Hitman's Captive: A Bad Boy Romance (4 page)

I followed her down the
corridor I’d indicated until we came to another door to the right. It had a
bolt lock on it from this side, and I stepped up to it to unlock the room while
she regarded it - and me - with trepidation. She’d clearly already worked out
what I was intending.

She cleared her throat
uncertainly. “Listen, I—”

“Get in.”

Discussing this was the
last thing I wanted to do right now.

She met my eyes briefly before
obeying, and I cursed myself yet again for ever bringing her with me - getting
her involved in this.

But she was already
involved, and I figured this had to be better than simply killing her. Even if
it was going to be one big headache.

It’s just until you work
out what’s going on and sort everything out. You can deal with this until then.

I followed her in and
shut the door. The room wasn’t large - nothing in this house was - with only a
small bed pressed up against the narrow wall at the back, and a worn desk and
chair at the other end, opposite the door. The bed had a few thin coverings to
provide some comfort, but the main attraction for me was the metal frame it
boasted, complete with thin rails at the headstand.

I glanced at the woman
and gestured over at it. “Go and sit down.”

Her eyes flicked to me in
alarm and I could see her pulse start to race at her throat, but I moved
forward insistently, my large frame blocking the rest of the room and not offering
her much choice. I didn’t like myself for the intimidation tactic, but I didn’t
have time to deal with her fear or hesitation.

I was already losing
precious time with this as it was.

Biting those soft, full
lips again, she perched on the end of the bed, her breathing coming fast as she
looked up at me. I met her eyes, and couldn’t control the sudden heat that ran
through me as I watched her pupils dilate. My pulse beat hard in my head and I
could almost believe that her heart rate had doubled for the same reason.
Without thinking, I leaned in close, feeling her breath catch while I struggled
to focus on the task at hand.

She made a pretty
picture, sitting on the bed with my jacket still flung over her shoulders, and
my eyes traced her elegant neckline to the round outline of her breasts. The
way she was looking at me, I could almost believe I saw an invitation there…

I forced my mind back on
track. The wide-eyed, mesmerized look had been born of fear, nerves, anxiety -
damn
it.

I’d kidnapped the damn
girl. The last thing I could expect was for her to be interested in
that.

And I had more important
things to think about tonight. My chance of getting laid had died when the hit
had gone wrong - and my body needed to fucking accept it.

With an irritated grunt,
I withdrew the item I’d been looking for in my bag - handcuffs - and before she
could react, attached them to both her wrist then the bed’s metal railing. I
stepped back as she jerked up with a surprised exclamation, tugging on the
restraints, and I refused to look at her as I spoke. Her pretty dark eyes were
tempting as a siren, and I couldn’t afford that.

“I’ll be back later.”

I turned to leave, to a
loud clank of metal and an outraged cry. “Wait! You’re just going to leave me
here?!”

Pausing in the doorway, I
looked back at her, surprised. I would have thought she’d prefer to be alone.
Either way, it didn’t change things.

“Yes.” There was no
inflection in my voice as I met her furious gaze. With my focus back on
business, I was calm again.

“You can’t just keep me
here, you bastard. My father will kill you for this.” Her eyes gleamed with an
anger that had finally overcome all of the caution she’d mustered so far. I
couldn’t blame her for it, but seeing the passion written so clearly on her
face had a strange mixture of lust and guilt flaring within me. I forced myself
to focus on her words, regarding her with a raised eyebrow.

“And who would he be?”

Whoever it was, he’d have
to get in line.

“You don’t know? My name
is Alessa Santini. That makes my father
Antonio Santini
.” Haughty
triumph flickered over her face for a moment, and she straightened her spine
with a tight smile.

Oh fuck.

Antonio Santini was one
of the two Santini brothers to share complete and absolute authority over their
family - and the whole NYC Italian mafia.

This was an even bigger
fuck-up than I’d thought.

She couldn’t be…could
she?

My eyes narrowed as I
watched her smile widen at my expression, an unpleasant sinking feeling forming
in my stomach.

Fuck it, I believed her.
But now…I
had
to know more.

“You expect me to believe
that Antonio Santini would let his
daughter
near a Russian mafia boss?”
I challenged.

Her beautiful eyes
flashed again. “He was my fiance - until you murdered him, you cold bastard.”

I didn’t say anything for
a long moment, silent and still.

What the fuck had I
gotten myself in the middle of?

There were too many
ramifications here. Too much to understand, and too much I didn’t know.

Without another word, I
turned and walked out the door, shutting it and locking my kidnapped Italian
mafia princess in behind me.

Fuck.

Chapter Three

Alessa

I stared after my unknown
kidnapper, hearing the bolt sliding into place echoing in my head far louder
than it did in reality.

Anger consumed me as I
fixated on the place where he’d been standing. I should be glad that he was
gone, but for some reason I was furious that he’d left me here alone. Annoyed,
I tugged ineffectually at the handcuffs, feeling the metal bite into my wrist
and cursing again.

That outrage kept me
upright and glaring after him - for a few brief moments. Then the shock and
stress of it all welled up inside me, and now that I was alone and had nothing
to prove to anyone, I couldn’t fight back the wave of sobs that hiccuped up
through my body.

I brought my knees up
against my chest, and clutched them tightly as I let myself rock backwards and
forwards, trying to process everything that had happened as the horror of the
evening overtook me, playing out again and again in my mind.

I’d always known that
tonight would be scary - but not like this.

Not like this.

I’d spent my whole life
preparing for the moment my father would decide who I was going to marry. I’d
been prepared for all the nerves and uncertainty I felt on meeting my future husband.
I knew it wasn’t a fairytale, and that I might have to work to love - or even
like - the alliance he’d chosen. But I’d been raised for that duty - family was
everything, and I wasn’t going to let them down.

So when we met for the
first time tonight, in front of his people and my father’s, it had been okay
that I didn’t feel an instant attraction. That he’d been older than me, and a
little bit coarse and demanding.

That’s what you’d expect
from someone in his position, right?

And our arrangement hadn’t
been about any of that - it had been about an alliance that would position our
families for the future. I understood that.

So I’d dealt with the
occasional moments of fear without letting anyone else see them. I was a
Santini
- and I was determined to represent my family well.

And when I’d retired
alone with him - a carefully negotiated and orchestrated thing to ensure that
neither party knew our location or could take advantage - to make sure that
he’d be
satisfied with this alliance
, I’d expected the nerves as
well…but truth be told, part of me had been a little excited as well. He might
not have been the kind of man I’d fantasized of, but we were about to do
something I was
so
curious about. I was about to give myself away for
the first time, and finally understand what all the giggling girls in my
classes talked about under hushed breath.

I’d been excited, on edge
but…ready.

The little outfit he’d
wanted me to change into had surprised me, but I didn’t mind it. I’d never worn
clothes like that before, and it had made me feel…sexy.

So after I’d followed his
instructions and refreshed myself as he wanted, I’d come out of the bathroom
ready to give him my innocence and please him enough to settle this alliance
for my family.

I was scared, yes, but only
a little. I knew I could go through with it.

Except -
that
wasn’t
what had been waiting for me.

I shuddered as the
gruesome scene replayed in my mind again.

My…fiance lying there on
the floor in front of me, face twisted and purple. The flat, unremarkable
features turned ugly in death as I
couldn’t stop looking
.

My virgin night had all
gone so horribly, horribly wrong - that hesitant uncertainty I’d expected
replaced by pure terror and confusion as I was snatched and taken.

Maybe I’d known this sort
of thing was a possibility, in the back of my mind. But my father’s
business
dealings were largely hidden from me. I’d known parts of it, of course, and
I’d had glimpses of what he did - but it wasn’t my place to get involved. That
was only for my brother to know. And I’d always thought my father’s name…our
family…gave me some protection. I’d never really thought about what might
happen to me because of it.

I felt myself shaking as
sobs ripped through me, reliving that moment again and letting myself feel the
never-ending terror of that slow, soul-destroying journey away from safety. I
hated myself for not resisting, for not drawing attention
somehow
and
getting the hell out of there. But I’d felt sure that if I made one wrong
move…that gun would have ended it all.

I couldn’t remember ever
feeling as helpless or terrified as I’d been with that horrible weapon pressed
up against me, his harsh voice giving instructions in my ear. Except for a few
times with my father, maybe - when I’d struggled with my duty to my family.

But this…this was
different.

I shuddered again as my
kidnapper appeared in my mind - the way he’d leapt at me, strong and fast and
so powerful it had made my breath catch in my throat.

There was nothing I could
have done in the face of that, no way to fight him. And that hard, ripped body
I’d felt pressed up against mine had only made it worse as I’d been torn
between my repulsion and…the way I’d responded to the heat radiating from that
powerful presence.

Tonight had obviously
screwed with my mind. There was no way a girl should react that way to her
kidnapper.

But maybe…I’d spent too
long mentally preparing myself for a night that I’d hoped would be full of
pleasure. Even after Viktor’s death, some crazed part of me hadn’t been able to
stop wanting it.

And it didn’t help that
this
was
the kind of man I’d fantasized about - apart from the
cold-blooded killer part, anyway. He was ruggedly handsome - grim, maybe, with
sharp lines across the strong features of his face, but he had the sort of masculinity
that set my heart beating out of control in my chest. And the way he looked at
me…like he was going to devour me slowly, and leave me begging for more…

Oh, god help me.

That must have been why
I’d been unable to resist that electricity between us, why I’d felt almost
willing when he’d gestured me over to the bed and I’d thought he was going to
take me - whether I wanted it or not. And fuck me, I’d wanted it. For a brief
moment as I’d felt that sinfully hot stare on me, I’d thought every stupid, traitorous
thought - before he’d withdrawn and I could remember again: he was a killer. A
murderous bastard. He’d stolen me away and threatened my life more times than I
could count.

I hated him - and this -
and I was going to get the fuck away from here and back to my family.

And once I got over this
damned shock, then maybe my head would be back on straight and I’d stop
projecting what I’d wanted from this evening onto a merciless killer.

Maybe.

I sighed deeply, my mind
in turmoil even as my shudders started to abate and my earlier terror began to
give way to a deep exhaustion.

As the nightmare of it
all washed over me and left me empty in its wake, I made myself start to regain
control again and
think
.

I wiped my eyes, then
stared at the loose jacket sleeve I’d used in sudden disgust -
his
jacket
sleeve. I ripped it off from where it hung on my shoulders in one sudden motion
and threw it across the room, heart pounding with the flash of anger. Then I
shivered at the cool air on my shoulders, feeling both petulant and defiant as
I stared at where it slumped against the wall.

I took a couple of quick
breaths, feeling shaken and scared but unable to just sit here and let it all
overwhelm me.

Instead, I started
looking around the room and tried to work out what I could do. I hoped my
father would find me soon, but until then…I couldn’t just wait.

I still didn’t know why I
was here - what my kidnapper wanted with me. At first I’d thought it must be
related to my father - hostage, ransom, something like that. But I’d seen him
pause when I’d mentioned the Santini name.

He hadn’t known.

And that made this even
more dangerous. I didn’t know whether I could rely on my family’s name to keep
me safe.

My second thought had been
that he’d brought me here with worse intentions…the way he’d looked at me with
hot, lustful eyes certainly had my mind running in that direction. But he
didn’t do that either - even though I didn’t yell or scream or resist. Even
though I’d been picturing his mouth against mine, his warm breath and rough
stubble rubbing my face.

Which you should
definitely not have done, Alessa. Damn you, this is not the way to sate that
curiosity.

And now he was gone - and
I was left here without a clue as to what he intended.

Doesn’t matter. You’re
not going to give him a chance to act on it. Somehow.

I took a deep breath and
tugged on the handcuffs again. They were solid and weren’t going to budge.

Another tremor of
helplessness took me before I beat it down and looked around again. The room
was unhelpfully bare - just the bed, its coverings and the desk and chair in
the corner opposite the door. There were a couple of drawers on the desk, but I
couldn’t believe he would have left me with anything useful - and I couldn’t
even reach it.

With a frown I stood up,
looking at the way I was attached to the bed. I couldn’t get out of the
handcuffs, but maybe…

I pulled on the frame
with both hands, and to my surprise it wasn’t that heavy - the bed was small, and
it was just a simple metal frame with mattress and covers. I pulled off the
covers quickly, then awkwardly tried to maneuver the mattress with mostly one
hand. I managed to get it off the bed, before realizing that there wasn’t
enough room to turn the bed with the mattress against the opposite wall. This
room wasn’t that big.

It took a lot of effort,
and enough time that I started glancing uneasily towards the door, but I
eventually managed to twist and turn the bed frame to get it onto its side and
turned around - letting me move into the other half of the room and drag the
bed behind me, until I reached the door. My wrist was stinging from pressing
against the harsh metal of the handcuff as I’d pulled and tugged at the bed and
mattress, but I ignored it. It felt like I was finally getting somewhere.

Even if that
somewhere
was just to the other half of the room.

I glanced at the desk,
moving over to pull out the drawers and rummage through. It was in pretty bad
condition - any varnish had long since faded, with the wood cracking at the
top. The drawers came out after a few sharp tugs, stuck initially but far
lighter than I’d expected. Nothing inside. Disappointment flared, even if I had
expected exactly that.

Sighing, I turned away
and looked up at the door instead. Letting my anger and annoyance bubble up, I
slammed my shoulder into it. It was only locked through a deadbolt on the other
side, so if I could break that…

Except the door was
clearly made of sturdier stuff than the desk, and when my shoulder turned numb
after a few attempts, I gave up with a large indrawn breath. My wrist was
throbbing from the awkward angle of pounding against the door with my hand
attached to the bed-frame behind me, and when I glanced down at it, I could see
the ugly red mark that had formed.

Then I laughed derisively
- even if I’d broken down the door, there was no way I was getting through with
this bed attached to my wrist. That never would have worked. Closing my eyes
and hating myself for both my stupidity and helplessness, I leaned back against
the door and blinked against the tears prickling my eyes.

There has to be some way,
there has to be…

Of course, because you’re
better than a killer that’s probably done this dozens of times? Because
somehow, out of all the kidnap victims in the world, you’re smarter, stronger,
braver? Fuck you, Alessa.

I let the fear and
self-pity wash over me, sinking down to a crouch against the door and burying
my head in the crook of my elbow. These were the things I never let anyone else
see. As the eldest daughter of an Italian mafia boss, I was expected to be an
example - I had been, ever since my mother had died and I’d helped raise my two
younger sisters. And
examples
didn’t give in to fear, or wallow in
self-pity at their already over-privileged lives.

I was a happy, polite,
obedient girl. Bright and smiling and dutiful. A source of pride to my family.

It was just that all the
fear and uncertainty that I pushed aside around other people always came back
to haunt me. It put a lie to all those things and reminded me that I was human.
Average. Fragile. I’d get over it, and I sure as hell wouldn’t let anyone else
see it. But it didn’t change that it was there - and true.

Whatever I wanted to
believe about myself, at the end of the day…there was nothing special there.

And that sarcastic,
snarky voice in the back of my mind wasn’t going to let me forget that I was
just the
daughter
of a powerful family.
Someone
by association
only - certainly not by anything I’d ever done.