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

That motherfucker is my responsibility now.

I can’t stop thinking about what he did to Lucy’s family, and the families that were also destroyed by his negligence. It makes me see red. It makes me want to grab his head between my hands and squeeze it until it pops. He’s hurt people worse than I ever could, because he’s hurt them while pretending to be a good guy the entire time. He wears the mask of a harmless older man, but deep down, he’s as fucked as the rest of us. Maybe even worse.

I’m going to take pleasure in making him suffer.

I don’t normally. In most cases, I keep it standard, clean. Pull the trigger, clean up the mess, keep it moving. But Abram Konstantin doesn’t deserve a quick death. He doesn’t deserve an emotionless kill. What he deserves is something tortuous, something that makes him remember all the people he’s fucked over in his miserable life. And I’m more than willing to give him exactly that.

But first, I have to take care of the Lucy situation.

I pull a small phone from my pocket and debate whether or not I should call just yet. I know Lucy, and I know she’d be embarrassed if they found her with puffy eyes and a snotty nose. I also know that I’m not too far from the neighborhood yet, and I don’t need anyone pulling me over and connecting me to that house.

I spent all morning cleaning. I got rid of every bit of evidence that tied me to the place. I’ve spent nearly my entire life disappearing, leaving no trace behind, so it was muscle memory. All the police will find is Lucy tied to the bed and the story she gives them about who I am. They’ll spend months trying to find someone just named Roman, but I’ll be gone by then. Assume another identity, become a different person.

It’s easy.

It just feels wrong.

It tugs at my heart, imagining Lucy looking for me. I don’t want her to. I want her to go back to the life she had before she ever met me. Before I ever threatened the perfect, normal world she inhabited. I want her to meet someone and have children with him and have the family she lost before growing up. I want her to grow old and be happy, and I can’t give that to her.

That still doesn’t make up for the bitterness rolling through my veins. This is why I don’t do relationships. Bonds. I don’t form connections because they’re so easily threatened, and they hurt too much when they’ve been broken. Friendships, lovers, and anything more are a luxury I don’t afford. I don’t need them.

A part of me argues that I need Lucy. When I’m with her, I imagine a world where I’m not under Mr. X’s thumb. I imagine a world where we’re together. In my fantasy, I wake up with her in my arms every morning, and I end every night beside her. She’s the first thing I see. The last thought on my mind. She makes me feel like I’m worth something more than a few hundred thousand dollars to whoever wants to cough up the cash.

It’s a fantasy, though.

It’s a trap.

That’s how people make the mistake of falling in love. They let the potential of what could be cloud their judgment, and when they least expect it, everything falls apart. More people will come for Lucy and me the way they did at the diner. More people will die. The less I can involve her in all of that, the better.

This is the way it has to be. I just wish I could’ve done it without hurting her as much as I did.

After driving for twenty minutes, I pull my phone out again and dial the police. It rings twice, then a woman picks up.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“There’s a woman tied to the bed at 9284 South Lilac Drive.”

“I’m sorry?”

“She’s tied to the bed. She’s screaming for help. Please come get her.”

The operator starts to ask me to stay on the line, but I end the call after repeating the address. I roll the window down and toss the phone out. In the rear mirror, I see it clatter and break against the concrete.

There.

Now she’ll be free. Free for good this time.

After that’s taken care of, I decide to head to Lucy’s place. The drive is short, and I fill the uncomfortable silence with loud rock music, trying my best to drown out the guilt in the back of my head. I need the distraction, and it helps. When I pull up outside of Lucy’s house, I turn the volume down and park a few yards away.

As I’d hoped, there’s a car sitting across the street from the house. It’s nondescript, easy to miss, and exactly what I’m looking for. I approach the passenger’s side and climb in. The man sitting inside looks surprised, but he calms down when he recognizes me.

“Hey,” he says, wiping the sleep from his eyes.

“Sleeping on the job?”

“No, I just ... It’s been a long morning.”

I snort. “You’re telling me.” I glance back at the house, narrowing my eyes. “Anything happen lately?”

“Nah. The old lady doesn’t do much all day. Am I supposed to be looking for something interesting?”

I shake my head. “No. You’re just keeping watch.”

Dustin is a contact I made a few years ago. He’s worked in security before, and is now a cop, so he was the perfect person to hit up a few weeks ago. I knew Lucy would be with me much longer than she told her grandmother, and I didn’t want the old lady being home alone in case someone went after her the same way they did with us at the diner.

Dustin was more than happy to take the job when he saw how much I was paying. He let me know that he’d be available most nights, which seemed like a good idea for