by Nicole Fox
Broken Hope
A Mafia Romance (Volkov Bratva)
Nicole Fox
Copyright © 2019 by Nicole Fox
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Also by Nicole Fox
Knocked Up by the Mob Boss
Sold to the Mob Boss
Stolen by the Mob Boss
Trapped with the Mob Boss
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Contents
Broken Hope: A Mafia Romance (Volkov Bratva)
1. Eve
2. Luka
3. Eve
4. Luka
5. Eve
6. Luka
7. Eve
8. Luka
9. Eve
10. Eve
11. Luka
12. Eve
13. Luka
14. Eve
15. Luka
16. Eve
17. Luka
18. Luka
19. Eve
20. Luka
21. Eve
22. Luka
23. Eve
Epilogue
Sneak Preview (Knocked Up by the Mob Boss)
Also by Nicole Fox
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Broken Hope: A Mafia Romance (Volkov Bratva)
By Nicole Fox
They kidnapped my wife and baby. I’ll go through hell to get them back.
Eve was a pawn in a violent game.
Until she became the queen of my world.
She saved me from my own darkness.
But now, my past is threatening to consume us both.
I tried to keep her safe.
Locked away like a princess in a tower.
Up there, she was protected from everything…
Except for me.
Now, I’m knee-deep in the underworld.
I’ll do whatever it takes to rescue my family:
Lie.
Steal.
Kill.
And once this is all over…
Once my wife and baby are back in my arms…
I’ll slaughter every man who laid a finger on them.
No one takes what’s mine.
1
Eve
I feel the rumble beneath me before my eyes open.
It takes me a moment to process that I’m not at home in my bed. That I’m not even lying down. I’m sitting up in the back of a car, and I have the worst pain in my neck. When I roll my head on my shoulders, I wince, squeezing my eyes closed even tighter.
Then, I smell Luka.
For a moment, the familiar scent of his cologne calms me. He is nearby. We are together.
The knot in my chest loosens, and I realize that everything else will be okay as long as we are together.
“Finally awake?”
My eyes snap open at the unfamiliar voice, and I smash my body against the car door, putting as much distance between myself and my seatmate as possible. The car is dark, only the small lights from the car’s console offering a small glow of light into the back seat, and I have to find the human shape in the blackness piece by piece.
“Sorry to startle you,” she says. It is a ‘she’ I recognize now, but I’m still not sure who she is.
Definitely not Luka.
“Where am I?” My voice is raspy, and I clear my throat. “Who are you?”
The woman tilts her head to the side, her long blonde ponytail falling over her shoulder. “You don’t remember?”
I shake my head slowly. My entire body is tense, on guard. I have no memory of how I got here, and a quick glance around the car tells me that, aside from the driver, we are alone. “Where is my family?”
The woman leans forward and looks into my face like she is studying me for signs of injury. “You don’t remember me, Eve?”
It is still dark, but as she moves closer, I see her blonde hair and crisp business clothes. I remember what Luka told me.
“You are … Cole’s sister?” It is a guess, but now that I really look at her, I can see the similarities in their eyes.
“Rian,” she nods.
I shake my head. This still doesn’t make any sense. Even during the short time I was engaged to Cole Morrison, Rian was never around. I didn’t even know she existed until Luka told me he’d met her earlier in the night.
When was that? Just a few hours ago? Talking to him after he came home from the FBI headquarters is one of the last things I remember, but clearly there is a large gap in my memory. How many hours have I lost?
And where is my husband?
Working for the FBI probably meant Rian couldn’t socialize with a known gun trafficker, even if he was her brother. Cole didn’t feel the need to mention she existed. Maybe I would have learned about her eventually if I’d stuck around and become his wife. But apparently they were closer than I realized if she was willing to use her authority as an FBI agent to hunt down the man responsible for her brother’s death.
“I’m sure you are confused,” she says, reaching out to lay a hand on my arm.
I pull away from her reach, and then feel bad for doing so. What if she really is trying to help me?
My head is still swimming. Nothing is making any sense.
She presses her lips together and folds her hands in her lap. “We came to your house to talk with your husband.”
“We?” I ask, looking towards the driver.
She digs in her pocket and pulls out her FBI badge.
“Is he in trouble? You already talked to him tonight. What is going on?”
“Just business,” she says sharply. Then, her eyes soften. “While we were there the second time, you went into a kind of … fit.”
“What does that mean?” My heart is like a jackhammer in my chest, beating so hard I can feel the beats in my entire body. “You didn’t come back a second time. It was just Luka.”
“You were delusional,” she says, waving a hand near her temple to silently suggest I went crazy. “I’m not sure if it was the stress or dehydration or what, but you were going mad. We had to get you out of the house.”
I smack my lips together. They are so dry. My tongue feels like a piece of chalk in my mouth. Maybe I am dehydrated.
“But where is Luka?” I ask, looking into the third row of the SUV even though I know it is empty. “Where is Milaya?”
“She is with Luka at your house,” Rian says in a soothing tone. “Don’t worry. We are just taking you to get checked out. I offered to drive you so Milaya wouldn’t have to get out so late.”
I sit up and twist to the window. We are driving quickly—definitely on a highway—and the sides of the road are lined with thick trees. We aren’t even in the city.
“Are you taking me to the FBI headquarters?”
“No, a hospital,” she says. “You aren’t being arrested. We are just taking you to be seen by a doctor.”
In the middle of nowhere? Why wouldn’t they have taken me somewhere in the city? And why wouldn’t Luka have come with me?
Luka would have come with me. I know it.
Something is wrong here.
“Is Luka going to meet us there?” I pat my thighs, searching for my cell phone, but I’m wearing pajama shorts. No pockets. No purse. No phone.
“He is going to stay at the house with Milaya,” Rian says, soundin
g slightly more annoyed this time. “Don’t worry. We will just have you seen by someone, make sure everything is okay, and then we’ll take you right back home.”
Everything in my body is telling me something is very, very wrong.
My head feels heavy and my temples are pounding like I just woke up from the world’s worst hangover. But I wasn’t drinking the night before.
And as far as delusional fits go, I’ve never had one. No nervous breakdowns, even when I was kidnapped by my own father. If I could handle that, then certainly I can handle a raid by the FBI.
When I look over at Rian Morrison, she is smiling at me, but the expression doesn’t reach her eyes. There, I find only cold assessment. It is the agent in her, observing me, searching for any signs of what I’ll do next, of what I’m thinking.
Why Rian?
She made it clear in her conversation with Luka that she blames him for her brother’s death and wants revenge.
Is that was this is?
Because it certainly isn’t official.
If the FBI was going to take me into custody, there would be more people here. I would be handcuffed. I would have some memory of being arrested.
No, this is off the books, and I know if I don’t get out of here as soon as possible, something bad is going to happen.
Rian opens her mouth to say something else, but before she can, I haul my arm back and slam my fist into her mouth. Her top teeth cut into my knuckle and pain explodes through my wrist. I cry out but there is no time to slow down.
I have to fight.
I grab her ponytail and yank her head forward, trying to throw her off balance. The car jerks and skids on the road, and Rian is trying to yell things at the driver, but my blows are coming too fast.
Luka taught me to fight. At the time, I thought it was unnecessary. I had pepper spray in my purse and a rape whistle on my keychain. Plus, I had Luka and was under near-constant guard by a member of the Bratva. Why did I need to learn to defend myself?
Now, I’m glad he took the time to teach me.
I yank Rian forward and ram my knee upwards towards her face. She pulls back in time to avoid the full impact, but I still feel her nose crunch beneath my kneecap.
The back seat of the SUV is cramped and small, making it hard to move, but I throw my seat belt off and crawl onto the seat on my knees. I wrap an arm around Rian’s neck, using my other hand to swat her clawing fingers away.
I know her nails are digging into my skin over and over again, but the adrenaline pumping through my veins has processed all of that as background information. Not important right now. The only thing that matters now is fighting and getting away.
Fight. Get away.
Back to my family.
“I’ll send Milaya away,” Rian screams. Her voice is shrill and panicked. “I’ll send her to another country, and you’ll never see her again.”
Her words give me pause for only a second before I tighten my hold on her neck. If she kidnapped me and Milaya, then the likelihood that she was ever going to give Milaya back was slim anyway. Fighting doesn’t lessen my chances of seeing her.
For a brief second, I allow myself to think about what she has done to Luka.
If she has taken me and Milaya, then where is he? Is he alive?
I push the thought from my mind as soon as it materializes. I can’t live in that pain yet. Not until I know for sure. Until it is proven otherwise, I’ll believe Luka is alive.
I just need to get the hell out of here and find out.
Rian is going limp in my arms, the fight falling out of her, and I think I am succeeding in suffocating her, but then I feel a sharp pain in my thigh.
I look down to see a syringe jammed into my leg, pumping a clear fluid into my body.
“No,” I growl, throwing my body forward to pin Rian against the leather seats.
I pull the syringe from my leg, but it is too late. There is nothing left. Whatever it was, it is coursing through my veins now, which means I likely only have minutes left to fight.
My movements become hurried, panicked. Move by move, I lose the upper hand.
Rian kicks a leg up and around my back, leveraging her weight to roll over me and pin me on the floorboards.
I kick both feet up and into her stomach, knocking the air out of her, but before I can use the advantage, the rear passenger door opens and the hulking figure of the driver is standing over me.
His hands are warm and meaty, and they clamp onto my arms like I am nothing but a toothpick in the grip of a giant.
He hauls me out of the car and onto the crunchy grass of the ditch, throwing me back in the dirt.
I try to scramble to my feet, but my vision is blurred. My connection to my arms and legs is slipping, and even the simplest movements feel like a chore. Wet sand collects in my hands and my brain has liquefied and is sloshing against the sides of my skull.
I push myself away from the car, scooting further into the brush alongside the road, all the while Rian and her driver are moving towards me.
Rian looks wrecked. Her white shirt has blood around the collar and her lip is already swelling up. Even as I slip from consciousness, I can’t help but be a little proud of my fight.
“She is gone,” Rian says, though I can’t see her anymore. “Put her back in the car.”
Suddenly, I’m floating. My head lolls back, and I open my eyes to look up at the sky. At the stars.
Except, they aren’t the stars.
Just above the tree line in the distance, I can see the lights of the city behind me. The lights of home.
I imagine being there with Luka and Milaya.
We are at the butterfly conservatory. A large building with floor-to-ceiling windows and skylights and a vast garden stretching in every direction.
Luka complains about the humidity and pulls at his shirt, but when he sees the smile on Milaya’s tiny face, he can’t help but smile, too.
We are both slaves to that smile. Anything we can do to make her happy, we will.
For a second after she was born, I was jealous of the way Luka looked at her. At the way he clearly worshipped her. But then, I realized how lucky I was to have a man like that in my life. A man who cared for his daughter more than he cared for himself. Who would do anything to protect her.
Then, he looked up at me, and I recognized the look. It was the same one he gave our daughter, and I knew.
He worshipped me, too.
Milaya bats her tiny hands at the butterflies that flutter close to her stroller, trying to grab them, but they move too quickly. She turns her head from side to side, eyes wide and full of wonder.
I cling to the moment, knowing one day I’ll miss this.
A man appears at the corner of my vision. A dark shadow on the otherwise bright day. I turn to look at him, but Luka angles himself in front of me and Milaya, blocking my view.
I stretch to look around him, but I see the tension in his shoulders and follow the line up to his face. His eyes are narrowed. His gaze is on me, but his attention is somewhere else. Once again, I try to see around him, but he moves to block my view and then grabs my chin.
When I look into his eyes now, they are soft. My favorite shade of green. Like sunlight through spring leaves.
All thoughts of the man behind us disappear as Luka wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me against him. His lips flutter against mine, softer than butterfly wings, and I melt into him.
2
Luka
As soon as my eyes drag open, I’m on my feet.
Holding onto furniture and walls for support, I stumble through my bedroom and into the hall.
“Hello?”
I know Eve isn’t here and she and Milaya are gone, but we have security. Men from the Bratva who watch the house in shifts.
Ever since Eve was kidnapped by her father, I’ve made sure we have security on the property. Even if our system failed, the guards should have noticed something was going on.
“Hello?
” I scream, voice hoarse and dry.
The house is eerily silent, and I stop at the top of the stairs, trying to listen for any movement. There is nothing, and I grip the handrail so hard on my way down the stairs that I’m surprised it doesn’t break off in my hands.
Eve wanted me to quit smoking. If I hadn’t been outside smoking a cigarette, this never would have happened.
The Irish wouldn’t have gotten into my house and taken my wife and child.
All of this is my fault.
I reach the landing and move towards the back of the house where the guards should have been keeping watch from the security room.
As soon as I walk into the small hallway where the door to the security room is, I see the blood.
A thick red puddle leaks out from beneath the door. It is congealed and sticky, meaning it has been there for a while.
How long have I been unconscious?
I turn the handle and toe the door open. It opens a couple feet before it catches on something and won’t open any further.
It is a body.
“Shit.” I slam the door closed and lean back against the wall, hands tugging at my hair.
The Irish did this. I know that. The raid earlier in the evening was a distraction. Rian Morrison had a recording of me killing her brother, which gave her enough evidence to bring me in but not enough to hold me.
But that doesn’t matter. It was a distraction.