Stolen from the Hitman: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance(96)

I gulp back the water, but I can already tell I won’t be able to taste anything else on my plate with a burned tongue, and I sigh.

“So you’re vying for, like, the most considerate kidnapper award?”

“When one does something, you must always give it your best,” he says in that odd way of his, drawing out the words with that eastern flavor, and a healthy dose of dry, dark humor. Though the close proximity gives me time to study him, to see the scar on his face, right up along the highest part of his cheekbone, his jawline lightly stubbled with dark hair.

He catches me staring, and I quickly avert my eyes. I’ve never been the kind of girl who’s been shy around men, but there’s something about him that makes me feel like a girl again. If I wasn’t his captive, I’d probably have hit on him at a bar or something. He has a rugged charm about him, and I admit that his sense of humor aligns with mine a little too well.

“So you’re single, huh?” I venture a guess, though as soon as the words are out, I wish I hadn’t said them.

He arches a brow, looking about as surprised by the question as I am, but nods his head.

“Da,” he says, and I know enough from movies to realize that means ‘yes.’ “A man in my line of work doesn’t make a good husband. A woman deserves more than a man who is out at all hours, life on the line all the time.” He shakes his head slowly as he eats, “No. I tried that long ago, before I entered the Special Forces.”

“Military?” I ask, surprised he’s even answering any of my questions. I take a bite of something I don’t have a name for, but mostly I’m finding myself curious. He hasn’t actually hurt me or put me in any danger, though I know better than to trust him. At least, my brain knows. The rest of my body wants to take in everything he tells me.

“Spetsnaz,” he says, nodding his head before downing almost his entire glass of water in a few gulps. “We were like your Navy Seals in a way,” he says, those dark eyes of his searching out mine as he explains things to me like a patient teacher. “We went where soldiers know better than to go. Did things they could not. You understand?” he asks, and he’s waiting. Watching. Wanting to know if I truly do understand.

Is it meant to be taken as a threat?

I try not to flinch under his hard stare, and suck in a deep breath. I will not let this man intimidate me.

“You’re a badass. I get it.”

“So you should understand that you’re safer here with me than on your own out there,” he says, speaking calmly as he points to the door. “There are men after you as we speak. I have confirmed it for myself.”

“Listen, I might be cute, but I’m not so cute that anyone’s going to be after me,” I say, masking my fear with sarcastic humor. I don’t know if he’s really being serious, but something in his eyes tell me he is. But I can’t just hide in here the rest of my life.

He laughs at me just a little and continues to eat a moment before speaking.

“By no fault of your own, you have been a part of something ugly. I wish it was not so, but I can’t change what’s already done. Your boss is dead,” he says, the proclamation rather brusque and pointed. “A man like him simply doesn’t die and go unnoticed, nyet? And it is too important to leave open to question. The kind of questions a surviving witness can raise.”

“I didn’t witness anything!”

“It does not matter,” he says, and I see his thick forearm swell through his sweater as he clenches his fist. “It only matters what they think you witnessed,” he explains to me, his voice getting darker, more serious. “Do you think someone has a congressman killed without wanting to make very sure it never comes back to him, hmm?” he says, his eyes boring into me with their intensity.

It sends a shiver down my spine, and I swallow hard.

“I can’t stay here forever. What are you going to do to me?”

“To you?” he asks, eyes wide before he laughs and looks away. “Nothing. But I do not send pretty, young women to their deaths. No matter how dense in the head they’re being,” he adds, that patience eked away a little as he puffs up his broad chest and sighs.

“I’m not dense. But how many kidnapped women have you saved that are just totally fine with being your captive, huh?”

He gives a light, exasperated sigh and finishes off another generous bite before looking back at me.

“I do not make a habit of this, if it’s what you’re meaning. You are the first. But too much time and money had been sunk into getting the target where he was needed to be. If I didn’t do the job then, a messier hit would’ve happened as they all left, and you’d be dead instead of complaining,” he says, revealing all that info so calmly.