Captive of the Hitman: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance Novel (30 page)

“
H
ey
, Joanna?”

“Sarah? What’s up? You didn’t come home last night.”

Oh, right. This is awkward. How to tell your roommate you ran off to Cyprus on a private jet at the last minute?

“It’s a really, really long story and I’ll tell you all about it soon, but I need a favor.”

“A favor?”

“You know how much you love background check stuff?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well... I need you to do something for me. I need you to find out where someone owns property in Cyprus. Limassol is the town. The problem is that he might have bought it in cash, outright. The owner is Slava Romonov.”

I hear her typing, along with all the unasked questions lingering between us.

“Jeez, first hit is that he did time for being an enforcer in the Russian Mafia?”

“Yea... Yea, that’s him. How long do you think it’ll take?”

“Well, if he paid cash, I’m probably going to have to do a lot more digging, but you know me. I love a challenge!” she says, chipper as ever. “When are you coming home?”

“Probably not for a little while. Just give me a call when you find something out?”

“Aye-aye, roommate. Are you with Dimitri?”

“Yea.”

She lets out a low whistle.

“I still can’t get the image of him in that towel out of my head.”

I glance over at Dimitri who’s pacing behind me, his brow furrowed in thought. My thumb runs over my engagement ring and smile. I’ll tell her about all this later.

“Me neither,” I admit. “I’d really appreciate if you could come back with something fast. It’s important.”

* * *

D
imitri looms
over me on the bed, his dark eyes still sparkling with lust as our bodies grind together in the aftermath of our lovemaking. It’s early morning, but both of us are jet lagged and running on adrenaline.

“Every time I look at you, you seem too good for this world,” he murmurs with a bit of gravel to his voice. His fingers gently stroke along my cheek bone, around the shell of my ear as he tucks my blonde hair behind it.

“Dimitri...” It makes my heart pitter when he talks like this, and I quiet him with a gentle kiss.

“I’m serious,” he breathes against my lips. “You’re too good for me. I’ll never know why you came back to get wrapped up in all this shit.”

“Well... I didn’t really know that I’d be surrounded by murder and death.”

“True,” he says as his thumb traces along my lower lip. “But you know now. And you’re still here. If it’d been any other girl, she’d have thrown up and run the other way. Run to the cops. Something.”

“It’s never even occurred to me...”

“I know it hasn’t. But maybe it should have. Maybe it still will.”

I shake my head, his weight pressing down on me.

“Dimitri, you just proposed, and I just said yes. I’m not going anywhere. I love you.”

“How can you love someone like me?”

“It’s easy. I know you’ll never hurt me. That you’ll never do anything to hurt me. Isn’t that what everyone wants? Someone to protect them and make them feel wanted? Desired? You do all of that and more. It’s not... pretty, but Dimitri, it’s not like you killed those guys for no reason. They were bad guys.”

“To them, I’m the bad guy.”

“Well,” I say, my hand going to his bare back, tracing over the angel wings he has there that match mine. “They’re wrong.”

He kisses me, hunger and passion driving him as his body envelopes mine.

“Once I take care of Slava, we can really start fresh. I’ll explain that he betrayed me, that he betrayed my mother. We’re not to fuck with each other’s families, and Slava and his goons know it. He was playing a dangerous game, and he knows he’s lost.”

“Once we take care of him,” I correct.

He shakes his head.

“No, Sarah. It’s been a mistake to let you get so far in. You can’t get involved any more than you already are. That’s my condition. When we get home, you leave my work to me, and you do your own thing.”

“Dimitri, my own thing is spying! C’mon, you know I’m good at this. I can help you!”

“I can’t let you get hurt, Sarah. Seeing you taken by those guys... By my own associates? How can you ask me to let you do that again?”

“But Dimitri—”

“No, Sarah. This is my one condition. If you can’t handle this, then just walk away now. You have all the money you could ever want for, and I’d give you more. It doesn’t mean anything to me if you’re hurt or worse.”

I pull back, looking at his face, trying to judge how serious he is, but I already know. He means it. I bite in on my lower lip, worrying it gently.

“But I can help you. I can keep you safe.”

His fingers go into my hair as his forehead presses against mine.

“That’s my job as a husband. Your job as a wife is to save me from what I have to do. Can you do that?”

Finally, I nod, because I finally understand what he needs me to be. He doesn’t need me to be his spy or his lookout; he needs me to be his anchor. The spot of good that remains in his life and makes him feel better at the end of the day.

My mouth presses against his, tender and sweet, and his tongue traces along the seam of my lips.

“This will all be settled soon, lover,” he growls as he rolls off of me, tugging me into his broad chest. “And then you can start planning our wedding.”

“
J
oanna
?”

“Hey Sarah. I think I might have found something. This might be nothing. I looked into Slava and found little. I mean, the banks there are pretty shady, so nothing from that end. So then I started looking into Slava’s family, but they never had anything there.”

Inwardly I sigh.

“I get it, Joanna. I owe you more than a steak dinner for this favor.”

“Hell yes you do. Anyways, long story short,” she says sarcastically, “his father had taken a mistress, and she had a house in Cyprus. I figure if Slava’s anywhere, he might be there.”

I quickly take down the address, handing it to Dimitri. In seconds, he’s out the door, and I’m left to worry.

* * *

A
n hour passes
, and there’s no word from Dimitri. Nothing. Just silent, frustrating waiting. I think back on what he said, about how I need to be safe. That I need to provide him some stability.

It’s not the girl I am, but it’s the girl I could be, for him. If I don’t need the money, after all, why should I put myself in danger?

I walk through the villa, trying to distract myself from my troubled thoughts.

Dimitri’s going to be fine,
I remind myself as I head towards the sauna. It’s already hot as hell, but I could use the relaxation in my muscles. I strip out of my sundress until I’m fully nude, slipping into the warm, humid air.

It has a beautiful cedar scent to it, and I can’t help but feel a little more at ease.

It clears my lungs, and I curl up onto the bench, a towel beneath my butt to keep me from burning myself.

Once Dimitri gets back, and Slava’s taken care of, I’ll be able to truly relax.

When I get out, I feel like the commercials always say: dewy. It makes the thick, Mediterranean air a bit easier to breath, and I start heading towards the bedroom when I hear a noise. I stop, gripping the towel about my breasts a bit tighter.

Silence.

It’s all in your head,
I chide myself. I’m just on edge, waiting for Dimitri. I take another few steps, but then I hear it again. Like nails on a chalkboard, but slightly quieter.

I grab my phone, speed dialing Dimitri.

What do I say? What if he doesn’t pick up?
I try to keep my pace slow and quiet, but all I want to do is run and hide under the covers. Dimitri’s right. I’m not cut out for this feeling of fear.

Three rings and still he hasn’t picked up.

Because he’s dealing with Slava
, I remind myself. There’s no one here. It’s all in my head.

Voicemail.

There is another sound behind me, on the far side of the villa.
Maybe it’s just a stray cat
.

What if it isn’t?

My inner mind is in turmoil, debating what to say on the phone. But if it is a person, if it is Slava, I need to let Dimitri know without tipping Slava off that I’m on to him.

“Hi Dimitri,” I say, trying to sound natural. “I was just wondering if you’ve heard from our
uncle
yet. I think he might be coming over right now. I guess the wires got crossed? Anyways, when you get this, if you could come home, I’d really like that.”

I hang up and glance behind me. No footsteps. No noises.

I didn’t just screw Dimitri over because of an overactive imagination, did I? I move into the bedroom and lock the door behind me.

Quickly I throw on some pants and a t-shirt. It makes me feel a little less vulnerable to be clothed, and I take a moment to try to think.

What if it is Slava?
I ask myself before I head to the drawers. Dimitri was able to smuggle a gun into the country, but it wasn’t easy, and he definitely couldn’t bring two. There isn’t much in the room outside of our suitcases with a few pieces of clothing.

I start opening and closing drawers, looking for I’m not even sure what, and finding a big fat pile of nothing.

I go to the closet, standing on tiptoes as I grope along the top shelf when my hand finds something hard and wooden. I pull down a cricket bat, and test the grip in my hands.

Perfect
.

With a momentary burst of confidence I head back into the living room towards where the sounds were coming from, but immediately something catches my notice.

The front door is open.

Not just a little.

It’s wide open.

My heart skips a beat, and it’s like time freezes.

It doesn’t make any sense that it would be Dimitri having gotten back quickly; he’d have called out my name.

My hands grasp the bat tighter, and I edge towards the door, but all I see is the clear skies and greenery of the outside garden. If Slava’s out there, he’s hiding to either side of the door.

I can hear my own pulse in my ears as I move closer and closer to the door, until finally I reach out and grasp a hold of it and slam it shut. I want to lock it, but then a worry creeps through me.

What if he’s already inside the house?

I clutch at the bat with both hands again and turn slowly around. I’m half expecting to see him right there behind me, waiting. But there’s nothing. No one.

A battle rages in my own mind: do I try to hide in the manor? Or do I run outside and hope for the best?

The worst is that I’m paralyzed by not knowing. If he’s already inside, running is the best option. If he’s not? That’d be about the worst thing I could possibly do.

A creaking sound from the stairs makes me spin around and gasp, but there’s nothing there that I can see.

Without realizing it I’ve been backing up in fright, and my shoulders bump against the wall as I seek some comfort. Knowing some direction is safe from approach. I edge closer towards the stairs, letting instinct drive me over reason, eschewing the front door.

As I reach the spiral staircase I peer up, to see if Slava had maybe made his way upstairs out of my view. But there’s nothing there. I can’t see any sign of him.

My nerves are so on edge that the sound of my own footsteps on the marble floor are making me cringe.

I debate going up the stairs, but decide against it. Instead I make my way towards the study, nestled just beyond the stairwell. It has a lock, I remember, and I tell myself I’ll be safe there.

The door is shut, but once I’m there I slowly open it, peering behind me again at the calm, quiet manor before I shift my focus to the insides of the study.

Inside is the gaudy, multicultural layout of the room, with its Persian rugs, oriental vases, and paintings from around the world. But no sign of Slava. It looks safe. I breathe a sigh of relief, and for a second, I believe I’ve imagined it all.

A crack on the back of my head tells me I should’ve ran outside.

My vision blurs after the impact of the butt of the gun, and it’s like I’ve lost time, but it can’t be, because my attacker hasn’t moved and I’ve not fallen over. It was a single rough blow to the back of my head, but it didn’t do what my assailant hoped.

I scream out in a rage and on pure instinct and my limited training I strike with the bat, cracking into Slava’s arm. I hit his wrist and he cries out, the gun flying from his hand and crashing to the floor in a noisy clatter before disappearing beneath an ottoman.

“Bitch!” he curses, but he only has the one arm available. The other is wrapped up, still hurt from the bullet wound Dimitri had given him.

I hit him again with the bat, still screaming my head off in my fright and worry. I make him back up as the blows hit him and I could cry I’m so glad I’ve not fucked it all up completely!

Slava puts an end to my hopes quickly though, grasping a hold of the bat in his one good arm and glowering at me. He’s a strong, hardened man, and he won’t be undone with some amateurish smacks of a cricket bat.

He curses at me in Russian and wrenches the bat from my grasp.

“You little bitch!” he says before hitting me with it, and my successful strikes all seemed so weak by comparison. A single blow from him and his one good arm and I crash against the wall and window.

The second blow is one I can’t afford to take, and I roll out of the way just in time as he smashes out the expensive glass. A back-swipe catches me in the shoulder though and I sprawl to the floor.

My head is ringing, and I can’t hear a thing he’s saying as he strikes me in the back with the bat. He’s a sadistic asshole, though, and once he’s finished getting his petty revenge with it, he bends down, grasps me by the back of my shirt and lifts me off the floor before throwing me down again onto my back. He pins me down beneath his knees, his crushing weight making me cry out.

Slava’s face is red with rage, such that if looks could kill I’d already be little more than dust or vapor.

“I am going to make your death a miserable fucking—”

I watch as Dimitri rushes in from outside. It’s all like slow motion to me as the pain and anxiety boils in my blood. Dimitri pulls Slava off of me and my head falls back to the marble flooring. It’s yet another hurt to add to the ones Slava has already given me, but I barely feel it this time.

Instead, I focus my awareness on trying to clear the blur from my vision. I watch as Dimitri pins Slava down beneath him, and his fists rain down blows.

From my position I can’t see much. All I can see is Dimitri’s upper body, the look of rage on his face that was more fearsome than Slava’s ever was. And those two working arms of his don’t stop.

I can’t see Slava, but slowly I start to hear the world around me again, and the sickening sounds of fists impacting bone and flesh are filling the air. The cracks, the meaty thuds. Blood spatters into the air as Dimitri keeps going, his assault is unrelenting. Catching Slava atop me, hurting me, had let loose a caged animal that was starving. Starving for vengeance.

When at last I fainted, all I can remember is the gory sight of Dimitri, caked in blood and gore, and knowing that Slava must already be long dead.

* * *

A
warm cloth
on my forehead wakes me, Dimitri’s bloodied face the first thing I see. It’s not his blood, though. I know that. It’s Slava’s.

I glance to the side, a blanket draped over a body as his blood stains the expensive rug, pooling out beneath him. My heart begins racing again, and I look up at Dimitri with wide eyes.

“Shh,” he coaxes, his words gentle. “He’s gone. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

I’m not sure what it is that comes over me. Gratitude, maybe, or something far more primal than that. I lunge for Dimitri’s mouth, and he stills, uncertain. Seconds pass, my arms wrapping around him, tugging him in closer.

He growls, animalistic, before he easily picks me up off the floor and carries me into the next room. I’m helpless in his arms, my pain only numbed by my need to feel his body crushing mine. I need to feel alive, pain or no pain, and when he flings me to the couch and strips off his shirt, I know he feels the same way.

We’re so grateful to be back in one another’s arms, safe, and all that fear and worry oozes out of us into the thick need to screw.

Emotions are all connected in weird ways, or at least that’s what I’m telling myself in my defense. But the panic of nearly being beaten to death, the horror of watching my lover snuff the life from my assailant, it flows from one to the other so well, then blends seamlessly into my need for Dimitri. A physical, carnal need.

My back is bruised and hurting, but that doesn’t matter as he wraps his arms around me, holds me tight and kisses me deep. Those same powerful arms that had beaten a man into a bloody pulp now held me, and instead of mere revulsion, I felt comforted by it.

Through all my snooping and brazen prying, he had my back. Protected me. He went after the man who hurt me with more of a fiery vengeance that I could’ve imagined before now.

So I feel his hard body, hear the beat of his heart, and feel him tremble with rising need. His masculine rage turning to passion as quickly as my horror at his brutality turned to a need to screw.

My mouth goes down his jaw as my hands grab at his belt quickly undoing it. I am still sore, but more than that, I am aching to have him. To feel his hard, throbbing member against me. To thank him for protecting me.