Sold to the Hitman: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance Novel(98)

“I was just a small boy when my mother and my older sister Anya were killed,” he begins, swirling the vodka gently in its glass. I prop my chin on my hand to show that I’m listening.

“I don’t remember it at all because I was only three, but the witnesses say that four men on motorbikes forced my mother’s van off the road and into a ditch. My mama, she was killed instantly, and poor Anya bled out before the policemen and the doctors came. She was eleven. We were driving to visit my father at work.”

“I am so sorry,” I murmur to him, a little breathless. His story sounds so similar to mine — the way that my mother and brother died. He continues.

“My father came to take me home from the scene. You see, he was a member of the Spetznaz — the special forces in Russia. He was a very tough man, a well-trained soldier who could kill a man as easily as look at him. But he was also fair and gentle, and he lived his whole life in the light. He was a good man, Katy, working within the law.”

“Who were the motorcyclists? Did they do it on purpose?” I ask.

Ivan nods gravely, a dark look crossing his face. “They were very bad men. My mother and Anya did nothing to provoke them. Their deaths came as revenge for something my father did. He was part of a unit trying to take down the mafia.”

The confusion must be obvious on my face, because he immediately adds, “Yes. My father opposed the mafia. He was instrumental in capturing and dismantling the mafia’s hold on a small town on the Siberian border, for which they never forgave him. It was just a minor village, and my father was just doing his job, but they could not accept the loss.”

“So then, what did your father do?”

“He did not retaliate. You see, he could not. He was now a single father with a very young son — if anything were to happen to him, I would have been an orphan. And Russian orphanages are not good places,” Ivan explains. “But he did one thing that the mafia did not expect. He raised me to fight.”

Ivan pauses to take another draught of his vodka. “My poor father, he realized that it was not enough for him to be a fighter. He had lived his whole life thinking he could protect his family, that he was enough to keep them safe. But the day of the accident, he learned otherwise. No matter how hard we try, evil can always strike behind a turned back. He learned that he would not always be around to shield me from harm, so he had to teach me to protect myself. And he did. Do not get me wrong, my father was always a kind man, but he was also very disciplined. He did not allow me to cry as a child. He taught me to hide my weaknesses and to grow my strengths. I could hold a gun and shoot a target from a distance by the age of seven. I could get my father in a headlock and bring him to the ground by my fourteenth birthday. My father was a good soldier, but he trained me to be even better.”

I am utterly enthralled with Ivan’s words, sitting rapt and quiet, as he sips his drink and shakes his head sadly. “I was going to join the Spetznaz, myself, when I came of age. But when I was sixteen, something terrible happened.”

“What?” I prompt, on the edge of my seat.

“My father died.”

“Was it the mafia?” I ask in a near-whisper.

He gives me a mournful look. “No, moya zvezda, it was a natural death. Old bones, long winters, and a broken heart are the cruelest killers.”

“Is that when you decided to come to America?”

“Ah, the story is not that simple. You see, when my father died, I nearly lost my head. Finally, thirteen years of pent-up rage boiled over and now there was no one left to keep me in check. So, I prepared myself for a mission: to find the men who killed my mother and sestra. I did not sleep for many nights, spending every minute in pursuit of their names and addresses. Turns out they were all old men by then, but they kept themselves very well-guarded. One day, I tracked them all to a lounge in Novosibirsk. I managed to subdue the guards and get inside.

“I told them who I was. I made them confess to their crimes. And then I executed them, one by one.” Ivan takes another drink and sets down the empty glass. “But I was still a lawful man, Katy. In the middle of that bloody scene, I started to call the police to turn myself in. I knew I was guilty, and I had no reason to hide anymore.”

“What happened?”

“Before I could dial the number, I heard the sounds of guns clicking from every direction. I looked up to find myself surrounded by members of the mafia. They’d responded quickly to the threat and now they had an ultimatum for me.”

“What was it?” I ask, my eyes wide.

“They gave me two options: to die, or to join them. Automatically I chose the first option, but then they mocked me, telling me how despicable it was for me to allow myself to die, throwing away everything my father had worked for. They called me a coward.”