Hitman's Bride (Bad Boy Empire)

by Vanessa Waltz

  Her back arches, thrusting her tits into my chest as I bury myself as deep as I can. If I could fuck every feeling away, I would. Then my legs shudder and I groan into her neck as her pussy clenches over my cock. She digs her nails into my scalp and then sinks into the sheets as the orgasm wipes every worry from her face.

  I collapse beside her, breathing hard. My dick is fucking sore, and for once I’m not in a hurry to make her leave. I’m just exhausted. She curls next to me, her arm splayed across my chest.

  It’s a nice view. Christ, she’ll be masturbation material for a long time.

  The events of last night slide over my eyes like a highly graphic porn video, and I smile to myself as I stroke her back lightly. Then I remember her tears when I asked her to leave and the smile disappears. She nearly begged me to stay the night. Why?

  “Why were you so upset last night?”

  I tell myself I shouldn’t care—I don’t care, but it’s a curiosity.

  Elena’s face freezes, but she stays silent.

  “I did what you wanted. Can’t you at least tell me why I had to let you stay?”

  The breath hitches in her throat and she opens and closes her mouth. I start to get impatient, but I force myself to wait it out.

  Let her talk.

  “I needed a safe place to crash.”

  I thought it had something to do with the ex.

  “Call the cops.”

  “He’ll kill me before I can get a restraining order.”

  I won’t lie, it’s not uncommon to hear about a wise guy slapping around his girl. It’s frowned upon, but tolerated because no one ever sees the abuse. There’s always an explanation for the bruises, even though we all know the truth. It sickens me. One of the many things I can’t stand about the life.

  “So your solution is to what? Fuck me? Get him jealous or something?”

  “No, I just didn’t want to be home.”

  Acrid bile rises in my throat when I look at her worried face.

  “Johnny told me to keep an eye on you.”

  She lets out a sound through her nose. “What the fuck?”

  “He just wants to make sure you don’t do anything stupid.”

  For a moment she looks furious and I brace myself for the hell storm that’s sure to follow, but she deflates almost instantly.

  “Please don’t make me go back to him.”

  The fear trembling her voice makes me curious. It also adds a bad taste to my mouth.

  “No one’s going to make you do anything, but no one’s going to help you either.”

  She says nothing for a while. “I just don’t want to be with him.”

  A gaunt look overcomes her face. Her eyes are listless as they stare into mine and then drop away. She slides away from my arms to sit on the edge of the bed. There’s nothing but the coarse sound of her legs moving over the sheets, and somehow it’s grating to my ears.

  Something goes through me when I watch her bent-over back. Self-disgust, maybe. Elena bends her face into her hands for a few seconds before inhaling a long breath, and I have a sudden desire to slide next to her and wrap an arm around her, but I don’t make a move. She picks up her clothes one by one and pulls them on. The misery on her face bothers me more than I’d like to admit, but there’s nothing I can do for her. Nothing. If I laid a hand on him, I would get killed. Made members aren’t allowed to be touched without permission.

  I’m willing to fuck her, but not to stick my neck out for her.

  I really am a bastard.

  I open my mouth, but there’s really nothing to say to her. Not when she’s leaving my place, and I’ll probably never be alone with her again. Though I suppose I’ll see her if she works at Tommy’s bar.

  “Can I have your number?”

  The question startles me, and I hate myself even more when I have to turn her down.

  “Sorry, but I never see a girl twice.”

  Disappointment floods her pretty face as she nods. Thank God, she doesn’t cry.

  I walk her to the door, grappling with changing my goddamn mind, and then she whirls around to grab my shoulders. Hanging in the doorway, she kisses me as though it’s the last time. I suppose it is, but no one’s ever made me aware of that quite like her.

  Damn, she’s beautiful.

  Her thigh bumps into my cock as she crushes her mouth against mine. A weak feeling spreads through my limbs and I grin when she reaches around to grab my ass.

  “I guess I should count myself lucky that you fucked me more than once.”

  I like the fact that she just brushes it off as though it’s nothing. She’s not a crier. She’s tough.

  Elena’s flushed lips pull into a sad smile as she steps back from me and gives me a little wave.

  “See you.”

  “Bye.”

  Then I watch her flounce down the steps and walk down the street. I keep watching her even though the cold rolls over my bare feet and makes them numb.

  ELENA

  Snow dusts my jacket as I walk down the white street. Heaps of fresh white pile on the sidewalk, and it’s fucking freezing. My toes are numb. The cold air stings my eyes and the white burns.

  But it’s beautiful.

  I brush my cotton gloves over a dusting of powder, and immediately regret it when it soaks through, stinging my fingertips. I walk past brownstones, and see a brilliant splash of red on some fresh snow. It looks like juice, but it reminds me of blood.

  Then I think of how beautiful it would look—my body on the snow, a halo of red around my head. The irony makes me smile.

  What the fuck is wrong with me?

  Everything just feels surreal. These last few months felt like a practical joke. I’m aware that I should be worried for myself. I should race down these frozen streets and ask Tommy for a gun, or hell, just keep running. Something that might give me a fighting chance at survival.

  Is it crazy that last night is the only thing I want to think about?

  The moment I saw him in the bar, I wanted him. Yeah, he’s just another bad boy—a wise guy who’s going to chew me up and spit me out, just like Rafael did. At least he had the decency to be honest with me. You can’t say that about most men. Usually they ignore you because they don’t even think you’re worthy of dealing with.

  I didn’t care, though. It was instant fire through my veins, the moment I locked eyes with him. He had an amazing body—ripped, and he used it like a pro. He wanted me to get off. He enjoyed it.

  Beyond that, I didn’t really think it through. I thought that if I went home with him, at least I’d be safe for one night.

  What a crazy night. My face burns when I think about how he utterly destroyed all my expectations. He was so fucking good. I felt like I was floating on clouds the whole time, but it wasn’t anything more than a great night. It would always be just one night.

  I mull him over, unable to cool the burn that spreads over my skin. I can’t stop thinking about those eyes full of sin and his devilish smile, hinting that he’s nothing but trouble. Tony is the kind of bad boy I always lusted after, until I realized just how bad they really are.

  Forget about him.

  It would be easier to forget how to breathe.

  Why am I lusting after a one-night stand when I have bigger issues?

  After taking a chain of subways, I’m back at my apartment. Fear prickles all over my skin as I stare up at it.

  He might be waiting for me.

  Then I finally turn my phone on and there are about twenty text messages from Rafael. I blow out a frustrated gust of white into the crisp air. He’s either here or not. I’m out of options and it’s hard to care anymore. I could barely get a stranger to let me stay the night, even though there’s a fucking psycho gunning for me.

  Maybe this is the punishment I get for being spoiled my whole life, and doing nothing to earn a single dime. I never really achieved anything. I graduated high school by the skin of my teeth and fucked around in college, wasting Daddy’s money
as I tried to figure out what I wanted to do with my life. I never figured it out. The next stepping stone was always marriage, and shortly after, kids. It’s what they expected from me. It’s what all good Italian girls did, and I have to admit that I didn’t really mind settling in that role. Why did people always want to make me feel bad for wanting a simple life?

  Rafael seemed like a great candidate. My dad approved of him, which was hard enough to get, and he was Italian. Worked in the same “business” as Dad. It didn’t even occur to me that he would change after we moved in together.

  If Dad was alive, I wouldn’t know what to say to him. I can’t even think about him without feeling a mixture of guilt and betrayal. He sold us out, and for what? To get killed anyway.

  Maybe I deserve this.

  My feet are like lead as I climb up the stone steps. There’s another set of footprints leading to my apartment, but I don’t care. Fuck it all. My mother is a hollow shell and my own sister resents me. There’s just nothing left anymore. Just a bag of money my dear old Dad left for me.

  At the top of the stairs, a small voice whispers in my ear.

  There’s still time to make something of your life.

  Tony’s hands wrap around my waist and his mouth covers mine. I see that wry smile on his lips as I sit on his lap, straddling his legs. Heat rushes to my face as my heart pounds like a drum, vibrating my whole chest.

  Isn’t it worth chasing that feeling instead of giving yourself over to that asshole?

  Too late.

  My hand trembles on the doorknob, and I push it open. I know that it’s already unlocked.

  A scene of devastation greets my eyes. Everything standing is tipped over—every chair and stick of furniture. There’s a vase smashed on the floor. The water darkens the hardwood.

  “Fuck!”

  My face burns as I walk inside, slamming the door. I pick up the phone and immediately dial the emergency number.

  “Someone broke into my house.”

  I rattle off the address, and then I carry the phone with me. It trembles in my hand as the operator tries to comfort me.

  “Miss, you need to get to a safe place. You need to leave the apartment.”

  But I can’t fucking leave. All my possessions are here, everything I bought with the thousands of dollars I brought with me. What a fucking jerk. What a loser.

  Every drawer is yanked out, its contents spilled on the floor. I whimper as I step inside my bedroom. Every stitch of clothing is ruined, ripped in half, or otherwise flung to the floor in discarded piles. I bend over and touch the blouses I just bought, their colors bleeding together.

  “Hello, Elena.”

  I whirl around, red in the face and furious. My body bumps into his leather chest and I scream, my heart rate jacked. The murderous look doesn’t faze me.

  “Get out of my fucking house!”

  I flinch at the noise of leather squeaking as he lifts his hand and touches my face. “I’m not leaving without you and my money.”

  “Yeah, I don’t think so.”

  “Listen to me, you little twat. You’re going to bring me to wherever the fuck you stashed the money, and then I’m taking you back to where you belong.”

  I shove his chest with both hands, and for a moment he looks incredulous. I don’t think he ever believed I would fight back.

  “You listen to me. We are done and you are not getting a cent of that money!”

  It’s like some kind of bizarre dance. I back away, and he advances. His hip bumps into mine until the backs of my legs hit the bed.

  He grabs my face and shoves me backward. My back hits the mattress hard and I try to scramble to my feet, heart racing, but he places his hand on my shoulder and presses down. He’s so strong that he doesn’t have to try very hard.

  Fucking asshole.

  Rafael lowers his head, the lines under his eyes like dark scars. “You’re coming back to New York with me, right after you give me my money.”

  “Never going to fucking happen, you psycho.”

  My face screws up in pain before the blow comes, but a soft hand caresses me. I open my eyes in surprise.

  “Ah, Elena. I missed this.”

  Then a violent force smashes my jaw and stars erupt in my vision. I roll on the wooden floor, my head splitting into two. My skin burns, but nothing compares to the pain of my humiliation. I’m so fucking tired of falling—of just taking it and never saying a word.

  “Where the fuck were you last night, huh?”

  “None of your damn business.”

  “You were fucking some other guy, weren’t you?”

  I say nothing.

  His face twists in rage. “You fucking whore!”

  He aims a boot toward my ribs, but I spring to my feet and grab the closest thing—a crystal paperweight on my nightstand that I use for decoration—and I hurl it into his face. Rafael clutches his nose and screams, and I jump on the bed, bouncing toward the entrance.

  It was so fucking stupid to come back here.

  My feet pound the wooden floorboards as I race down the hallway. His heavy footsteps tell me that he’s not far behind. My voice stabs my ears as I scream down the hall, hoping that someone, anyone, will hear me.

  “HELP ME!”

  “FUCKING CUNT!”

  A violent force rips me backward as Rafael takes the back of my collar and wrenches me. My hands fly out in front of me, trying to grab something to break his hold on me, but he’s too fucking strong. A surge of self-hatred for my weak body makes me scream, and then my side crashes against the wall, shattering a photograph.

  “Arrêtez!”

  A volley of French voices makes Rafael freeze behind me, his hands still balled in my hair. “Mind your own fucking business!”

  Two men stream inside the apartment, guns drawn. I flatten against the wall, but Rafael advances toward them.

  Please, shoot him. Please.

  “This is none of your fucking business!”

  One of the cops raises his gun to Rafael’s chest. “HANDS BEHIND YOUR FUCKING HEAD!”

  I place my hands behind my head, trembling as they tackle Rafael against the wall. His head crushes against the plaster. He gives me a look of potent rage. It’s more than that, though. He just looks—evil. There’s nothing behind those eyes but ill will.

  He won’t stop until I’m buried in the ground.

  “Mademoiselle—Miss, are you okay?”

  The cop touches my shoulder, giving me a puzzled look. I swallow hard and let my hands drop from my head as a snarling Rafael is dragged outside.

  “BITCH!”

  I flinch at the angry sound.

  “Miss, you want to press charges?”

  I gaze around at my apartment, which looks as though a tornado blew through it. I’d like nothing better than to see that fucker locked up, but I know that he’ll just come after me once he gets out. Or his boss might do it for him.

  Numbly, I shake my head. “No.”

  The disappointment on his face gives me a guilty squirm. “Miss, let me give you ah—numéro de téléphone for women’s shelter.”

  I take the card he gives me in his shaking hands. Yeah, I might be able to live for a few days until Rafael finds a way to bribe one of the cops here and gets its location.

  “Take care.”

  He gives me a sad smile and leaves my apartment. I look around, knowing that I should clean up, or pack, or something, but I just can’t bring myself to do any of it.

  * * *

  The best—the only—defense I can come up with is to pretend that everything’s normal. That my ex-boyfriend didn’t just track me down to my apartment to kill me, and I only just got away. If I accepted the seriousness of it, I would panic.

  Panicking doesn’t help.

  They’ll probably keep him in lockup for a day or two for resisting arrest, so that’s a small comfort.

  The door swings open for me as a man steps out. The din in the bar swallows me like a shroud, and I
feel safe surrounded by so many people. I scan the mass, my eyes cutting through the crowd of testosterone to find the man I found last night. It’s too much to hope that Tony will be here tonight, but even if he was here, what could he do for me?

  My gaze passes over Tommy, whose penetrating stare eats right through me.

  What the hell does he want?

  He jerks his head toward the back of the bar. Swallowing down my heart, I brush past him and squeeze my eyes shut when I hear him follow. I bend down, changing my shoes in the back as I imagine him standing over me, his arms folded.

  “What is it?” I finally snap.

  “Your boyfriend came in here last night, not long after you left with Tony.”

  I didn’t want to hear that. He knows where I work and he knows where I live.

  I’m fucked.

  “He’s not my boyfriend.”

  His hazel eyes narrow at me. “Are you sure you told him that, because I don’t think he got the memo.”

  The blood pounding in my head is painful. It’s as though there’s a sledgehammer smashing my skull. BAM. BAM. BAM.

  I swallow hard as I raise a shaking hand to my temple. “I was pretty fucking clear. He’s just crazy.”

  Tommy rolls up his white sleeves and bends down to my level, a tinge of emotion shining in his eyes.

  “If he finds out you went home with Tony, he’ll fucking kill you.”

  “W-well, he tried and I’m still here.”

  For some reason, his concern brings me another thrill of fear. My eyes search his desperately, but I know he won’t stick out a limb for me. Yeah, he helped put a Band-Aid over the situation, and Rafael ripped it right off.

  “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  “He came to my house. I called the cops on him—”

  Tommy rakes a hand through his hair and lets out a groan. “Jesus.”

  “I’m not pressing charges.”