Tricks & Treats
A Romance Anthology
The characters, places, and events portrayed in this collection are completely fiction and are in no way meant to represent real people or places.
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Table of Contents
To respect the wonderful readers of each author, there is a handy heat level scale for each story to gauge the sexual content. From sweet kisses to 50 shades.
Heat Level Scale 1-5
A Hitman Halloween by Alexis Abbott (5)
My Eternal by Kate Robbins (3)
Grimm’s Awakening by Candace Osmond (1)
Eyes Have Seen by JJ King (4)
Up All Night by J. Margot Critch (4)
Dark Passion by Ian Gillies (5)
Elixir Vitae by Charlene Carr (1)
One Night Only by Katherine King (4)
Waking Up in Vegas by Kallie Clarke (4)
Old Haunts by Kelli Blackwood (3)
Story One
A Hitman Halloween by Alexis Abbott
Prologue - Lev
Patrolling this place is grunt work, but I don’t mind it. Wandering the long halls decorated with fine art -- mostly imitations but there are some originals as well -- and high ceilings gives me a taste of something I never had in Russia. Not just the wealth, but the peace and quiet, too.
Most nights, I’m out on the street, enforcing the will of Mikhail the overboss, but when my fists get too bloody, he gives me a break. Someone’s gotta look out for the Bratva’s interests, and I’m proud that he trusts me enough to do it.
I’m just looking over the landing, down into the spacious foyer, when my phone vibrates against my hip. Unknown caller. Of course.
“Da?” I answer.
“Lev, you’re at the manor tonight?”
“Da.” Andrei, my boss, never calls me, and certainly not so directly. This can’t be good.
“We’ve gotten word that Pierre is back in town and looking for revenge. He’s looking for an in.”
I exhale slowly, but the hair on the back of my neck is already prickling. I know no one was in the manor, I would’ve heard it, but suddenly it’s like all the air has shifted. Before I can respond to Andrei, I feel someone descend behind me. He’s likely waiting for me to get off the phone to strangle me, so I won’t give him the pleasure.
My bandaged hands are still bloody and bruised from last night’s business, but I can sense him, a couple feet back and to my left. I envision it, the marble statue next to him. He likely has a garrote wire in his hand. He’s looking for information, so I’m not going to be dead yet.
Unfortunately for him, I want information too.
I’m a bulky man, but when I spin around and lash my leg in the air at the direction of the intruder's head, I feel like a dancer, light on my feet. When my steel toe boot connects with skull, however, that’s an entirely different situation altogether.
He goes down and I leap on top of him, his garrote wire and my phone both lost in the fray.
But when he softens up, my fists making a mess of his face, he says something that sends a cold shiver down my spine.
“He knows Andrei will be at Sonya’s party. That’s how he’ll get him.”
Sonya. Beautiful, elegant, forbidden Sonya. Andrei saved her from some scumbag a few years back, and now he looks after her like a little sister. His wife is even her best friend, and everyone in town knows her.
But most of all, me. She’s forbidden to touch since she’s under my boss’ protection, but that doesn’t stop me from looking every chance I get. I’m not much for ballet, but I’ve been to every one of her shows that I could make it to, and never have I felt like this for someone before.
I’m just an enforcer for the Bratva, though. Not an ounce of class or goodness within me, and so I keep my distance. She doesn’t need to get wrapped up in this business.
Unfortunately, she already is, and as I punch the frenchman’s lights out, I know her life is in danger tomorrow night. Halloween.
Chapter 1 - Sonya
All the masks surrounding me are absolutely amazing! We’ve never had such lavish costumes where I grew up in Russia, and now I can’t help but surround myself with the amazing creativity and artistry of a masquerade party.
It seemed only fitting to have a Halloween party, since tonight is my last night on American soil for a full year. Most of the people from the ballet studio were able to make it, and even some very important people from the arts community.
Andrei even let me use the manor he operates out of, and it has added such a taste of style and pizzazz that I know I’ll remember forever. I look at Cassie and her beautiful white lacy outfit, adorned with a light pink mask, and I can’t help but feel a bit homesick with the idea of leaving her. I’ve been teaching her ballet ever since Andrei married her, and I’m going to miss her most of all.
“Don’t cry!” she says urgently, and I have to laugh it off that she can see through my strong facade so well. There’s no hiding my feelings from that perceptive young woman.
“I’m not,” I protest, wiping underneath my eyes. “I don’t want my eyeliner to smudge!”
She laughs and tugs me into a hug. She’s come so far since I first met her, when she was a meek and shy woman. Now she shines like the brightest light, and she’s the person I go to whenever I need some moral support. I’m definitely going to be spending a fortune on long distance to keep in touch.
I hug her back, but out of the corner of my eye, I spot a man I’ve seen a couple times before. I think I recognize him from one of my performances...
He’s tall, and broad, with strong arms and a tight black shirt that hugs his body. He’s looking at me, and doesn’t glance away when I catch him staring. It sends an enticing shiver down my spine. Slowly he moves through the crowd, away from me, calm as anything, but it’s like being hit by lightning: he might be gone, but wow did he leave a mark on me.
Even as I pull away and glance back to Cassie, I’m far more intrigued about that man, all my other problems disappeared. Where do I know him from?
“See someone?” Cassie asks sweetly, glancing in my direction, but the man is already gone, lost to the crowd.
I shake my head, but the stranger’s gorgeous face is burned into my memory. I want to find him again before the party is over.
“It’s nothing,” I brush it off, looking back and her and noticing her arms are covered in goosebumps. “Oh no, are you freezing?”
Cassie blushes at the fact that I noticed, and she shakes her head. “I’m fine! Just the fall air is creeping in, I guess.”
“This place is huge, it must be hard to heat. I have a shawl upstairs I can lend you, though?”
“That’d be wonderful, Sonya. I’d really appreciate that.”
I smile and my friend and nod. “I'll be right back. You go, mingle. I’ll find you in a couple minutes.” I look up at the magnificent staircase that sprawls out before me, its white marble looking so pure and clean as I begin to ascend.
I’m not being totally selfless in getting Cassie my shawl. After all, if I’m upstairs, maybe I can find that stunning stranger again...
I reach the top and take a mome
nt to stand at the balcony, glancing over my party. There are so many people I want to say goodbye to, so many people I need to thank for helping me get to perform all the way across Western Europe, but instead I’m focused on someone I’ve never even spoken to before.
I spot him moving through the crowd, alert, but he’s intent upon the crowd and not me. Still, the heat of his glance earlier still burns through me, and there’s something seductive about watching him when he doesn’t know. It feels almost wrong in a way, but in a way that fans the flames he lit earlier.
He heads into a side room, I think in the direction of the kitchen, and I smile before I quickly turn. I’ll go grab the shawl and then approach him when he’s alone. It’ll be my going away present to myself.
When I enter the bedroom where the coats and jackets are stored, though, the light switch doesn’t work. I sigh, quickly moving to the night side table, fumbling in the dimness of the moon outside for a table lamp.
I stub my toe on it and I yelp before I manage to finally find the switch. The second before I turn it on, though, I glance up, and in the inky reflection of the sky in the window, I can see a shadow of a man behind me.
Chapter 2 - Lev
It’s impossible to tell who anyone is in this crowd. Most I can figure out by their body language is if their one of the upper class folks in the arts community, whereas some are more like me. Serious, always looking around for trouble.
So far I haven’t seen any that want to cause it, though.
I return from my quick sweep of the kitchen, but still nothing. Part of me prays that this will just be another boring party, but my bones tell me otherwise. I clench my hands into fists then relax them, feeling the pain still clustered around my knuckles from yesterday.
That failed assassin said someone would be here for Sonya, but the manor is clean. I catch Andrei’s eyes and he nods at me, and I slowly approach. Before I can get there, though, Andrei’s wife arrives and I hang back just out of reach.
“Have you seen Sonya?” she asks, looking around as she rubs her arms.
Andrei’s eyes go wide, glancing over Cassie’s head to me before he places a firm hand on his wife’s shoulder.
“No, I haven’t. Where did you last see her?” he asks, trying to remain calm, but he and I both know what this means. Someone got past our defenses.
“She was going to grab me a shawl from upstairs, but I checked and I can’t find her.”
I dart through the crowds for the stairs, taking them two and three at a time. How did I lose her? I just saw her not five minutes ago and she was fine, laughing and talking with her friend. She caught me staring, even, and that’s why I felt safe enough to check the rest of the perimeter.
Stupid, stupid, I tell myself, pushing into the bedroom and flipping the light switch. The room stays dark, though, and I wonder if someone tampered with the fuse box. I move towards the nightstand, quickly turning on the light, only to see that the room is empty. The closet is open, filled with jackets, and I know this would be the room she’d go to for a shawl. The rest of the manor is off limits, and pretty Spartan other than sheets on the bed.
I push into the closet, looking for a shawl before my eyes land on the one that Sonya had arrived in, still neatly placed on the hanger. So somewhere, between where she was laughing with Cassie and this room, she disappeared.
I move out of the room and quickly scout down the end of the halls, but it’s completely still. Guests aren’t allowed up on this floor, so I’m not surprised by that, but I also don’t see the guard that was stationed up here. Discretely, I lift my phone, dialing the number.
Down the hall I can hear it ringing once. Twice. Still no answer. My footsteps are light as I make my way towards the sound, and I draw my trusty pistol. I don’t want to be unprepared as I push open the door and quickly see the guard, knocked out. Behind him is the service stairs, and I’m thankful for a break. I end call as I move cautiously down the wooden staircase.
It’s not as luxurious as the front of the manor. This section is older and was part of the original home that was added onto later, and I have to avoid certain parts of the steps so as not to make them groan beneath my weight.
“Call him,” I hear a man’s voice say in an agitated tone, like someone who's had to repeat himself too many times, “or you’ll be losing that pretty little pinkie.”
“I will not,” Sonya replies, and a rush of gratitude overwhelms me. She’s still okay, and she’s stronger than even I gave her credit for. Her voice is firm and resolute, and I take another step closer to where he’s taken her.
“Andrei will hear your pain. In person, or on the phone. If he doesn’t, then he’ll have to know your pain in another way. Like finding bits and pieces of you all over Brighton Beach. It’ll be a treasure hunt,” the man says in his French accent, and even I balk at the cruelty in his tone.
Sonya sobs, and I take another step closer to the room. He must have her in the old servant's kitchen. It’s the only place without a locked door down here.
“You’ll just kill me no matter what I do,” she protests and I can almost hear the sadistic bastard smile.
“Oui, mon chere. But it’s up to you how bad it hurts. You call him down here, and it’ll be quick. You don’t and... I make my statement in much more enjoyable ways.”
I have to beg myself not to rush in. She can hold him off. She can be brave just a little bit longer. If I rush, I could get both of us killed, but if I go slow... putting this mutt down will be my life’s greatest achievement.
Saving her... I can’t fuck this up.
“I don’t believe you!”
“Oh? You don’t believe I have the guts to take you apart bit by bit?”
I can’t take it anymore. It’s not bravado that pushes me on, but it’s instinct. I know I shouldn’t rush, but at the same time, I can sense that if I delay even a second longer, something bad is going to happen to her, and I’ll never be able to live with myself knowing that she was hurt because I took too long to save her.
My gun is drawn as I edge around the corner and spot them. She’s tied to a chair, and he’s behind her, grabbing for her fingers as she tries to ball her hands into fists to delay him. She spots me and gasps, which causes her captor to raise his head.
In that flash of a moment, a million things could happen. And I know them all. The many ways he could end her, or me, the many ways he could be prepared for me to pounce and do both. A true professional would have me shot down and before a heartbeat was up, he’d have a bullet in Sonya’s head and be on his way out the back door.
But I’m good at what I do too, and with a lifetime’s practiced reflexes I let go of all intent. I release any and all thought about what I should or could do, those things distract. In the heat of the moment when it’s life or death, the only thing you can do is rely on instinct and hope yours are good enough.
Mine are more than enough, I tell myself. And I sweep my arms up and let muscle memory take over. Aiming would take too long, there’s no time to aim, just to let the ingrained lessons of countless target practices and shootouts take over.
It doesn’t take me a second before I put a single bullet between his eyes.
Chapter 3 - Sonya
I’m screaming, and I don’t even realize I’m doing it until the mysterious stranger is gently shushing me. He puts his gun in the back of his pants as he tenderly touches my face, calming me down before he goes to untie my hands.
I shift to look at my captor, but my saviour guides my face away.
“No, Sonya. You don’t need to see that,” he says, and his voice is so dark, but filled with such kindness. He’s just saved me from something more horrible than I could’ve ever expected, and a rush of gratitude goes through me. He takes me into the hall, away from the body of my kidnapper, and he holds me against the wall, his fingers stroking along my hairline.
“Just breathe,” he’s saying, but I can’t just breathe. That rush of gratitude has become something else
altogether, and my excitement at being alive, the thrill of having this handsome man swoop in and save me at the last moment, it puts a spark between my thighs that I barely know how to understand.
He’s so near to me that I can smell the slight scent of cologne off him, an outdoorsy scent filling my nostrils.
His gaze falls to my lips and I realize I’m biting on them, trying to keep myself from doing something rash. I feel a blush rise to my cheeks, and I close my eyes.
Just as I’m about to thank him, I feel his mouth brush against mine. It’s so light, so different than what I’d expect from the hulking man, and I gasp in surprise. When I open my eyes, I lick my lips, tasting him there, and whatever expression I make emboldens him, because his next kiss is hungrier, harder.
It’s surreal. In just a few minutes I went from a tearful goodbye party to being a captive, to making out with my rescuer in the middle of a hallway near the body of the man that was going to kill me. If it sounds odd to say it like that, it’s stranger still to experience it. But I could never imagine the effect of surviving such a near death encounter would have on me until I lived it, and felt my blood boil, my head swim with relief, excitement and desire.
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