Free Captive of the Hitman: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance Novel by Alexis Abbott, Alex Abbott

he’s dressed in a nice maroon shirt, unbuttoned at the collar where some of his dark hair pokes out, and a black jacket over top.
    He almost looks ready for a date in those dark denim jeans.
    And my life suddenly explodes with color, and I smile instantly. It’s like all my fear and apprehension have been completely melted away within a second flat.
    “Really? We’re leaving? Ohh, are we going somewhere warm to hide out for a few months until the heat dies down?”
    “I’m going to drive you out of state, to a place I know well, to be safe with some people I trust,” he says with that hard stoicism of his. “As soon as you’re ready, I’ll take you out to the car and we’ll be done. You can eat breakfast as I drive,” he explains, laying down the sack and coffee upon the table.
    “Sure, well...not like I have much here to pack,” I say with a roll of my eyes, heading to grab the few things I have scattered about. “And I’m assuming we’re probably not going to stop off at my place to get my luggage.” I’m trying to keep things light, but the fact that I can’t read him at all, that I don’t know what he’s thinking, is throwing me off.
    Especially since he looks so damn good today.
    “I’ll give you money to buy whatever you want where we’re going,” he says, reaching into his jacket and pulling out a wallet. He flips it open and slides out a credit card, offering it to me. “There’s no limit, just try not to make a huge scene once we’re there,” he explains.
    “So don’t go Pretty Woman on you. Got it,” I say with a sly wink. Tugging on the casual yoga jacket he’d brought me earlier, and slipping into my dangerously high heels, I look like a pampered housewife leaving rehab.
    But there’s definitely pep to my step, and I grab my coffee, heading towards the door.
    “Road trip time!”
    He leads the way on down out of the building, locking up behind him. We come out onto the street, where a beautiful black sedan awaits us, shiny and new, looking like it just rolled off an assembly line. Mikhail pushes a pair of sunglasses down over his eyes as he keeps watching, but makes it to the passenger side door before me to hold it open.
    “Be natural, calm,” he assures me as I stand at the edge of freedom once more. Though not quite.
    But it’s a step up. And the fresh air is wonderful, so I slip into his car and relax back into the plush seat. It’s roomy and reminds me of traveling in the back of the limo with Mr. Gallego. I have to push that thought aside, though. I’m still not ready to grapple with that.
    When he slides into the driver side, I give him what I hope to be my most radiant smile. “Haven’t you noticed? I’m always calm.”
    Mikhail gives me a bemused, uneven smile as he starts up the car and we begin to pull out.
    “It’s not a joyride—you need to get away from here. Away from all of this, where it’s safe,” he explains as the city passes me by. “I have people very close to me out of state who can keep you secure, away from prying eyes, as this all blows over. These are good people. Solid like the earth.”
    “I get it. I mean, I don’t. This is way over my head, and you aren’t exactly a giving conversationalist, but... I trust you. I know it must be really serious,” I say. I know it’s important to him that I understand he’s not trying to be a jerk keeping me locked up. At least, I think so.
    My words seem to reassure him, because my Russian giant of a man quiets up and keeps his eyes ahead. He takes us through the concrete jungle of New York with great care, no cop in the world having reason to stop us.
    As we come to the bridge leading out of the city, a toll booth looms, and we wait in line.
    “So how do you know these people?” I ask, just trying to drum up conversation.
    “The leader of this club is my brother,” he says in his gravelly, low voice. “He has full run of the area. All his people are loyal, committed. They are to be