Russian Mobster's Stolen Wife (2 page)

“Anything” came in the form of a dark, narrow shape swiping in a downward arc toward his face. Grigori lifted his hand, catching a piece of wood that was meant to smack him in the head. He grunted as his hand made contact. For a little thing, Flynn had quite a powerful swing.

“You bastard!” she snarled. “Go away and leave me alone!”

“Sorry, princess. I can’t do that.”

“Why not?” She backed off, getting deeper in the shadows.

He couldn’t see her, but he could hear her breathing. Perhaps he could even feel her determination. “Come on now, Flynn. You don’t want to die, do you?”

Something smacked him in the shoulder, and he realized she was picking up refuse from the ground and chucking it at him. Something hard and smelly nailed him in the chest. It left a smear of unsavory origins on his shirt.

“Hey now,” he said irritably. “That’s not…” Another piece of the muck hit him square in the face. “Stop! That’s enough.”

He lunged right at her, not realizing until he was already committed that he had done exactly what she’d wanted. The blow left him seeing stars. It cracked right across the side of his head with astonishing accuracy.

Grigori went down on one knee. His vision curled at the edges as his consciousness began slipping away. He was actually going to pass out!

“No,” he grunted.

Grinding his teeth together, he forced his brain back into motion. He put one knee on the ground and braced his weight on his other leg. Then he sensed Flynn trying to slip past on his right. Reaching out with his hand, he snagged a piece of her clothing.

She gave an anxious squeak and tried to yank away from his tenuous hold. He clenched his fingers, twisting them in the fabric of her jacket and pulling her toward him. He was not giving in. His brother needed him. This was the only way to make things right, and Grigori would be damned if some slip of a girl screwed it all up now.

“Let go!” She shoved at him.

He grabbed her instead, wrapping both arms around her midsection and dragging her to the ground. He let the weight of his entire body land atop hers. She made a chuffing noise as his bodyweight pushed the air from her lungs. She was still struggling, but Grigori simply stopped. He went limp, allowing her to fetter away what was left of her resistance in the futile attempt to get out from underneath him.

“Ugh! What is your
problem
!” she wheezed.

Because she couldn’t see his face, he smiled. “Are you through yet?”

“Through fighting you? No. Never!”

There was a pause though, and he felt her trying to catch her breath. Her lithe body was trembling beneath his, and he began to be aware of how warm and soft she was. It was mildly disturbing to realize that he liked being this close to her.

“You smell nice,” he commented before he could stop himself.

“My
smell
? You’re thinking about that right now?”

She was right, of course. That line of thinking was entirely inappropriate given the circumstances. Still, he was a man and human after all.

His head hurt. “It wasn’t very nice of you to clock me over the head with that—what was that anyway?”

“A piece of wood from a pallet And I’ll do it again if you give me the chance.”

“I suppose I’ll have to make sure that doesn’t happen then, hmm?”

“I bet I didn’t even hit you with the car.” She sounded annoyed. “Was it all a lie?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Let’s say I have the time.”

It was no mean feat to be sarcastic at a time like this. Grigori was surprise to note that he actually admired her grit. It made him slightly less indifferent toward her. “Let’s just say that your father is paying the price for something he did.”

“My father is an ass. He’s a liar and a cheater. What else is new?” She shuddered beneath him as she tried to get a deep breath. “It’s unfair to make me responsible for his asinine behavior. Don’t you think?”

“Depends on the situation.” He was pretty sure that telling her his entire plan right now would not end well. She was starting to settle down. He didn’t care to rile her up again.

“Can you
please
let me up?” she asked, still sounding disgruntled. “It smells down here, and you weigh a ton.”

“Since you said please.” He rolled to his side and removed a good portion of his bodyweight from her torso and legs.

That was when she attacked him again.

FLYNN WAS NOT giving up. Not now. She had a really bad feeling about this guy’s intentions that would not go away.

This time she spent a little more brainpower on her attack.

She wrapped her fingers around the length of wood. Using every ounce of core muscle in her slender body, she rolled over and smacked her captor in his midsection. He grunted in surprise. Gathering her body, Flynn lurched up onto her knees and hit him again. She made it to her feet and hit him one more time. Then she put both hands on her weapon and put everything she had behind the last hit.

“Bitch!” he gasped.

She dropped her stick right where she figured his head to be. “Fuck off.”

Darting away through the darkness, she saw a narrow opening between two buildings. Light spilled through the passage. She couldn’t help but think there might be a main street just beyond, a place that might offer help.

She squeezed through the space, scraping her arms as she did. Panic was starting to take hold. She kept expecting to feel someone grab her from behind. Escape could not be this simple. Not when some madman was trying to punish her for her father’s crimes.

Finally she was on the other side. Her lungs burned with the exertion, and she tried to breathe more deeply. Her anxiety was making her lightheaded, and she needed to keep her wits about her now more than ever.

Staring around, Flynn searched for salvation in the tiny courtyard she’d just inadvertently trapped herself in. She’d thought it was a street. It wasn’t. There were four buildings, all with narrow alleyways. Some had dingy lights on in the windows, but the bulk of the light came from a strangely bright streetlamp in the center of the space.

Behind her, Flynn could just make out the sound of boots. Did he know this area? Was he aware that she was more or less trapped here? She stopped her popcorn thoughts. This wasn’t helping. She sprinted toward one of the other alleys and searched for someplace to hide.

Then she noticed that the porch was solid in front but had broken boards on the side. She dropped to her knees and squeezed into the space. Holding her breath and trying to control the pounding of her heart, she found a slit between the boards in front to see through and settled down to wait.

She had just about figured that her would-be kidnapper had either passed her by completely or given up when he slipped between the buildings and entered the courtyard. He glanced around, looking utterly composed. Then he stood beneath the streetlamp and began to turn in slow circles, taking in everything.

Sweat beaded on Flynn’s hairline and dribbled down the middle of her back. What would happen if he found her? Would he drag her out and do something awful? She had practically beaten him to a pulp with what amounted to a baseball bat. Maybe he was angry about that and wanted revenge.

A sound inside Flynn’s hidey-hole brought her sharply around. She stared into the dark recesses of the porch. To her horror, there were two bright yellow eyes staring right back.

“Oh. My. God,” she breathed. “No panicking. No panicking.”

Her heart was really racing now. What was it? Maybe it was a raccoon, or something worse. A low growl made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. Then it hissed. The spitting noise was at least familiar.

“Hi kitty kitty,” she crooned in a voice that was barely a whisper. “Please shut up, okay?”

It hissed again, this time ending with a growl that sounded as if something were dying. Flynn pressed her back against the wood, inching toward the broken section of the porch. Outside, she could see her captor looking in her direction with his head cocked as if he’d heard the cat.

Another growl, and then another set of yellow eyes appeared. There were two cats under here with her. They turned away from Flynn and focused on each other. She peered out of her spot, hoping her captor would just think the noise was two cats duking it out and not come over to investigate. Maybe this would work in her favor.

Oh shit!

In one millisecond, all hell broke loose. The cats launched at each other and became a hissing, spitting ball of scratching fur. There was yowling and screaming like nothing Flynn had ever heard. They slammed into the boards, making the whole porch shiver. Then the one cat ran right at her, the other hot on its trail.

Flynn couldn’t help it. She screamed in agony when the cat’s claws dug into her bare arms as it fought its way free of the porch. Sticky blood ran down Flynn’s arms as she lurched backwards, trying to escape.

The old boards on the front of the porch gave way, and Flynn tumbled out onto the sparse grass between the porch and sidewalk. The cats gave her one last parting scratch on the side of her face before bounding off into the night, still screaming at each other. Flynn was left lying on a heap of broken wood and splinters, scratched, bruised, and most definitely caught.

“Well, well, well,” her kidnapper drawled. There was laughter in his voice. “I’m not sure who looks worse at this point.” He reached down and took her hand, plucking her right off the ground and setting her back on her feet. “I could say this is karma, but since I’m taking you against your will, that’s a little self-righteous on my part. Don’t you think?”

She gaped at him in shock. “Are you serious?”

“What?”

“Karma.” She swallowed, trying to get her bearings. “You’re talking to me about karma. This is apparently my karmic payback for getting stuck being my father’s daughter?”

He seemed to consider this. “I suppose I hadn’t looked at it quite like that. Sucks to be you.”

Chapter Three

“Sucks to be me?”

His words rolled around and around inside Flynn’s head as she tried to stay upright in the back of a white van. It was bad enough that she was bound hand and foot with a bag over her head. She had really felt stupid when her captor had knocked on one of the doors in the courtyard and been given the keys to said van by an apparent accomplice. Flynn had actually managed to get herself to the rendezvous point during her attempted escape.

She felt like a total failure.

“What’s the matter, princess?” Her captor’s voice drifted back to her from the front seat of the van.

She didn’t answer. What could she say?

“My name is Grigori, by the way.”

Grigori. She wracked her brain, trying to recall if her father had mentioned a guy named Grigori at any point. Had he been on the receiving end of one of her father’s bogus deals? Obviously the guy thought he’d been screwed over by her father’s business practices. The worst part was that he probably had been. Her father was a very easily bribable public official.

Grigori seemed to feel chatty, though she couldn’t imagine why. “I’m sure you’re wondering where we’re going. And unfortunately all I can tell you is that we’re going to church.”

“Church?” the word slipped out. She bit her lip to keep from saying anything else.

“Yes. Church. We have a wedding to attend.”

Okay, this begged for a response in the worst way. “Oh, so let me guess. My father somehow cost you your date for the evening, so you kidnapped me so you wouldn’t have to attend your cousin’s wedding alone and feel like a total loser.”

“Close.”

His word took the wind from her sails of sarcasm. “What?”

“Your father caused my brother to be deported back to Russia and for me to become a target of immigration. Therefore I am going to acquire a wife with the connections necessary to keep me here in the country.”

“A w-wife?” she managed to stammer. “Surely you’re not talking about me?”

“As you Americans so often say, bingo!” She could hear him laughing.

“You can’t make me say yes.”

“Ah, but I really can.” He was still laughing.

She ground her teeth together in frustration. “How are you going to make me say yes?”

“By threatening your sister.”

“What?” Cold fear wrapped tiny tendrils around her heart. “You wouldn’t touch Cynthia. You wouldn’t dare.”

“Well, if I can’t get you to marry me, I’m pretty sure I can scare her into saying yes.” The van jerked, almost as if he were turning the wheel to go back the way they had come. “Shall I go pick her up so we can find out?”

“No! I’ll do whatever you want. Just leave my sister alone.”

“See? I told you I could make you say yes.”

Angry tears stung her eyes. “What kind of a man are you?”

“The kind who gets what he wants when it matters.”

She forced herself to stop talking. What good was it doing really? She was just feeding the beast’s ego.

GRIGORI WONDERED IF he had finally broken her spirit. She wouldn’t say anything else. He couldn’t even hear her moving. Of course, that’s when it occurred to him that she might be planning another sneak attack.

“You know, I think I might actually enjoy being married to you, Flynn,” Grigori said just to needle her even more. “You’re definitely the determined kind. In fact, I like to imagine how that might translate in the bedroom. Once we are properly married, of course.”

“You asshole! If you think I’m going to have sex with you, you’re absolutely out of your mind!”

He chuckled. He really was a sick bastard to be baiting her like this. She deserved better.

He sighed. “It’s a marriage in name only, Flynn. I don’t expect to have a husband’s rights. Not as you might think of them, anyway.”

“Good, because it will be a cold day in hell before I let you touch me.”

And yet he got the feeling that she didn’t actually believe that. How odd. There was something in her voice that wasn’t as certain as he would have expected.

“You know,” he said casually. “You don’t seem totally convinced. I might even think you’re getting—what is that—Stockholm Syndrome? That’s what it is.”