Stolen by the Mob Boss : A Russian Mafia Romance (Bratva Hitman)

by Nicole Fox

  “Nah. The old lady doesn’t do much all day. Am I supposed to be looking for something interesting?”

  I shake my head. “No. You’re just keeping watch.”

  Dustin is a contact I made a few years ago. He’s worked in security before, and is now a cop, so he was the perfect person to hit up a few weeks ago. I knew Lucy would be with me much longer than she told her grandmother, and I didn’t want the old lady being home alone in case someone went after her the same way they did with us at the diner.

  Dustin was more than happy to take the job when he saw how much I was paying. He let me know that he’d be available most nights, which seemed like a good idea for me. Between hospital visits and running smaller errands, the woman wasn’t home during the day much. Having someone watch after her at night put me at ease just a little more.

  “Where’s the girl?” Dustin asks, glancing at me.

  “Where I left her.”

  He laughs nervously. “What, did you kill her or something?”

  I cut my eyes to him, and his laughter stops. He knows about my rules. He knows that’s out of the question. I don’t even care for jokes about it.

  Lucy’s words come back to me. She told me she’d rather I hit her than abandon her. That turned my stomach.

  “Is she okay? I really don’t want to have to tell this old lady that her granddaughter’s in danger or something.”

  I give him another look. “I’d be the one to do that. Besides, she’s fine. She’s just ... pissed at me. That’s all.”

  “That seems to be how it is with you and women. You come back here acting all stoic and shit, and they’re mad at you, calling you all kinds of douchebag and prick.” He chuckles, shaking his head. Maybe it was a mistake sharing a few personal stories with him years ago. I don’t think we’re friends, but Dustin and I are as close as two acquaintances can be.

  “I’m going for a walk,” I say, unlocking the door.

  “C’mon, man, you just got here. Stay a while, keep me company. It’s lonely watching old women wander around their houses and stare at soap operas reruns all day.”

  “All the money I’m paying you is more than enough company,” I grunt. I climb out and slam the door behind me. I cross the street and head back to my car when I see the front door of Lucy’s house open and a small woman appear. She has a large container rolling behind her, and she struggles to get it out of the door.

  I’ve never seen the woman before, but the resemblance is uncanny. She has the same piercing blue eyes, and I imagine that, before it grayed, her hair was the same sunny blonde shade as her granddaughter’s. I’m not close enough to see whether she has freckles too, but something tells me that she does.

  For a moment, I consider letting her do this on her own. I don’t like to be in contact with too many people. The fewer people who can recognize my face, the better. But I feel guilty about what I did to Lucy. This is a way to make up for at least a little of the bad karma I’ve generated.

  “Let me help you with that,” I say, hurrying up the steps and taking over for her. She seems surprised that I’m offering but doesn’t object.

  “That’s so kind of you,” she says in a honey-sweet voice.

  “It’s nothing, really. You were struggling.”

  I drag the recycling bin down to the curb with the trash can, and a thought crosses my mind. Did she also bring that down here by herself? I almost have it in me to wring Dustin’s neck. I’m sure he saw her dragging this thing down and did nothing to help. This is what I get for working with cops.

  When I finish with the bin, I dust my hands off and look up at her. Just as I thought. She has the exact same freckles as Lucy. Genetics are crazy.

  “I’ve lived here my whole life,” she says, “but I’ve never had anyone offer to take these out for me. My granddaughter usually does it, but I haven’t heard from her in a while.”

  That guilt returns. “I’m sorry to hear about that.”

  “Oh, don’t be,” she says, smiling mischievously at me. “She told me she met a nice man that wanted to spend time with her, so I’m not in any rush to have her back. I’m glad she’s finally branching out. This is the first man she’s ever shown interest in.”

  My gut twists, and I look away. “Is he?”

  “Mhm, yes,” she nods. “I just hope I get to see her settle down with a nice man before I go. She’s been through so much. She deserves someone that will take care of her and give her the world.”

  Fuck.

  I really need to go. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I wasn’t supposed to be standing here with Lucy’s grandmother, realizing how shitty I’ve been to her granddaughter. This is what I get for trying to help.

  “You must be busy, pardon me,” she giggles. She steps forward and gives me a tight hug, surprising me. When she pulls away, she says, “Thank you so much for helping me out, young man. I really do appreciate it.”

  “Not a problem, ma’am.”

  I can’t help but feel jealous of Lucy. She has a grandmother that wants nothing but the best for her. She has family that cares for her and only wants to see her do well in life. What I wouldn’t give for someone to wish for the same for me.

  “I hope I see you around,” she says, grinning. She brushes a strand of gray hair behind her ear.

  “Fingers crossed.” I force a little smile and wave, heading back to my car. I don’t even want to look back at Dustin because I’m sure he’s probably laughing his lazy ass off. People that age only ever want to talk, and it always makes me feel strange. I don’t like talking. I’d rather just sit in silence and listen to the world around me.

  When I make it to my car, I lean back and close my eyes. This is almost over. Konstantin is almost out of the picture. Soon, I’ll be able to put this all behind me. Disappear for a while. Not exist. Maybe I’ll change everything about me. Put this in the past where it belongs. And when I come back, probably for another assignment from Mr. X, I’ll never make these mistakes again.

  I can’t.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Lucy

  I’m such a fucking idiot.

  I should’ve never trusted Roman. This isn’t the first time he’s changed his mind. It’s not even the second time. I should’ve known that he was going to do something like this, and yet I think this time, it’s the worst of all three betrayals. Before, I wasn’t head over heels for the man.

  I should’ve listened to that little voice in my head that told me Roman wouldn’t be a good idea. For the past three weeks, I let myself be convinced that this would all work out. After waiting my entire life for a moment to stop Konstantin, I thought that maybe this would be the break I needed.

  The worst part is, in the most intimate moments with Roman, I forgot why we were working together in the first place. My goal was always to stop Konstantin. And now I won’t be there to see it finally happen.

  Bitter tears sting my eyes, and I press my face against my shoulder, trying to wipe them. Tied up in this position, it makes my arms ache, but right now, that pain is more manageable than the one in my heart. It feels like that part of me is broken completely.

  I trusted Roman with my life, and he did this to me. I should be seeing red. Only, the last thing I’m feeling is rage. Sorrow weighs the heaviest on me, like I’ve just climbed out of the pool with all my clothes on.

  Ten minutes pass, and I feel my muscles groan as I continue to struggle. The rope around my wrists burns just like it did in the bathroom at the motel, and just like then, I know that I probably won’t be able to get out. Roman’s good at tying knots.

  The more I tug at my bindings, the more frantic I grow. I can’t stay here. I don’t have a story for why I’m here. People will wonder what happened to me, and I won’t have any answers. I already told the police at the motel that I knew Roman. They’ll wonder why I lied back then if he was actually a threat to me. And if they’re still looking into the incident at the diner, they’ll eventually figure out that I was the woman on ca
mera that shot a man dead.

  No, I can’t stay here.

  My eyes follow the bed post higher and higher, and that’s when I notice that the wood gets thinner at the top. I lift my hand as high as possible, ignoring the screaming strain in my shoulders. When it’s at the highest I can get it, I tug towards me. The thin post buckles, but it doesn’t break. I take in a slow, controlled breath, and angle myself in a way that lets me put my weight into the next tug. To my relief, the cheap wood snaps off and I can slide the rope free.

  “Yes,” I whisper, nearly crying again.

  I roll my shoulder in circles, wincing at the soreness. The police will be here any minute, and I have to get out of here before that happens. I repeat the same method on my other hand, jerking backwards with more strength than before. It snaps off just the same. Once again there are mild burns on my wrists, but I don’t have time to worry about those.

  Getting my feet untied is the hard part. I can’t lift them high enough to break the posts, so I have to lean forward and undo the knots, my fingers shaking as I work. Finally, I’m free, and I roll off the bed onto my knees. When I stand, my knees are wobbly. I take a second to gain my composure and hurry to the closet.

  It’s been too long for me to catch up with Roman, but I can at least get the fuck out of this house before anyone shows up. I grab a large empty duffle bag and begin shoving clothes into it, fitting as many as I can inside. When I’m satisfied with how much I’ve packed, I hurry downstairs in search of my shoes.

  I stop in the living room and grab my notepads, stuffing them in the bag as well. Roman can steal Konstantin from me, but I’ll be damned if I leave this place without all the words I’ve written since he brought me here.

  Just as I zip up the bag, there’s a loud bang behind me. I spin around to find the front door knocked wide open. It bounces off the wall, and a police officer enters the living room, gun drawn. My stomach sinks, and my heart skips a beat.

  “Put your hands in the air,” he demands.

  I drop my bag and raise my hands. “What’s going on?”

  “We got a call saying there was a woman tied to a bed at this address,” he explains. “On your knees, now.”

  Part of me wants to argue, but his gun remains trained on me. As I get down on the floor, I say, “I was the woman on the bed.”

  “What?”

  “I was tied to the bed earlier. My husband and I have this little game where he’ll leave me tied to the bed and run a few errands. It’s like ... It’s kind of like BDSM?” It’s the same excuse I used in the motel, but I’m crossing my fingers he buys it, too. “You can go upstairs and look. I got a call from a friend and had to break out of the ties.”

  “You stay here,” he says, and he climbs the stairs, disappearing for a moment. Something inside of me says to make a break for it. I can get away and hop the fence out back before he comes downstairs again.

  What if he has backup, though? What if there’s someone waiting outside, prepared to shoot the very second they see a runner? Swallowing my flight response, I stay put on the ground, hands in the air. A moment later, the officer comes downstairs again.

  “I’m confused about the call,” he says.

  “It was probably a neighbor. We live around a bunch of nosy older folks. You know how they can get,” I say, forcing a laugh. “They’ve been weirded out by us since we moved in.”

  “Ah,” he says hesitantly. Slowly, he puts his gun in the holster. “All right, well, I’m sorry for the interruption this morning. My recommendation is that you cover those windows before you and your husband engage in any more, uh... ‘fun’.”

  “Oh don’t worry,” I laugh. “We’ll make sure to buy blackout curtains before we do anything like that again.”

  “I’ll let you get back to your day, ma’am. And sorry again for bothering you.” The officer heads to the door, and I stand up, following after him.

  Instead of stepping outside, though, he closes the door and locks it.

  “What—”

  Before I can finish my sentence, he lunges at me, grabbing for my throat. I stumble backwards and nearly trip, sidestepping his second lunge before taking off in the other direction.

  “Get back here,” he growls. He chases after me, managing to grab my foot as I climb the stairs. I lurch forward and slam my chin on the stair ahead of me. My head spins and I bite down hard on my tongue.

  The police officer jerks backwards, dragging me down, but I grab the banister and turn over. My kick comes quick and fast, directly in the center of his face. Roaring in pain, he stumbles backwards and falls flat on his ass.

  My head throbs painfully but I ignore the ache and push myself up, running upstairs. I slam the door shut and lock it, frantically looking for something to barricade it with. I run to the armoire, my muscles screaming as I slam my shoulder into it, pushing it closer to the door. Just as I approach, the door explodes open again.

  The officer manages to grab me this time, and he spins me around, slamming me against the wall. The wind is knocked out of me, and I feel dizzy, my knees wobbling. When my vision stabilizes, he’s glaring at me, almost as if he’s taking pleasure in all of this.

  He reaches for my throat, and that’s when Roman’s training kicks in. I move faster than him, grabbing his pinkie and thumb as his hand gets closer. He’s caught off guard, and I pull backwards, trying my hardest to break his fingers. The officer recoils, cradling his hand.

  “You little bitch!” he bellows.

  “Fuck you!” I aim between his legs and kick him as hard as I can. Like a sack of flour, he hits the ground with a thud, groaning loudly. I don’t give him a moment to recover. I kick him two more times, one in the stomach and the second in the face. When I try for a third, he grabs my leg, yanking me forward. I nearly trip as I break free, but manage to keep my balance.

  Slowly, he positions himself between me and the door, and I know that the only place left to go is the bathroom. I run inside and lock the door, pressing my back to it.

  “Fuck,” I whisper, panic creeping over me. There’s nowhere else to run. We’re on the second floor, and I can fit through the window, but the fall ... I don’t know if I’d be able to land without possibly hurting myself.

  There’s no time to reconsider other options, though.

  I tear the shower curtain out of the way and stand on my toes, tugging the sliding window to the side. There’s just enough room for me to get out. Standing on one edge of the tub, I hop up and begin to shimmy through when I hear the impossibly loud bang of a gun.

  The doorknob explodes. He must have shot it from the other side. With nothing to hold it in place, the splintered door swings inwards, hanging awkwardly on its hinges. I try to quickly scramble out the window, but I don’t get far before I feel hands around my waist. The cop pulls me back hard and the world spins. For a moment, I’m horizonal, but gravity catches up with me. The last thing I see is the edge of the tub speeding directly towards me before everything goes black.

  ***

  My vision is foggy, and I groan softly, trying to reach up to rub my hand. I immediately realize that my hands are tied behind my back. Really starting to get fucking sick of that.

  “Yeah, she’s awake now,” I hear the officer—obviously not a real cop—say. He glances at me in the rearview mirror, a phone pressed to his ear.

  “Who are you?” I demand. “Where are you taking me?”

  “I’ll call you back, boss,” he says. He ends the call and tosses his phone into the passenger’s seat. “Settle down.”

  I tug at the ties around my wrists, but it’s useless. There aren’t any bedposts I can break to escape. These knots are serious. “Please,” I start.

  “None of that,” he says. “You nearly had me back at the house, I’ll give you that. That’s exactly why you can stop all of that begging. Maybe I would’ve been more lenient if you hadn’t tried to break my fucking fingers.”

  “Maybe I wouldn’t have tried to break your fucking
fingers if you hadn’t tried to grab me by my fucking throat,” I spit back. “Who was that on the phone? Who’s your boss?”

  “You sure are a nosy little bitch, aren’t you? I would’ve expected just a little more begging,” he chuckles.

  “This isn’t my first time some asshole’s kidnapped me,” I mutter.

  “You are a confusing one, Lucy. Must be that’s why Konstantin wants you so badly.”

  My heart stops, and for a moment, I’m sure I’ve heard him wrong. But when I look in the mirror and meet his amused gaze, I know I heard exactly what he said.

  “He’s been very interested in you. Normally, I wouldn’t involve myself with the Bratva, but that money sure is nice. My buddy, the guy your little boyfriend hired to watch after your grandmother, is still jealous that I got the fun job of grabbing you.”

  “Don’t you fucking hurt her,” I snarl, briefly surprised that Roman hired someone to watch my grandma and didn’t let me know. I want to be grateful for that, but I’m far too angry. And now, add worry for Nana to that list.

  “Relax,” he sighs. “Konstantin doesn’t want anything to do with the old bitch. He’s only interested in you. Only has eyes for you, he said. What’s so special about you, Lucy?”

  “We have a history.”

  “Ex-girlfriend or something?”

  “Something,” I mutter. I’d rather not go into detail with this son of a bitch. Not when I’m caught in a trap I can’t escape from. Konstantin has me. He has eyes on Nana. He probably even knows where Roman is.

  We were so stupid to think that we’d do this without setting off some kind of alerts. Someone as powerful as Konstantin must have people all over the city keeping an ear to the street, listening for possible threats. And with the two of us preparing to take out one of the Bratva’s biggest members, someone was bound to find out.

  Shit.

  I really thought that after all these years, I’d finally have the revenge I deserve, but it could never be this easy. And now it’s all going to be over soon. Konstantin will probably kill me, and when he’s done with that, he’ll go after Roman, then Nana. No one will be left to stop him. I feel tears sting my eyes, but I squeeze them shut.