Havok: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (16 page)

T
he Jeep rumbles
over the smooth, dark pavement of Route 78. Trees lean into the road from either side. They normally provide shade to drivers traversing this route. But tonight, with the sun not yet up, they're ominous. They're like beckoning arms, pulling us into the clutches of the unknown.

We're gonna shoot our way into the factory, and free those girls. If we succeed, and finish off Igor, I'll run this fucking town with Luka and Valentin.

And Penny by my side.

If we fail, then it doesn't matter anyway. Nothing will matter then.

Luka rides shotgun next to me, and Valentin rides in the backseat. When I catch glimpses of Luka in my peripheral vision, he's pensive, lost in thought, none of us speaking. But finally, he's the one who breaks the silence.

"If I go down tonight," he says, "my last thought will be of home. Siberia."

I nod without speaking. Respectable. A good Russian should think of home before he goes.

"Mine will be of my mother," says Valentin from the backseat. On another day, in another circumstance, I would've given him shit for that. But I don't have it in me right now. All I care about is getting this shit done, getting my woman out of there, and taking her to a safe place where we can be together.

"You know where my heart is," I say. Normally both men would give me endless shit, accuse me of getting crazy over pussy. But this is no fucking joke and they know it.

This is about family. And if we make it through this, I'm gonna make Penny part of my family.

If I'd known Igor would turn out like this, I'd have fucking slit his throat years ago.

"Whoever gets to Igor first," I say, "fucking save him for me. He's mine."

"Yeah," says Luka. I make eye contact with Valentin in the rear-view mirror and he nods. They know how this shit works. When it's personal, you get out of the way, let vengeance happen. And I've got a hell of a lot of vengeance to carry out on Igor tonight.

I could cut his throat open, give him a second smile, let him bleed out. I could disembowel him. I could crush his skull with cinder blocks.

I've done contract killing for so long, I've forgotten what it's like to kill for glory. To inflict as much pain as possible. And that's what's going to happen tonight.

No one fucking threatens my woman.

"You are my brothers," I say.

We reach the exit that leads to the factory, and I take it. My heart pounds so hard against my chest that I'm afraid it'll punch its way right out.

The factory looms, a solitary industrial silhouette against the mountainous backdrop. "Lock and load, boys," I say.

Outside, the sun is cracking over the horizon, the sky a purple dawn.

When we draw near to the factory gates, they're already open. A painted-over school bus idles next to the guard station, the driver exchanging some kind of papers with the guard.

"Luka," I say, urgency rising in my stomach. "Binoculars."

He grabs the pair hanging around his neck and hands them over. When I bring them to my eyes, it's exactly what I've feared most. A bus full of downtrodden women. I recognize some of them from
Fascinations
. The shipment must be going out early today. Thank fuck we came when we did.

"Fuck," I say. The bus isn't moving yet, so I scan the windows one-by-one.

None of the girls are Penny. She's not inside.

I shake my head. "She's not fucking in there."

Then, a figure emerges from the dense woods against the base of the mountain. It's a woman, with long, auburn hair.

Holy fuck. It's Penny.

She looks around, then behind her like someone's following her. Then, she turns and runs back into the woods. Just a few seconds later, a couple guys in suits exit and re-enter the tree line, hot on her trail.

"That's her," I say, my heart smashing against my ribs.

"Well, fuck," says Luka. "We got the bus, then. Go!"

S
o this is
what it feels like to be prey.

I press my back against a thick tree, trying to flatten myself into invisibility. The woods loom around me, thick and dark, and my feet sink into the tangled underbrush even as I stand still. My heart pumps my veins and arteries hard, and I feel as if they could burst at any time. Every heartbeat is like a bomb exploding inside me.

The minister says my daddy's eulogy, and they close the casket. Three men dressed in their formal police uniforms lower the casket into the ground. I dart forward, falling to my hands and knees, watching the box sink into the earth. I'm not ready to say goodbye.

The low rumble of men's voices shudders through the woods, and a twig snaps. It couldn't be more than twenty or thirty yards away. They're going to find me.

I scan the foliage, looking for a better hiding place. Behind some trees, there's a huge fallen log and what looks like a ravine under it. If I can just get over there without them seeing...

Sucking in a deep breath, I peer around the side of the trunk. I can still hear them coming, but I don't see them yet. I have to take the gamble that they can't see me, either. If they catch me now, I'm sure I won't live to see morning. A lifetime of sex slavery in Europe would be a kind and merciful ending compared to what Igor will do to me.

So I push off the tree and move toward the ravine. I try to move fast but quiet, but the brush and twigs beneath my feet crack anyway, and I can't do anything to stop it.

"She's there," comes a shout from behind me, and suddenly two or three beams of light hit my back, casting a long, twisted shadow of my body on the forest floor.

They've found me.

Now, I run for my life, toward the only landmark I know in these woods. The small cemetery where my dad was buried five years ago.

As I run, the beams of light flicker behind me, jolting as the men give chase. I feel disoriented, lost, not at all sure that I'm going the right direction. My only saving grace is that the sun is rising. The birds in the trees are already singing their morningsong, completely indifferent to the life-or-death chase happening below them.

Somehow, I manage to find the right path, and once my feet get onto the solid, packed soil, I run even faster. Miraculously, I manage not to get my feet tangled in the brush. As I sprint, I vaguely wonder if the factory was under mafia control when I used to visit these woods. Back then, I walked through the trees with no one after me, nothing to haunt me except the demons inside my own head and the memories of my father.

It's funny, the plot twists that life throws at you. I never expected to be in these woods again, running for my own life.

I get to the cemetery clearing, boots still pounding behind me. I only hear one pair now, though—I hope and pray I lost the others. Maybe that'll give me a fighting chance.

In the clearing, the tree canopy opens up, letting in more dawn light. The cemetery is roughly arranged by the date of the burials, and the oldest ones have the biggest headstones. I run behind a huge, granite-looking headstone and crouch down, hugging my shins.

"Hey," bellows Igor, "Stand up, bitch."

The adrenaline is catching up with me, and I'm shaking. I huddle even tighter, not standing or answering Igor. But his footsteps echo through the clearing, as he systematically steps through the graveyard, searching for me.

I tremble. It feels like my body has suddenly surrendered all its warmth, and I feel like I've run out of energy, and that I'm going to die out here.

No one is coming for me. Not my father, not Havok. I'm going to die alone or worse.

I look down at my father's casket, now in its final resting place. Mourners step forward, some of them grabbing handfuls of earth and tossing it onto the wooden box. No one tries to pull me back from the edge; probably they just don't know how to comfort me.

But finally, when the casket has been totally covered with moist soil, my uncle steps forward and pulls me up by the arm. He hugs me tight, and although he smells like my dad, he's not my dad.

"Your father will always look down on you from heaven," he says, "He'll always protect you."

Igor's footsteps get closer and closer, until finally they're right on the other side of the headstone. I peer up, fearful, and see him looking down at me.

"Found you, bitch."

He comes around to the side of the headstone where I'm crouched, and lunges for me with outstretched hands. I scream, falling onto my behind. I push myself away from the headstone with my hands, then manage to scramble to my feet. I dash behind another thick tree trunk, but when I peek out, I see Igor coming. I watch helplessly as he approaches, gun in hand. There's nowhere else to run.

I
move
through the woods like a shadow, bringing all of my skill and training to bear. The underbrush is silent under my skillful feet as I pad through the trees like a panther through a jungle, stalking its prey.

They're onto Penny. But I'm onto them. I'm the predator and they're the prey, they just don't know it.

The first guy I find is crouching behind a tree, scanning the dense vegetation with a pair of binoculars. I bring the scope of my AR-15 to my eye, tuck the stock against my shoulder, and his head sprays red all over the tree trunk.

I advance further, and a another guy, a Bratva hitman I've worked with in the past, spots me and charges, a machete gleaming in his hand. I jab my AR-15 out in front of me, and impale him hard on the black-as-night bayonet lashed to the barrel of the gun. It slides through his clothing and into his skin like a steak knife through a tender cut of meat. There's a sick gurgling noise, and dark red blood spills from his lips, running down his front like spilled syrup.

Gunfire clatters in the distance, coming from the direction of the bus. Luka and Valentin are in a firefight, but I'm not worried about them. They'll fucking handle themselves. The only person on my mind right now is Penny.

Luka and Valentin are the most loyal motherfuckers I've ever met. After tonight, when we take over this fucking operation, I'm putting myself in charge and installing them as my lieutenants.

Finally, I sense there's only one man left. I hear only a single pair of footsteps, and see only a single track ahead of me. And it's leading into a clearing up ahead.

I drop the mag out of my AR, grab a fresh one from my back pocket, and slap it into the gun. I pull the bolt back and let it snap forward, chambering the first round. This is high-powered, hollow-point ammo. Better than the shit they use in the military, not like that full-metal-jacket crap. That's Geneva Convention shit. Supposed to be humanitarian. I don't give a fuck about that. These men aren't human.

The sun's almost come up by the time I enter the clearing, and what I see sends a chill through my body.

It's a graveyard. And Penny is backed up against a tree, Igor's pistol trained on her forehead.

"Igor," I call out, quick scoping his head, "It's over. Put it down."

It's me with my gun pointed at Igor's head, Igor with his gun pointed at Penny's head, and Penny cowering against the tree trunk. Fuck. Seeing her scared like that fills me with indescribable rage. I have to fucking take my finger off the trigger just to control myself. The second he takes that gun off her head, I'm pumping his filthy fucking body full of lead and gunpowder.

"It's over," I repeat, my voice thundering through the clearing.

He laughs, bitter and cruel. "No, Vlady," he says, "It's just the beginning. She's just another slut, another twenty grand in my pocket. You tried to protect her but you failed."

I shake my head. "No. This is where you die. This—"

He takes his eyes off Penny for just a moment, but during that brief window, she reaches out, grabs a knife off his belt, and drives it deep into his thigh.
That's my girl
, I think to myself.

Igor emits a banshee scream, even crazier and more terrible than my targets make. As his head swivels back to Penny, she draws herself into a crouching position, and dashes behind a gravestone.

Igor's pistol pops—once, twice, and a third time. Penny's disappeared around the other side of the stone, where I can't see her, and I don't know if she's been hit.

"Motherfucker," I belt out, and I open fire at Igor.

He dives to the ground, losing his grip on his pistol. It flies out of reach, and I advance on him, my sights trained directly on his head.

He tries to lunge for his gun, but I get to it first, kicking it out of reach.

He laughs again, coughing and sputtering. He looks up at me, hatred in his eyes.

"Even in death," he says, "I'll fucking get you."

"No," I say quietly. "You won't."

I pull the trigger of my AR, letting it fire in full-auto mode. I sweep it across Igor's body, and bullet holes ravage his chest and stomach. A pool of blood forms beneath him, dripping into the brush.

It's done. He's finished.

W
hen I hear
the burst of gunfire, I know it's over. I take my hands off my ears and slowly rise. Havok stands over Igor, rifle still pointed down, the barrel smoking. Smaller plumes of gray smoke rise from the bullet holes in Igor's body.

I take a couple steps toward Havok, and he drops his rifle to the ground with a clatter, moving toward me as well. I let myself collapse into his arms, and he wraps them around me, so strong, holding me tighter than I've ever been held before.

"You came," I say, stifling tears.

"Of course I did," he says, holding me tight.

"But," I say, "I thought—Mackenzie said you took her—"

He sighs and shushes me. "I'll explain everything." He tells me everything about the kidnapping ring, the club, his role in the Bratva, and how bringing Mackenzie here was his only way of rescuing me and all the other girls. At first, I'm angry, but then I begin to understand. He truly did what he thought was right, and he did it most of all for me.

His touch fills me with a warmth I haven't felt in a long time. In fact, it's something I haven't felt since my father died. And in this moment, I just know that Havok is telling me the truth. About everything.

I look down at Igor's body, and when I see it laying there lifelessly, I can't help myself. I start to cry, and I make no effort to hold the tears back. Havok just holds me, letting my tears soak into his jacket, being there for me. He doesn't try to stop me, he lets it all come out. I squeeze my eyes shut tight, and for the first time in days, I can finally be at ease, knowing that nothing can hurt me. I'm safe in Havok's arms.

He speaks up when my tears start to dry. "Penny," he says, "This headstone has your last name on it. Taylor."

I pull away from him, wiping my eyes on my tattered sleeve. I step toward the headstone and brush dirt off of it with my palm. "That's because it's my dad's," I say.

He seems taken aback, and doesn't speak right away.

I trace my finger over the letters, then over the pockmarks that the bullets left in the stone. "He protected me," I say. "He protected me in life, and my uncle told me he would protect me even in death."

And he did. The stone deflected Igor's bullets, and gave me exactly what I needed to survive.

There's only silence between us. Havok's not good with emotions, and I know he's probably just silent because he doesn't know what to say. But I know this moment will be engraved in my memory forever.

Finally, he breaks the stillness. "Come here."

I do, and I melt back into his arms. He crushes his lips against mine. The kiss is dry, our lips dirty and dehydrated, but it doesn't matter. It's the kiss I needed right now. It's deep and healing. But when he wraps a hand around the back of my neck, I flinch and break away.

The back of my neck stings, and I reach for it with a grimace on my face.

"Turn around," says Havok, and I do. I feel his gaze on me, as he observes the permanent black mark on me. The tattoo.

"Son of a fucking bitch," he growls. He takes a couple steps, putting distance between us, then he bends down and picks up his discarded rifle. Without speaking, he changes the magazine and cocks the gun.

"Cover your ears," he says.

I do, and then the muzzle flash of the rifle lights up the clearing. Each fiery flicker illuminates Igor's corpse on the ground, his body becoming more and more mutilated with each burst. When the magazine runs out, Havok lowers the gun.

But anger burns through me. I want my revenge, too.

"Give me the gun," I say.

Havok nods, understanding me. A killer like him doesn't need an explanation, and doesn't judge me. For that I am grateful.

He changes out the magazine and I take the rifle from his grip.

He doesn't bother covering his ears. He's been through it all before.

I take aim at Igor's body, and I light it up. I don't stop until the gun stops shooting. And when it does, I hand it back to Havok without a word or a flicker of regret.

I take a deep breath, and the smell of fresh pine and green leaves reaches my nose. The wind is blowing, and it's already swept the smell of gunpowder far away from here. The woods smell exactly the same as they did five years ago, back when I still had my life ahead of me.

This feels like a break between the past and the future. Like this might finally be my chance to leave all my baggage behind, and start something new.

Something with Havok.

"We gotta go," he says. "Luka and Valentin, they're back there somewhere with all the girls."

"Okay," I say. "Just one more second."

I lay a hand on my father's headstone one last time, trying to remember the feeling of my hand in his, his whiskers brushing across my soft cheeks. And in this moment, I do remember exactly what it feels like. I'll come back here to visit him again, but I don't know when. It's goodbye for now.

We trudge back through the woods, me leading the way, Havok shining a torchlight ahead of us. He cautions me to stay alert, to watch for any other men ready to ambush us. But there are none. He finished them all off. We make it out safely.

My body is running on fumes at this point, and I feel like collapsing. But somehow, I find the energy to go on.

When we come out of the woods, two men holding rifles signal to Havok. He signals back, and I know everything's okay. All the girls are standing outside a shot-up bus. They've obviously been rescued.

But one of the girls is laying down, two others tending to her.

When I get closer, I realize it's Mackenzie. She's injured. Fuck. I break away from Havok, and run toward her as fast as I can.