Captive of the Hitman: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance Novel

by Alexis Abbott

  His broad jaw sets tight, and he looks at the food, taking a deep breath.

  “I’ve told them that there were no witnesses. That you must have left the scene before I hit. The local boss is paranoid and wants to take you out just in case,” he explains, turning his gaze towards me, staring hard. “But when you don’t show up for a while, and nothing comes of it...you will be forgotten. Business moves on, as usual. As it must,” he explains firmly.

  I shift forward. This is dumb. I shouldn’t be getting closer to him. I shouldn’t be placing my hand on his jaw, my fingers caressing him tenderly.

  And the worst part is I don’t even know if it’s all just a ploy to get him to let me go or if I just want to touch him. To know he’s real, to feel that stubble beneath my palm.

  “You’re trying to do the right thing,” I say more softly, and I truly believe that’s what he thinks he’s doing. Hell, maybe that is what he’s doing. Maybe, beneath that gruff exterior and hard gaze and that gun on his hip, he really is my knight in shining armor.

  My fingers trace back over his jaw towards that red scar on his face, and I watch as his rugged features contort into a look of curiosity. He’s almost as confused by my actions as I am.

  “I am not a school boy to be manipulated,” he says, his voice a little quieter. “I am looking after you, not because I’m out to be the hero. Not because I expect some big thank-you.” He reaches up and wraps his hand about my wrist, that grasp of his so tight as he rises up to tower over me again. “I saved you because I wanted to. I’ll keep you alive because that’s my desire. It is no more complicated than that, and I expect nothing else than for this to end with you alive and well, if cranky.”

  My breathing quickens despite myself as my gaze is forced upwards. He’s just a hair’s breadth away from me, and if I leaned forward just a little, my chest would be pressed against his abs. It’s tempting, for all the wrong reasons.

  “Why did you want to save me?” I ask, surprised at how quiet and shaky my voice has become.

  He’s still holding my hand, and though I can no longer touch his jaw where he keeps it, I could reach out, touch that broad, hard chest of his if I wanted. If I wasn’t quaking before the towering Russian.

  But that question seems to stump him a little, or maybe he’s just not sure if he wants to be honest, because he doesn’t answer right away.

  “Because I chose to, that’s all there is to it,” he says, releasing my arm. But even this stoic brute doesn’t do a good job of hiding the truth this time, because I can tell there’s more.

  It hangs between us, but I don’t push. Not this time. Not if I hope to see him let me go from my prison cell.

  And do what? That voice in the back of my mind nags at me. I want to be free just because I don’t like being trapped, but even I understand the risks, if those men are actually after me. But on the outside, there’s people I can go to for help. People I know and trust.

  “I can’t stay here, Mikhail,” I say softly. I don’t know if it frightens me more to stay with him or leave, but at least on the outside, I’m free.

  “But you have to all the same,” he says to me with a tone of finality, stepping around me and going right for the door. “There’s plenty of leftovers, and more food in the cupboards and fridge,” he reminds me, but I don’t care about those things.

  “Wait!” I say, and try to follow after him, tugging at the door. But it’s no use, he pulls it shut tight against my resistance, undaunted by my feeble attempts to stop him. And it slams shut. Leaving me alone inside.

  “Damn it,” I curse, and I find myself staring at the closed door, picturing him on the other side, filled with a sense of longing that definitely should not exist. I can still feel the imprint of his hand on my wrist, and I touch it tenderly before my heart drops and I return to my bland captivity without the spark of his presence.

  5

  Mikhail

  She’s a pain in the ass.

  So why am I putting myself out on the line for her? I don’t kill women, I tell myself. No different than my sticking up for Nikita years ago.

  But that doesn’t mean I have to go out of my way to save her. I could have just dumped her off somewhere with a warning, leave her fate in her own hands. But I know a girl like her has no way of understanding the trouble she’s in, nor how serious it is. Ditching her anywhere with a simple warning would have been the same as a death sentence. That’s all.

  Why did I just sit and eat dinner with her? That’s a question I can’t answer as easily. I’ve never sat down and ate a meal with Nikita, not in all the years since I helped her upon arrival. When she was emaciated and starving after her trip over, I brought her food and left her to it.

  I can’t even remember the last time I actually sat and spoke with a woman casually over dinner. I may not hurt women, but I don’t deal with them either.

  Yet this one…

  I have to get her out of my life quickly.

  6

  Alicia

  Things were so quiet in my little hideaway-slash-prison that I just cried myself to sleep after a news report about the murder of the congressman and the search for a missing witness. Me.

  That’s why it struck me as so odd, I guess, when I awake from my nap to the sound of movement. I’m put on edge immediately, because it could be anyone. Maybe it’s my captor come back, or maybe it’s the police. Or worst of all, it might be those mobsters out to eliminate the last witness.

  That last possibility is the one that sticks out in my mind so much and makes my heart thump noisily in my chest, because it’s the stuff my tortured dreams had been made of all night.

  I get up, still dressed in the simple silk nightdress I’d found in the closet, my bare feet padding over the hard floor as I make my way out of the room.

  I can hear the sounds, but they aren’t coming from inside. It’s like the sound of scuffing, mixed with the sound of metal. My heart is going haywire, and I creep closer to the door to hear. Light streams in from underneath, along that very narrow crack.

  Grunting.

  Oh lord, what if there’s a fight happening outside my door right now?

  I want to run and hide, but I know if they’re here for me, hiding is only delaying the inevitable. If I’m going to live, I need to run.

  But the door is locked…

  I reach out with trembling fingers towards that cold metal door knob, and gently wrap my hand around it. I do my best to be quiet, but I’m no pro. I only hope the scuffle outside keeps them distracted as I turn…

  And it opens. It’s not locked.

  I’m more surprised than thankful at first, but I very slowly open the door and peer out. The light blinds me for a second, but I squint through. Outside is a large brick hallway, and it seems to be empty but for the light spilling out of the room across the hall.

  I creep out, my bare feet helping me stay quiet as I look to the elevator at the very end of the hallway. My heart leaps for joy!

  But now, curiosity is getting the better of me, and I peer into the room across the hall. There, my captor awaits.

  His back is mostly turned, but he’s alone. All alone. The sounds I heard seem to be him working out. The room itself is just a bare-bones chamber, filled with gym equipment. Weights, pull-up bar, and more. But there he is, almost naked but for a pair of black boxer-briefs clinging to his thick thighs and groin.

  I’m hypnotized watching him, frankly. He pulls himself up as those glistening muscles bulge, biceps swelling so large as he seamlessly hoists up then eases himself back down, all control. He’s well over six feet tall, and must weigh in excess of 200lbs of sheer muscle, but he moves with a certain grace that comes with that practiced workout.

  He’s engrossed in his routine, and now is the time to make my getaway…but here I am, staring at him instead. Gawking like a schoolgirl seeing a hunk working out for the first time. And in some ways, that feels so true. Because no guy I’ve seen before looks anything like this Mikhail.
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  He’s tall, dark, and ruggedly handsome, sure. Ripped from head to toe, yeah. But those scars, those strange tattoos of his…all so unique. I can’t deny the attraction and the curiosity I feel about him. Especially not since I’m standing here instead of running out into the street and finding my way home, like I should be doing.

  I don’t know if it’s just the stress of the past few days, either, but watching him work out is getting me hornier than all hell. Not that cute kind of horny after a drink or two, or when you’re with someone new. This is more primal than either of those things, and I catch the scent of his fresh sweat in the air, and that only helps to ignite the fire burning within me.

  Everything he’s told me has been the truth. He’s been protecting me from someone far worse than him. But he’s a killer. The conflicting thoughts swirl within me and then fade away to pure, simple, easy passion.

  I can make a run for it.

  Or I could walk into his gym, grab him through his boxer briefs, and work out my aggression on his body.

  Part of my decision gets made for me, however, because with a grunt, he lets himself drop once more and speaks up.

  “Are you going to stand there all day?” he asks in that deep, dark voice of his, so rich and delicious you could drizzle it over pancakes.

  He hadn’t needed to so much as turn to see me, and I can only presume my time spent staring gave me away somehow. But when his eyes turn towards me, so deep and smoldering, I feel a little weak in the knees.

  Okay, a lot weak in the knees. Not even just the shock of him seeing me, but the way his body gleams with perspiration, and his gaze is locked on mine. Everything about him and his body calls out to me, and even though I should resist, I take a step forward.

  And then another.

  It’s like I’m under his spell, though even I know it’s only the spell of lust. Of frustration warped into desperate arousal.

  Hearing the news report and knowing he was telling the truth, knowing that I’m really in danger, makes me want to feel alive. And this man, this killer, is the only one I know who can do that.

  “You left my door unlocked.”

  He delays, and when finally says:

  “Must have been an accident.”

  I know he’s lying to me. It’s easy to tell, because it’s the first lie he’s told. And while he might be the best killer on the planet for all that I’ve seen, he sucks at lying.

  “You learn to spot a liar, working in a politician’s office,” I say, and he furrows his brow.

  I’m in the presence of a military trained killer in better physical condition than any man I’ve ever met. Standing right in front of his glistening, hard body, and I just called him a liar to his face.

  “You really know how to try my patience,” he says, but instead of turning away, he grabs me. Both hands. That strong grip of his taking hold of each hip as he pulls me right up against him. “What is it about you?” he growls in frustration, his voice so dark as his words rumble out, those eyes staring through me. Only the thin fabric separates us, and he’s oh so close.

  He feels amazing. Powerful and terrifying, all at once. The type of guy I should be running from, not the one that I should be subtly grinding against, but I can’t help it. My hips work of their own accord, his hands gripping them but not impeding my motions. He could, if he wanted to.

  I don’t doubt that he could do nearly anything he wanted to to me. I’ve worked with a congressman, but Mikhail has real power. Not just physical power, but his personality, his control...

  “What else do I do to you?”

  Did I really just ask that?

  His answer doesn’t come like I expected though, it comes in the form of a throb. A heated pulse through his loins that swells out against me. His member rising beneath that thin layer of cotton over his groin, and rising fast.

  He doesn’t have any more words for me, because he reaches up with one hand, grasps the back of my hair, and tilts my head to the side.

  He’s in control now, there’s no doubt of that, as there’s no doubting the effect I’m having on his dick, and he lunges down, biting my neck, making me gasp, kissing at me with a desperate, carnal energy. To confirm, his other hand slips right around from my hip and grasps my rear, cupping the cheek and squeezing it tight.

  My skin tingles with his kiss, my sex beginning to throb hard between my thighs. It’s completely unlike me to be attracted to a guy like Mikhail, let alone feeling so hungry for his body. My fingers find his side, nails running over his hip until I meet his spine, and I pull him closer so that our bodies grind into one another with a heated urgency.

  Then with such ease, he just pulls me up, lifting me with one hand as he kisses, licks, and bites at my tender neck. He’s a powerhouse, and I get to feel those hardened pecs, abs, and biceps squeezing against me as he hefts me up. My groin positioned right atop his as that steely shaft pulses with life.

  He finally breaks his hold on my neck to look into my eyes, his breathing heavy, not from the heavy workout, but from desire. And he growls his words at me.

  “There is only one way this is going to end now, Alicia,” he speaks my full name, his member pulsing as it rumbles off his tongue right before he pushes his lips against mine.

  He tastes hot and spicy, like cinnamon mints, and my tongue eagerly presses against his. His words are like a warning, but they sound more like a promise to me, and my legs wrap around his hardened waist.

  My heart thuds rapidly in my chest, and even though I’m being absolutely reckless, it only serves to turn me on more, and my arms wrap around his thick neck. His kiss is as brutal as he is, all control lost as he seeks to nearly bruise my lips against his, but it feels so right.

  I can feel his hand pushing up under the silk nightie, and that hard hand grasps my bare flesh, squeezing my butt cheek so tightly. Each of those long fingers of his mesh with my own softer skin to make my nerves tingle, making the flesh bulge between.

  “You play with fire,” he growls in between smacks of our lips before I realize he’s carried me over to the thick mat on the floor. Only the jarring sensation of his knees hitting the blue mattress-like material shakes me into realization of where we’ve moved.

  I’m still held up in his arms, and he’s fondling me, stroking those rough hands over my skin, along my rear, up alongside my breasts, touching their bare flesh beneath the silk. He’s a real beast of a man, rough, hard, powerful.

  Playing with fire seems to be putting it mildly.

  But it’s the only way I’ve ever felt so deliciously hot. None of the heavy petting with boyfriends past compared.

  “I don’t care,” I whisper.

  I watch his face as his hands trace over my skin with reverence and desire I’ve never experienced before. The intensity of the moment has us both under its spell, and I trace over his pecs. There’s a wound near his collarbone and I can feel the remnants of stitches, and it intrigues me. I’ve never been with a man who had so many scars, so many marks left on him from a dangerous life.

  I’ve also never been so turned on, and my fingertips wander lower, finding his hard abs and delving lower still.

  Just as my dainty fingertips find the cotton bulge, he lowers my back onto the mat, laying me out before him as his smoldering eyes look down with such desire. Those powerful hands pull the night dress off me, almost tearing it in his drive to see me bare.

  “I’ve never felt my cock get so hard over a lone woman before,” he rumbles as my fingers touch that bulge again, graze it as I slip the tips along the waistband. And it’s not hard to believe him, because that shaft is just so massive and thick. His rough, greedy hands go for my bare breasts, lavish them with such fond appreciation, and I can’t help but cry out.

  I stroke him, clumsily, the angle awkward and my spine arching to give him access to my chest. He palms by breasts, my nipples stiff against his flesh as I stare up at him wantonly.

  “I’ve never needed someone so bad,” I confess in re
turn, my pussy screaming for attention as I rub his cock. My hips rise, but there’s no pleasure to be found, not yet. He wants to experience me fully, despite my own ache, and I know the higher he builds me up, the more powerful the crash back to earth will be.

  I tug upon the edge of his boxer-briefs, pulling them down, showing the V-shape of his cut abs leading on towards the tuft of dark hair and then…then…

  My god…

  The hefty shaft that spills out, rock-solid, is huge. Just immense! It’s like the kind of thick, vein-ribbed shaft I’d have to doubt the reality of if I wasn’t watching it pulse before my own eyes, standing out thick and full of heated blood.

  And while I stare agape, he slides his hands down from my chest, curls his digits into the waistband of my panties, and pulls them off. He wads them up into a ball and takes a brief inhale of my scent upon them before he pushes his thumbs into my soft inner thigh flesh, spreading me open wide and staring at my slit.

  “I’m going to fucking stretch you so wide, silly girl,” he rumbles, leaning over me as his boxer-briefs slip further down, and those two heavy balls spill out beneath his shaft.

  It’s a threat and a promise wrapped into one delicious sentence, and I reward him with a nip of his lower lip between my teeth. I’m inciting the beast within him, testing his patience and resolve, but I don’t care. I want to see how far I can push him, and how far he’ll push me back.

  His cock pulses in my palm, the veins prodding my flesh as I squeeze him, tempting him closer to my slickened mound.

  His chest swells as he looms over me, and he pulls me close by his grasp on my legs, so that the thick tip of his manhood grazes my slit, smearing some of my honey upon his covered shaft. He leans in over me, like I’m prey caught by this magnificent predator, and he bites my lip in return as his cock throbs against me.

  “My name will be written on your lips by the time you’re done screaming,” he pledges, just before he angles back his hips, then jabs his cock at me! That thick member pierces me with one hard thrust, stretching me out so incredibly wide it makes my eyes widen, my spine arch, and my throat sing.