Stolen from the Hitman: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance

by Alexis Abbott

  It surprises me just how strongly and assuredly I feel this way. After all, we barely know each other, at least by conventional standards. And we were never meant to fall into this kind of dynamic, were we? I was going to be his student and he my disciplined mentor. But now every little stepping stone of the life path I designed for myself is being overgrown with weeds, obscuring the destiny I once saw so clearly before.

  I haven’t talked to my parents in so long. I wonder if they worry about me. I’m sure they do. My mother is always worrying, always fussing over me. And my father, the easy crier, is probably distraught. I wonder if they’ve already contacted Interpol. Or maybe, just maybe, they’re just chalking up my reticence to a newfound independence and freedom as a college student. I can just hear my mother saying, “She’s a college girl now. A jetsetter! She doesn’t have time to text her mom and dad every five minutes. Let her live, Chuck!”

  I smile to myself a little sadly. I love them, of course, but I hope they have no idea what’s happening to me right now. I couldn’t bear the thought of shattering their hopes and dreams for me and my future. They couldn’t take it. I don’t even know how to tell them what has happened, and I’m afraid that if I do, they’ll take me back home, desperate for me to be away from this trauma.

  And I don’t want to go. I don’t want to completely walk off the path, and more than that... I don’t want to leave Max. He’s seen me at my most vulnerable, and has protected me through the worst night’s sleep I’ve ever had, and that might not seem like a lot, but it formed a fast connection between us.

  Besides, there’s a full-blown crisis blooming dangerously all around me, and I have enough to worry about in the here and now. First of all, where is Maggie? I still don’t know if she’s even alive or dead. With what little I know of these slaver assholes, it could go either way. It probably depends on whether things worked out with her “buyer.” I shudder at the thought of my new friend being traded away like some luxury good. Like she’s just a pretty thing to use and abuse until she drops dead.

  And to think… that was very nearly my fate, too.

  I can’t allow myself to believe that Maggie is dead, even though I doubt her life is preferable at the moment. I desperately hope that whatever filthy man purchased her isn’t abusing her too harshly. I feel sick at the thought of her being mistreated. Maggie is so sheltered and soft — how would she ever survive?

  I wonder if her parents have any idea what’s going on. I know they’d probably have the money and power to save her, if anyone did. But then again, I don’t think these guys would so easily give her up just for the sake of money. I get the feeling that this goes beyond a simple pay-off, that there’s something more sinister. Like they do this for the thrill. Or because they just flat-out hate women. And if they were so happy to torture me before, when I was just a vulnerable, helpless girl in their clutches, how much worse would it get now that they’ve seen me with Max? Now that they know I’m an accomplice? An active opponent?

  “We’re going away,” Max says suddenly, shaking me from my thoughts.

  “Where?” I ask quietly, peering over the console at the side of his smooth face. His expression still reveals nothing about his state of mind, and his even tone doesn’t offer much either. I wish he would do something — anything — to indicate what he’s feeling.

  “A different safe house I have used in the past,” he answers simply.

  “For how long?” I question, feeling a little nauseous. I still don’t have my phone or any of my stuff. And I remember what Felix said about his own time at a safe house years ago — no computer, no going out. No nothing.

  “I can’t answer that,” Max says reluctantly. He glances over at me as the car turns round a corner. There’s a soft pleading light to his gaze. “You have to trust me.”

  “I do,” I reply quickly. And I know it to be true. I trust him, implicitly, with my life. He’s earned that, at least. “Is Felix going to be okay?”

  A smile twitches at Max’s lips. “I think so. He’s more resilient than his looks would have you think. He knows the drill. Don’t worry about him.”

  “And what about us?” I press, biting my lip.

  The hint of a smile dissipates instantly. “We’re going to get through this. I won’t let anything happen to you, Liv.”

  “I’m sorry I got you into this,” I burst out suddenly, the dam of emotions having broken open to allow a flood of pent-up guilt and shame. “If not for me, none of this would have happened. Maggie would be okay. We’d all just be at the university doing exactly what we were supposed to do.”

  Max’s arm reaches over the console, his hand landing on my knee gently. I recoil at the soft touch, my jumpiness betraying how scared I really am. He gives me a pained, broken look.

  “Do not blame yourself for this. It isn’t your fault. The blame rests elsewhere — with me, with those Chechen thugs, but not with you. Liv. You have to understand: these men are veterans of the trade. They know exactly what to do. You never stood a chance,” he explains.

  I feel a lump forming in my throat. “If I had just stayed in that night… if I had listened to my instincts…”

  “He would have only found another way to ensnare you,” Max breaks in, shaking his head as he pulls the car onto a busy highway. I realize vaguely that we’ve been driving for quite some time, with Paris falling away behind us in the rear-view mirror.

  “I just wish I had been smarter. I-I should have known better,” I murmur.

  “No, Liv. You are the victim here. You and Maggie. The guilt cannot be placed on the victim. You did not choose for this to happen to you,” he says firmly, his hand finding mine and giving it a squeeze. I nod, gulping back the tears threatening to fall. I have to be strong now.

  “Where are we going?” I ask, forcing myself to change the subject.

  “A small house I own out in the countryside,” he answers. “It’s off the books, untraceable for now. We will stay there until I can determine our next move. It will be a few hours’ drive, so if you want to rest, go ahead.”

  I feel an untameable tingle at his phrasing: our next move. Not his. Ours. As though he trusts me, considers me a worthy partner, despite all the trouble I’ve caused. I have to admit that the sentiment spurs my self-confidence.

  “I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep at the moment,” I confess honestly. My nerves are still aflame and my whole body is tensed up. “There’s a lot running through my mind right now.”

  “I understand. But try, if you can. You’ve been through quite a lot, malyutka,” Max says gently, and I’m amazed at the tenderness in his voice. It still shocks me how sharply this version of Maksim Pavlenko contrasts with the stiff, intimidating man I met back in the States. It occurs to me that Boris called me the same word in Russian that Max just used, but with none of the sneering. It doesn’t hurt when he says it. It’s not an insult in his voice.

  “What does that word mean? Malyutka?” I ask, sounding out the foreign word crudely.

  “Ah, the closest in English is ‘little one’,” he says, seeming a little embarrassed by having to tell me, but I can’t help but smile a little. It’s a strange word, but the way he says it makes my heart pitter-patter.

  He smiles in return, and for several moments, we sit in a calm sort of silence. It’s not long before I can’t tame my nagging thoughts, though.

  “What’s going to happen to Maggie?” I ask sadly, pulling my legs up into the seat and getting more comfortable. Max does his best to keep his expression neutral, but I can see the flicker of worry across his face.

  “Nothing, provided I get to her soon enough. And I promise you I will. If what you heard them say is true and she’s already been sold, then she’s been moved to another facility to await the trade-off with her buyer. I won’t lie to you, Liv, if they’ve taken her to that last stop… her current conditions may not be good,” he relates to me, more openly than I expected.

  “What do you mean? What will they
do to her there?” I breathe, suddenly feeling terribly cold and depressed. I had hoped things would be better for her, not worse.

  “Keep in mind that we do not know for sure if that’s where they’ve taken her. It has been a long, long time since I ran with that pack of wolves. Their methods may have changed,” Max says, clearly reluctant to share details. But I need to know, even if it hurts.

  “Tell me what you know. Please,” I beg him, folding both my hands over his. He looks over at me and sighs. I can tell he wants to lie to protect me, and there’s a battle behind his beautiful eyes, but the truth wins out.

  “Before a girl is handed off to her new master, she is taken to a place where she is kept separately from the others. Some of the brutes call it ‘finishing school.’ It is where she must be broken in, polished off and prepared for her new life,” he explains darkly.

  “Broken in… how?” I press.

  “The methods vary. Sometimes they starve her, refuse to let her sleep. This weakens her and makes her more pliant for the master, who is almost always looking for a malleable, soft girl who will do as she’s told. And if she retains any hint of spirit, any iskra, they will do whatever they deem necessary to break her. It is terrible, especially if the girl fights back,” Max describes, his voice heavy. I can tell it hurts him deeply to discuss this.

  “Well, then maybe it is better that Maggie is already so quiet and obedient,” I assure the both us. “Besides, she’s a smart girl. I’m sure she’ll figure out their game and do whatever she has to do to survive.”

  What I don’t say, what I’m really thinking, is that it will be unnecessary to try and break her because she’s already broken. She was inconsolable when we were trapped in that cell together, already falling apart beyond repair. Maggie was too afraid to even utter a coherent word, much less defy anything they asked of her.

  “She will be alright,” Max says assuredly. “I’m sure of it.”

  “Yeah,” I say to myself softly, my eyes feeling heavy. I am exhausted, and before long I manage to drift off to a fitful sleep.

  When I wake, I’m being carried over the threshold into a little white Tudor-style cottage with brown trim and shutters. As my vision clears I realize that the sun is setting, and that we’re in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by dense green forest. This looks like a picturesque fairy-tale illustration, like we stepped right out of reality and into a children’s book. But it’s real — from the Spartan furnishings to the unmistakable, ominous call of an owl somewhere in the woods.

  It’s terribly quiet here except for the sounds of birds and the trees bowing in the wind. There can’t be another soul out here for miles. Just the two of us. Alone.

  Max takes me into a tiny bedroom and lays me down softly on the small wooden bed. The sheets are clean, to my surprise, and I wonder who Max has been paying to come all the way out here to maintain this place. I’m sure some lucky maid is making a fortune from it.

  Thinking I’m still asleep, Max heads back out into the main room to make a few calls. He speaks in hushed tones, one call in French, another in Russian. I can’t make out a word of what’s being said, only that the news he receives can’t be good. He groans in frustration and I hear him lean against a wall heavily, defeated. I can’t keep up my charade any longer. I have to go to him.

  I slide off the bed, careful not to mess up the crisp white sheets, and walk into the other room cautiously. Max is standing with his eyes closed and his arms folded over his chest. He looks like a tragic hero, a romantic prince thwarted by the villain one too many times. I want nothing more than to rush to him and melt into his arms, reassure him. There’s something about this place, so far from the bustling Parisian streets, like another world altogether. One inhabited by only two: Max and me.

  “What happened?” I ask timidly. Max’s eyes flutter open and he looks over at me.

  “My connections are tied at the moment. We have to wait for more information before we move on. We’ll have to stay here for at least the night,” he admits grimly.

  I’m a little disappointed, but I know that we won’t save Maggie by rushing anything. We need to be cautious, even more so now, and I nod at him gently.

  “It’s okay. We’ll take the time to do things right.”

  He runs a large hand back through his dark hair and sighs. “It isn’t fair to you, Liv. I will stand guard tonight while you sleep.”

  “No, that’s silly,” I disagree, shaking my head. “You need to rest, too.”

  “I promise I will get some rest in here. On the floor.”

  “Why would you do that? There’s a perfectly good bed in there,” I tell him, confused as to why he’s acting so cagey all of a sudden.

  “That’s where you will sleep,” he replies.

  “Right. And you, too.”

  Max stares at me, his expression conflicted. “We can’t do that again, Liv,” he says softly.

  I take a step closer, frowning. “Why not?”

  “As I said, it isn’t fair. It isn’t right.”

  “I’m not complaining,” I tell him firmly. “Unless you… unless you just don’t want to.”

  He looks physically pained by the assumption. “No,” he responds quickly.

  “Then why not, Max? We’ve shared a bed already. I’ve seen you — all of you. It doesn’t matter anymore how we got here.” My words aren’t planned, they just tumble out, raw and unfinished, the unbridled truth. His blazing eyes search my face desperately, though I don’t know what he’s looking for. He turns to face me, reaching out hesitantly to take my hands.

  “Why aren’t you afraid of me?” he murmurs, almost more to himself than to me.

  I cock my head to the side. “Because I know you. Felix told me everything, Max. I have no reason to fear you.”

  Max moves closer, the internal struggle evident on his face. “It was much easier for me when you did,” he whispers.

  “Too late now,” I reply quietly, tilting my face upward as our lips meet in an inevitable, questioning kiss. His lips are so soft and sensuous against mine, cautious at first. And then his hands move to pull me closer and I gasp into his mouth as he kisses me more passionately. My whole body tingles with pent-up desire. I have known from the first moment his skin touched mine that this would happen. I knew we would end up here. It was only a matter of time.

  We were always walking down this path. I just never saw it until now.

  His one hand wraps itself in my hair, tugging gently, while the other slides down to cup my ass. I can feel his cock straining through his trousers, hard against my thigh. His arms wrap around me and in one shared, fluid movement, he supports me as I hoist myself up into his embrace, my legs folding around his waist. His lips trail down my jaw to nip at my neck, making me gasp and moan in pleasure. I’ve never been touched like this before — never even been kissed except for that one unnatural, unwanted kiss from Will.

  But this… I want this more than anything, without a hint of doubt.

  Being so close, his scent teases my nose, a rugged cologne that brings out his masculinity. I’ve never been so aware of how someone smells, how they touch, and certainly never how they tasted. His tongue presses in against mine and a thrill goes down my spine as my mouth opens to let him explore.

  My eyes close, and for a moment, it’s like the entire world stands still. All the tension of the day drains away as I’m held by him, as his mouth moves from mine down to my neck, and back again. He’s ravenous for me, his body intent on exploring mine. It’s a thrill I’ve never known, and my hips slowly start grinding against his waist, needy for more.

  Max carries me easily into the bedroom and presses me down into the bed, crawling over me and kneeling to take off his jacket and shirt, revealing his strong, broad chest and muscular arms. I look again over his scarred chest, over all the marks of his storied past, and this time I don’t recoil. This time I just accept them, like I accept him. My fingertips go to the burn mark, lightly touching it, as if in apology for
all the pain it has caused him. It was a symbol of who he was, and now it’s gone, but never forgotten.

  He bends down to kiss me again, his fingers trailing down to tug my leggings down, tossing them aside, then doing the same with my flowy tank top. I feel so vulnerable, but at the same time... that feels good. Because I can trust him. The way he looks at me, over my partially nude body, makes my breathing hitch in my throat. I wonder what he’s thinking about when he’s looking at me.

  I don’t have to wonder long, though, because quickly his mouth drops to my collarbones, and he’s licking and suckling my skin, his hands working up and down my legs.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he says, his voice huskier with passion. “From the first moment I saw you, I knew I’d have to watch myself with you.”

  His words send a jolt through my nerves, and he lifts me up against him, grazing his teeth along the hollow behind my ear as he unhooks my bra and drops it over the side of the bed. Gently laying me back down, he hovers over me a moment, his enigmatic green eyes surveying my bare breasts. I always feared that I would feel uncertain in this moment, but instead I just feel liberated.

  I feel wanted.

  “I tried to resist you,” he says, his fingers running over my flesh, along my rib cage, exploring me with his fingertips. “I know I should, even now. But I’ve never felt like this for a woman, and I don’t know if I’ll ever have this chance again.”

  His honesty startles me, and I have to bite my lip just to keep from gasping. I had no idea I meant that much to him. I had no idea I could mean that much to anyone. My fingers go to his dark, tousled hair, and they run through it, guiding his mouth back to mine.

  “I want you to be my first, Max,” I say, and that makes him pause. That battle again goes on behind his eyes, the knowledge that we shouldn’t be doing this. I’m his student, someone he’s supposed to be looking out for, but I think he’s done that better for me than anyone ever could.