Havok: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (11 page)

W
hen Havok pulls away
, I feel like I've been sucker-punched.

Just an hour ago, he tried to kiss me. And now when I return it, he denies me.

I stare at him, trying not to let emotion show on my face. But I'm sure it's plain as day.

"Why are you doing this?" I blurt out, just before he walks out the bedroom door.

He stops and turns around. "Doing what?"

"Pushing me away," I say. "Come on. I feel this connection. I know you feel it too."

He leans uncomfortably against the doorframe, as if he's contemplating escape from the room. "No idea what you're talking about."

"One minute, you kiss me, and the next..." My voice trails off.

"I'm not pushing you away. I'm not pushing anything away. There's nothing to be pushed," he says.

"You're lying," I say. "I see the way you look at me. The way you've always looked at me. Up on the stage. In this house."

He shrugs, shifting his weight to his uninjured leg. "You think you've got some special connection with me just 'cause I ogle your naked ass and tits?"

My face burns bright red, I just know it does. I can feel the blood rushing to it now. "If I'm just a set of body parts to you, then why did you kiss me?"

He looks away. "It was a mistake."

"You don't feel the connection? I think you're lying."

"Okay," he says, showing me his open palms, "So I was thinking about fucking the shit out of you. That's a far cry from this emotional bullshit you're spewing."

I'm getting angry. This feels like my old relationship with Brock. This is how it started. He was cold, used my emotions to manipulate me. And I feel like that's what Havok is doing right now.

"But there
is
a connection, right?" I ask. I sound like a desperate idiot. Stupid, stupid girl.

He just stares, a hollowness in his eyes. This isn't a normal man I'm dealing with.

I don't even want a fuck from him anymore. Don't want to give him the satisfaction, no matter how good it would feel to have him inside me. If he'd ripped my clothes off, that would've been one thing. But he kissed me, and I felt the connection, and I can't un-feel it now.

"Penny," he says, with a haunted expression. "I'm broken. I'm a monster. You should stay far away from me."

I sense deep pain inside him, and I think back to what he told me about his ex-fiancée. And about his father back in Russia. Stupid me. Of course this is a man who's emotionally unavailable. This is how I got mixed up with Brock in the first place. By going after men who are bad for me. I should have known better.

"Okay," I say, quietly and deflated. "Forget everything then. Just tell me when I get to leave this place."

"You want the truth?"

I nod. "Yes."

"The truth is, I don't know. I don't know if I can trust you not to sell me out to the cops. Especially now."

"And why should I trust
you
?" I say, seizing the courage to say what I've wanted to say for a long time. "You keep me tied up. You killed my boyfriend. You come home with bullet holes in your leg. How do I know you're not the one stealing girls from the club?"

He grits his teeth, and I hear them grinding from across the room. "Do you see any other girls here?" he says, his voice rising. "Have I done anything to hurt you? Sold you for money?"

"How would I know?"

"You've been here how long, a month and a half already?"

I'm quiet. I'm too mad to continue the conversation. "Fine. Then I guess this is my life now."

"Stop being dramatic," he says. "I have work to do." And with that, he exits the room, flipping off the light switch and leaving me in darkness.

Angrily, I feel around for my purse, and I find the very last pill in the secret compartment.

Instead of swallowing it down, I squeeze it between my fingers, crush it on the nightstand, and snort the powder. I'm making this one count.

When this last high wears off, I'm going to be forced to confront my greatest demon, because there won't be any other choice. I'm going to detox, and end this addiction once and for all. And I'm going to have to do it all alone.

I
f Luka hadn't called
me, I would have gone through with it. I would have kept kissing her, and I would have taken her over and over again, until the sun came up.

But the phone call knocked some sense into me, and I deflected her the only way I have left. By being a cold, fucking prick to her. I hated doing it. Saw how it hurt her.

But I can't give her what she needs. If I give in and fuck her, and goddamn, do I want to, it'll only break her heart. Because even though I want her so bad, her body and her mind, I'm too conflicted, too fucking mixed up inside about everything to truly love her.

I don't think I'm capable of having a normal human relationship. I think in the process of sculpting myself into a brutal killing machine, I permanently lost the ability to open up and embrace vulnerability.

I have to get this job done, learn to trust Penny, and let her go. She'll be safe out in the world once Igor is gone.

She deserves someone much better than me.

* * *

T
he rest
of the weekend passes in a blur, as I anticipate what I have to do on Monday. I leave Penny cuffed to the bed, only visiting her to bring food and allow her bathroom breaks. We don't exchange any words.

My leg is healing fast, though, and good fucking thing. Because I'm gonna need to be on point.

Late Monday afternoon, I call up Igor. I can barely tolerate speaking to the motherfucker, can barely stomach the idea of this. I'm second-guessing myself. But if it all works out, it'll be for the best.

He gives me updated intel on Mackenzie's shift. He expects her to leave via the back exit around 2:30 a.m.

So that's where I'll be tonight. And I'll do my first—and last—kidnapping job.

Downstairs, I prep. A trench coat, more handcuffs, a cloth gag, a burlap sack, rope. Everything I might need. She'll be taking a ride in my trunk tonight.

I clean and lubricate my gun, and check the silencer. I fucking hope I don't need to use this thing.

I try to ignore the thoughts of Penny in my brain, but I can't. I don't know what the fuck is wrong with me.

When the sun finally goes down around seven, Mackenzie's shift is starting. She has no idea it's going to be her last.

When it's almost time to head out, I can't think clearly. My mind is disturbed. In addition to all the shit on my plate now, any fuck-up of mine could mean death for Penny, or worse. If I don't come back, she'll either dehydrate, out of water and handcuffed to the bed, or more likely, Igor will come ransack my place and find her. Then she'll end up right where I tried to keep her away from. As some old motherfucker's bride in eastern Europe.

So I decide I need to fucking clear my head. And the only way I can get Penny off my mind is by getting myself off.

I tiptoe up the stairs, using my training to move silently. When I get outside the bedroom door, I hear Penny's steady breathing coming out of the room. She's asleep.

Carefully, I enter the room. There she is, laying on top of the sheets, her auburn hair flowing over the white and cream pillows. Her t-shirt is hiked up to her belly. That always happens when she's sleeping. And goddamnit, it's cute.

I gingerly sit down in the love seat, running my hand over the bulge in my jeans, just looking at her face. She's facing right at me. If she wakes up and sees me... fuck.

I slide the zipper down on my jeans, going slow to avoid making noise. Then I reach inside, and pull out my thick, hardening cock. As I stroke it, it thickens, growing harder, fuller. My mind is conflicted, but my body knows exactly what it wants. It wants me to wake her, to plant kisses all over her lips and her body, and to get her so hot that she begs me to stuff my hard cock inside her tight, wet pussy.

A drop of clear pre-cum leaks from the tip of my cock, and I rub it over the head of my shaft. I pump my hand up and down, squeezing hard, imagining that each stroke is Penny's gorgeous pussy, milking my cock for all it's worth. Shit, I've been inside a thousand women before, but none ever had this effect on me.

I pump harder. Faster. I squeeze with more intensity. Finally, I have to stifle a grunt as pearly-white cum dribbles out the tip of my cock, then shoots out in several spurts. It splashes on my shirt, but I don't give a fuck. I just pump harder, with wild abandon, letting my seed shoot everywhere. I don't want to restrain myself. I can't. The girl makes me so horny and crazy.

When my orgasm finally subsides, my world feels like it's exploded. I breathe heavily, exhaling slowly to avoid waking her. My head spins, and my body still wants her so fucking bad.

And then she opens her eyes, and all the air in my lungs is sucked right out.

"Havok?"

H
e sits
on the love seat, his hand on his still-rock-hard cock, strings of white all up and down his hand and arm. "Penny," he says, nearly gasping with surprise.

I should be freaked out. Should be alarmed that he was in here, masturbating to me while I slept.

Instead, it tells me how bad he wants me. Shows me the full magnitude of his desire. And I think it might be the hottest thing I've ever fucking seen.

I don't speak, I just sit up and pat the bed, inviting him to join me.

And he does.

He hands me the keys, and I free myself from the handcuffs. Then, I slide my sweatpants off, put a hand on his chest and press him down onto the bed. He strips his clothes off with a hunger I've never seen before, and finally, he's lying there, his cock hard as fuck, still covered in glistening white and clear liquid.

I want it all inside me.

I mount him, letting him slide into me, stretching me out, filling me so completely. I moan and shudder with pleasure, and his hands find my breasts under my cotton shirt.

He bucks his hips, and I buck mine back, riding him like a fucking wild bull. I want this. I've needed it for as long as I can remember. And now getting it, giving my body to him, letting him tear my pussy apart, it's everything I ever wanted it to be.

"You gorgeous fucking creature," he pants, thrusting into me, opening me up. "I need you so fucking bad, baby."

"No," I say, gasping to fill my lungs as he ruts me like an animal, "I need
you
."

With every thrust, my muscles clamp down on him, my inner walls squeezing and rubbing against his manhood, my body desperately needing this.

He grabs my ass hard, then slips two more fingers into my pussy, alongside his cock. I didn't think I could stretch this much, and I grit my teeth, bathing in the waves of pain and pleasure that flow over me. He takes one finger out and starts rubbing my clit, fast and hard, in rhythm with his thrusts.

"Oh my fucking God," I gasp, my voice husky, "You're gonna make me cum, honey."

I bear down, squeezing him with everything I've got. "Cum for me," he says. "Cum for me, you fucking beautiful little fucktoy. Cum on this fucking cock, and make me empty my fucking balls in you."

His words send me over the edge. I squeeze my eyes shut, and my vision explodes into a brilliant supernova of white, as muscle contractions roll through me, bringing me the release I've needed for so long.

"Oh, fuck," he says, "I'm there." A hot flood fills me, and I cry out, completely incoherent, his orgasm pushing my own over its final crest.

When we're both finished, I collapse on top of him, not dismounting his cock. "I want you inside me forever," I say, and my lips crush against his, and we catch up on a lifetime of kisses.

At last, with the opiates of my last pill still circulating through me, I become drowsy, and dismount him, falling asleep next to him.

The last thing I remember is him dressing, kissing my forehead, and then leaving the room.

He doesn't handcuff me this time.

M
ackenzie chats
into her cellphone as she walks down the dead city streets, and I catch snippets of it. It's 2:40 a.m., and I've been following her on foot since she got off her shift.

"Just heading home, yeah, Mom. Spaghetti tonight. Everything's fine."

Right now my brain is turned up to eleven, and I can't make it stop. Can't quit replaying the scene from earlier.

It was the fucking hottest thing I've ever experienced. My world, and all the walls I've built up inside, crashed to the ground the instant I slipped inside her. There's no place I'd rather be than home right now, with Penny. Exploring every inch of her tight body.

But I have to do this. I have to end Igor and this trafficking shit once and for all, and only then will Penny be safe.

I'll fight to my last breath to do this for her. May God have mercy on my soul for using this poor girl, Mackenzie, as a tool. I hope the ends justify the means.

With all the strength I can muster, I force myself to concentrate. I need to be in this moment, need to do this perfectly.

I follow Mackenzie fifty paces behind, wearing a bulky North Face jacket and a beanie pulled low over my face. I'm going to follow her to her apartment, The Chloe, to her room. #614.

Then I'll take her.

As we walk down Grant Road in file, we pass the alley where I ran into Penny and her scumbag boyfriend so long ago. I still boil with rage when I think of that motherfucker. If I could, I'd bring him back to life just to kill him again.

Of course, there's no chance of coming back to life when you're a puddle of red liquid in the West Ark sewer system.

For a moment, I imagine a different hitman stalking his target. Except the hitman isn't me, it's Igor. And the target isn't Mackenzie, it's Penny.

The thought makes me fucking sick. It's almost enough—almost—to make me break my pursuit, turn back, and go home to Penny.

I could forget this whole thing. Fuck that tight, wet little cunt until I forget it all. Kiss those ruby red lips, let myself fall under her spell, and take us both far away from this hellhole.

But I can't. These poor girls Igor is abducting don't deserve it. If I don't save them, no one will. And Penny will never be truly safe as long as Igor walks this earth. So I have to double down, push my limits, and challenge myself to do this.

Ahead of me, Mackenzie swipes her keycard and enters her apartment's gates. What she doesn't know is that my car is already parked inside the complex. Right around the back, by the service elevator—to make a quick exit. The trunk's all cleaned out, ready to transport her.

I pause on the street corner, only approaching the complex once she's entered the main building. The night is quiet, the moon in full view, not a cloud hanging in the air. If there were a God, he'd be looking down on me right now. And even he'd be powerless to stop me from what I'm about to do.

I swipe my key card copy and the light turns green, opening the automatic gate. Inside the lobby, the front desk is unoccupied. Not a guard in sight.

I ride the elevator to the sixth floor, and quietly step down the hall to room #614. I press my ear against the door, listening for conversation, but there is none. Just the clang of pots and pans, and the whirring of what sounds like a microwave. She's home alone.

I reach into my jacket pocket and withdraw my lock bump key. But then I think twice. Why bother forcing my way in? She'll invite me in.

Instead of jimmying the lock, I knock. Sure enough, the door cracks open a minute later and Mackenzie peers out.

"Vlady," she says, surprised. The corners of her mouth perk up in a smile, and she opens the door wider, tucking her hair behind her ear. "What are you doing here?"

I give her a smile. "I've seen you watching me at work," I say.

"Oh?" she says, her voice shy.

"Yeah." I look in her eyes, and I can tell she's getting lost in mine. "You should let me in."

She blushes. "Okay."

All too easy.

She opens the door wider, letting me enter her apartment, a tiny little studio with parquet flooring, an old beat-up sofa, and a mattress on the floor. The aroma of marinara sauce reaches my nose, and I hear a pot boiling. Just another night in, after the shift.

She clicks the door closed behind her, and turns around. She's wearing a robe, maybe over her stage clothes, or maybe over nothing at all. Once upon a time, it'd have given me a hard-on.

But now, there's not a damn woman in the world other than Penny who can give me a hard-on.

I step toward her, and she flattens herself against the door, smiling. "I never expected this," she says.

"I know," I say.

I pause. There's always so much adrenaline right before the moment of action.

"I'm sorry," I say, and for a brief moment her expression becomes puzzled.

I reach inside my jacket and pull out the burlap sack. Without pausing for her reaction, I step forward and jam it onto her head. She tries to struggle, but I lock her arms behind her back, cuff her, then gag her.

"I'm sorry, Mackenzie," I say. "I have to do this. Don't struggle. It'll only make it harder."