Stolen by the Mob Boss : A Russian Mafia Romance (Bratva Hitman) by Nicole Fox (first color ebook reader txt) 📕

off in the back seat, pausing to tie up her arms and legs. When I’m sure she’s secured and won’t be getting away, I head back to Evan. His corpse still lies facedown on the cement. The rain has thankfully washed most of the blood away so there won’t be much of a clean-up, but I already know he’s going to bleed when I put him in my trunk, which means I’ll have to clean that out soon.

I shake my head and curse under my breath again. So messy, so unlike me. I need to get the fuck out of here before something else unexpected thrusts itself into this shit pile of a situation. Evan hits the trunk with a thud, and I slam the lid closed, taking a seat in the car and pausing to collect myself.

Mr. X doesn’t have to know how quickly this all soured. As long as I keep the girl quiet and take care of Evan’s body, as far as X knows, everything went according to plan. I didn’t fuck up too badly. This is all still salvageable.

But there’s still the loose end of the girl to tie up. For all the shit I’m paid to do, I don’t kill women or children. I refuse to put them through anything close to what my mother and brothers felt. The only people I take out are men who deserve it, which Mr. X is fine with. He has plenty of other men to harm anyone else he deems worthy.

This would all be so much easier if I could make myself pull the trigger and take the blonde out as well. I damn near lost her anyway. If not the rain, she might’ve gotten away, and then I’d be royally fucked.

I pull onto the road. The rain hasn’t let up any, so it’s hard to see. At least the rain keeps people from peering inside my car too closely. The last thing I need is someone calling the police because I have a woman tied up in the back seat.

Now, where to go? Home is my first thought, but it’s a bad idea. She’s seen my face already. The last thing she needs is an address to go along with it.

Instead, I head to a small motel that I’ve stayed at before. It’s a ratty thing, mostly used for men cheating on their husbands and women trying to score drugs or a pretty penny for fucking. Nobody asks questions there, which is exactly what I need.

I halfway expect the girl to wake up and throw a fit, but to my surprise, she stays unconscious the entire ride. Transporting her is the difficult part. I pull up as close as I can and quickly stride through the lobby, paying for a room all the way at the back of the building, as far away from prying eyes as I can manage.

The man behind the desk doesn’t ask questions. He must assume that I’m having some kind of illicit affair and want as much privacy as possible. When he hands over the keys, I give him a short nod and head back to the car, pulling it around and parking underneath a large oak tree.

Every time I think it’s safe to throw her over my shoulders and head inside, someone steps out onto the balcony for a cigarette or to take a call. It takes nearly thirty minutes of waiting, but finally I have an opportunity to move. I pull a blanket out and toss it over her. It’s not much, but from a distance, she looks like a rolled-up rug.

I hustle inside and set her down in the dingy bathroom, untying her hands and wrapping them around the base of the sink. As I reach for the rope I set on the toilet lid, I feel her stir. She blinks away the sleep and focuses on me.

“Get off me!” she screams suddenly, thrashing against my grip. She’s stronger than I thought, and it takes a bit of effort to keep her pinned. “Let me go! Someone help me!” she howls.

“Stop,” I growl, and for a moment, her fire dims a little. I don’t want to hurt her, but I might have to if she doesn’t cooperate.

But just as quickly, she’s angry again, fighting with me as I reach for the rope once more. Growing sick of the struggle, I pull a rag from my pocket and stuff it in her mouth. This cuts off her screaming, but it doesn’t help that she’s still writhing beneath me, trying to twist free from my grasp. Quickly, I grab the rope and secure her wrists around behind the base of the sink.

Once that mess is taken care of, I stand up and look at her. She kicks at me, but she’s just out of reach. For someone so small and demure-looking, she’s vicious. Under other circumstances, I might find it endearing, but right now, this girl’s a pain in my ass. First, she’s eavesdropping and watching from the shadows, and now she’s trying to tip off the whole motel that she’s in here against her will.

“Look,” I say, my voice echoing off the walls of this tiny bathroom.

She does as instructed, her wide blue eyes facing me.

“I don’t want to do this to you, but if you don’t stop, I’m going to leave you here with that rag in your mouth. Do you understand me?”

She nods slowly. For a moment, I question whether this is a good idea or not. I don’t need her blowing this a second time tonight. Still, it doesn’t sit right with me, seeing a woman tied up, blind rage running through her like some kind of wild animal. There’s not much of a conscience left in me, but this weighs heavy on it.

Carefully, I reach forward and pull the rag from her mouth. “Fuck you,” she spits. She opens her mouth wide to scream again, but before she can get it out, I stuff the rag