Captive of the Hitman: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance Novel (10 page)

I
can’t see
where I am anymore. At some point, I’m not entirely sure when, they got sick of my screaming after watching Mikhail vanish in the rear-view mirror. The one cruel thug forced a gag in my mouth and a sack over my head. It felt like hours ago that happened, but I’m no longer sure of time or pretty much anything else, either.

I was trying to memorize the turns, as if that’d help me instruct Mikhail if I ever got to talk to him again, but I long ago lost count. It certainly didn’t help that it felt like we kept veering off the road and driving erratically. It’s any wonder we didn’t get pulled over, but then I guess there’s not a lot of cops wherever they’re taking me.

I just know that as we get to the end of the journey, they’re hauling me out of the backseat and I feel my feet dragging over cement once we’re inside. Which means we’re not in some cozy place. We’re probably in some dank, abandoned factory. The kind of place people end up right before they get shot by the mob.

The kind of place I never even knew to dread dying in. This isn’t the life I ever could have expected for myself, not by a long shot, but now I suppress a sob. That’s all the bit of pride I can muster, to at least meet my death with some grace and dignity.

“Tie her to the bed,” says the snarling voice of the man who hauled me into his car, the cruel little goblin of a man.

There goes the last bit of my resolve, and I’m screaming again. I can handle the idea of being killed, my body never found, my mom left to mourn a daughter she doesn’t know is dead. I could, at least, make peace with that.

But being put on a bed by these goons, I know that spells trouble of a far greater magnitude, and fear jolts through me. I struggle, my arms nearly torn from their sockets as I yank against them, but they’re both taller and stronger than me by quite a lot.

What greets me isn’t the soft cushioning of a bed, however, not even the rough fabric of some dingy old mattress. It’s just hard metal springs of a bare bed frame digging into me as I’m pushed onto it and stretched out.

I’ve never felt so degraded and so terrified all at once. Every last bit of me wants to scream but my voice is hoarse. I can barely even breathe, and the throbbing of my bullet wound seems even worse now. I don’t know if it’s all in my head or what, but every part of me aches, like I’m being pulled apart.

“Shaddup!” screams the voice of that cruel one, the leader, right before he hits me across the face, knocking the feeble sounds from my lips.

As I sputter and cough from the blow, the two men tie me up so tightly that my poor wrists feel like they’re being sawed through by the rope. Every part of me is either in pain or in extreme discomfort, and I find myself just wishing I could disappear into the ground and be back home.

But when the word comes to mind — home — it isn’t my apartment I’m picturing. It’s Mikhail’s safehouse. Boring, bland, and filled with such red hot lust and passion I can barely contain myself. My home is him, now.

“Let me go,” I beg, almost sobbing the words out. But for my misery the leader yanks my hood off, ripping a few hairs from my head in the process.

“I said shut up!” he shouts, and I’m looking up at his beady-eyed face, so wild with anger, his hand garnished with a ton of glittering gemmed-rings upon it, poised and ready to hit me. “You speak when I tell you to,
da
?” he asks, getting up in my face, grinding his teeth.

I turn away from him, able to see around the building I’m in. I notice weird details about it, like how it’s not an abandoned factory as I thought, just some near-empty warehouse. I try to drink it all in, memorize every inch of it, just in case.

Just in case you discover telepathy?
My inner voice asks, and I don’t even have the energy to fight back. I’m going to die here, and this disgusting man’s beady eyes are going to be the last thing I see.

But I guess instinct kicks in, some sense of self preservation, because I nod. I can’t die in here, and I’m going to do whatever I need to in order to survive.

That glaring troll grabs my face and twists me toward him, his own lips curled in an almost freakish manner.

“Tell me who was protecting you, huh? Who saved your ass from the hotel that night?!” He screamed that last question at me, trying to intimidate me in his pinstripe suit with his fist in the air.

I shouldn’t be so surprised by the question, but I am, and it takes me a second to even realize what he’s asking. He wants me to incriminate Mikhail, to say something against him. I don’t know why, but I guess it’s because he protected me, and that these were the guys that he’d warned me about. It sends a shiver down my spine, but I shake my head.

“I don’t know! I blacked out!” I say, and it’s truthful enough. I just hope I sound honest saying it.

“Don’t lie to me!” he screams at me, grabbing hold of my hair and wrenching my head forward to the limits of my bindings. “Tell me who it was!” he bellows, pulling out a knife from his pants pocket.

I feel like I’m going to be sick, even though I haven’t eaten in a long time. I can’t help it, I just start coughing, my stomach constricting with how scared I am. I’ve never been so afraid in all my life, and I beg myself just to tell him, to give him Mikhail’s name, but I know I could never do that!

I’ve fallen hard for my former kidnapper, and I know he was trying to save me. I saw him, wanting to protect me again from these thugs. How could I betray him after all we’ve been through?

Tears sting my eyes as my retching subsides, but I keep shaking my head. I don’t know when the words start spilling out, over and over, but I’m aware of myself saying, “I don’t know, it’s the truth,” over and over again.

“You’re lying!” he screams at me again and pushes the knife up into my face, letting the metal cut into my cheek, cold and piercing. “Just give me his name! It’s that
zasranec
Mikhail, isn’t it?! Just say it!”

My body is in anguish, begging me to just tell him. Let Mikhail’s name tumble from my lips, and let this all be over. Maybe he’ll even just let me go, even after all of this, if I just obey. But I can’t pretend I’m even considering it.

There’s no way I’m going to betray Mikhail. There’s no way I’m going to turn my back on my only real chance at love.

It’s like suddenly everything he told me kicks into place. The reason why Mikhail had been so cold and distant, the reason he felt he needed to protect me. I now know he wasn’t bluffing just to keep me in place.

He’s been honest to me this entire time, and my heart thuds with fear and love, the emotions mingling into a twisted warmth. I’m going to get out of this. I’m going to survive so that I can tell him that he was right.

“I have no idea! I was drugged!”

Then I hear it, a voice coming in a little tinny. My abuser is looking at the phone upon a nearby box as the voice rises out of it. It’s all in a foreign language I don’t understand, Russian I think, but one name stands out from all the talk: Mikhail.

My captor speaks back, but suddenly all his anger and venom is gone and he has such deference in his voice. It doesn’t last long, though, before his full attention is back upon me as rage flares up in his eyes.

“I am going to give you one last fucking chance to tell the truth,” he says with barely contained anger. “And if you don’t tell me what I want, then I am going to start cutting off fingers,” he says, and he grabs hold of my hand, which is by now already partly numb, twisting my finger so hard I hear a crack and cry out in pain.

It’s like a lightning bolt through my brain, and I can barely even think. All that remains is pain and hurt, and even when I try to squirm, the jagged springs of the bed prod my back and offer no relief.

Tears flood my eyes and I feel them dripping into my hair, but I shake my head. My voice trembles, my mouth filled with saliva and making it harder to talk. “Please stop. I don’t know anything!”

“That’s it,” he growls and he presses the blade into my finger and I see blood well up. “You brought this on yourself,” he declares, working on severing my index finger.

F
or the first
time in my life since I was but a boy, I find myself at a loss. There are no other cars in the back lot to steal, and going back around front to get something to take, and then to navigate around to meet the speeding Vasili, would take far too long.

It’s all falling apart before me.

But I have to try, and I turn and run back all the same, because I won’t give up. That’s not who I am. I’m no quitter. However, the sight of Eva stumbling out of the room, clutching her side gives me pause.

“Wait,” she says, and I stop to help her.

“Will you make it? I have to go and try to rescue her, I can’t afford to stop,” I tell her, because as much as I want to help this brave woman out, Alicia’s life is forfeit if I don’t find her as soon as possible.

“Don’t worry about me,” she says, fishing into her pocket and pulling out a phone. “I gave her my GPS tracker,” she says, opening her phone and activating the tracking app before handing it to me. “Go get her,” she says with grim determination on her blood spattered face.

I pause, thankfulness welling up in me for what this woman has done. I want to ask her one last time if I can help, but I see already two of her gang coming up the stairs toward us.

“I’ll bring her back safe and sound,” I pledge.

“You better,” Eva tells me.

I head back to my stolen ride as the sounds of sirens slowly filter toward us. We all need to get the hell out of here soon, regardless, unless we want the police to screw everything up for us.

I run my fingers through my hair as I tear out of the parking lot, then instantly force myself to slow down. I’m not going to do her any good by getting the attention of the cops. Especially after clamping my hand down on the wheel and seeing the trail of blood down around my forearm. I’d completely forgotten I’d been shot.

I put the wheel between my knees as I tear at the bottom of my shirt, ripping a strip off and wrapping it around my wound. I’ll need to get fixed up later, probably a couple stitches, but for now, this’ll do. I flex my hand, testing to see how much mobility I have, and find that the shooter must’ve missed every important nerve. I still have full range of motion, and that’s good, because I’ll need it. Still, I’ve lost a lot of blood, and I can feel the effects. My reaction time won’t be at its peak.

I glance at the little beeping GPS tracker, and I can tell I’m getting closer. It’s not pinpoint accuracy, but it’s close enough. Eventually I track Vasili to the industrial part of town, and there’s only so many options for him to hold someone hostage.

Or murder someone...

I shake my head free of the thought. I saved her once from my own wrath, and now I’m going to save her from Vasili’s torturous little hands.

Finally I come upon the black sedan I was looking for, parked alongside an old warehouse, but across from another. It’s one of the two, but my bet is on Vasili being too lazy and stupid to take even the slightest bit of care in hiding his destination.

I pull to a stop down the road slowly, so I won’t be overheard approaching. Getting out of the car though, I nearly stumble. I’m lightheaded from the loss of blood, more so than I anticipated. It’ll be a tough time making up for it, but there’s no turning away from it now. Not when my girl’s life is on the line.

I do my best to focus myself, push away the daze, but it’s not something easily done. The light-headedness from blood loss isn’t a pain I can simply push past, it’s something at a base level, beyond my control. I can’t ignore it, because ignoring it lets it control me. Best I can do is try and compensate for it, take into consideration the way it affects my movements, the loss of focus.

Making my way to the door I try to keep my senses peeled. Vasili isn’t a mob boss, and the number of guys he had at the motel was big. It must’ve been every thug he had under his thumb, and maybe a few extra he paid for the occasion. Which likely meant it was just down to him and that one guy he has with him.

Two on one are not odds I’m afraid of, generally speaking. I take on much worse as usual business. But with my head like this, it’s a risk. A big one. And if I fuck this up, it’ll be both Alicia’s and my life.

I take out my gun, a little later than I should’ve, and check the clip. Only a few rounds, but more than enough to get this job on a regular day.

Approaching the door I stop and l peek in through a grated window to get the best view I can, but the grime on the glass makes it difficult. Still, I can see a bit of movement to the left hand side, and I’d bet it’s them.

Even through the glass, though, I can hear a high pitched scream, muffled by the building.

My heart pounds, but I try to calm myself down. That’s a good sign. It means she’s alive, if nothing else. Pain means living.

Life is pain.

And as the stabbing, throbbing pain in my arm attests, as long as you’re alive and feeling that pain, you can still fight.

I kick in the door and lift my gun, firing off an initial shot at one of the men. It misses. I never miss. The damn light-headedness is messing with me. I pop off another shot as the thug spins around to aim his own gun at me, and this time he goes down.

“Mikhail,” Alicia gasps, her poor body tied up to a bed frame, and I can see there’s blood on her clothes. I can’t focus on that. Right now, I just have to worry about keeping her safe.

“Fuck!” Vasili screams. I didn’t know who I was taking out at first, my vision not as clear as I’m used to like this. But I’d recognize that weasely voice anywhere, any time. “Don’t move or I’ll—” I pop off another shot that takes Vasili in the shoulder or arm, I can’t tell. He goes down all the same.
I’m not going to play some pointless standoff with this prick, if I wimp out and don’t take the shot, he has all the control, and then Alicia and I are both dead.

I can’t finish him off at this angle, because the bed is obscuring my view and Alicia is in the line of fire now. So I have to advance on them.

My walk isn’t the usual intimidating stride, I’m wobbling a little, I realize, even if I can’t quite feel it. I’m not going to be able to keep up this fight much longer, my reaction times are horrible, my aim is off, and this guy — as awful as he is — will gain the advantage on me with time.

“Come out,” I bellow at him, my voice thankfully losing none of its aggressive growl, at least.

“Fuck you!” he says as he reaches an arm up over the foot of the bed to shoot at me. I fire first, but it misses. He fires.

A miss.

I fire again and hit his forearm, making him scream and curse as he flails away. Alicia is still tied to the bed, but I’m close enough now that I don’t need to worry about hitting her, even with my aim as off as it is.

“You’re over, snake,” I say, pointing my gun straight down at his face, his panicked expression, hair matted to his sweaty forehead undaunting me. I pull the trigger and…

Nothing.

I’m out.

Normally I’d never lose count in a fight like this, but it’s all I can do to keep things straight. I pull the trigger again to make sure. Nothing.

Vasili’s face turns from abject terror to amusement, and he laughs at me.

“You fucked u—” he starts to shout, but as woozy as I am, I still manage to turn the gun around and beat him across the face with the handle in one smooth move. Some of Vasili’s teeth go flying from his mouth in a spray of blood.

I don’t waste energy on words, I grab hold of his expensive shirt and coat with my injured arm, and continue to beat him with the right. Hard blows upon meat and bone, his jaw cracking as I hammer away. While the blood might’ve drained out of me to an unhealthy degree, it’s blood in my view as I exact the price for fucking with my girl.

No amount of pain or suffering will make up for his terrorizing Alicia. I just need to make sure he never lives another moment to possibly trouble her.

It’s not until his face is misshapen and shattered that I hear Alicia crying out, her words a garbled mess, marked with sobs and rage. “Fucking kill him,” she hisses before she slumps back, exhausted. But even still, she’s a fighter, trying to work off the tight rope that’s no doubt cutting into her skin.

She can’t wait to be rid of this place, and neither can I.

With a final bloody blow to Vasili’s face, I knock him down to the concrete floor and raise my booted foot. I slam the heel down into his head and hear his neck snap.

The rat deserved no better death, and I’m only too happy to give it to him.

I look over at Alicia, and find her staring down at the gory mess, clutching one of her hands. The rope has rubbed her wrists raw, she must’ve struggled free a little, but that doesn’t explain the blood dripping from her fist. For a second, I think she’s going to be sick, so I shield her from Vasili’s corpse, from the sight that she never should’ve had to witness.

My arms wrap around her body and tug her close, protecting her for just a second from all the evils of the world. But I can’t protect her from me.

“We have to get out of here,” I murmur toward her ear, hoping that I don’t frighten my sweet Alicia. I take a moment to swipe the car keys from Vasili’s corpse as she nods against my chest. Even though when she stands, she trembles like a leaf.

I remove the rest of her bindings, then help her up. We step around the bodies, her face buried into my ribs the entire way out.

I’m not about to take the stolen car any further, and Vasili’s should be safe, so I help Alicia into the passenger side before starting up the vehicle. This is sloppy work, and I’ve left a trail from one crime scene to another with the stolen vehicle left behind, but now I have to concern myself with
her
safety, not mine.

“Where are we going?” she asks me in a wavering voice, trembling with hurt and anxiety. I want to hold her, tell her everything will be alright, but there’s no time. We have to be long gone from here before anyone comes by. Police or mob.

“I’ll take you to my nearest safehouse,” I tell her in a firm, hard voice.

“You have more than one?” she asks, and I’m glad that thought at least distracts her from the situation. It’s enough to make me laugh, if only just a bit.

“
Da
, I do,” I say, shooting her a sidelong confident look. “A real man has to be prepared for all eventualities. One safehouse is easily discovered.”

She nods, still coddling her hand. I nod at it, then look in her eyes. She shakes her head.

“I’m fine. It’ll just need a Band-Aid or two when we get back,” she says, though I’m not sure if she’s lying. I don’t bother waiting to see, and instead pull back out onto the road, moving smoothly through the streets.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” I promise her, and even though my heart is thudding in my chest, I’ve never been so relieved in my life.

I have her back. She’s safe. And that
Zasranec
is dead.

My nearest safehouse isn’t too far out of town, and speeding as I am we get there before long. I know how to avoid the police after all, so it’s no worry. The big concern is making sure the car won’t be found and lead anyone to us. I take it into the garage beneath the building, into a secure little semi-private area.

Hopping out, I go around back and remove the license plate. I’ll bring down an extra from the safehouse later, but for now I just tuck it beneath my arm and go to help Alicia out, opening her door and pulling her into my arms.

“It’s all okay now, my
kotika
,” I tell her in a reassuring tone.

And she doesn’t want to be away from me, not even for a step. As I lead her up the gray stairwell she’s clinging to me, holding on for dear life. We make it to the top and I unlock the metal door, but it’s not until we’re inside and I’ve locked the door once more behind us that she finally eases up.

“Is that what you were warning me would happen?” she says, her voice a bit choked up. “I never should have disobeyed you and forced you to let me out.”

Her eyes are watery and the tears are about to flow, but I wrap my arms around her, squeeze her, unable to help noticing how tiny she feels. Smaller than usual, so bunched up and troubled.

“You had no way of understanding how severe this all is,” I tell her, and it’s the truth. “This isn’t your world you’ve stumbled into, it’s mine. I never wanted you to experience life like this.” That’s the truth, too.

Her good hand goes to my cheek, and I feel her push up on tiptoe until her mouth grazes against mine, but then she winces away in pain.

“C’mon,” I tell her. “Let's get your wounds looked at before we do something stupid.”

Unfortunately, both of us had more than our fair share of wounds, but within thirty minutes, I’ve sewn us both up. She was right, thankfully, and the cut on her finger didn’t drive too deeply at all. I must’ve interrupted him in the act of slicing off my precious
kotika’s
finger.

I’d never have forgiven myself if I’d been a moment late...

I don’t know which was worse, though: patching her up or taking care of my own bullet wound. A swig of alcohol numbs some of the pain, but certainly not all of it. Good thing I have steady hands and the willpower of a Minotaur.

“I need a shower,” Alicia says, and I want to tell her that she shouldn’t, but those emerald eyes are begging me not to. “Will you come with me? I don’t want to be alone...”

I nod, “Let me run the shower for you.”

I lead her down the halls, letting her look around. It’s another simple place, not too dissimilar to the safehouse I’d had her in before. It’s over top of a warehouse, in what was at one point undoubtedly the office section, with a break room, kitchen, lockers and shower. All of that now converted into another Spartan hideaway.

I start the water, get it nice and hot because that’s the way every woman I’ve ever known prefers it, then I turn, only to find her there waiting for me.

“Come here,” I beckon, my hands going to her top, carefully removing her blouse. I’m trying to play the gentleman, but it’s hard to ignore the pillowy mounds of breast flesh barely contained in her bra. Those luscious tits are enough to steal any man’s focus.

And it’s impossible to take my eyes away when her breath quickens, her breasts rising faster and fuller as I look at her. I swear, I see a flush go across her creamy skin, and when I look at her face once more, she’s drawn her lip into her mouth, chewing on it.