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

“What name? Konstantin?”

She nods. “I know that man. More than I ever wanted to.”

“How?” She looks away, and I can tell that she’s debating whether she should tell me or not. I add more pressure to her throat and she snaps back into focus.

“He killed my parents. When I was a girl, my parents died in a house fire. The wiring inside wasn’t up to code. The house caught on fire, and it burned them alive inside. I watched them wheel my parents out in body bags. And as a child, I thought people that did bad things paid the price for them.”

Tears well in her eyes, and I watch as they run down her cheeks.

“But Konstantin didn’t get what he deserved. Nobody pressed charges. Nobody made a big deal out of it. My parents got swept under the rug like they were nothing. And all these years, I’ve wanted to hurt him. I’ve wanted to tell him that what he did to my parents wasn’t just unfortunate. It was neglect. His neglect is what killed them. He would’ve gotten away with it had I died in the fire, but I didn’t. And now I have to make him pay.”

The idea of this little thing taking on someone with ties to a Russian mob is almost funny. She could barely take on Konstantin, let alone all the men she’d have to get through to reach him. But I don’t laugh in her face. I can see that she’s hurt. I can see the anguish in her. It’s like looking at a mirror.

The death of my family brought on the same emotions. For years, I didn’t know what to do. All I had was the anger inside of me, a fire that wouldn’t die down. I wanted to hurt everyone I could. I wanted to tear apart the people behind their deaths. And when I finally did, I felt that sense of peace. It was hollow, but it was peaceful knowing that the right people had paid for their crimes against my family.

The part of me that hasn’t recovered from being orphaned wants to let her go. I want to encourage her to seek her revenge. Make the motherfucker pay. She has the passion I had, the drive to right Konstantin’s wrongs.

But I’m not stupid. I know she’d never get far. She’s innocent; fucked up by the world, but still holding onto her virtue. Riling her up and sending her in his direction is a surefire way to get her killed, and I can’t let that happen. I won’t let that happen. Even if she was planning on stabbing me and leaving me for dead.

“Please, Roman,” she says. “I need this. You’re the only person I know that can help me. You’re a trained killer.”

“What do you expect me to do?”

“Let me help you! I’ve spent so long researching Konstantin. I’ve grown up my whole life watching him. I probably know more about him than your boss does.”

I want to argue, but she’s probably right. Mr. X kept his call short and sweet. He gave me a name, a bit of background information, and that was it. It was clear that this man has been putting his nose where it doesn’t belong, and it’s my job to put a stop to that. Whatever Lucy knows might actually be useful.

Too bad there’s no way in hell I’m letting her tag along.

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “I’m not going to do that.”

This situation with Lucy is already complicated enough. Spending any more time with her would only be a distraction, and that’s the last fucking thing I need. I’ve already made a mess of one job thanks to her. Adding her to another would have the same results.

On top of that, I can already tell that being around her clouds my judgment. When I’m with Lucy, I let my guard down. I’m not always looking for danger. Nabbing the razor was good in hindsight, but she still managed to get ahold of my knife. It’s sloppy. Being around her makes me sloppy, and that’s not what X tolerates. In my line of work, one moment of sloppiness is enough to get you killed.

Her eyes are still aimed up at me. “Roman ...” Her voice is on the verge of tears, but I keep my resolve. I’m not going to let her fuck up another job of mine, all for a moment of revenge.

There’s also the fact that the way she says my name, so sad and soft and delicate, makes me hard as a fucking rock. She’s putting a spell on me, and I can’t tolerate that kind of distraction. I turn away and breathe, trying to reassert control over my body. It takes a few moments before I’m calm again.

When I don’t give her an answer, she turns her head and I watch the tears run over her nose. Even in the dim light, I can see the freckles. Something tells me to reach out and wipe her eyes, but I don’t. I won’t. I can’t.

Both of us fall silent. All I hear is her steady breathing. That’s when I realize what I’m doing. Still straddling her. Still pinning her to the bed. I try not to let my mind get away from me, but the thoughts are hard to stop. I imagine what it would feel like to straddle her for real. To part her legs and slip inside. If the touch of her fingers fucked with me that much, what would being inside of her do to me?

When I feel my cock stir to life again, I clear my throat and climb off. Better safe than confusing myself anymore. She looks defeated, pouting like a child. She’ll get used to it. In the morning, I’ll drop her off.

It’s not the smartest idea, but I can’t keep her around any longer. I’ve already fucked up showing