lifts me, his eyes scanning over my face and body and then his thumbs are softly stroking my cheeks as he brings his lips to mine.

  “Are those the men that hurt you?” he asks gruffly.

  I turn my head slowly, afraid of the carnage I know I’ll see and there's three of the masked men, dead on the ground.

  I nod. “That’s three of them, but I remember there being six.”

  A muscle tics in John’s jaw and then my father is there, grabbing onto my arm and shoving me behind him.

  “Frank, get Ruby in the car and take her home. John and I need to take care of some things.”

  John’s eyes doesn’t leave mine like he’s trying to memorize everything about me and I speak up. “Don’t you want me to come, so I can show you the men who did this to me?”

  “No,” both of them say immediately and then glower at each other.

  My dad’s eyes leave John for a second to study my bruised and bloodied state. “You’ve been through enough, Ruby. You need to go home and get some rest. Get looked at.”

  My eyes meet John’s, but he’s squinting into the forest and then he takes off running.

  “John!” I yell, but my father is shoving me into a car. Thankfully, the girl is already inside, staring emotionlessly out the window.