Sold to the Hitman

by Alexis Abbott

  Would it really feel so bad, a year under his ownership?

  7

  Katy

  My muscles tense and my toes clench as my mouth is forced open by the overwhelming cresting of the orgasm that follows that scandalous thought, and in a liberating moment of ecstasy, I let out a long, breathy cry of release as I feel my whole body electrified by the thought of Ivan looming over me again.

  I keep moving my fingers and come again and again as my body writhes in a mixture of pleasure and shame at the thought of him, of his impossibly strong body and those dark blue eyes holding my gaze as long as he wanted.

  Finally, my clit is almost too sensitive to touch, and I withdraw my hand, clenching my legs together as my body shakes and I turn onto my side to curl up as the sensations subside.

  It’s a few moments before I can let my hand return to my pussy, slowly and gently nursing it through the orgasm’s subsiding.

  My eyes crack open, and I look down at the mess I’ve made of myself.

  Then my mouth starts to curl into a smile, and I bite my lip and turn my head into the pillows in disbelief at the silliness of the thoughts I just used to get myself off.

  “You’re a mess, Katy,” I half-giggle at myself, wallowing in the enormous feeling of relaxation that pins me to the bed, “a perverted mess.”

  A few minutes later, I’m in the shower, steam pouring over the top of the clear sliding doors as I lean against the cool walls, letting my hair get soaked. I might have gotten myself off, but I’m still slick between my lips. I can’t stop thinking about how great it would have felt to have joined Ivan in the shower that night.

  As I start to wash the worries and pleasure of the day off my body, I can’t help but wonder what actually might have been different now if I’d stayed the night with him. Would I have found out who he is? What he does? Would any of this debt issue have come up again?

  Would I have liked him?

  Hot water runs down my body, and that thought lingers in my mind for a while. He seemed alright that night we spent together. I never would have known a thing was amiss if he hadn’t strolled into my club and announced that he’s a mobster, here to do mobster things at my mobster-owned club.

  I put my forehead against the wall, hugging myself while breathing the hot air around me. Maybe my body’s impulses aren’t entirely wrong about Ivan’s offer.

  I know I want this. I know myself well enough not to fool myself in that regard. But is this really the best thing for the club?

  It would totally free me of my debt. I’d never have to worry about the mob breathing down my neck ever again. I’d be able to use that spare $4,000 a month for anything. Savings, maybe a new expansion, raises for all the staff of course, a decent place to live. Just the thought of all that makes me almost giddy, almost ready to forget what I’d have to do for that kind of freedom.

  Almost.

  What if he doesn’t hold up his end of the bargain? What if he decides I’m not good enough after a few months and sticks me back to square one? What if he’s not even being honest in the first place and this is just some ploy to humiliate me?

  No. I can’t do this.

  I nod to myself, the useless gesture a silent resolution to myself. I don’t want anyone else dangling charity over my head. If I’m going to weather this storm, I’ll do it on my own or not at all.

  It isn’t worth the risk to put my life in the hands of some mobster who just wants a piece of meat to fuck for a year and toss aside. That’s how criminals work, after all. None of them can be trusted. They put Dad and me in this situation in the first place, and they’ll just put me right back in it when they’ve had their fun.

  I finish washing up and turn the water off, stepping out onto the tile of the bathroom and wrapping a towel around my body. I wipe some of the condensation off the mirror and stare at my reflection.

  I’m going to face whatever comes at me tomorrow, one way or the other.

  * * *

  The sky is overcast yet again as I drive to work today. I’m wracking my brain for the proper words to say, unsure how exactly to explain to Ivan that I have to decline his offer. Not that it isn’t a tempting option, at least on some level I’m refusing to entertain at the moment, but my father’s influence is powerful over me. I know he would want me to say no. Of course. And any woman in her right mind would object to her being treated like a sex slave for a year, wouldn’t she? Seems pretty common-sense.

  But then again, it’s not every woman who ends up in this kind of predicament to begin with. Who’s to say I’m not making a huge mistake in turning down my one chance at eventual freedom from these mafia thugs? It does sound wonderful — the prospect of being able to live my life without the shadow of the mafia hovering over me and shading everything I do, every choice I make. I could finally do the things I want to do with my money. I could fix up the club a little more, add some of my own touches. I could finally give Natalie the raise she deserves. Hell, I could finally put away some money to travel, see the world like I’ve always wanted to.

  No, I tell myself firmly, it’s not that simple. After all, despite his claims to the contrary, I am pretty damn certain that Ivan is a dangerous, dangerous guy. Probably not the type of man I want to be chained to for a year. His “whims and desires” might actually include some messed-up stuff that I should want no part of.

  So here I am with my dilemma. How does one politely tell a Russian mobster no?

  As I’m pondering all the miniscule variations of “thanks, but no thanks” I pull my car into the parking lot and cross the pavement to the front door of the club. Once again, the motorcycle has two helmets dangling from it and a smirk crosses my face. Are Natalie and Ashton just carpooling (bike-pooling?) or is there something else going on I need to address? I suppose that since I’m technically their boss, I might have to lay down some ground rules about dating your coworkers or something.

  But when I get inside and settle into a seat at the bar, it turns out that I’m on the receiving end of an interrogation, rather than the opposite.

  Natalie and Ashton are both leaning on the other side of the bar, nursing coffees and staring at me with gleeful expressions, looking very mischievous. And to think, Ashton was such a sweet, innocent girl when she first started here. I make a mental note to goad Natalie later about being a bad influence. At the moment, I am eyeing the pair of them suspiciously, waiting for the barrage of questions to begin.

  Natalie starts, of course. “So what the hell is going on with that Russian guy?”

  “He’s cute,” Ashton adds, looking a little bashful for admitting it. I can’t help but clock the slightly doleful look in Natalie’s eyes for a moment.

  “I guess he’s kinda hot in a scary way. If you’re into that,” Natalie tacks on, trying her best to look nonchalant about it. “But for real, what’s happening, Katy?”

  “Oh, nothing,” I answer quickly. Both girls open their mouths to retort, but I continue before they get the chance. “Seriously. Nothing you two need to worry about. It’s fine. I’m taking care of it. It’s fine.”

  “Taking care of it? That sounds bad,” Ashton comments, her sweet face scrunching up.

  “Taking care of what, exactly?” Natalie interjects, waggling her eyebrows suggestively.

  “He’s not gonna hurt you, is he?” Ashton asks, wide-eyed.

  “Is he gonna be hanging around a lot?”

  “Are you sure you know what you’re doing? He looked real serious.”

  “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

  I rub at my temples in frustration. I should have known this game of twenty questions was inevitable, with these two around.

  “OKAY,” I interrupt, holding my hands in the time-out gesture. “Well, he might be coming back today so I’m gonna need you guys to play it cool, alright? Please? Just act normal,” I plead with them.

  “He’s coming back?”

  “Why?”

  Both of these questions hit me at
the exact same time and I sigh heavily.

  “Right, see this whole ‘questionnaire’ thing you’re doing right now? Yeah. Don’t do that when — if — he comes by today,” I tell them solidly as I get up to leave the bar.

  Just then there’s a loud bang from down the hallway to the front door. Ashton gasps.

  “Probably just Charles,” I say quickly.

  “He said he’d be late today,” Natalie replies, looking bewildered.

  A wicked male voice calls out mockingly, “Kaaaatyyyyy!”

  My stomach lurches as I recognize Oskar’s voice. Immediately I turn on my heel and hiss at Natalie and Ashton, “Get behind the bar. Stay down and do not make a sound, hear me?”

  Ashton whimpers in an undertone, “What’s going on?”

  “Just hide!” I whisper emphatically, pointing behind the bar. Natalie nods and dutifully puts an arm around Ashton’s shoulders to force the both of them back down behind the counter, just as a chorus of rancorous laughter echoes down the hallway.

  I turn back around and walk quickly to the middle of the dimly-lit dance floor, crossing my arms over my chest and trying to look tough. I should have known not to trust Ivan. He told me that the thugs weren’t coming, that he had the power to call them off. I know now that he must have lied to me — and I am suddenly relieved that I didn’t take his offer. I am so furious that the anger bubbling in my stomach almost overpowers the fear I’m feeling at the moment.

  The three mafia guys come skulking around the corner, two of them wearing hateful, sadistic grins, while the quiet one Nic simply stares with those cold, dead eyes. I wonder if he even feels anything at all. Then I wonder what I’m going to feel in a moment…

  What if they kill me?

  I close my eyes for a brief second and hope desperately that at least they might spare my coworkers. Nat and Ashton are totally innocent of all this. They deserve to live.

  “What are you up to, Katy?” snarls Oskar, a crude smile on his face.

  “Got anything for us?” adds Konrad. He extends his hand and makes a motion like he’s rubbing coins together between his forefinger and thumb. “It’s collection day.”

  “I told you boys I would have your money,” I say, willing my voice not to shake.

  “Uh huh. And where is it, sweetheart?” Oskar growls, taking a few slow strides toward me. He snaps his fingers a few times with an expectant look on his face.

  I can’t find the words. I have no idea what to tell him. Part of me wants to lie, to tell him I’ll have the money tonight, tomorrow, sometime in the future. Maybe I can run away, go to the police or something. But I know the mafia would only find me, and they certainly would never forget. They specialize in holding grudges and delivering harsh punishments.

  A small, shrill voice in the back of my mind urges me to drop to my knees and beg for my life, offer them anything, everything I have. But I know I’m too strong for that, too stubborn.

  “Still waiting, bitch,” Konrad barks. He walks over to the booth Charles fixed just yesterday and plucks up the little glass votive off the table. He throws it as hard as he can on the hardwood floor and it shatters into little pieces. There is an almost inaudible gasp from behind me and my heart races, hoping that the thugs didn’t hear it. Be quiet!

  “Nic, what do we do when someone is late on their payment, huh?” Oskar says.

  The hulking henchman pounds a fist into his palm and grumbles in a tone that sounds almost bored, “We charge interest.”

  “And if they can’t pay interest… what do we do then?”

  “Find an alternative method of payment,” Konrad breaks in, shattering a second votive.

  “For example, if you don’t have cash, sometimes we’ll take an equitable amount of flesh or blood instead. And let me tell you, sooka, the exchange rate is not so good,” Oskar hisses, cracking his knuckles as he approaches me. I wince as Konrad picks up a chair and throws it across the room, sending it clattering across the dance floor and smashing against a wall.

  “What do you want?” I ask, holding my head high.

  Oskar cackles and puts his hands on his hips, eyeing me up and down. “Well, this debt is quite a sticky one. I think we might have to split the payment between both flesh and blood, wouldn’t you agree, Konrad?”

  “I’ll take the flesh if you want to stake a claim on the blood, Nicolas!” Konrad calls out over his shoulder. Nic nods and starts lumbering toward me, arms poised at his sides and his muscles rippling with every heavy step. I feel my throat close up with terror.

  “And what do I get?” Oskar says, rubbing his jaw thoughtfully. “Ahh yes, I get the pleasure of watching and the satisfaction of another business transaction carried out successfully. What more can a man ask for these days?”

  He steps up to me and I freeze up as he lifts a hand to gently caress my cheek. Then he pats it a couple times and says, “Nicolas, Konrad, come.”

  The henchmen rush to my side and each grab one of my arms, wresting them behind my back as Oskar continues to survey me with beady, mean eyes. He steps back a few feet and clucks his tongue as though weighing his options. Then he claps his hands together.

  “Okay, boys. You can have your playtime with Miss Foss. Then it’s back to business.”

  “No,” I murmur under my breath.

  “Oh yes,” Konrad purrs darkly, his breath hot and rancid on my neck. I shiver and try to jerk away from him but he only tightens his vice grip on my arm and yanks me closer. Nic stands utterly still and expressionless, stoic as always.

  I gasp at the sensation of a long-fingered hand clutching my ass, sliding down the slope of my thigh and between them, his fingers rubbing at my crotch outside my jeans. I cry out in disgust and clamp my legs together more tightly, trying to fling my head back to hit Konrad. But he dodges the move easily, bringing his hand up around my neck.

  “You little bitch,” he rasps, laughing. “You don’t have the money, and you don’t want to honor our deal? You can’t get out of this. You have to pay.”

  “I refuse to pay with my dignity,” I manage to choke out. I kick backward and strike Konrad in the shin. He lets out a bellow of anguish and twists my arm, causing me to wince, tears forming in my eyes.

  “You’ve got none of that left,” he replies.

  As his fingers curl around my throat, Oskar interrupts.

  “Well, if our client doesn’t want to play nice then we will simply have to skip to the next portion of our transaction. Nic, do your work.”

  I struggle as hard as I can trying to break free, my body tensing up in anticipation of the pain I’m about to endure. Nic squares up and winds his arm back to pummel me in the stomach. As he lands the first blow, I cry out in agony and buckle inward, my chest heaving as I try to suck air into my shocked lungs.

  He pulls back to hit me again, with Konrad twisting my arms more tightly behind my back, bruising my flesh and laughing low and evil in my ear. I fold in on myself, wondering if I might actually die here, right now, in the middle of my father’s club.

  “Don’t you dare.”

  The words come from a deep voice across the room, a new voice. We all look over in surprise to see Ivan standing there, a big black gun raised and pointed in our direction. My stomach drops, as I have no idea whether he’s there to save me or to finish me off.

  He is wearing all black, his pressed button-up shirt half-tucked, his jacket and shoes obviously more expensive than my rent. There’s dark stubble shadowing his jaw and his thick brows are furrowed in anger. His full lips are set in a hard line and I can see his finger positioned on the trigger of his gun.

  “Make one more move and all three of you will be dead before you can even harm a hair on her head.”

  With one desperate, pleading look toward Oskar, Konrad releases me, shoving me away. Nic raises his massive arms over his head in surrender and backs off a few feet. I stumble and fall to my knees, pain radiating up and down my legs.

  There’s a shriek of panic from behind t
he bar — presumably Ashton has just seen the gun.

  In the next second, there is a scramble of rapid movements, as Konrad lunges for the bar. I look over my shoulder to see Natalie and Ashton hop up from their hiding place, looking totally pale and terrified.

  “Run!” I scream at them as Konrad rushes around toward the other side of the counter. Both girls let out strangled cries of fear and start to bolt, Nic and Konrad both turn to run at them, and out of the corner of my eye I see Oskar reach for something at his hip.

  But amidst the chaos we all hear the dreadful click of Ivan cocking his weapon.

  “Everybody stay still and shut up!” Ivan commands. And to my surprise, everyone obliges completely. With his gun fixed on Oskar, he takes several steps forward, never taking his eyes off of me.

  “Set that gun on the floor,” Ivan adds.

  There’s a pause. And then with a scathing look, Oskar draws the gun, raising his arms out as he slowly bends to the ground. I hold my breath, watching him dutifully lay the weapon down and stand back up.

  “Now, all three of you pieces of shit need to leave quietly.”

  Once again, there is a moment of hesitation. And then the three thugs resign themselves and make their slow, hateful procession across the room toward the exit. Ivan follows them with his steely gaze until they pass him, and then he looks down at me with an expression of mingled apology and horror.

  He opens his mouth to say something, but before he gets the chance, Nic charges at him from behind, tackling him to the ground, with Konrad following quickly after. In that instant, I see Oskar bolting back toward me — and realize that he is running to collect his gun. Without even thinking, I jump to my feet, ignoring the pangs of agony coming from my legs and stomach. I take a few quick, long strides and kick the gun across the floor so that it slides underneath one of the couches lining the wall. Then I spin around and spread out my aching arms in an instinctual position of protection, knowing that Natalie and Ashton are somewhere behind me.

  I look up to see Ivan wrest one arm free and strike Nic hard across the back of the head with the gun. The big guy yelps in pain and falls to the floor, clutching his head. Konrad is attempting to muscle the gun out of Ivan’s hand, but Ivan is too quick for him and deftly slips his other arm around Konrad’s neck. With the asshole locked in a chokehold, he presses the gun to Konrad’s temple, causing the thug to stop squirming and gulp hard.