Stolen from the Hitman: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance(129)

My head needs to be clear, but it’s filled with lust and desire for her. It’s not how I’m used to working, but I can take my love and I can make it into a deadly weapon, just as I took my loneliness and hurt and turned it into one. I can make this anger and rage and desire to protect even more potent than what I had before.

These emotions don’t have to weaken me. They can be a source of my strength, and once I tap into them, I know we’ll be unstoppable.

“You’re with me, kotika,” I tell her. “To the end.”





20





Alicia





We’re driving down the road, making our way out of town, and my head is abuzz with thought.

I just shot a man.

The gun is still cradled in my hand, upon my lap. And I’d used it to shoot a man dead. I’d never even held a gun in all my years before Mikhail. The closest I’d come was playing light-gun games at the arcade with an ex-boyfriend!

Part of me feels like I should roll down my window and fling the gun away. Part of my feels like I should clutch it and never let go. Overall, I’m mostly surprised by how well I’m handling it.

“I shot a man dead,” I mutter aloud without realizing it.

“Not quite dead,” Mikhail says, keeping his eyes upon the road. “I took care of that for you. But you saved both our lives, Allie. That’s what matters.”

And despite the moral qualms of it all, I feel he’s right. Just like I’ve felt he’s been right about so much.

“Here,” he says, taking one hand off the wheel and fishing out a phone from his jacket. “Call your mother’s place. Tell the care worker to get your mom out of there, take her to safety. Some friend’s place, anywhere that will keep her safe for a bit longer,” he explains. And I realize he’s been true to his word about looking out for my mom.

I was right to trust him.

I know instantly that Mikhail was having someone check on her this whole time, just as he promised. Just as he told me he would. I felt like a rotten daughter for not checking in before now, but being on the run...there just hasn’t been time. To know that even through all this, he has been thinking of her, even when I got wrapped up in my own head...

Maybe that’s why I can’t stop the word ‘love’ from running through my brain.

Every time I try to tell myself that he’s just a killer, he proves me wrong. He’s something—someone—so much more. He might kill, but no one who’s innocent.

He protected me from whatever my asshole boss had planned, saved me from an even worse torture at the hands of Vasili, and now I know he was looking out for my family, too.

I quickly call my mom, each ring feeling like eternity.

Please pick up, I plead with her silently. Please, Mom, I need to hear your voice.

If something has happened to her, I’ll never forgive myself...

Her old style answering machine kicks in, some relic from the 90s that still has a novelty recording. My mom couldn’t stand to replace it, not with the sound of her and my deceased father’s voice sing-songing their way through the greeting. It makes me tear up.

“Mom, pick up,” I say, hoping she’s nearby. “Mom, are you there?”

Seconds pass, and I start to lose hope, giving Mikhail and uncertain look, and he squeezes my thigh in a comforting manner. And then I hear a click on the other end of the connection.

“Mom?”

A laughing man’s voice answers, though. “Hello? She’ll be right with you!”

Who the hell is this? Is what I want to ask. But instead, I wait for my mom. It’s only a few seconds later that her giggling voice answers. I don’t know if I’ve ever heard her giggle before.

“Alicia? Honey! It’s so good to hear from you. Sorry about that, Hernando and I were salsa dancing in the kitchen!”

What has been going on since this happened and who is Hernando?

“Mom, all that is going to have to wait. For now, I need you to pack and go to a nice hotel somewhere, alright? On the Upper East Side, somewhere ritzy. I’m going to dip into my savings to treat you to a nice weekend! And you can bring... Hernando?”

“Her care worker,” Mikhail says to me softly.

Oh. Well then.

“Oh honey, that’s too much! And Hernando and I are fine right here. When are you coming home? I’m planning on making a Sunday meal this week.”

“Soon, Mom,” I say, my throat clamping up. “Just go out, enjoy the weekend. Can I talk to Hernando?”

“Fine, fine, but I have my appointment this week, remember.”

“Yea, Mom. I remember.” Since when did she remember that though?

A second later, and Hernando takes the phone from my mom and I glance at Mikhail, silently wondering how much Hernando knows about him. Probably not much.