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

“Ah,” he says hesitantly. Slowly, he puts his gun in the holster. “All right, well, I’m sorry for the interruption this morning. My recommendation is that you cover those windows before you and your husband engage in any more, uh... ‘fun’.”

“Oh don’t worry,” I laugh. “We’ll make sure to buy blackout curtains before we do anything like that again.”

“I’ll let you get back to your day, ma’am. And sorry again for bothering you.” The officer heads to the door, and I stand up, following after him.

Instead of stepping outside, though, he closes the door and locks it.

“What—”

Before I can finish my sentence, he lunges at me, grabbing for my throat. I stumble backwards and nearly trip, sidestepping his second lunge before taking off in the other direction.

“Get back here,” he growls. He chases after me, managing to grab my foot as I climb the stairs. I lurch forward and slam my chin on the stair ahead of me. My head spins and I bite down hard on my tongue.

The police officer jerks backwards, dragging me down, but I grab the banister and turn over. My kick comes quick and fast, directly in the center of his face. Roaring in pain, he stumbles backwards and falls flat on his ass.

My head throbs painfully but I ignore the ache and push myself up, running upstairs. I slam the door shut and lock it, frantically looking for something to barricade it with. I run to the armoire, my muscles screaming as I slam my shoulder into it, pushing it closer to the door. Just as I approach, the door explodes open again.

The officer manages to grab me this time, and he spins me around, slamming me against the wall. The wind is knocked out of me, and I feel dizzy, my knees wobbling. When my vision stabilizes, he’s glaring at me, almost as if he’s taking pleasure in all of this.

He reaches for my throat, and that’s when Roman’s training kicks in. I move faster than him, grabbing his pinkie and thumb as his hand gets closer. He’s caught off guard, and I pull backwards, trying my hardest to break his fingers. The officer recoils, cradling his hand.

“You little bitch!” he bellows.

“Fuck you!” I aim between his legs and kick him as hard as I can. Like a sack of flour, he hits the ground with a thud, groaning loudly. I don’t give him a moment to recover. I kick him two more times, one in the stomach and the second in the face. When I try for a third, he grabs my leg, yanking me forward. I nearly trip as I break free, but manage to keep my balance.

Slowly, he positions himself between me and the door, and I know that the only place left to go is the bathroom. I run inside and lock the door, pressing my back to it.

“Fuck,” I whisper, panic creeping over me. There’s nowhere else to run. We’re on the second floor, and I can fit through the window, but the fall ... I don’t know if I’d be able to land without possibly hurting myself.

There’s no time to reconsider other options, though.

I tear the shower curtain out of the way and stand on my toes, tugging the sliding window to the side. There’s just enough room for me to get out. Standing on one edge of the tub, I hop up and begin to shimmy through when I hear the impossibly loud bang of a gun.

The doorknob explodes. He must have shot it from the other side. With nothing to hold it in place, the splintered door swings inwards, hanging awkwardly on its hinges. I try to quickly scramble out the window, but I don’t get far before I feel hands around my waist. The cop pulls me back hard and the world spins. For a moment, I’m horizonal, but gravity catches up with me. The last thing I see is the edge of the tub speeding directly towards me before everything goes black.

***

My vision is foggy, and I groan softly, trying to reach up to rub my hand. I immediately realize that my hands are tied behind my back. Really starting to get fucking sick of that.

“Yeah, she’s awake now,” I hear the officer—obviously not a real cop—say. He glances at me in the rearview mirror, a phone pressed to his ear.

“Who are you?” I demand. “Where are you taking me?”

“I’ll call you back, boss,” he says. He ends the call and tosses his phone into the passenger’s seat. “Settle down.”

I tug at the ties around my wrists, but it’s useless. There aren’t any bedposts I can break to escape. These knots are serious. “Please,” I start.

“None of that,” he says. “You nearly had me back at the house, I’ll give you that. That’s exactly why you can stop all of that begging. Maybe I would’ve been more lenient if you hadn’t tried to break my fucking fingers.”

“Maybe I wouldn’t have tried to break your fucking fingers if you hadn’t tried to grab me by my fucking throat,” I spit back. “Who was that on the phone? Who’s your boss?”

“You sure are a nosy little bitch, aren’t you? I would’ve expected just a little more begging,” he chuckles.

“This isn’t my first time some asshole’s kidnapped me,” I mutter.

“You are a confusing one, Lucy. Must be that’s why Konstantin wants you so badly.”

My heart stops, and for a moment, I’m sure I’ve heard him wrong. But when I look in the mirror and meet his amused gaze, I know I heard exactly what he said.

“He’s been very interested in you. Normally, I wouldn’t involve myself with the Bratva, but that money sure is nice. My buddy, the guy your little boyfriend hired to watch after your grandmother, is still jealous that I got the fun job of grabbing you.”

“Don’t you fucking hurt her,” I snarl, briefly surprised that Roman hired someone to watch my grandma and didn’t let me