The Hitman's Obsession

  EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ®

  www.evernightpublishing.com

  Copyright© 2017 Winter Sloane

  ISBN: 978-1-77339-154-0

  Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

  Editor: Karyn White

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  DEDICATION

  To C, for believing in me.

  To Evernight Publishing, for giving my new series a home.

  THE HITMAN’S OBSESSION

  Ivanov Crime Family, 1

  Winter Sloane

  Copyright © 2017

  Chapter One

  Dimitri took another round about the room, his footsteps quiet despite his size. He was a big motherfucker and could hit like a truck, but as muscle for the Ivanov family, he knew how to move silently in a crowded room.

  Cigarette smoke clouded the room. Loud and brash voices were occasionally interrupted by screams and pleas. Cocky grins soon turn to agonized wails. Dimitri couldn’t count the number of times he’d seen arrogant bastards fall.

  The moment they realized they’d lost everything, gambled their most precious possessions—car, pretty wife, and offspring, to the Ivanov family for a good hand of cards.

  They disgusted him, yet Dimitri depended on these scum to keep his job. Good for fucking and killing, nothing else, his father told him once. Maybe that was true for all the men in the Ivanov family.

  Sensing someone approaching, Dimitri turned, hand resting on the hilt of his modified Beretta. The lackey in the cheap suit took a step back from him, gaze lingering on the grinning skulls and crossbones of his signature weapon.

  “Problem, Johnny?” he asked. Johnny had worked under him, a good kid. Well, Dimitri called all newbies that. Johnny worked hard, played hard, and was loyal as hell. These days, loyalty was hard to come by.

  Johnny relaxed. “It’s time, Dimitri.”

  Dimitri nodded, hooded eyes lingering on the floor. “Keep a watch on the blackjack table number three. You’re in charge while I’m gone.”

  Johnny’s eyes widened. “Not Anatoli?”

  Dimitri shook his head. “Not after he screwed up the Rossi job.”

  Striding away from the main casino floor, he headed to the door with the sign “Employees Only” on it. The two men on guard gave him a curt nod, letting him pass. Dimitri took a left turn. More guards stood watch here. The boss merely wanted him to oversee procedures, to ensure this fucker Mitch Wyatt coughed up all the money he borrowed, plus interest.

  Dimitri wasn’t the family bookie, but according to Vasily, this rat bastard needed watching. Wyatt had slipped from their radar once, not wanting to pay back what he owed. No one fucked with the Ivanov family and got away with it.

  Giving the two suits a nod, Dimitri entered Vlad’s office. Cigarette smoke slipped out, along with the stink of fear. The source came from the thin balding man. Dimitri noticed all the signs—sweat soaked shirt and the way Wyatt’s trembling hands held onto a leather suitcase for dear life.

  Wyatt took up the couch facing the desk. The young woman sitting beside him caught Dimitri’s attention. Frowning, he leaned against the door.

  He made sure to keep his suit jacket unbuttoned, so the rat bastard had a perfect view of his guns. Threats always worked well. Fear drove men to do the right thing. One look at Wyatt and Dimitri understood why the boss man wanted him present for this meeting.

  Who did Wyatt bring with him, collateral damage? Dimitri only had eyes for the woman. She must be in her early twenties. Her white-blonde hair had been tightly constrained in a long single braid that fell over one bare shoulder. Her heart-shaped face looked stiff, blue eyes staring carefully at nothing.

  Dimitri raked his gaze lower, from the tempting curve of her luscious lips to the generous swell of her breasts, peeking from her top. Fuck, but he could imagine those pouty lips wrapped around his cock, those tits bouncing while he fucked her senseless. She had fine curves, too, under that thin top. Dimitri bet she had a shapely ass, too.

  Fuck.

  It wasn’t just her body that kept him mystified, but the way she held herself. Unlike Wyatt, she didn’t cower, or slink in defeat. She turned his head, as if noticing the brunt of his stare.

  Eyes he’d thought were blue turned out to be bi-colored. The other iris was a bright emerald green. Both blue and green blazed with hatred, then wary resignation.

  Dimitri knew absolutely nothing about this woman, but he saw the steel in her spine. She bit down on her lower lip so hard it began to bleed. Looking away from his gaze, he noticed her rubbing her palms over his jeans. Anger surged through him.

  Something so pure, so blindingly hard to look at, didn’t belong in a place like this.

  What was going on with him? Dimitri shouldn’t lose his mind over a woman. He never married, never committed to any kind of relationship. No time for something like that and besides, emotions made a killer weak. Yet seeing this mystery blonde put strange suggestions in his head.

  “Why is the Ivanov Hound here?” Wyatt asked, looking nervously at him. Wyatt couldn’t hold his gaze for long. Most people flinched, seeing the scars.

  “Calm down, Wyatt. Dimitri is merely here for security’s sake, to make sure you wouldn’t run again,” Vlad stated, rubbing his hands together.

  “I won’t think of it.” Wyatt gripped the handle of the suitcase harder. “That’s why I brought my daughter along.”

  Dimitri didn’t like the way Vlad looked at the woman, like a man appraising his new conquest. Then again, Vlad looked at all women that way. Vlad represented humanity’s worst, but Vlad was Vasily’s brother, therefore untouchable.

  Dimitri cracked his knuckles, and the popping sound made Wyatt jump in his seat. Vlad threw him a glare, but didn’t tell him off. The fucker knew better than that, given Dimitri was the family’s best bogeyman.

  Dimitri didn’t like the fact Wyatt never referred to his daughter by name, as if he wanted to disassociate himself with the filthy deed he was about to do.

  “What’s her name?” he practically barked.

  Wyatt’s eyes widened, mouth opening and closing like a fish.

  The woman lifted her chin and met his gaze again, undaunted by his scars, size, or the gun peeking from his jacket. “Sonia.”

  Vlad chuckled, as if this was all some comedy show to him. “Never seen the Hound so unsettled by pussy.”

  Dimitri’s fingers twitched. It would be so easy to wrap his fingers around the comforting handle of his gun and shoot several holes into Vlad’s body. Calming his temper, he settled for crossing his arms instead. What the fuck? Dimitri had been this close to signing his own death sentence over a stranger.

  Vasily Ivanov might value his skills, but the Bratva had iron-clad rules about family. Vlad was blood, and despite all of Dimitri’s contributions, he wasn’t a real Ivanov. His father, brothers, grew up by the gun and died by it, too, leaving Dimitri an orphaned killer.

  The head of the Ivanov family took him in, taught him loyalty, and gave him an identity. Dimitri had vowed to give Vasily Ivanov his loyalty until his death. He could endure scum like Vlad.

  Looking disappointed Dimitri hadn’t reacted to the comment, Vlad returned his attention to Wyatt. “Let’s get on with business.”

  Shaking, Wyatt unclasped the case. Dimitri frowned, watching the man closely, i
n case Wyatt might be stupid enough to pull a fast one on them. The chances were small, given his daughter was beside him. Dimitri made it point to never underestimate people so he could never be surprised.

  Desperate men did foolish things. Period.

  Stacked dollar bills lined the case. Wyatt began laying in all out on the paper.

  “Dimitri, let Tommy in. He’s my counter,” Vlad said.

  Dimitri opened the door. “Tommy. Vlad needs you.”

  He couldn’t bring himself to call Vlad “boss”. That title Dimitri reserved for Vasily. Vlad had a long way to go before earning Dimitri’s respect or that of his men.

  One of the two muscle heads entered and quickly counted the bills.

  Tommy traded a look with Vlad. Dimitri already knew Wyatt didn’t bring it all.

  “Missing the eight percent interest,” Tommy announced.

  Dimitri continued watching Sonia, who dug her nails into her palm so hard, skin bled. Her pathetic excuse of a father had known, he realized. Wyatt had no intention of bringing her back home with him.

  “Y-you said if I bring my daughter, we can forget about interest. She’s still a virgin,” Wyatt said, as if that last bit helped.

  Dimitri quietly seethed.

  “Why don’t we see for ourselves, eh?” Vlad pointed out.

  “Dad, what’s happening?” Sonia whispered, leveling frightened eyes at her father.

  Wyatt didn’t tell her a thing. That only fueled Dimitri’s rage. What kind of father gave up his daughter to Russian mafia, to men like Vlad who didn’t give two fucks about rules?

  Tommy started transferring the pile of cash into a small black duffel—clearing the desk, Dimitri realized. He had a bad feeling he knew what was about to take place, and it turned his stomach. Before Vlad took over the family book keeping, they’d never dealt with flesh.

  Dimitri had never signed on for this kind of distasteful shit.

  Wyatt was halfway out of his seat, but Dimitri moved to block the door, lips peeled back to a snarl. Sonia remained in her seat, looking like a pale doll as the truth finally dawned in her eyes.

  “Good job, Dimitri,” Vlad called, like he was some dog the asshole could order around.

  Needing to unleash his rage on someone, Dimitri shoved Wyatt back in his seat. Gunfire erupted, making him jump back. Sonia screamed, toppling out of her seat until her back hit the wall.

  A neat bullet hole found itself at the center of Wyatt’s forehead, except the wound wasn’t neat. Chunks of skin and face had been blown off. Vlad pretended to blow off smoke from his gun.

  “What the fuck, Vlad?” Dimitri demanded. “We kill clients now? We lend people money, they pay us back. We’ll lose out if word gets out.”

  “No one will know. Bring the girl to me,” Vlad said, licking his lips. The disgusting son-of-a-bitch set his revolver on top of his desk and began jerking his zipper down. Tommy finished putting the last wad of cash in the bag.

  Vlad raised an eyebrow when Dimitri didn’t move. Sonia started to make little pained noises. She slumped against the wall. Specks of blood splattered her face and the front of her top, all of it belonging to her father.

  “Shut the bitch up. Dimitri, don’t make me repeat myself. If you’re not man enough, I’ll ask Tommy.” Vlad spoke in a bored voice, but his face told Dimitri otherwise.

  Vlad took sick pleasure in claiming Sonia in front of Dimitri, knowing full well Dimitri had been entranced by her. Tommy took a step towards her, halting when Dimitri held out a hand.

  “I got this.”

  “Don’t worry. I share my possessions among my men. Just wait your turn,” Vlad told him with a sneer.

  Chapter Two

  Dimitri stepped over Wyatt’s corpse. Sonia opened her mouth. Before the scream slipped out, he wrapped a hand over her mouth. She put up a fight, kicking and screaming as he dragged her up.

  “Stop fighting me,” he hissed into her ear. Furious mismatched eyes met his.

  That look told Dimitri that unlike her coward of a father, Sonia would die fighting. Vlad wouldn’t let a gem like her go easily though. Dimitri had heard of the depraved tales Vlad’s men told when pumped full of alcohol.

  Without Vasily knowing, Vlad got away with plenty of shit. No one dared speak up. Vlad was the boss’s brother after all. Only someone foolish and crazy would have the guts to defy a man like Vlad.

  Someone like Dimitri. He’d made up his mind long ago, when he first caught a glimpse of Sonia.

  An angel like her didn’t belong in his world, but it was too late. Wyatt had already dragged her down to hell. Dimitri would make sure she didn’t fall any deeper.

  In a whisper too soft for Vlad to hear, for her ears alone, Dimitri said, “I’m not going to let that bastard put his hands on you.”

  “What are you telling the bitch?” Vlad interrupted, suspicion in his voice.

  “That if she doesn’t behave, she’s going to get it worse and you don’t like your new property bruised,” Dimitri said without emotion.

  She grew still in his arms. Sonia never stood a chance. She was so tiny against him, fragile. Fuck, she smelled good. Not of fear and sweat like Wyatt, but something sweet and vanilla.

  Dimitri bet the honey between her legs would also taste addictive. Even in a life and death situation like this, all Dimitri could think about was making her his.

  Dimitri had looked into the eyes of genuine monsters, had seen things in his life he wished he didn’t. The Ivanov Hound was fucking terrified of one woman.

  Vlad cracked his knuckles and let out a laugh that made Dimitri’s skin crawl. “Looks like this one will be easy to break.”

  Dimitri dragged Sonia with him, until he was close enough not to miss. From the corner of his eye, Tommy had slung the black duffel over his shoulder, about to make his exit. Dimitri whipped out his gun, shooting Tommy in the left kneecap. No sound. Dimitri always kept a silencer on his baby. With a yelp, Tommy stumbled, as if he’d only realized what just happened.

  Vlad’s face contorted in fury. “What the fuck you’re doing?”

  “What I should have done a long time ago.” Dimitri pointed the Beretta at Vlad’s chest.

  “You won’t kill me. Vasily will hunt you down to the ends of the fucking earth. Go ahead and try, you ungrateful piece of—”

  Dimitri emptied his entire clip into the bastard’s chest. Crimson spread out like a blossoming flower over Vlad’s white silk shirt. Most of the time, Dimitri never took pleasure from his kills. Seeing this pig in his last throes of death filled him with some satisfaction.

  He never pretended to be a good man. All of them were going to hell one way or another, but ridding the world of one scum like Vlad was an act he’d never regret.

  Vlad sputtered blood, fat fingers fumbling for the side of his desk—a button. Vasily had that, too.

  Dimitri strode to him and kicked at the swivel chair, putting the dying man out of the reach of the alarm. Tommy let out an agonized scream, loud enough to draw the other suit into the room. Before the man took stock, Dimitri shot him in the leg and grabbed Sonia’s hand.

  “We need to leave now,” he told her.

  “Are you crazy? We’ll never get out of this place alive,” she whispered. She couldn’t look away from the corpses in the room, or the two screaming men. Dimitri didn’t blame her. At least she wasn’t frozen in fear.

  “Trust me. When my boss finds out I killed his brother, he’ll do worse to both of us.”

  She looked at him with distrust. Even though he’d killed for her, Dimitri had a feeling she didn't trust the men in her life easily. However, she had no ally here save him.

  Sonia dragged her gaze from the bodies. Other women would have cracked by now, splintered the moment they witnessed half of their father’s face blown off. Not Sonia. Not his woman. That filled him with fucking pride.

  “Fine. For now,” Sonia conceded.

  “Grab the bag of cash. I need one hand free in case we encounter more trouble.�
��

  Dimitri noticed she kicked off her heeled shoes before swiping the bag. Good girl, practical to boot, which only made him more obsessed with making Sonia his woman.

  Fuck, he prayed to God he wouldn’t screw this up. Never mind panic had set off after he shot Vlad. Dimitri sealed his future, doomed both himself and Sonia with his reckless actions. But it was either kill for her sake, or see her ruined by a monster like Vlad.

  No. If he could turn back time, Dimitri would play it the same way.

  Dimitri locked the door behind him and looked up and down the corridor. No one in sight. The fucking fates must be on their side, but how long would that luck last?

  “We’re going to be pretend we’re lovers,” Dimitri told her. “No one knows about what went on inside yet. If we play this careful, no one would suspect us until it’s too late.”

  She took a deep breath. “Okay. What’s the plan? We’re just going to walk out the front doors, that easy?”

  Detecting the irony in her voice, he grinned. His smile seemed to unsettle her, but she didn’t protest when he looped one arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. Fuck. Her vanilla scent teased him again. She furrowed her brows.

  “You have a boner.” Sonia didn’t sound timid or terrified, merely observant, but he could tell she appreciated the view.

  Vocal woman not afraid to speak her mind.

  “How can I not, when you’re standing this close to me?” Dimitri steered her away from the loud gambling dens and towards the back door, where he’d left his Impala. Two suits chatted among themselves. One laughed at something the second said.

  Sonia tensed against him, pressing one slender hand on his chest—an unconscious gesture perhaps, but he didn’t mind at all. Dimitri wondered if these two would notice the tiny details that made the picture Sonia and he painted wrong—black bag, Sonia barefoot, and him cradling his gun by his side.