Stolen Melody Page 6

  Mario was the underboss for one of the prominent families of the Italian mob. They’d had a good working relationship and had known each other for a decade. Beast didn’t exactly trust Mario. In his line of work, backstabbing was common, but today, their interests were aligned.

  Cheklov had been stealing more of Mario’s shipments and Mario also wanted the bastard dead. Good business. Mario just confirmed Cheklov’s location. The Bratva Pakhan was attending his niece’s wedding. The reception was going to be held in a very open area—the gardens of a five-star establishment in the city.

  Beast drove to the location. He parked his nondescript minivan and grabbed his gear. Inside was a bellboy uniform. Beast dressed quickly and grabbed his duffel from the back seat. He left the parking lot and entered the door marked ‘staff only’. The entire staff was in a flurry of movement, it seemed. No one paid him any notice. Everyone was busy scurrying back and forth. No surprise there. Cheklov had bought the entire place for the day.

  “You there, Parker needs help with the bags upstairs,” someone, a man who was dressed in a manager’s uniform, yelled at Beast.

  Beast nodded, blending into the background as the manager yelled the same thing to another bellboy. He had memorized the blueprint of the hotel beforehand. Beast made his way to the old service elevator quickly. He encountered no one, as predicted. The staff barely used this old elevator anymore and few knew it existed.

  Beast got off the fourth floor and entered a storage room full of spare towels. His contact left him a spare room card on one of the shelves. Beast found the card on the third shelf in the back. He nabbed it, found the room, and entered.

  Beast locked the door behind him. The guests registered to this room were only flying in later tonight so he had the room all to himself. Beast dumped his bag on the bed and opened the curtains. The windows of this particular room looked right out to the pool and garden area.

  Down below, servers were making last-minute arrangements on the tables and décor. In less than an hour, guests would begin to arrive. Beast returned to his bag and unzipped it. He took out the case containing his rifle and assembled it. Peace and clarity filled his head. He looked through the special scope. This particular model was his favorite because it had excellent range and accuracy.

  He set his gun down. His phone vibrated in his pocket again. This time, it was a message from his woman. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

  Melody: Are you there yet? Hope everything’s going ok. Keep safe. Don’t be reckless.

  Beast: Everything’s fine. Text you soon.

  Beast tucked his phone back in the pocket of his jacket and grabbed his rifle. He’d done his research thoroughly and ensured no one would link this assassination to him, but anything could happen. Unaccounted for elements. Errors.

  No matter what happened today, Beast would make sure he erased Cheklov’s presence from the face of this earth. Only then Melody could be truly free.

  ****

  Mel checked her cell phone, hoping Beast would send her another message. No such luck. She took deep breaths and decided to busy herself. She started cleaning the cabin to take her mind off Beast’s dangerous mission.

  She worried for him immensely. Mel knew Beast was one of the best in this field but this was Cheklov they were talking about. She grabbed the broom and dustpan. After that, she mopped the floors. Mel found herself back in his bedroom. Their bedroom, she corrected herself. Beast kept telling her to think of the cabin as theirs, hers, not just his.

  She ran a finger over the wooden bookshelf and came away with dust. More chores for her to do. Mel found the feather duster at one of the bottom shelves and went to work. A loud thunk made her jump. She looked over her shoulder to find a fallen book. A hefty hardbound volume. A dictionary, perhaps. Mel looked at the title. An encyclopedia of forest plants. She was about to return it to its proper place when a thick envelope slipped out.

  When she saw her name written in red marker on the front, curiosity came over her. She knew she shouldn’t peek. Beast would give this to her when the time was right, except he wasn’t here right now. Mel set the feather duster down and with the envelope in her hands, sat on the bed to examine its contents.

  Feeling a little like Pandora of myth, she opened the flap. A thick wad of cash peered back at her. Thousands in bills. There were two other items inside. Mel took out a passport. Frowning, she opened it and widened her eyes at the picture. Same one on her old passport but the name was different. The other slip of paper in it turned out to be a plane ticket to California. The date was the following day, right after Beast would have gotten rid of Cheklov. Convenient.

  She stared at the items she’d lain out on the comforter for a few seconds. Betrayal felt like a knife to her ribs. Anger soon followed at its heels. Mel punched at the comforter and the pillows because she needed something larger to hit.

  Mel silently swore as understanding came to her. Why the hell was Beast doing this? Did he want to get rid of her that badly?

  Tears appeared in her eyes. Mel hastily brushed them off with the back of her hand. She thought they were doing so good. They were both broken people. That was what made them perfect for each other. Maybe he didn’t want her anymore or saw her as a burden. He had been living out here on his own for a long time. With her in the picture, Beast had a second mouth to feed. He didn’t just have to watch his back but also hers.

  At that moment, her healing heart now felt a little hollow and emptied out. How dare he make her feel like there was something between them only to take that hope away? Hadn’t he told her she now belonged to him? Mel had clung to his promise of safety like a fool, assumed they’d be together forever.

  Something didn’t add up. Beast might be a killer, but he wasn’t cruel. The only time he’d unleash his animal side was when they were in bed. Outside the bedroom, he’d been nothing but considerate and careful with her.

  Mel touched her fake new passport and the plane ticket with her new identity printed on it. Beast wanted a new start for her. Knowing him, he probably thought she’d be better off without him.

  You deserve better. Mel heard him utter those words yesterday morning, when Beast thought she was still asleep. Those words made her heart ache because Beast truly believed them. He couldn’t comprehend the notion that she wanted to stay with him. She didn’t want to go anywhere else.

  The first time she woke in his bed, Mel had been intimidated by the dense forest surrounding the cabin. Miles and miles of nothing but trees and no other human contact. Over time, she’d gotten used to the fresh air. This cabin, these woods, they made a home in her heart, just like Beast.

  Mel didn’t need anything else. She didn’t want to return to the crowded city where she’d become one of the faceless, anonymous masses again. Why would she choose invisibility when Beast saw her and treated her like a queen in their own little kingdom? When they drove out to town, Mel felt invincible with Beast behind her. No one would dare look at her wrong with him standing next to her.

  His possessiveness was one of the things she loved about him. Underneath his scars and ink lay the heart of a misunderstood man who loved fiercely. She wanted to stay here with him.

  Mel curled on her side and laid her cheek against the sheets, thinking. That cocky monster should have sat her down. They could’ve had a proper conversation about this. Of course, he had to do everything his own way. Probably assumed he could make important decisions like this for her.

  The old Mel would’ve accepted her new identity without complaint, even if her heart lay heavy. The new her wanted to fight Beast. Demand explanations. Get to the real root of the problem. She’d find out why he was scared to make a commitment. She felt a little better.

  She checked the time. Once Beast returned, they’d have words. Mel intended to give her monster a piece of her mind and somehow convince him she wasn’t going anywhere.

  Chapter Eleven

  Beast moved his scope left, then right. Bingo. Beast finall
y spotted Cheklov. The balding, forty-something fat bastard wasn’t hard to miss. Cheklov always dressed to the nines in his white suits, always wanted to stand out in a crowd. Cheklov was big on charity. Always presented a good face to the media while he paid good money to hide the illegal aspects of his business.

  Cheklov had no sons, no nephews left to take over his business. They had all died one way or another. Once Beast cut the head of the snake, Cheklov’s organization would fall apart. He was the true leadership of the Bratva. Beast was careful, certain no one would be able to link this kill to him. Cheklov’s remaining lieutenants would think one of their numerous enemies did it. Beast and Melody would be able to live out the rest of their lives without fear.

  Don’t forget you’re sending her away, a voice in his head whispered. Beast shook his head. She didn’t know about the fake passport or ticket yet. Not too late to shred them. For now, Beast returned his focus on the task ahead. Screwing this up wasn’t an option. He might not get another shot at Cheklov.

  Beast zeroed in on Cheklov, focused on the center of his forehead. A headshot. Cheklov deserved much worse. A low torturous death. He’d thought this through. Beast could not afford to play with his prey. Cheklov was too paranoid about security. This was his only chance at giving the fucker who broke his Melody a one-way ticket to hell.

  Cheklov seemed stuck at where he was, speaking to a familiar public figure. The mayor. Beast pulled the trigger. He didn’t miss, he never did. Shock rippled through the wedding guests as Cheklov crumpled to the ground, a puddle of blood seeping from his obese body. The mayor’s wife let out a scream.

  Cheklov’s security team started to scramble. Someone pointed to the windows. Beast retreated further inside the room. No time to disassemble his rifle. He grabbed his gear bag and left in a hurry. A maid pushing a cart screamed when she saw him and his gun. Beast ran right to the service lift. He jammed his finger on the down button. The elevator doors hissed open.

  The staff were in disarray. He wormed his way through the crowd. The corridors twisted left and right, but Beast knew where he was going. He sighted the emergency exit door a few feet from him. Relief filled him.

  Beast made it. His rental waited beyond those doors. He could already picture himself stopping the truck in front of his cabin. Melody would be waiting for him inside, dressed in nothing but one of his shirts, shy smile on her lips. A tempting angel for him to ravage.

  “Stop where you are!” a voice yelled behind him. Beast spun on his heel only for pain to rip through his fake uniform and right to his bulletproof vest. It felt like someone hit his chest with a sledgehammer.

  A huge muscular young man in a suit and wearing an earpiece pointed a revolver at him. He was shaking. Beast could hear footsteps thudding behind them.

  “Over here—” The security guy didn’t finish his sentence. Beast swung his rifle and shot him in the chest. He reached the door and turned the knob. Gunfire erupted behind him. A bullet caught him in the shoulder. Beast fired back blindly but kept his gaze forward. He emptied out the rifle and reached his car.

  Beast opened the car door and slipped in, tossing his bag and rifle into the seat next to him. He slid the key and started the engine. A stray bullet hit the back windows. Glass shattered. Fragments flew everywhere, some hitting his back. One lucky shard embedded itself on the side of his neck but missed his carotid artery. Beast drove away. He bled all over the seats but he’d already made arrangements with a guy to get rid of this car.

  He didn’t look back to check if he was being followed, driving like a demon. He directed the car to tiny side streets and left a confusing trail just in case Cheklov’s men managed to track him down. At a red light, Beast looked through his rearview mirror to check.

  It looked like he was in the clear. With no one to give orders, Cheklov’s death would leave his organization in complete and utter chaos. Beast drove to the edge of the city, to a garbage disposal site.

  There, Beast traded his old ride for his truck. Beast and Jacob, the guy who ran the place, went all the way back. Beast grabbed his stuff from the car. Jacob grunted as Beast deposited the car keys into his hand, no questions asked. Jacob would get rid of any blood and any other evidence in the car before melting it down to scrap metal. The man was a professional and did jobs like this for the other mobs in the city, so Beast knew he’d do his job.

  “You look like shit, man,” Jacob said, looking him up and down.

  Beast didn’t need a mirror to know he must look like a bloody nightmare. “I need to borrow a first-aid kit.”

  Jacob retreated to his office and handed him a kit.

  Beast sat himself down on a wobbly plastic chair and opened the kit. He pulled out the shard on his neck, bandaged it hastily, and then used a knife to pluck out the bullet embedded in his shoulder. He patched himself as quickly as he could manage. Beast returned the kit to Jacob’s office. He then dumped the rest of his gear into his old truck.

  His shoulder throbbed. His neck wasn’t in a better state but he’d manage. Beast had survived worse injuries before. The only thought left in his mind was returning home, to where his woman waited. Nothing else mattered.

  Chapter Twelve

  Hearing the familiar rumble of Beast’s truck engine, Mel sprinted out of the cabin. He told her he’d be back late afternoon. Something had gone terribly wrong. That had been her first thought. Beast hadn’t answered any of her calls or messages either.

  Night had already fallen. The ash trees surrounding the cabin cast dark shadows on the lighted porch steps. Beast didn’t get out of the truck right away but she recognized his silhouette slumped over the wheel. It was him. She let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding.

  Mel forgot why she was mad at him in the first place. She ran up to him, alarmed by the bloody bandage on his neck. She opened the car door. His eyes were closed. Beast didn’t move a single muscle and for a second, she thought he was dead. Indescribable fear filled every pore in her body but then he moved his arm.

  “I’m all right. Just a little tired.” Beast staggered out of the car like he had too many drinks but Mel thought it was from blood loss. She slipped one arm over his broad shoulders and guided him back to the cabin, more worried than ever.

  “Pathetic,” Beast muttered.

  “Is he dead?” she signed. It didn’t matter to her if Beast didn’t manage to get Cheklov. That bastard would never find her or Beast here anyway. She knew how carefully Beast covered his tracks, how protective he was of their privacy.

  He was heavy, but she could get him inside at the very least. Beast didn’t just nurse her back to health. He’d killed for her. What else could she ask for?

  “As a fucking doornail,” he answered.

  “But you got hurt.” She managed to lead him inside the house and convince him to sit down in the dining room.

  Beast leaned against the chair, regarding her. He looked awful, wearing a Kevlar vest underneath a bloodstained shirt. She could see one bullet embedded into the chest of the protective material. She ran her fingers over the bullet and swallowed.

  “I’m fine.”

  “No, you’re not. Wait here. Don’t move.” Mel knew where he kept his medical supplies. He’d shown her weeks ago. She grabbed his first-aid kit from the bathroom and returned to find Beast taking off the vest. Mel sat the kit down and helped him with his shirt.

  His shoulder looked bad but she wanted to see the wound on his neck first.

  “What happened?” she signed before undoing the bandage on his neck.

  “Glass shard,” he said, pointing to his neck. “Got shot in the shoulder. I got off easy.”

  “Easy?” Mel was mad.

  How dare he sound so casual? She’d been mad with worry the entire day, wondering if he was dead in a ditch somewhere, or worse, captured and being tortured. She cleaned his neck wound first then disinfected it before pasting a new bandage over it.

  She could feel his intense gaze on her as she silently w
orked. Mel moved on to his shoulder. She stitched him up, still not speaking. Once that was done, she packed everything back in the kit.

  “Thank you. You’re good at this,” Beast said.

  “I took first-aid classes a long time ago.” The tension ricocheted. Beast must’ve sensed she wasn’t in the best of moods because he said nothing while she treated his wounds.

  “Are you thirsty? Hungry?” Mel asked those questions just to ease the awkwardness between them.

  She was about to grab him a glass of water from the kitchen but he closed his hand over her arm and pulled her to his lap. She stared up at him, careful not to touch his wounded shoulder.

  Beast circled one muscled arm around her ass and used his other hand to touch her cheek, forcing her to look at him.

  “You’re angry.”

  She glared at him. Mel silently counted to ten in her head and made sure her hands didn’t shake.

  “What did you expect? You didn’t answer any of my texts or messages. You promised me you’d return late afternoon. It’s eight now.”

  Beast kissed her slowly, tenderly. Mel nearly got lost in the press of his warm, inviting lips, but she put a hand on his chest. If Beast thought he could escape this conversation by tempting her with sex, then he had another thing coming.

  “Greedy girl. You missed me that badly?” he asked.

  She silently fumed at him. Mel balled her hands into fists and punched him in the chest, not caring if he was hurt. Seeing his same, neutral expression only made her hiss. Of course, he didn’t feel that. Beast was built like a brick.

  Mel wanted to get off his lap but he pushed her ass closer, so her breasts pressed up against his bare chest. He leaned his face close to hers until their noses touched. His gaze softened.

  “Sorry,” he said. That one word was enough. He burned hot like a furnace and already, her nipples began to harden under her nightshirt. Even though he’d bought her an entire new wardrobe, she still preferred to steal one of his oversized shirts to wear to bed. It smelled like him.