Stolen from the Hitman: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance

by Alexis Abbott

  “Turns out he was only running with them at first because he got roped into it. He came from some shitty ice cube of a town back in Siberia and a life of crime was his ticket out. But once he found out about the human trafficking thing, he broke all ties with them, headed for the straight and narrow,” Felix says.

  I feel a little better, instantly. At least I know now that Max isn’t one of them. He was telling me the truth.

  “So what he did… he took me to this safe house where I could hide out while he covered my tracks. Paid back all my debts, somehow. I had no idea he had that kind of money.”

  “And when he paid them off, they just let you off the hook? That easy?” I question, confused. Nothing about what limited knowledge I have of the mafia indicates to me that they would so easily give up a grudge. Especially against someone so insignificant as Felix. He had to have been just a blip on their radar. They could have easily disposed of him, or at least punished him. Couldn’t they?

  “Easy?” Felix repeats, raising his eyebrows. “Pas moyen! I had to stay in that safe house for months while Max took care of things. I couldn’t go to class or work, couldn’t even use the Internet for fear those thugs would track me that way. I had to virtually disappear. I had to drop out of university. Never did go back for my degree,” he finishes bitterly.

  “But you survived,” I tell him. He nods slowly.

  “That’s true. And I got a lifelong friend out of it!” he says, beaming. I get the sense that Max doesn’t quite see him the same way, but I won’t be the one to tell him that.

  “So he really did leave all that behind, right? He’s not working for those guys anymore?” I press him. I want so badly for him to ease all my worries, for him to tell me that Max really is safe, and that my feelings for him aren’t terrible. I wonder if Felix even knows, though. Max is a secretive guy with a dark, mysterious past. He doesn’t seem like the kind who would easily trust others with his secrets — and especially not someone like Felix.

  “Oh yeah. Absolument. I think he was already way over all that by the time he even met me, and after what he had to do to get me out of trouble with them… well, let’s just say I don’t think they were planning on inviting him to the reunion anymore,” Felix explains. “Burned a lot of bridges back then, used up what little was left of his credit with them. But if you ask me, nobody ever really gets a clean break from an operation like that. You can’t just retire and say goodbye to your old life without some… complications.”

  “Like what?” I ask, my stomach churning.

  “Well, I’m not the best authority on the inner workings of the mafia, but I have a feeling they’re still watching him. Just waiting for the right time to take their revenge.”

  My eyes go wide with fear. Felix notices this and winces a little, realizing that he’s probably said far too much. “I’m sure they would’ve done something by now if they were really going to, though.”

  “How many are there out there?” I ask, my voice barely a whisper. I can feel the air leaving my lungs as it dawns on me just how big this whole ordeal really is. I wasn’t just swept up in some small-time operation; I was a fly caught in the complex web of a very large and venomous spider.

  “Mobsters?” Felix asks, cocking his head to one side thoughtfully. “Well, it’s probably like trying to play that arcade game — Whack-a-Mole, I believe it’s called? The second you crush one, another pops up. But to his credit, Max really took out a lot of them himself. The Russians didn’t see him coming. After all, I think they still saw him as one of them, you know? But once he found out what all they were doing with the sex trade and whatnot, he really eliminated a lot of them. I mean, they’re still out there, of course. But not here. He really cleaned up the Paris scene a lot more than anyone knows,” he says proudly, as though he had any hand in the process.

  Something confusing stands out in my mind, tugging at my thoughts. Something I remember from my time locked up down in that horrible cell. Even though most of my captors spoke Russian, I recall them discussing in hushed voices their hatred of the Russians. As though they were a separate entity entirely.

  “But there’s something I don’t quite understand,” I start off slowly, poring over my thoughts to try and make sense of them.

  Felix looks positively overjoyed at the chance to potentially school me on something. He’s definitely the kind of guy who gets off on being a know-it-all. It’s actually kind of endearing, in an odd way.

  “What don’t you get? I explained everything. What do you wanna know?” he pipes up, a little too excitedly, but I’m caught up in trying to untangle the question in my head.

  “Those guys… the ones who captured me and held me in that horrible place,” I begin, “I-I don’t think they were Russian.”

  “What do you mean?” Felix asks, squinting at me condescendingly, like he’s talking to someone of severely diminished intellect.

  “They spoke Russian sometimes, but they also talked about hating the Russians. Like they weren’t part of the same thing. I don’t know. It doesn’t make sense, does it? Maybe I just misunderstood them,” I say quietly. But Felix’s already huge eyes are widening, his mouth falling open. He reaches up and drags a hand back through his curls, some kind of grim realization coming over him.

  “Oh no,” he breathes, standing up suddenly.

  “Wh-what? What is it?” I ask, panic seizing me, too. He looks genuinely frightened, all traces of his old cockiness dissipated.

  “I’ve got to call him — I’ve got to warn him —”

  “Warn who? About what?” I demand.

  “Max! If those guys he’s going to meet aren’t Russian… that means he’s walking straight into the den of the enemy. Into a trap,” Felix reveals, frantically dialing his cell phone.

  “What?!” I burst, rushing to his side.

  He silences me with a harried shush and presses the receiver to his ear, listening to it ring over and over… with no answer. “Merde,” he swears under his breath.

  “What do we do?” I ask, my voice shaking.

  Felix meets my gaze, looking absolutely petrified. “I don’t know what we can do.”

  I find myself enraged at his defeatist tone. He can’t possibly be considering just leaving Max to the wolves while we sit here and twiddle our thumbs. “Get your things. We’re going to find him and warn him before it’s too late,” I order him firmly.

  He looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “But what if it’s already too late?”

  “We don’t know that for sure, and I’ll be damned if I let something bad happen to him without even trying to help. He’s saved your ass and mine, and now it’s time to return the favor,” I declare, scooping up my jacket and purse, suddenly very grateful that Max had Felix bring me a change of my own clothes from the flat.

  Felix hesitates a moment, but seeing the fire in my eyes, he finally sighs and relents.

  “Okay, fine. Let’s go.”

  And I very well just might’ve signed our death certificates.

  18

  Max

  The manor I arrive at is more of a villa, arranged in Roman fashion complete with weathered, ivy-covered walls and wafting gardens that seem to sing in the midday Parisian sunlight. The only thing marring the sight as I pull up to the side of the road not far from the entrance is the legion of guards patrolling the estate.

  Even through the tall trees that line the cobblestone path to the manor, it’s clear they haven’t made much of an effort to conceal their security, even if the men I see aren’t carrying weapons out in the open.

  There are three guards standing watch at the entrance, at least six men strolling along the tops of the walls, and every balcony I can see from here has at least one person on it, and eyes are starting to turn to my black sedan. Locals know to avoid this place, but it isn’t uncommon for tourists to mistakenly head this way and be turned back with a kind but firm word.

  But the car I drive means something. My black sedan is one of my old
vestiges of the Bratva, and to see one pull up means someone is here to do business.

  But as my eyes scan the men that I see, none of them look familiar. This isn’t so much of a surprise — I’ve been away from business for a very long time, and men in the rank and file come and go in the span of a year or less. Still it means I may have to do some fast talking. I grimace as some of the men at the gates eye my car. I’d much rather storm the place. Three quick shots would put those men down, and I could slip to cover before the rest even had a chance to react. Better yet, I could just wait until nightfall and scale the wall without any of the guards being the wiser.

  Any such dramatics, however, would put Maggie’s life at a terrible risk, especially if word of my actions rescuing Liv has gotten around.

  I feel a sudden sinking of my stomach as I think of her again, and I grip the steering wheel while almost unconsciously watching the guards’ patrol routes on the walls, keeping an eye out for weaknesses. What if Liv decides to abandon my protection and try to handle herself on her own? What if the fear of what I am drives her to do something foolish?

  I was trying to keep her safe, but opening up to her was a mistake that could very well put her in danger.

  I frown, shaking my head. She’s a smarter person than that, I know. But fear can make someone act against their better judgement, despite everything they know. Fear is something I like to think I have conquered long ago, after all the horror I’ve seen and endured, and after all that I’ve done, but I know better than to let my guard down.

  I step out of my car, and I can feel the eyes of everyone guarding the villa turning to me. From here on out, I’m a known man, however this goes down. I take out my phone to make sure it’s still off, just in case any of my old contacts I may meet in here have my number and decide to track me in the same way I’ve been tracking Liv and Maggie. Seeing it safely off, I take a few steps down the road towards the compound, making eye contact with the guards.

  But I haven’t taken more than a few steps before the sound of a roaring engine reaches my ears, and I turn to look down the opposite end of the road to see a car barreling down the street.

  Instinctively, my hand goes to my side where a gun is stored, and I step back to the car, my muscles poising as adrenaline starts to kick in. Did they get tipped off somehow? Are these friends of the men back at the apartment complex come to head me off?

  I swear under my breath as I hear voices coming from the villa. The men on the walls are at full attention now, and the guards at the doors are getting twitchy, their own hands moving to where I know concealed weapons to be held.

  Whatever is coming my way, it doesn’t seem to be expected. My fingers wrap around the handle of my pistol when the car comes screeching to a halt just a few feet from mine…

  ...and Liv jumps out of the passenger’s side, her eyes wide with alarm.

  “Max!” she hisses, rushing toward me, and I see Felix looking at me from inside the car on the driver’s side. I’m doubly surprised when she throws her arms around me briefly, and I stare at her, bewildered.

  “What are you doing here?!” I hiss a whisper back, glancing at the manor. “What if they recognize you?”

  “No time!” she snaps, gesturing wildly for me to get back into the driver’s seat of my car, “we need to go, now!” She wastes no time in slipping past me and getting into the passenger’s seat of my car, and I can only look between the cars, dumbfounded for a moment before nodding and moving over to the driver’s side of my car.

  I glance back at the villa and see a few of the guards chattering into phones, looking at us with furrowed brows, and I turn to call to Felix, “Split up!”

  He nods, and the moment I’m in my car, I turn the ignition and pull out of there, zipping down the road and turning right where Felix turns left at the earliest possible intersection as my eyes move to the rear-view mirror periodically.

  “What the hell just happened, Liv?” I ask her, trying to sound composed in what very well might have just blown my entire cover.

  “I just saved your life,” she says simply, trying to get a hold of her own breathing as she buckles her seatbelt. “I didn’t realize you didn’t know—those men and the men you saved me from aren’t Russian, Max. They’re Chechen.”

  My eyes widen in realization as I grip the steering wheel as we take another turn. It isn’t long before I notice a sedan with tinted windows on our tail, and I take another sharp turn into traffic, weaving in and out with expert ease.

  “Chechens?” I repeat, and realization dawns on me. “Of course. The Bratva didn’t reinitiate the slave trade after I drove them out, they must have known better than that. The Chechen just stepped in to fill the power vacuum when they had the chance.”

  “But I thought you knew that guy with the burn on his face?” Liv asked, her hands wringing her seatbelt idly.

  “I did,” I say gravely, “but he was a Chechen among the Russians when I knew him the first time. When the Chechens stepped in to take up the remains of the human trafficking ring, Boris must have been one of the key contacts they used to rebuild it. He must have known everything they’d want.”

  “And you would have been walking into your own execution the moment they recognized you at that manor,” says Liv, retrospective anxiety mingled with the relief in her brown eyes as we drive. After some clever maneuvering and turns through tangled neighbourhoods, I notice the sedan that had been following us isn’t there; we’ve shaken them.

  Liv notices my glancing back periodically, and she furrows her brow. “Will Felix be okay?”

  “If there’s one thing Felix has excelled at besides his computer toys,” I say, leaning back and relaxing a little in my seat, “it’s running away. And I don’t mean that in a condescending manner — lesser men would have been dead long ago. I trust him to save his own skin. That said…”

  I pull out my phone and turn it on, calling Felix’s number and putting the phone to my ear as it starts to ring.

  “What are you doing?!” Liv exclaims, and I look around as though I’m about to run into a car.

  “Huh? What’s the matter?”

  “You can’t use the phone while you’re driving—especially not in European traffic, are you nuts?” Of all the things she could be concerned about today, safe driving is apparently top of her list.

  I give her a flat look and roll my eyes, but as she holds her gaze steady on me, adorably, genuinely concerned, I hand it over, and she puts it on speaker, holding it up with a satisfied look on her face. I narrow my eyes at her, but I can’t hide an affectionate smile as I do.

  “Hello? Max?” I hear Felix’s voice from the phone.

  “Felix,” I say, “thanks for the warning, I owe both of you my life.”

  “Yeah, sure, we’ll get some petit fours to celebrate, but what do we do about the murderous, sex-trafficking Chechens first?”

  “They’ve seen us and our cars,” I say, taking a deep breath as I consider just how bad things look right now, “so they know our faces and our license plates—I assume you’ve already shaken whomever was tailing you.”

  “Left ‘em in the dust five blocks ago, but they got a look at my tags, I’m sure.”

  “Right. It’s only a matter of time before they track us. My home isn’t safe anymore.”

  “Merde. Fine, I’ll go pay my grandmother a visit, I guess. Keep me posted, though, she has a lovely kitchen that I’d rather not see get shot up by the mafia!”

  I tilt my head away from his shouting and reply in a bored tone, “You’ll be fine, Felix. But you can’t go anywhere that’s tied to you, or they’ll worm their way there. We’ll meet up with you when we know what the next step will be. For now, remember the safehouse I stashed you away at the first time you came to me?”

  “That old place? Is it still secure?”

  “Yes. Head there, and take a little comfort in the tremendous favor I owe you now.”

  “Don’t think I’ll forget,” he drones, “but will
you be joining me?”

  “No,” I say firmly, “we need to remain separate.”

  “What? Max, where are you going—” but I tap the button to hang the phone up, ending the call before Liv puts the phone in her lap as she chews on her lip thoughtfully.

  “I’m guessing you don’t have a French grandmother we can go lie low with in the countryside, do you?” she asks carefully, and I smile a bit. After a pause, Liv tilts her head as if asking for more.

  “So if we aren’t going to your safe house,” she starts, “then where exactly are we heading?”

  19

  Liv

  I glance over at Max, whose knuckles are tensed and white over the steering wheel, his green eyes staring straight ahead. He’s right beside me physically, but mentally he’s in another realm entirely. I wish I could read his mind, see the racing train of thoughts in his head. Even though his expression is relatively serene — probably the result of years of training himself to be calm under duress — I know he’s in turmoil over what move to make next. There’s no doubt that I’m in over my head with this one, and I have no way of knowing whether this is too much for Max to handle, too.

  I get the impression that he’s dealt with far worse situations, but then again, what do I really know about him anyway? I know he’s a good man with good intentions. At least, I think he is. I hope. Everything he’s shown me thus far indicates to me that he’s not one of them.

  Although, knowing that he was part of that same sort of group once upon a time definitely chips away at my confidence in him just a little. It’s hard to comprehend how this beautiful, noble knight of a man could have ever walked along the dark side. And I know there are shades of gray here. Just how far into darkness did Max once dive? And for how long?

  And why? Was it just desperation? Did he ever enjoy this depravity?

  But now is not the time to ask such questions. I can see a tiny muscle twitching in Max’s strong jaw, and I want so badly to reach over to stroke his face to calm him. To reassure him that I trust him. To tell him I’m with him, no matter what.