Stolen from the Hitman: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (20 page)

Maggie is a tough person. I know her to be. I recruited her personally, just like all my other students, and I looked for a particular kind of mental resilience that could flourish in another country.

But nothing should have to prepare a human being for this. Nobody should be born to expect slavery.

I move to the side of the building, crouching behind a dumpster where a window is situated nearby. Faint light is visible from within, and I suspect there’s someone home. But the window is shut, so I move up under it to try to listen inside.

“...wouldn’t even listen when Vasili roughed her up a little, we had to take her away for most of the party,” one of the men is saying in Russian.

“Fucking Americans,” another man spits, “what are they teaching their girls over there? I bet he really gave it to her that night, eh?”

“No,” says the first man, “boss said to keep hands off those parts of her, no wounds that show. The client has eh...high standards. Some rich fuck in the US or Canada, I don’t know, I don’t get to drive this one to the docks. They’re gonna dress her up real nice though. Shipping her up to Calais in the morning to make her look good for her new husband.”

“Well, what’s stopping you from having some fun the boss won’t notice?” the man says with a lewd lilt to his voice that makes my grip my knife tighter.

“Are you fucking serious? He’s still fuming over the loss of that one bitch the Russian stole. So much as an extra stain on that filthy shirt of hers, and he’ll have our balls.”

I’ve heard enough, and I glance over at the dumpster. There’s a rotting wood palette sitting beside it, and quietly as I can, I pick it up and toss it over the top of the dumpster, making it clatter in among the garbage with enough noise that a cat goes running out from behind the dumpster and into the fields.

“The fuck was that?” one of the men inside says after a pause.

“Fucking cats. I’ll get it,” he says, and I’m already crouching under the window when I hear it slide open.

“Psst! Fuck off, you overgrown rats!” he shouts, leaning out to brandish his beer bottle at the dumpster. In a swift motion, I reach up and yank him out the window, plunging my knife into the back of his neck the moment he hits the ground.

“Adrik?” the other man cries, rushing forward in time for me to rise to my feet as I whip my pistol out, pointing it directly at his wide-eyed face and pulling the trigger before he has time to get a word out.

Both bodies crumple to the ground within seconds of each other, I hop into the window and ready my gun. I’m on bought time now.

At the far end of the hall, I can see a set of stairs leading down, and I have no time to waste; even if there are others in the building, I can’t risk them getting away with Maggie, so I head swiftly down the hallway, weapon raised. I don’t know how many people are lying in wait in this building. Back in the old days, there would have been far more, but I suspect this Chechen ring is just getting started. Otherwise, security would be much, much tighter. That, and there would be more girls here than I alone could rescue.

Besides, even though I’m out of this life, I’d have heard if the ring was in full operation. It’s impossible to keep things quiet from the one person in the city who knows what to be looking for in the news reports.

I reach the steps, descending them quickly, rounding a final corner with my gun out before laying eyes on what looks like a heavy metal door, a security panel to the left of it. Drawing out the cardkey, I watch the light flash green as the lock pops open and it opens with a loud creak. I wince, knowing that any element of surprise I have left is gone, but the whimper I hear from the other side of the door is doubly heart-wrenching.

The room I step into is a long and windowless hallway, all stained concrete. There are what look like cells lined up on both sides of the room, each one with a steel door on the front with nothing but a slat to push food and water through. I hurry down the hall, my eyes moving from cell to cell. Each one appears empty, save for one near the entrance. Nevertheless, I make a sweep of the room to make sure there are no other prisoners before I move to the one occupied cell and slide open the barred door.

Immediately, the young woman inside bursts into tears at the sight of me, and I step forward as Maggie buries her face in her hands.

I kneel down and speak softly to her. “Maggie. Maggie, look up, it’s me — I’m here to get you out of here.”

“Please, I-” she sobs before turning her tearstained face up to me, and as recognition dawns on her slowly, as if she’s waking up from a nightmare, she bursts into tears all over again. I allow her to wrap her arms around my neck and cry into my shoulder. “M-m-monsieur P-”

“Breathe, Maggie,” I assure her, stroking her back comfortingly, and my heart wells up with sorrow for the young woman in my arms. I dearly wish I could say this is the first time I’ve encountered a woman in her condition. And I dearly wish she’d be the last. But all I can do now is everything in my power to rescue her.

“We...we tried to go to a party and…” she gasps between sobs, trying to explain herself, but I shush her softly as I look around the room at her conditions.

“I know everything, Maggie. I’m here to end all this.” The light in the cell is out of reach, but still flickering noisily. The concrete here is rough, and it would be painful to the touch if I weren’t wearing thick clothes. Maggie’s torn and stained clothing is thin, though, a remnant of her night out. And there’s no bed in here. All of it clearly amounts to means of sleep deprivation — torture.

“Liv,” she gasps, looking panicked again, “Olivia, she was with me, have you-”

“She’s safe,” I say with a smile, helping Maggie to her feet as she puts her hands to her mouth in shock and gratitude.

“Oh my god, how?!” Maggie is in near disbelief, almost suspicious that this is happening, and not without good reason. “Are you some kind of officer?”

“I’m a few things,” I say simply, sticking my head out into the hallway. “Let’s save that for the car ride though, we’re not out of hot water yet.”

“What should I—” Maggie starts, but she’s cut off as I take her by the hand and move down the hallway with my pistol raised.

“Keep my hand and move when I tell you to,” I say, and without another word, I take off as fast as I can manage to get Maggie to run.

Up ahead, I can hear voices and footsteps down the stairs. I feel Maggie start to reflexively freeze up, and without another moment’s thought, I guide her into a different cell just as two men arrive at the door with guns out.

As Maggie screams, I roll into the room with her as shots hit the wall behind us, and as soon as they’re off, I reach around and blind-fire two shots before popping out of hiding and shooting one of the men dead as he dives for cover. The other man hits the ground, having been caught in the leg by my blind shot, and I sprint forward, but not fast enough that he can’t let out a cry of pain that rings through the compound before I put a bullet in his head and finish the job.

Maggie peeks out of hiding, and I give her a nod to come catch up with me, and I take her hand to pull her along before she can let her gaze dwell on the bodies around her too long. There are mixed emotions in her eyes, and I can only imagine she feels some measure of satisfaction in seeing such vile men put down.

We move up the stairs, and I’m relieved to see nobody standing at the top of them waiting for us. But I know the men who saw the body on the way down will have called for backup, so we don’t have much time.

I guide her down the hallway, and I’m about to round the corner towards the front door when a man lunges from the bathroom on my right, slashing across my face with a knife. I feel a sting on my cheekbone as it draws blood, and I stagger for a moment. I raise my gun as he curses and starts to lunge forward again, but the next instant, he falls to the ground with a scream as Maggie lurches forward and kicks his knee in, surprising even me with her strength. She staggers back, surprised at herself before I shoot the man in the back of the head as he holds his leg.

“Good work,” I say to her with a nod, and she mouths something as I take her hand and bolt out the front door with her.

“We’re still in France,” she says as we cross the courtyard, and I realize she must have been blindfolded for most of the transfers. I wonder how badly these past few days have affected the passage of time for her.

“Just outside Paris,” I say grimly, and I glance back to see her ashen face at the realization that all this horror, all this vile slavery has been taking place right in the heart of metropolitan civilization. It’s a reality that shook me to the bone when I first learned of it. From Paris to London to New York City, it’s often the epicenters of culture and civilization that hide the darkest vices.

We run towards the car, but from the building behind us, I hear shouts and the sounds of running feet. Reinforcements from the second floor must be on the way, and we need to be out of here already.

I hear the voices grow closer as we near the corner of the wall, not far from where my car is parked. Getting my keys out in one hand, I turn around to fire a few rounds with a new pistol at the door, and I see the four men who’ve come after us start to scatter as shots are exchanged.

We round the corner and start sprinting for the car, and I look down at the keys in my hand.

There’s a trickle of red staining the shining metal of the keys, and as it starts to pool in my hand, my eyes move to my upper chest to see a small hole where the bullet hit me.

I
’m sitting
in our opulent terrace suite, chewing my lip anxiously, waiting for any updates from Max. It’s nearly midnight and we still haven’t heard back from him. All day, the three of us spent hours strategizing and trying to figure out the logistics of our next move. The two guys pored over an old map for a long time, Max showing Felix where he would be headed tonight just in case he needed to call for reinforcements or something. He assured me that it wouldn’t be necessary anyway, that he had a solid plan. He knew the area well enough and he had enough experience dealing with creeps like these — he would be able to find Maggie and get back out without too much trouble.

But nothing he said could assuage my deep concerns. I have finally found the love I never knew I needed, and now I am poised to lose him if anything is to go wrong. I’m sending this most precious object of my affections into direct danger. And knowing his background, his extensive experience in dealing with the Chechen mafia in the past, does nothing to relieve my worry. Even though I’ve seen his skills in action, I know that it’s been a long time since he last delved into such an intense situation. Until now, he’s been living a totally different life, walking a tamer track. That’s not to say he’s out of shape or anything in the least — the way his muscles ripple under his clothing, the ease with which he can scoop me up and move my body… he’s as strong and powerful as he ever was, I’m sure.

But he’s softer now.

And I know that, in some small way at least, I am to blame. Even Felix, who is not particularly observant or tactful, noted this to me earlier tonight, about an hour after Max headed out. I was pacing back and forth nervously, my anxious tics in full drive as I twirled my hair, fidgeted with the hem of my shirt, and chewed my nails. Felix looked up at me from his laptop and shook his head.

“You and Max have gotten close so fast, haven’t you?” he said.

I jumped at the sound of his voice, being shaken from my thoughts. “I-I guess so, yeah.”

He scratched at his chin thoughtfully. “I’ve never seen him be so gentle with anyone before, you know. He’s even nicer to me when you’re around.”

I had just shrugged off his words like they weighed nothing, but deep down I know he was right. I can feel it even when Max just looks at me, those vivid green eyes staring right down into the depths of my soul. I know time has changed him, and distance, too. He’s spent some time away from the life and I worry he might be a little rusty. Felix assures me that he’s well-trained enough that the coldness he was accustomed to will never totally thaw.

And that only breaks my heart a little bit.

I know that he needs that coldness to survive, at least for now. If he hesitates to take a guard down, if he’s even a millimeter off his game, it could spell tragedy for him. Disaster. Even death. So I hope I haven’t softened him up enough to weaken him. But now, curled up in the bed we shared not twenty-four hours ago, I make a silent vow to myself: if and when we survive this mess, I will make it my life’s mission to work on softening him, melting the icy cage around his heart. I will bring him back to planet Earth, ground him with my love. I’ll show him that light and happiness can be just as powerful a reservoir of strength as years of battle-tested darkness.

Suddenly, I’m ripped from my reverie as Felix’s cell phone rings. I bound out of bed and rush to his side, staring anxiously at the phone as he slides it open and answers.

“Are you out? Max? What’s going on? It’s been hours —”

His words are cut off and his face goes pale. “What is it? What happened, Felix?” I ask quietly, tugging at his sleeve. He shakes his head, shushing me as he listens to Max for a moment, then hangs up.

“Get your stuff. We gotta go. Something’s happened,” Felix says worriedly.

I immediately feel a wave of nausea hit me. “What? Is he okay?”

“Come on, I’ll tell you on the way,” he replies quickly, urging me to follow him. We race out of the hotel down to the street, where Felix hails us a cab. After giving the driver specific instructions in rapid French, he rolls up the partition and explains to me in a hushed tone, “Max has been injured, but you’ve got to stay calm, okay?”

I’m surprised at how calm Felix is, considering his usual high-strung personality, but that only worries me more. If it’s serious enough that even Felix is acting this way… it must be bad.

“What happened to him, Felix? Tell me,” I demand.

“He… he was shot.”

The world around me goes silent, my head spinning.

“Wh-what?” I murmur weakly, feeling bile rise in my throat.

“Shh, it’s okay. He’ll be alright. He didn’t sound that bad on the phone —”

“It’s not okay!” I cry, tears burning in my eyes. “Why are we driving so slowly? Come on, hurry up! Step on the gas!”

Felix takes my wrists and pushes them back down as I start to beat on the partition, working myself into a frenzy. “He can’t hear you and he’s going as fast as he can, Olivia. Just let the man drive. Listen to me: when we get there, I’m going to take Maggie and you’re going to ride with Max to the hospital.”

“Hospital?” I repeat breathlessly. “Wait — he found Maggie? He got her?”

“Yes, yes. Keep up, Liv, come on. Do you understand what’s going to happen?”

“Oh — uh, sure. I got it. I’ll get Max to the hospital,” I say dutifully, even though I really don’t know how I’m going to manage that. Max’s car is a stick shift and I only vaguely know how to drive a manual vehicle, plus I don’t know the way to a hospital. And then there’s the added panic of the fact that the love of my life is gravely injured.

But I will figure it out. I have to, for Max’s sake.

When we pull up, I jump out of the taxi before it’s even completely stopped. Felix tells the cabbie to wait and runs after me, the two of us bolting around the corner toward Max’s parked car. I race to the driver’s side and throw the door open, kneeling by Max, my heart hammering away in my chest. “You’re hurt,” I mumble, tears blurring my vision. There’s so much blood, and it’s streaming down from his shirt. He was shot in the upper chest.

“It looks worse than it is,” Max replies, but his breathing is ragged, his voice rough. He doesn’t sound good at all. I rip off my cardigan and tie it around his torso to stem the blood flow as much as I can.

“Maggie, come with me,” Felix is saying, and I look up to meet my former roommate’s terrified eyes. She looks like hell, which is only fitting considering the fact that she’s just had a long, torturous walk through the inferno itself. We exchange knowing nods and she wordlessly goes with Felix, the two of them racing away to meet the cab.

“I’m going to drive you to get help,” I explain to Max, forcing my voice not to tremble. “I’ll need you to tell me the way, alright?”

“Do you even know how to drive a stick shift?” he asks, his eyelids fluttering. The color is draining from his gorgeous face, and I know this needs to happen fast.

“Kind of. I’ll make it work,” I insist, urging him gently to move into the passenger seat. With a painful lurch he lumbers out of the driver’s side and walks around the front of the car, holding a hand to his chest with the other out to steady himself on the hood of the vehicle. He limps slowly around and into the seat, slumping back with an expression of intense agony on his face. I jump behind the wheel, murmuring to myself the tips my dad tried to instill in me in regards to driving a manual.

“Foot on the clutch,” I whisper, reaching down to fling the car into first gear. To my infinite relief, the knowledge comes trickling back to me through the fog of panic in my brain. Max gives me mumbled directions as we make the jerky, awkward drive back into town toward the nearest hospital.

By the time we finally get there, Max is conked out entirely, his eyes having rolled back into his head. But I am in survival mode, my former frenzy sharpened into a needle-point focus. Mustering all my strength, I all but carry his enormous weight to the glass doors of the emergency room, the two of us collapsing to the tile floor. Overwhelmed and exhausted, I black out amidst the frantic muttering of French doctors and nurses.

* * *

O
ne week later
, we’re finally home from the hospital, both on the mend. Turns out, my lack of proper sleep coupled with extreme stress resulted in my having a physical breakdown of sorts. I was booked into a hospital room alongside Max, for exhaustion and overexertion. Next to Max’s gunshot wound, I felt a little silly and weak, but the doctors assured me that I would be much better off repairing my body in the hospital. Besides, I think they caught onto the fact that I would probably be glued to Max’s side. If I was going to spend every second in the hospital room anyway, I might as well be getting treatment, too.

But now we’re both doing much better. I feel rejuvenated and relieved after our brush with near death. Max is up and mobile again, nearly back to his former strength already. Turns out, the bullet only grazed his left lung, too high up to fully puncture it or his heart. He is beyond lucky to have survived. Any further south and that bullet would have certainly killed him.

In the couple of days since leaving the hospital, Max has been fighting the desire to get up to his old ways again — not the hitman life, but the athletics. He wants to run and work out like he used to, but the doctors have urged me to keep him from doing anything too strenuous. To keep him busy and keep his mind off his current predicament, I’ve asked him to train me in self-defence so that he can live vicariously through me while he’s on the mend.

Granted, it’s not only self-defence he’s been teaching me… Now that we’re through the storm without any other distractions, we can explore each other’s bodies like we couldn’t before. And with his wound, I have been trying my best to give him all the TLC he deserves. Just because his body is weakened at the moment doesn’t mean I have to tone down my own physical abilities. And I am a gymnast, after all.

We’ve also done some weapons training. Even though I dislike guns, I still feel as though it would be beneficial for me to learn how to use one properly, just in case the situation ever arises that I need it. And with Max’s past still looming over us, it’s entirely possible that such a situation may very well find us again. Especially right now, with Max vulnerable, I am more determined than ever to learn how to defend myself. And him.

Not that I’m allowing that dark cloud to rain on our little niche of paradise, though. One upside to Max’s being on the mend is that we get a lot of quiet, soft time together, just the two of us. Tending to his wound and seeing a more exposed, tender side of him has been an eye-opening experience, a glimpse into how beautiful and complex his heart truly is. Underneath the layers of diamond-hard armor is an amazingly sweet man. We’ve spent many a night curled up in bed together, talking until the wee hours, baring our souls to each other. And during one of these late-night sessions, he let slip that he wanted to make this — us — official. It wasn’t exactly a proposal; more like a natural development of our current bond. It is a question that doesn’t need asking. Our union is inevitable.

So when he started talking about “when we’re married…” it didn’t come as a surprise to either of us. It’s just as natural as the air we breathe. That’s not to say he simply assumed it without my consent. Once he realized how assumptive his phrasing was, he stopped short and looked deeply into my eyes, then uttered the words I knew were coming.

“Will you marry me?”

Of course I gave the only answer there could be: yes! And sometime in between our training sessions, he managed to slip out and buy me the most beautiful, jaw-dropping ring I’ve ever seen. Rose-gold with a gigantic pink diamond. It’s more than even a princess could ask for. And our wedding is going to be absolutely gorgeous. At first, we toyed with the idea of simply eloping, but now we’re planning the big wedding of my dreams.

“I hope your parents will be pleased,” Max says, worry etched across his face. I lean over the coffee table to kiss the concerns away.

“As soon as they see how happy I am, they’ll understand,” I assure him. “Besides, how could anyone not love you? Especially with everything you’ve done for me.”

“I just don’t want to be the source of any disputes or anything,” he says. “I don’t have much by way of family, and the last thing I want is to ruin things for you. I know how much your family means to you, Liv.”

“Don’t worry, okay? This is a good thing, and my parents will see it the same way, I swear,” I tell him earnestly. At first, I was a little worried that my mom and dad would be put off by our age difference. But I’m old enough and mature enough to know what I want. They know how headstrong and intelligent I am. I wouldn’t decide to do something like this on a whim — I’ve always been cautious in life and love, and I know without a single shred of doubt this is what I want: to be with Max forever.

I just had no idea how short forever could be.