by Izzy Sweet
Stealing Amy
A Dark Romance
Izzy Sweet
Sean Moriarty
Copyright © 2017 by Izzy Sweet and Sean Moriarty
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Published by Izzy Sweet and Sean Moriarty
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2017 Izzy Sweet & Sean Moriarty
Created with Vellum
Contents
About This Book
Newsletter
1. Andrew
2. Amy
3. Andrew
4. Andrew
5. Amy
6. Amy
7. Andrew
8. Amy
9. Andrew
10. Amy
11. Andrew
12. Amy
13. Amy
14. Andrew
15. Amy
16. Andrew
17. Andrew
18. Amy
19. Andrew
20. Amy
21. Amy
22. Andrew
Epilogue
Playlists
Also by Izzy and Sean
About Us
Keeping Lily
Newsletter
About This Book
They grabbed the wrong girl.
They thought I was his wife, not the woman he's obsessed with.
Ivan Romanov is one of the Russian mafia’s biggest financial backers.
And he's been destroying my life piece by piece just to get me in his bed.
I never wanted to be in this situation.
Stalked.
Cornered.
Desperate.
I was doomed. About to be forced by a powerful man who was willing to take what I didn’t want to give.
Then he came, a demon in the dark. A dark voice that told me to be a good girl if I want to live...
Newsletter
Sign up for our newsletter - no spam- and download an Izzy Sweet book for free
http://bookhip.com/CKHPSJ
1
Andrew
Thump.
“I simply don’t understand it, Bart. You had everything in the palm of your hand…”
Thump.
My fist connects again with his body and this time it elicits a muffled screech. That tends to happen when someone’s kidneys have been hit hard enough. It’s strange, for such vital organs, the body sure didn’t keep them hidden inside somewhere safe.
The screams and screeches peter out until I slam my fist against the other kidney. If I was a gambling man, which I’m not, I would say that Bart would be pissing blood for a week if he wasn’t destined to die pretty soon.
“You were a part of the inner circle. You had your mouth on the golden teat! How the fuck could you betray Lucifer?” I ask.
Standing in front of Bart, I shake my head at him. His eyes are wide with terror, and if I’m not mistaken, he pissed himself recently.
“All you had to do was tell Lucifer the Japs had approached you. You could have told him they were trying to pay you off. You know for a fact he would have fixed you up. He always takes care of us!”
I don’t mean to scream that at the end, but Bart has to have known that.
Loyalties have been tested in the past with some of the guys, and every time Lucifer was there to make sure we followed him. To make sure we knew he was as loyal to us as we are to him.
The shrill sound of my phone ringing from my suit pocket stops me from swinging at his eyes. My fist is inches away from his nose when I stop myself.
I grin at him.
Wagging a finger in his eyes, I say, “Not just yet, be right back. You just hang out for me.”
I pull the phone out of the suit jacket I left hanging on the back of the shitty chair in this room. Everything in this shitty room is fucking way past its prime. Then again, if it wasn’t an abandoned old motel out in the middle of nowhere it wouldn’t be so shitty.
“This is Andrew.”
“Andrew, my friend!”
“Harrold, I was going to call you soon… How’re things going?”
“Busy, as you well know. Mr. Lucifer informed me you would be needing my services today. I wanted to see if you had a time frame…”
Winking at a terrified Bart, I say, “Can you meet me at the old motel in about an hour? I won’t be here much longer.”
“I will be there.”
“Thanks.”
Disconnecting the phone, I put it back in my pocket before I pull the forty-five pistol from my shoulder holster. Bart is shaking now, and that wet spot I saw earlier is growing larger by the second.
The distinct smell of shit erupts in the air as I walk up to Bart and push the barrel of the pistol against his stomach.
“It’s a shitty thing to know exactly how much more time you have left to live. To know you can’t change the certainty of your own death.”
Lowering the pistol towards his crotch, I pull the trigger.
The loud eruption of the gun in this small but tattered room deafens me. It’s a few moments before I’m able to hear his loud screams through the ball gag I have crammed in his mouth.
“You’re going to the afterlife a cockless bastard!” I roar over his screaming.
Aiming at his knee caps, I pull the trigger twice in rapid succession.
One in each knee cap.
The screaming continues for a few seconds before he passes out, his head slumping forward. Pain has a way of breaking everyone. He’s no different than any other pile of shit out there.
Not any more he isn’t.
Fucking little bitch is now one of the commoners. One of the fucking sheep out in the fucking herd that gets to die when the big bad fucking wolves tear his throat out.
There’s a code in this world, it’s an oath to each other that binds us. It’s there to make sure we have each other’s back, no matter what.
What he did… It’s just not done.
We are all hard, battle-tested men who want the most from our role in life. He just threatened that role. He removed himself from being above the common crowd and put himself down in the mud like the rest of the fucking pigs.
Rolling in filth and shit.
Sitting in the chair that my coat hangs on is the small black leather bag I brought into this shitty motel with me. It’s a fucking dump here, and I pray that I don’t get bugs from the shitty room.
Pulling a hypodermic needle out of the bag, I take the bottle of adrenaline out as well. I fill the syringe as I walk over to Bart.
Back when I was in the SEALs, I served as a medic. Normally, I would never pull someone from a blackout like this…. it fucks with the body and will probably hurt his heart and brain pretty bad.
But he doesn’t need to worry about those things.
I inject directly into the heart. His head snaps forward in wide-eyed misery as he comes back to reality.
Walking back to the bag, I pull out a small bottle of morphine.
His hands are stretched high above his head and he hangs from the ceiling supports. It doesn’t help with injecting the pain meds.
Shrugging my shoulders, I push the medicine into a vein throbbing on the left side of his neck.
The drugs must work pretty damn
well because his eyes lose that pain-filled haze and slowly begin to focus on me. I didn’t give him much though, just enough to dull the pain but not cloud the mind.
“Bart, I know you were one of us so I won’t send you to be fed to the pigs while you are alive. You get that much out of me. But Lucifer has a reputation to protect and so do I. I’m going to use you as a message to the Japs. You won’t be alive to give it to them, but I’m pretty sure they will understand it all the same.”
Pulling a scalpel from the bag, I first slice off his right ear then his left.
The screams are audible through the gag again and I’m tempted to do this after he dies, but I don’t think that would be the right thing. He betrayed Lucifer and put the wife and kids in jeopardy—that can’t be allowed ever.
But more importantly, he betrayed me and the men who serve our boss.
Taking out my anger again, I punch him in the mouth. I wince. Fuck, I think I hurt a knuckle with his teeth.
Shit, it’s time to finish this off. I need a cold beer and a very hot pussy after shit like this.
He passes out sometime after I stab his eyes out.
No sight, no hearing, and no talking. He will go to them as a good message of what is to come for daring to attack us. To dare attack our boss.
Slicing the rope that is holding him up, his body falls to the ground in an almost boneless fashion. He’s in the land of twilight now, not dead but almost.
I’ve never removed a tongue before and it makes my stomach quiver a bit.
My phone rings as I am unzipping my pants, my thick flaccid cock coming out of my boxers. “Fuck”
Walking over to my coat, I pull the phone out and walk back to the still-breathing body. I push connect at the exact moment I release a torrent of piss down on the bastard’s face.
“Yeah?”
“We’re here, Andrew.”
“Ah, okay. Come on back, I’m done here.”
My bladder comes to a stop as I finally empty it completely. Bart’s face turns towards me and he makes a loud, pitiful groan.
Kneeling down beside him, I say, “I hope you find even more torment in hell.”
Putting the pistol to his forehead, I pull the trigger, and again the roar of the gun is deafening to my ears.
2
Amy
One year later
Ivan’s baby blue eyes flick towards me, full of apology, as he focuses most of his attention on the phone pressed against his ear.
My eyes meet his and I keep expecting to feel something. To feel something more than this coldness that seeps inside of me.
Whoever he’s listening to must say something to make him angry because his eyes narrow, no longer focusing on me, and he speaks sharply in Russian.
Honestly, I don’t care that he has a phone call. Anything that pulls his attention away from me is a welcome relief.
I just want this stupid date to be over with.
Glancing down at my salad, I stab a piece of romaine lettuce a little more forcibly than required and push it into my mouth, chewing thoughtfully.
Ivan continues to speak rapidly in Russian and I don’t understand a word he’s saying except for the name Lucifer.
I never considered Ivan the religious type. In fact, I’m pretty sure the guy is a ruthless, heartless criminal who would sell his own mother if given half a chance. But more and more often lately, I keep hearing that name.
Has Ivan suddenly taken up faith?
It doesn’t seem likely. Something else must be going on… Something that is pissing Ivan off.
Dropping my fork, I push my plate away and pick up my glass of wine. Slowly, my eyes glide over the room, taking in the upscale restaurant he brought me to. The décor is exquisite. Everything is done in white, gold, and sparkling crystal.
The clientele is impeccable; we’re surrounded by the crème de la crème of Garden City. I recognize the mayor, a few A-list actors, and a rising pop star.
Everyone is dressed like they’re ready to hit the red carpet or something—including the man sitting across from me.
Ivan looks like he just stepped off the cover of a magazine in his dark charcoal gray suit and blue silk tie. His suit jacket is unbuttoned, and he leans back in his chair. He is easily the most attractive man in the room, and it’s done effortlessly.
He’s beautiful, one of the most beautiful men I’ve ever laid eyes on with his short, white blonde hair, and baby blue eyes. His bone structure is flawless. Sharp cheekbones, a straight nose, and soft, kissable lips.
But his beauty does nothing but leave me feeling empty. No matter how hard I try to connect with him the connection just isn’t there.
Sipping my wine, I know I should be flattered that a man like him is interested in a girl like me. And in the beginning, I was flattered… but no longer.
I’ve glimpsed the monster behind the beautiful mask and now I can’t unsee it.
Two shadows move behind Ivan and I drink deeper.
I’m totally fucked and I don’t know how to get myself out of this mess. Those two shadows are guarding Ivan’s back, and I know there are at least two more at each exit. I could try to slip away, but even if I do succeed, what about Abigail?
My heart starts to race and I quickly have to shut down my panic. Freaking out will only make this worse.
So what if I don’t have an excuse tonight to keep him out of my bed? Maybe it won’t even come to that…
Ivan’s rapid Russian slows and his blue eyes focus once more on me. He watches me drain the remaining wine in my glass and makes a motion with his hand. A waiter lingering beside the table rushes forward, refilling my glass before I even get it back down to the table.
Ivan’s soft lips spread into a pleased smile and he picks up his glass of vodka, cheering me before tipping it back.
His eyes never leave my face as he drinks, and I know he expects me to join him. I also know that if I refuse the invitation that it will most likely make him angry… so I pick up my glass and tip it back.
Ivan drains his glass and the waiter steps forward to refill it but Ivan waves him away. I finish off half of my glass, feeling the warm buzz of alcohol warming my belly before I set it down on the table gently.
Ivan motions for the waiter to refill my glass for me.
Clenching my teeth together, I watch the waiter top my glass off and my cheeks burn with heat.
So it’s come to this? He’s resorting to getting me drunk so he can finally sleep with me…
Lifting my glass, I drain down the wine, drinking deeply. I need the alcohol’s false courage to fortify me so I can make it through this night.
Ivan smirks and his eyes warm as he watches me.
He’s been trying to sleep with me for weeks now, and I’m not sure how I’m going to blow him off tonight. I’m running out of excuses.
How did my life come to this? Dreading the affections of such a man…
I bet half the women in this room would probably give their left tit to sleep with him.
They can have them if they want him.
I fucking hate him.
Eight weeks ago, Ivan walked into my life, and I wish he would have walked right back out of it. He walked into my work, a little clothing boutique downtown, looking for a present for his sister. Shamelessly, he flirted with me the entire time I helped him pick out a scarf. And given that he’s so damn handsome, I was immediately taken with him.
I was over the moon when he returned the next week, and the week after that.
When he asked me out on a date, it was like a dream come true.
He’s rich, beautiful, and powerful. And for those first couple of weeks, I wondered if I had somehow stepped into a fairy tale. He lavished me with expensive gifts and took me out to expensive restaurants. He even gifted me an entire new designer wardrobe.
But after a while, it was becoming very apparent that he expected me to repay him for the favors.
That was when the illusion started to fade for me. I
began to notice his perfection was flawed. All the little things became more apparent. Still, I tried to return his affection, up to a point, but he always wanted more.
He demanded it.
I tried to break things off. I even attempted to return everything he ever gifted me, but he’s a man who refuses to accept the word no.
After the first night I refused him, I started to notice strange men following me to work. They’d linger outside the boutique during my shift, keeping tabs on me and everyone I interacted with.
At night, Ivan would show up at my door, questioning me about my day, and becoming more and more obsessive. I became afraid, and even looked into a restraining order, but all that did was piss him off and show me just how powerful he truly is…
Ivan speaks a few clipped words into his phone and then hangs up. Tucking the phone into his pocket, he leans forward and grabs my hand.
I resist the urge to pull my hand away. Something about his touch makes my skin crawl.
“My apologies, myshka,” he purrs, fingers wrapping around me tightly. “But that was a very important call.”
I nod my head and set my empty glass down on the table. Ivan nods towards the glass and the waiter steps forward, refilling it once more.
Ivan pulls my hand towards him and then lifts it to his mouth, lips tenderly brushing across my knuckles.
For a moment, I wonder what is wrong with me. Something inside of me must be broken. This beautiful man is bestowing his affections upon me but I find his touch repulsive. No matter how hard I try, I can’t bring myself to enjoy it.