Stolen by the Mob Boss : A Russian Mafia Romance (Bratva Hitman) by Nicole Fox (classic fiction TXT) 📗

an assignment years ago. Simple recon. Mr. X did business with a local strip club and wanted to figure out where his money was going. He’d been coming up short thousands, and whoever was behind the missing cash was going to pay in many ways.

I try to work alone, but X knew that I couldn’t just waltz into the building and fit in with the others. I stuck out like a sore thumb compared to all the suits. The local crowd at the strip club was very tight-knit. At Glamour, everyone knew everyone’s name, and at the time, no one knew me from a random stranger on the street. After I donned my best suit, a few of X’s men, including Evan, walked me into the club and sat me down. With that crowd around me, no one questioned who I was. I was part of the group automatically, no questions asked.

The idea of depending on others while on a job made me itch, but I managed to contain my distaste long enough to fake interest in a few strippers. Nice girls, all of them, but I made it a point not to fuck around while on assignment. The last thing I needed was to get distracted by a Diamond or Trisha.

It was easy to figure out where the money was going. Sneaking upstairs, I could overhear a pair of men talking in hushed tones. Then there was the exchange of bundled cash between the two. I recognized the owner of the club, and the man he handed money off to must work for him, I decided. The owner instructed him to deposit the money in their bank account immediately.

Rather than just returning with the information, I decided to do Mr. X one better. I waited until it was closing time before striking, knocking the owner unconscious and stuffing him in the trunk of my car. Evan stumbled out, drunkenly asking if this was part of the assignment.

“Go home,” I warned him. “Unless you want to join Tony here.”

Evan gave me a sloppy smile, understanding that I had no qualms about putting him in there as well. He nodded and headed home, so wasted that I was sure he’d forget this night entirely. Mr. X appreciated the fact that I got the thief for him, but what he enjoyed more was the suitcase full of cash that I placed on the table the very next morning.

Holding Tony’s assistant at gunpoint and making him withdraw all the money he’d been siphoning off X was the cherry on top. It was a clean, easy assignment, with no loose ends and no unnecessary violence. Or so I thought.

I fucked up in thinking that Evan would just forget. The moment he looked back at me on that street, it all obviously came rushing back to him. He knew what it meant to see me. He knew that bad things happen when I’m close by. So he ran, dodging honking cars.

“Fuck!” I cursed, chasing after him. I knew I should’ve worn a hat, or something that could cover my face. Even an umbrella would’ve made for good cover. He wasn’t about to come quietly and shoved his way through the crowd, sending civilians tumbling into my path. The little fuck must’ve run track in high school.

But I’d never lost a target before. I wasn’t about to start now.

Grinding my jaw, I picked up speed, until I cornered the rat in an alley.

He put up a good fight. Got a few good hits in and even slashed me with a knife. But he was fighting from fear. I was fighting from a lifetime of violence. All it took was an uppercut to knock the resistance out of him.

“Roman, please,” he panted, one eye bloodied and swelling. I watched the rain wash the red away from his face. He was a desperate man. A kinder person than me might have sympathized with him. But his cries made me feel nothing.

Per orders, I made it quick. The pop of the gun was hidden behind a roar of thunder, but then there was the high-pitched scream of a woman. It cut through the noise like a crackle of lightning.

I turned to see her standing there, shivering, and soaked from head to toe. Blonde hair clung to her forehead, and despite the low light of the alley, I could see her bright eyes staring at me with a mixture of fear and something else. Was it curiosity? Terror? We stood still for what felt like an eternity. Before I could say anything, she turned and ran.

I followed behind her, determined not to let her get away. The last thing I needed on this already fucked-up job was an eyewitness. At least this chase was easier. I turned the corner just in time to see her trip and hit her head hard. She fell to the wet pavement. I holstered my gun and approached.

Now, standing over her, I see she looks much more innocent and frail. Beautiful, too. Like a butterfly caught in a spider’s web. Part of me wants to leave her here, let her go back to her normal life.

But the professional in me knows I can’t do that.

With how long we stared at each other, it would be easy for her to go to the police and file a report. Soon, I’d have a sketch of me all over town. No, I can’t run that risk.

Looking down at her, I shake my head. “You almost made it,” I murmur. Her eyes fall closed, and I watch her slip into unconsciousness. I hover over her and look up at the other end of the alley. Any minute now, someone could come along and see her lying in the rain. I don’t know who this girl is, but I can tell that this isn’t where she belongs.

I reach down and heft her up. She weighs nothing. Carrying her to the car I’ve parked a few feet away, I drop her