Stolen from the Hitman: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance

by Alexis Abbott

  She climbs her way back to the ground with ease, and we slip around the side of the building cautiously, peeking around each corner as if expecting a gunman behind each one, but there isn’t a sign of life to be found.

  Finally, we reach the guard post at the front entrance, and my suspicion is confirmed — there’s nobody here. I draw my pistol, moving close to the booth, and I stand up over it and push the gun through the open window.

  Nothing.

  I look around at the courtyard and see only a lone squirrel bound away from us near a decorative tree. A fountain towards the center is turned off, and it’s deathly silent all around. We head in, keeping close to the walls and moving around the side of the building.

  My eyes are on the windows, waiting for a curtain to move or for me to see a pair of eyes watching us or a rifle scope trained on us, but there’s simply nothing. Something starts to nag at me, and I start to take out my phone to call Felix when I catch Liv out of the corner of my eye, climbing up the side of the wall towards one of the balconies.

  “Liv!” I hiss, alarmed and stepping forward towards the building.

  But she’s already up at a balcony, and to my astonishment, she just peeks into the window doors as if she were breaking into her own home. “Nothing,” she mouths down to me.

  I climb up after her, my old instincts kicking in like riding a bike after a long time, and I land beside her, moving forward to pick the lock to the place. The lock clicks after a moment, giving me pause. I’d have expected unlocked doors and windows if they were expecting to ambush us.

  Before I can stop her, Liv slips inside, and I follow after her, pistol out and to the ready.

  “Oh my god…” she breathes as she looks out on what she sees, and I frown deeply.

  We’re on the second floor of the building, standing on a walkway. The floor ends about five feet into the building, and an ornate metal railing lines the edge that opens out to a full view of the ground floor, which is a stunning sight. There are Italian busts and statues lining the walls, remarkably expensive plants garnishing each one at the base. What seems to be a marble fountain sits in the middle of the room, and I see rose petals scattered throughout the whole place.

  “It’s beautiful,” Liv says.

  “If you could see what takes place in lavish manors like these,” I say grimly, “you’d change your tone.”

  We start to make our way inside, and it doesn’t take long to realize the place seems as empty as the exterior was. There isn’t a sound to be heard nor a light on. We make our way down the stairs, and the sight before us starts to become a little clearer.

  There’s a grand piano on display, and I can see empty champagne glasses sitting on it and the edge of the fountain, a bottle left here and there. As I move up to inspect them, I notice that some have red lipstick still on the rim. The black of the piano reveals a fine white powder in very trace amounts near some of the glasses, and to my disgust, I notice a used condom shoved behind the leg of the instrument.

  “Hell of a party,” Liv says, but her tone is more somber now, and I know she’s thinking of the same thing I am: where was Maggie for all this?

  Further inspection of the room reveals more of the same. There seems to have been some kind of wild, hedonistic revelry here in the recent past, but everyone seems to have cleared out very quickly. The entire time Liv and I look the place over, my pistol is out, and my eyes spend half their time focusing on the doors to other rooms, just waiting for the mob to burst in.

  No such thing happens.

  I move over to the front door and find it locked. “Whoever left the house really abandoned this place,” I say, unlocking the door for our convenience before moving back to the center of the room with Liv, who’s sitting on the edge of the fountain and gazing down into the waters thoughtfully. “I don’t think Maggie is here any longer, Liv.”

  “I want to check the basements and the guest rooms,” she says, looking at me, but her eyes tell me she doesn’t quite have confidence in her own claims.

  “We will,” I say, putting a hand on her shoulder as I sit down beside her, and the next moment, she throws her arms around me, pressing her face into my chest and suppressing a sob.

  “They could have done anything to her here, Max,” she says, fists clenching in my clothes. “How can people be so evil? She doesn’t know anyone in this country but me. If it weren’t for you, I might have been here too!” She looks up at me, tears in her eyes, and I put my hand against her cheek, leaning forward and kissing her on the lips.

  “These men are hardly human,” I say as I break the kiss, looking at her with a stony gaze. “They gave up their right to live when they began this ring under my watch. I said what I meant when I told you I’ll find her. We’ll find her, Liv.” I smile and return her hug, holding her tightly and comfortingly. “You’re a remarkable woman with remarkable talents. Maggie couldn’t ask for a better friend.”

  Liv looks up to me, some small reassurance in her eyes now, and she opens her mouth to talk when a sounds snaps our attention to the front door.

  It swings open forcefully, and I stand up, my hands gripping my pistol with trained expertise as it moves up to point straight at the figure who bursts into the manor before our eyes.

  21

  Liv

  I shrink back behind Max instinctively, my heart pounding violently in my ribcage. My eyes follow the length of his muscular arms to his fingers wrapped confidently around a gun. I can feel my blood running cold at the sight of the man I adore holding such a horrible weapon. People back home in North Carolina are obsessed with guns, but I’ve never been a fan, myself. Too many things can go wrong.

  And I’ve never seen someone hold a gun like Max, never seen that expression in someone’s eyes. It’s the same expression I saw on him back in the basement when he saved me. Dark, cool. Prepared. There’s no way he’s going to mess this up.

  There’s a beat, though, and Max delays. I poke my head out from around him, curious as to what’s happening, and I see Felix throw his arms up in a gesture of surrender, his eyes going even bigger behind his spectacles. His mouth falls open and he stops short, staring at Max’s gun.

  “Whoa! Saint-merde! I come with bad news, but don’t shoot the messenger!” he squeaks, shaking his head vigorously.

  Max lowers the gun and places it back in the holster at his hip, under his jacket. Somehow I hadn’t even noticed it there, despite the fact that I’ve been with him almost every second for the past few days. I suppose that’s why he’s so good at this: years and years of experience have taught him how to be subtle. It would be terrifying if I was on the other end of it, but from where I’m standing, it’s a godsend. Having Max on my side is encouraging in all kinds of ways. I know I don’t have to be afraid when I’m with him. He can protect the both of us better than anyone else can.

  Felix comes trudging over, shrugging off his former terror and adopting an air of casual detachment, as usual. Max asks, “You said you have bad news. Anything to do with the fact that this place is dead empty?”

  The younger man nods, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “Oh yeah. There’s nobody here because the party has traded up venues. The signal’s moved.”

  “To where?” Max questions, ready to jump into action. He reaches over to take my hand, preparing to run. It warms my heart to see just how naturally he reaches for me — like I’m second nature to him now, already. And it’s true. Being with him, following him around, being at his side… it all feels right. Like I’m supposed to be here, and my whole life has just been one long waiting period, the calm before a beautiful, impossible storm.

  And I know what I’m doing is dangerous, and he doesn’t want me in the thick of it. Maybe being so close to death has made me more fearless, or maybe knowing that I need to save Maggie from an awful fate is what’s pushing me forward.

  Or maybe it’s simply what I said to Max. I want to keep him safe, like he’s been keeping me safe.

/>   “Don’t get too excited. I’ve got more bad news,” Felix quips, holding up one finger. “The phone must be dead. The signal disappeared while I was tracking it, so I can only assume it ran out of juice or someone caught on and turned the damn thing off. I have no idea where they went, Max. I’m sorry.”

  For once, there’s no note of derision or sarcasm in his voice. Felix knows what a blow this is, how truly screwed we are now. Max looks down, his dark brows furrowed. I squeeze his hand gently, watching his face. Finally, he looks back up, takes a deep breath, and shrugs.

  “Well, est' shto est'. We can’t stay here and wait on the off chance they’ll come back. Our best bet right now is just to go somewhere safe and wait for more information,” he says gravely.

  “Where will we go? Back to the cottage in the country?” I ask, gazing up at Max.

  He’s deep in thought. Felix and I wait patiently for him to answer.

  Finally, he says, “No. I don’t want to go that far this time, just in case they’re closer to the city. I want to be ready. Besides, it’s late. We need to go somewhere to rest, and the cottage is a long drive from here. I’ll get us hotel rooms. You, too, Felix.”

  “D’accord! We can spend the night strategizing! I’ve got an idea for —”

  Max holds up his hand to stop him, shaking his head. There’s a slightly bemused smile pulling at his lips. “No, you’ll have your own room.”

  Felix looks back and forth between the two of us, realization dawning on his face. He looks a little put-out, but he plays it off like it’s nothing. “Oh. Yeah, yeah. Bien sûr,” he quips, waving it off.

  “How did you get here? Taxi?” Max asks, starting to head toward the exit. Felix and I stride after him, trying to keep up.

  “Yeah.”

  “Good. You’ll ride with us now to the hotel.”

  “What hotel?”

  Max’s face breaks into the first genuine, unabashed smile I’ve seen on his face for a while. He glances across at me, those bright green eyes flashing. “I think we’ve all had enough stress to warrant some, ah, more comfortable accommodations.”

  Felix lights up. “Free Wi-Fi, I assume?”

  “Bien sûr,” Max says, winking at him. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him wink before. He’s trying to lighten the bleak mood that’s overtaken us, and as crestfallen as I am, I appreciate the gesture.

  I can’t help but wonder where he’s taking us as we load into the car and drive away from the manor. Felix is chattering away in the backseat, trying to make small talk. It’s obvious that he’s kind of a lonely guy. I get the feeling he’s not used to having people around. I wonder what he does to pass the time these days, now that he’s not working at the school anymore. I turn around in the front passenger seat to face him.

  “Felix, what do you do nowadays? I mean, where do you work?” I ask. He blinks at me in complete surprise, then warms to the subject immediately. Next to me in the driver’s seat Max is smiling, clearly pleased that I’m trying to make a connection with his friend. Felix may be weird and more than a little bit obnoxious, but I can tell he’s got a good heart.

  “Oh, mostly work-from-home hacker stuff. People hire me to… investigate things. Look into their cheating spouse’s finances, check up on international business transactions, you know. Sensitive stuff, but nothing too top-secret,” he explains, trying to be nonchalant.

  “That’s impressive,” I remark. “You’re pretty much a private investigator.”

  The faintest blush colors his cheeks. “Yeah, basically. Gotta make a living somehow. Paris is not a cheap city to live in.”

  “You wouldn’t change it for the world, though, would you?” I comment. Felix shakes his head incredulously.

  “Saperlotte, no! This is the best city on the planet. Even if they raised my rent every single month, I would find a way to stay here,” Felix replies passionately. “I never belonged back in that boring little town where I grew up. This is my home.”

  “And I guess now it’s mine, too,” I murmur, turning back around in my seat.

  Max shoots me a slightly concerned glance at my shift in tone. I should know better than to try and hide anything from him. He picks up on my homesickness, the twinge of sorrow in my voice. I do love Paris — it’s beautiful and historic, it feels like living in a fairy-tale setting. But it’s still a foreign place to me. The streets don’t feel welcoming and familiar like they do back home in the tiny, quiet town of Toast.

  It probably hurt my first impression to be kidnapped my first night here.

  “To be fair, you haven’t really gotten the best impression of Paris so far,” Felix comments, reading my thoughts. It’s true. So far, I’ve been drugged, kidnapped, threatened, and my roommate has been stolen to who knows where. My whole life has been turned upside down.

  “I hope my parents are okay. I-I’m scared that they’re worried about me,” I say quietly.

  Max reaches across the console to take my hand. “Don’t be afraid. I’ve taken care of that,” he says, a little mysteriously.

  “What do you mean?” I ask, confused.

  Felix pipes up, “Can I tell her?”

  Max sighs and nods. “Go ahead.”

  “So, we knew your parents would want to hear from you so they wouldn’t freak out and think something was wrong—”

  “Because they would be right to think that,” I interject.

  “Yeah,” Felix agrees, a little sheepishly. “So, basically, Max had me break into your phone to access your texts. I ran your outgoing messages through a style-simulation software I built and it basically learned how to emulate your way of speaking. Via text, of course.”

  “Wait, what?” I stop him, totally bewildered at this point, both by the confusing explanation and the apparent invasion of privacy I had no awareness of until now.

  “Okay. Let me break it down for you,” he says, and I choose to ignore the hint of unintentional condescension in his tone. “Everyone has their own way of talking. Everyone sounds a little different. And your parents know you better than anyone, so if I were going to send them messages, I needed them to sound totally convincing. So what I did was take a sample of the texts you sent in the past, run them through my style-copy program on my computer, and it learned how to essentially mimic you. So I’ve been texting your parents en secret, keeping them updated on how things would be going at school… if you were actually going.”

  I sit in silence for a long moment, trying to work through how I should feel about this revelation. On the one hand, I’m a little miffed and offended at having my privacy so harshly intruded upon. After all, it kind of crosses a line to have Felix, a near stranger, impersonating me in conversations with my own parents whom he’s never met. But on the other hand, it’s nice to know that my parents have been kept totally out of the loop on this whole messy situation. The last thing I need is for them to worry about me. And knowing how overprotective my father is, he probably would have called the police, Interpol, and the President by now if he had even the slightest inclination to believe I’m in trouble. So really this is for the greater good. Even if it kind of sucks to have it happen this way.

  “And you’re sure they don’t suspect a thing?” I ask slowly.

  “They’re convinced it’s you talking to them. They’re hanging on your every fake text. What’s the phrase you Americans use? Hook, line, and sinker?” Felix says adamantly.

  “Alright. Well, I can’t say I’m particularly enthused about having your computer pretend to be me, but still, if it keeps my parents from having an aneurysm worrying about me, I guess it’s okay,” I admit reluctantly.

  “We’re here,” Max comments, changing the subject. I look out the window into the midnight darkness. The streetlights cast a fuzzy, romantic glow over the cobblestone streets and I crane my neck to look up at the gorgeous, pale building beside us, numerous open windows decorating its smooth face. I squinted to make out the golden letters flanked on either side by French flags which read Le
Meurice.

  “Merde,” Felix whispers, his eyes round and huge.

  “I have a friend who works the concierge,” Max remarks. “I’ve convinced him to book a junior suite for you, Felix.”

  “What about us?” I ask, turning to look at Max. He gives me a grin.

  “We’re on the seventh floor. The Belle Etoile Suite,” he tells me. These words don’t mean much to me until we enter the lobby of the building and my jaw drops instantly.

  This place is beautiful, absolutely breathtaking. Felix heads off to his own suite, nearly floating away down the hall, he’s so giddy. Max takes me by the hand and leads me up to the top floor, where our room is located.

  “Max, this is amazing,” I breathe, turning in a slow circle to take in the vaulted ceilings, white carved panel walls, luxurious fabrics, monstrously-huge bed, vintage furniture, and balcony. As I walk toward the double doors which open to the outside, I notice that it isn’t just a balcony — it’s a full terrace, with a full view of the cityscape in all directions.

  I feel a strong hand on my shoulder, Max’s thumb tracing a circle on the nape of my neck as we both step through the doors. Even though it’s warm outside, this far up there’s a lovely breeze that swirls around us, lifting my hair in playful tousles. We have a perfect view of the Eiffel Tower illuminated in the distance, the moon hanging like an antique lantern, casting a sepia glow over the sleeping city.

  It’s beautiful, and I can feel tears of overwhelming emotion rising in my eyes. Despite the terror of the past several days, the danger both past and future — I can’t help but give in to the intense beauty of the moment. Everything is so still and quiet and calm up here, just the two of us pressed together under the starry sky.

  And if I’d never been kidnapped, this never would’ve happened. I’d never have realized how much Max draws me in. I’d have been left with a stern instructor who was hiding so much inside, practicing every day and never experiencing this one, perfect moment.