The Campus Jock: A College Bad Boy Romance

by Serena Silver

  “Petro, I am bored,” she had told him one day. “I need a job.”

  “You need a daughter,” he had replied.

  “Yes,” she agreed. “But until that occurs, I need to find something to do. I cannot spend my days gossiping with the wives of your business associates. I will go crazy.”

  Petro had thought about it and finally came up with a solution. He gave her his books to look after. It was then that Alina realized just how big a monster she had married. The numbers told stories, disgusting stories of racketeering and murder but the worst fact she had discovered was that her husband was a trafficker. One who bought and sold young girls no less, some of them too young to discuss. It had been enough to keep Alina up at night, for sleep would bring with it terrible nightmares of teenage girls in horrible conditions. She felt as if she were constantly on the verge of crying, unable to look at Petro, let alone make love to him. If he sensed a change in her, he did not mention it, but as the days passed, she became more and more determined to escape. She was smart enough to know that one did not simply walk up to a mob boss and ask for a divorce, hoping for an amicable split. She also knew that if she tapped into any of his resources, she would easily be tracked. Alina agonized for months on how to escape her evil husband. It wasn’t until having lunch with Svetlana one day that she figured out how to do it.

  “Danya left for Australia yesterday,” her cousin told her.

  “Oh?” Alina took a sip of strong coffee and raised an eyebrow with polite interest. The comings and goings of Svetlana’s friends were hardly earth shattering information to Alina. She was painfully aware of Leonid listening to their conversation.

  “Yes. She is marrying a man there,” Svetlana continued. This time Alina’s interest was genuine.

  “When did she meet a man from Australia?” She wracked her brain trying to recall any mention of this but could not.

  “She met him online through one of those order-a-wife sites,” Svetlana groaned. “Can you imagine? Not knowing who you are about to marry but entrusting a stranger to send you money and a plane ticket with that promise. It’s positively primitive.”

  “Yes,” Alina said slowly, shooting a furtive look at Leonid who finally looked as if he had heard enough and was dozing off in his chair. Yes, I can imagine.

  She became aware of Petro’s arm encircling her waist as they stood taking in the view.

  “Is this how you remember it?” he asked. Alina swallowed, trying to brace herself for her impending death.

  “No,” she answered truthfully. “I was much happier when I came here last time.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Petro’s jaw clench.

  “I don’t understand you, Alina. I rescued you from poverty, made you my wife, introduced you to my friends. I gave you everything you ever wanted and how do you repay me? By running off in the middle of the night with another man?”

  “I didn’t run off with another man, Petro. I met another man after I ran off.” She watched as he ground his teeth, obviously steeling his temper. He would not make a scene in front of a crowd, of that she was certain.

  “Why?” he finally asked. “What are you so unhappy that you felt like you had to run away?”

  “Does it really matter?” she sighed. “I was unhappy. I wanted to leave. Would you have let me?”

  “Of course not,” he snapped. “You are my wife. You cannot just walk away from our vows.”

  Alina almost laughed.

  “Petro, I know who you are now. I know what you do for a living!” He scowled, glancing around to ensure her words were not understood, and Alina immediately lowered her voice.

  “That did not seem to bother you when you were driving a Mercedes and wearing diamond earrings, did it?”

  “I didn’t know you were a pimp!” she almost shrieked. “I didn’t know you were kidnapping children and selling them into the sex trade!”

  His grip around her waist tightened, and she was finding it difficult to breathe.

  “You are my wife, Alina. It is your duty to stand by me no matter what,” he hissed, his breath hot in her ear. “Now say you are sorry for making me worry and I will forget this ever happened.”

  “I am not sorry,” she retorted, her anger overriding her fear. “And I hope you don’t forget that it happened because, given the chance, I will do it again!” The silence was thick, and Alina wished she had not said so much. You have gone too far.

  “Alina, you will never leave me again,” he told her with certainty.

  “You can kill me, Petro. That is the only way to guarantee such a thing,” she laughed. A slow, cruel smile formed on his full mouth.

  “If you ever try to leave me again, I will kill your beloved Jon, мила.”

  Chapter Ten

  Lufthansa flight 120 arrived on schedule at 8:15 a.m. Jon was the first person at the doors.

  “Sir, I am sorry, but we need to allow for handicapped passengers to disembark first,” the flight attendant told him tightly, a condescending smile on her face. Jon ignored her, pushing past her through the tunnel.

  “Sir!” she yelled, furiously. She picked up her microphone as Jon disregarded her. He was running down the ramp, completely prepared to knock down any security standing in his way. Marika will be here in minutes. I need to find out where her plane is landing. I don’t have time to wait. As he barrelled through the tunnel, he saw two guards approaching him, but he purposely ignored them as they headed in his direction.

  “Sir, stop!” one called out. Jon made a decision and paused in his tracks.

  “I can’t! I am going after a rogue passenger who was telling off the flight attendant! I can’t let him get away!”

  The men looked baffled by his answer and looked uncertainly in the direction which they had come. The one that had spoken nodded at the other and they turned back toward the terminal. Jon exhaled and watched as they disappeared out of view. Exhaling Jon continued on his quest. Please don’t let me be too late, he thought worriedly.

  “Are you excited to be going home?” Leonid asked sarcastically.

  Alina turned to Petro.

  “If I am expected to remain your prisoner, Petro, you better do something about that one and his mouth.”

  Both men stared at her, mouths agape and Petro’s face flushed with anger.

  “My prisoner you are not!” he snapped. “You are my wife!”

  “Am I? Could you possibly enlighten this Neanderthal of this, please? He has been nothing but rude and uncouth this entire journey.” Petro glared at his soldier.

  “Apologize to my wife,” he growled. Leonid’s face puckered as if he had swallowed a lime.

  “I said apologize.” Petro’s voice was strangled whisper.

  “I am sorry, Alina,” Leonid choked. She smirked and ignored him.

  “Going forward, I would prefer to have Marko as a chaperone,” she told her husband. He shook his head.

  “That is not possible. Marko is on Svetlana’s detail. They are going to be married, didn’t you hear?”

  Alina was shocked. Marko and Svetlana had a brief affair years prior but when her cousin had learned the true nature of their business, she, too, had been turned off by the entire clan.

  “When did this happen?” she demanded.

  “Oh, I suppose it was right around the time you sent her the wedding invitation. I guess love was in the air.”

  “Petro, what did you do?” she hissed.

  “Attention ladies and gentlemen, in just a few minutes Iberia flight 892 to Kiev will be landing. I would like to instruct you…”

  As the flight attendant droned on with landing procedures, Alina understood what had been done. Petro had ensnared everyone she cared about to ensure that she never again left. Her mind had already been working toward ways of warning Jon, but she could not protect Svetlana if she married into the mafia. And my parents! What will they do to my parents? Alina sank back into her seat, and Petro patted her knees, smiling. She would never be fre
e.

  Time was not moving. Of this, he was certain for the minute hand had been on the five for over twenty minutes. The flight had landed fifteen minutes prior, and Jon was a puddle of sweat. She is on that flight. I can sense her coming. He did not know what to expect. Who were the men with her? Were they friends of hers or people from which she was running away? He planned to be front and center when she walked through the gates and gauge her expression. I will know what she wants me to do as soon as I see her face. Again, he was overcome by feelings of insecurity as he watched the first passengers walk off the flight. Oh God, what if I went off the deep end? What if all of this rejection has led me to a nervous breakdown and I just stalked a woman to the other end of the world in a psychotic episode? What if I imagined the danger? What if I am reading into everything and nothing is wrong except Chris has been right about you all along; you’re a fat loser whom no one will ever love. Turn around, go to the closest ticket agent and catch a flight home – Marika was walking through the double doors. His breath caught in his throat as he immediately caught the look of distress on her face as a man firmly held onto her arm and another stayed on her heels. Jon stepped forward, his mouth poised to call out but at the moment, Marika’s aquamarine eyes looked up and met his. They widened in shock and panic.

  “No!” she mouthed, arching her eyebrows in warning. “Go!”

  The man holding her arm suddenly looked about as if seeing her reaction and she shifted her gaze in the complete opposite direction. She turned to distract him by saying something as they walked away, leaving Jon to stare after them confused. She’s being held against her will! I have to do something! But what could he do? They were already disappearing around a corner, and Jon had no intention of letting them out of his sight. Shaking off his paralyzed state, he bolted toward them, consciously willing himself to slow down lest they see him on their trail. From a safe distance, Jon watched as they interacted, the men seeming to speak more to one another than Marika. Every so often, she would glance back, but she had not yet seen him following. The trio made their way outside of the terminal, and Jon kept close. He needed a car. Surely they would be getting into a vehicle soon, and he would lose them. He couldn’t depend on a taxi to keep up, and there was no time to rent a car. He looked about at the passenger drop off area. In his peripheral vision, he could see Marika heading into the parking lot. Suddenly, a stunning wave of adrenaline washed over him, and he did not give himself an opportunity to reconsider. He walked to the nearest vehicle, a newer red Renault Kwid, where an older man was patiently waiting inside. Without thinking, he leaned into the car, yanked the man out and tossed his frail frame onto the sidewalk, replacing him in the driver’s seat. The keys were still in the ignition, and bouzouki music blasted from the radio. Before the old timer could react, Jon had zoomed away toward the parking lot entrance. For a bizarre moment, with the Greek folk songs in the background, Jon felt like he was in an alternate reality, one where he was a strong, fearless man out to save his true love. The feeling of disembodiment faded as, in less than a minute, a black Mercedes S class rolled slowly out of the lot, the giant man in the driver’s seat. Jon could not see Marika or the other man, but he knew they were both there. He wasted no time, quickly putting the Renault in gear and starting after them. He stalled the car. Goddamn it! I haven’t driven stick since I was a teenager! Jon cursed, quickly restarting the vehicle. He took off after the Mercedes, racing to make up for lost time.

  What is he doing here? How could he have possibly known where to find me? Alina was in a state of shock inside the black sedan, her mind a whirl since laying eyes on Jon in the airport. She could not reconcile how he would have ever found her, let alone in such quick time. I hope he goes home. Petro will kill him if he figures out who he is! She was sure they had lost him in the terminal, but a feeling in the pit of her stomach told her that he would not give up so easily. Maybe Jon three months ago would have walked away. Jon three months ago wouldn’t even be here right now. Alina stared upward at the moon roof and said a silent prayer. Please God, keep him safe from harm. His only mistake was trusting me. It’s not his fault.

  “I imagine your parents will be happy to see you,” Petro commented casually, but Alina’s head snapped up.

  “Who do you have watching my parents?” she demanded. Petro shrugged.

  “No one. I knew you weren’t stupid enough to contact them but I had a feeling you would reach out the Svetlana sooner or later.”

  Alina turned back to the moon roof. She began to fantasize that Jon was coming to rescue her. She would be in her room back at the mansion, and suddenly he would burst in through the high windows on the third floor and –

  “What the hell?” Leonid yelled, and suddenly there was a clang of high impact metal hitting metal as the Mercedes careened off the highway and into the guardrail.

  They were flying. Or at least it felt as though they were. The air around them whizzed by, shapes and colors becoming one in the speed. She could hear something, a voice but it didn’t make any sense.

  “Marika! Marika! Please wake up!”

  She slowly turned away from the motion picture playing and faced a man. He was driving a car, his face contorted in worry as he glanced between the windshield and her. Blinking, she slowly took notice of her surroundings. She was still in a car, but it wasn’t Petro’s car. Oh God, where is Petro? She struggled to sit up, but her head was throbbing.

  “You’re awake! Don’t move! We’re going to find a hospital. You’re really badly hurt,” Jon was saying. Jon! Jon is here! Jon saved me! She looked down at her jeans and realized she was soaked in blood. Whose blood is this? At once, she recalled the accident. The car had flown into the guardrail and sat suspended above the side of the cliff. It was all that Alina could remember before losing consciousness.

  It was the only move Jon could think to make. He drove like a maniac, chasing after the sedan but the car was beginning to lose him. Jon had been terrified he if it disappeared he would never pick up the trail again. He simply reacted, pushing his foot on the gas until the Kwid impacted the Mercedes at seventy miles an hour. The airbag deployed, and Jon fought with it as he struggled to get out of the wrecked car. He had meant to disable the Mercedes, but he had not anticipated the car would end up in that position. As he jumped out of the smoking Renault, he pulled open the passenger side, noting that both Marika and the man in the back were unconscious. He could hear the huge man in the front groaning in agony, and Jon knew he had to act quickly. He reached forward, pulling Marika out. Her face was swollen and bloodied from impact, and he placed her gently on the ground, his heart full of terror that she was dead. Cradling her in his arms, he felt for a pulse. When he realized that she was still breathing, he rushed her back into the Kwid. He was relieved that the car started after one try. For a moment, before he left the scene, he looked guiltily at the Mercedes perilously perched perilously on the edge of life and death. He backed up the Renault and shot forward, forcing the black sedan completely off the cliff, a feeling of deep satisfaction washing over his body.

  “Hold on, Marika, love, we’ll be at the hospital soon,” he begged.

  “No!” she croaked. “No hospital. Vee must to find Svetlana.”

  “Marika, you are hurt!” he argued.

  “No, Jon. They vill asking questions and vee must find my cousin!”

  “Marika – “

  “And my name is Alina.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Night had fallen when the Renault finally sputtered and died, three kilometers from Svetlana’s home.

  “Vee must to run,” Alina urged. “Please Jon.”

  “What is going on?” he demanded. “Mar -Alina, who were those men? Who are you?”

  “There is no time to explaining. My cousin is in danger,” she insisted as they bolted down the road. As they approached her modest house in the outskirts, Alina held out her hand to slow Jon.

  “Wait,” she whispered as they drew near. Jon obeys and from t
he side of the property, they peered in the windows. His heart leaped into his throat as he saw blood splatter in the kitchen, staining the white countertops a gruesome red. Beside him, Alina let out a gasp.

  “Vee are too late,” she cried, her slender hand to her mouth. Her green eyes were filled with tears. “Vee have to go. Vee must go far away. They vill coming for us.” At that moment, the front door opened and both Jon and Alina stepped back against the house. A tall brunette emerged, holding a bloodstained meat cleaver, a dazed look in her eye.

  “Svetlana!” Alina screamed, springing forward. The brunette stared blankly at the injured blonde. Suddenly recognition filled her blue eyes, and she began to cry. She cried out in Ukrainian, and the cousins embraced, squeezing each other tightly. Svetlana turned to Jon suspiciously, holding the knife up defensively but Alina said something and she instantly lowered it. Weeping, the stately woman sank to the steps.